#violence against animals

[rainbowfoxes]

IDW! Raph Should be a Cat-Boy, Here's Why

Good evening (or whenever this post may find you) I have a silly little theory for you today.

(A brief content warning: the comic pages shown here do depict two animals fighting. Just a heads up)

So as we all know, Mutagen tends to work like so:

Critter + Ooze + DNA of Another Critter = Mutant

Simple, easy, consistent, right?

However

In issue #3 of IDW's run, we learn how itty bitty not-yet-a-mutant Raphael got separated from the other turtles. The stray cat that would go on to be Old Hob had scooped him up with every intent to eat him, and little Raphie was lost in the scuffle when Splinter came to his rescue, as you can see below:

{Start Image ID: Three pages from IDW's Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles issue #3. Set in an alley, the pre-mutated turtles, Splinter, and Old Hob stand in a pool of glowing green mutagen. Old Hob has snatched one of the baby turtles, Raphael, into his mouth with intent to eat him. Splinter attacks Old Hob to save the turtle. Raphael is lost in the scuffle, Splinter sustains a serious leg injury, and Old Hob loses one of his eyes. Old Hob flees the scene. :End Image ID}

That glowing green goo up there? That's mutagen. Everyone is getting covered in it. But it also means that Raph-a-little's first post-mutagen exposure DNA contact is Old Hob, a cat. It also means that the most significant presence of outside DNA on little Raphie is feline DNA.

Ergo, Raph's a cat-boy.

Now what does this mean in practice? Whatever you want, I'm not a cop. Does he have a luttle fuzzy tail and toe beans? Cat eyes and sharp teeth? does he get high off of catnip? Up to you! Do whatever sparks joy. 🌈

Preemptive Counter-Arguments:

Wait, doesn't this mean Splinter is part cat, too? And part turtle? Yes, but this isn't about him.

Doesn't it also mean that the other turtles are part rat? See above.

Doesn't it ALSO mean that Old Hob — See. Above.

Okay, but what about the Mutagen Bomb and Mutant Town? We never see any hybrid mutants there! Look. Look. If I had to design dozens of unique anthropomorphic characters that I could reliably draw the same way each time, and that other artists who I may never talk to can ALSO reliably draw the same way each time and keep them identifiable as the same characters? I'd walk into oncoming traffic. Making any or all of those characters hybrids between two or more species? Forget about it. I could look at Sophie Campbell's art all day, but I would not wish such a task on my worst enemy. Plus writing wise? It gives them an easy way to power scale mooks like Bebop and Rocksteady. What's scarier than a rhino man with no regard for the laws of men? A rhino man with no regards for the laws of men who is also a shark.

Fine, but where'd their human DNA come from? Not that it really matters, but probably the Foot genin who put the turtles in that sack in the first place (you can see he isn't wearing gloves in the flashback from issue #2, if you care to look). Or maybe from all the scientists that handled them on the daily, seeing as they were lab animals. Or the alley they're in in those pages up there. Do you know what people do in alleys? There's probably hundreds of unique samples of human DNA in the square foot they're standing in alone.

But they're TURTLES not CAT-BOYS!!!!! This is you:

{Start Image ID: The classic, unedited "NO FUN ALLOWED" robot with a sign meme. :End Image ID}

Go forth and prosper with this new knowledge. If you make any fanworks based on this fun little headcanon, tag me in it or shoot me a link. I wanna see all the little cat-boy Raphs.

[dustyworks]

No. 2 NOWHERE TO RUN

Cornered | Caged | Confrontation

Fantasy, Original Writing, OC. Technically takes place pre-book start in The Beast King, but thats not terribly important.

    To be taken prisoner was, perhaps, a better option than being killed flat out. When one was fighting monsters it was hardly expected, so when Kara awoke with her cheek pressed into the earth she was more than a little surprised. She rolled as best she could, limbs tethered together and behind her back, spitting soil from her lips and trying to get her bearings, trying to remember what it was that had gotten her in this situation.

    Combat had come as a surprise, she and her unit were traveling to return to the main force, they’d been assisting in moving villagers from outer edges of civilization into better fortified towns. Nothing was sighted in this area yet, but apparently that wasn’t enough reason to let ones guard down.

    Her mother wouldn’t be pleased to hear about that- of course, this was assuming that Kara would live long enough to return and tell her.

    Her vision cleared enough for her to see the face of the figure sprawled on the ground across from her- a man in farmers garb, likely the owner of the barn that she could see they were now being kept in. His expression was one of slackened shock, jaw twisted unnaturally, eyes glazed and still as they remained open.

    He was clearly dead.

    “Clair,” she whispered, closing her eyes for a moment. 

    “She’s over here,” Arni responded softly, voice rough. “She hasn’t woken up yet- they let me stop the bleeding, but I don’t think they care much if we don’t live long.”

    “What are we dealing with?” Kara asked, trying not to look at the dead man near her.

    “Trolls,” Arni said with a sigh. “It was a pack of goblins that got us, though, and some big fucker with them that knocked you out.”

    Now that he said it, she remembered the sensation of her foot catching on a rope as she walked through the woods. She’d looked up in time to see a log swinging down and she’d managed to dive out of the way as chaos erupted around her, the five of them swarmed immediately. The last thing she’d seen was a club swinging down towards her head before she’d been able to rise again, a patchy furred snout snarling behind it.

    It would explain the headache, and the way her nose was throbbing. Her mouth tasted like blood.

    “Fuck,” she said through a sigh. “What’s our losses?”

    “I don’t think Vol made it,” he said after a long pause. “Pretty sure they gave him to the goblins,” he sounded numb, and Kara felt like someone was crushing her heart in her fist. Volundr had been an absurdly fearsome warrior, and a huge asset to their team despite his utter lack of self preservation skills. 

    After a moment, Kara began to test her bonds. They felt like rope, roughly woven, and tightly wound around her wrists and ankles, looped together by a separate link behind her so that her spine was arched- hogtied, as it were. The term came to her when she saw the head of a pig sitting, bleeding into the hay in one corner.

    “I think my leg is broken,” Arni said, breaking the silence again. “Kara, even if I wasn’t tied, I couldn’t- I can’t run-” his voice shook, and she shook her head- a gesture she was certain he couldn’t see.

    “We’re going to find a way out of this,” Kara said automatically, not giving the fear a moment to settle into her chest. “Try and wake up Clair.”

    There was a glint of something metal up on the wall, something that caught the fire light as it came through the slats of the barn wall, and then would shine silver when the clouds uncovered the full moon above. There was no way she’d be able to reach it, but Clair was one of their battlemages. Perhaps not as powerful as those that could set fire to half a forest, but she had her skills nonetheless.

    Kara began to shuffle her way through the dirt and loose hay, ignoring the uncomfortable squish of something under her elbow as she pushed up next to the mage woman, managing to just barely push her hand against her arm. Her fingers were nearly numb from the bonds but still she closed her eyes and began to focus.

    The reservoir of power was still within her, though small, like rain caught in the bend of a shield, she could see it on the battlefield she could visit in her mind where the breath of her god remained as a gentle breeze. The shield pendant at her throat glowed as a prayer left her lips in the language of the celestial beings, the glow traveling down from her shield and through her hands, passing across Claire's battered body.

    And Claire’s eyes opened. It was a flicker at first, but then more stable as she awoke, feeling heavy and slow, dark hair plastered to her face with dried blood, green eyes glinting faintly in the firelight as it passed over her face, shadows dancing across her blood-soaked torso. Her injuries healed ever so slightly, her mind clearing enough that she could wake, if not quite rise yet.

    “How much of that do you have left in you?” Arni whispered.

    “We’ll have to see,” Kara said, feeling the warm tingle of the holy magic as it left her. She wasn’t so accomplished at using it yet, her mother had warned her when she’d started to venture out on her own to be careful when calling on that power. It could burn one out to a husk, she hadn’t developed a resistance to it yet and the power of gods was not for mortals to chanel through their own flesh and blood. Marask had granted her some robustness at her swearing, it was the way of a Paladin's oath, but it didn’t mean that she didn’t have to learn. 

    “Are we alive?” Clair asked, voice slightly dreamy. “I don’t think this is what being dead feels like.”

    “Clair, there’s a scythe on the wall,” Kara said immediately. “Do you think you can knock it down?”

    “Kara,” she complained. “I’m tired.” 

    “I know,” Kara said, wishing she didn’t have to push her friend quite so hard. “But we need it to cut the bonds.”

    “For you,” Clair said, her sigh nearly pouty, as though she didn’t quite grasp the gravity of the situation. Clair’s eyes were clouded with an emerald green light, that same light glinting out as though catching along a thread tethered between her and the scythe on the wall, and with a jerk of her chin, the scythe clattered down. 

    They were all still for a moment, listening to the ruckus of goblins and trolls not far by. They had obviously been ignored for the time being, and the reason for that quickly became clear.

There was a chorus of hooting and hollering, a rough voice crowing Look what I found hiding in the wine cellar! 

Kara felt her blood turn to ice at the scream of a child, the laughter of the goblins, and yet another child, obviously younger than the first, sobbing loudly.

 She nearly took her shoulder out of its socket in her haste to roll across the barn floor, taking little heed to avoid the body of the farmer, which she now realized was in more than a few pieces. The scythe was old, but still sharp, clearly a well cared for tool, and trying to hook the curved blade into her ropes was difficult. Once they were there, it was more difficult still to find the leverage she needed to cut the bonds, and her only comfort was that she could still hear the children crying.

Crying meant that they were alive. The laughter of the trolls meant that they weren’t keen on killing them yet, probably well fed from the others on the farmstead, and now Vol. 

The sound of the ropes being cut through would likely be cemented in her mind as a moment of relief, forcing her stiff bones to move, ignoring the small cuts she’d left on her wrists and ankles in her haste as she moved to Arni’s side, cutting him free next. They hadn’t bothered with Claire, obviously thinking that she was a lost cause.

“I can’t fix your leg,” she said, a note of apology in her voice.

“I’ll figure it out- go,” he said, already going to work with what he could find on hand. Claire was conscious again, having drifted off until the sound of the children roused her. Her expression was one of grim determination, face shiny with a sheen of sweat as she tried to force herself upright.

“Ready?” Kara whispered, reaching her hand out to the mage. Claire nodded, and when Kara took her hand, there was another shine of light between them, the healing more of a burn this time as the wounds on her stomach were sealed shut, Kara pulling her into standing. She still needed to lean heavily on Kara, who put her arm around her shoulders and they both began to make their way towards the door that looked like it led into the chicken coop.

The chickens were dead. At least, with the quantity of blood and feathers scattered about, and lack of clucking hens, that seemed to be the case. There weren’t any bodies.

“I’m going to find somewhere to stash you for support,” Kara said, plan forming in her mind as they ducked into the rows of corn in a field nearby, following the sound of laughing trolls and now only one crying child, the smaller one if Kara could guess. She feared the worse, but as they found a round of hay for Claire to hang onto and hide behind, narrowly avoiding a pile of sleeping goblins, they saw that the older child was still alive.

A little girl, cloth ribbons flying loose from her braids, lip curled in a terrified snarl as she faced down what was likely the smallest hellish hound that had been fighting alongside the goblins. Not quite a wolf, certainly not a dog, it was canine in origin but it’s snout was broad and flattened, jowls not able to cover slathering teeth and snake-like tongue, it’s claws more for slashing than that of a dog, and no tail to speak of.

It might have been playing with her more than anything else, as a cat plays with a mouse, but she had been given a small knife and would slash at it whenever it grew near, all the while circling the sobbing toddler that held onto her tattered skirts. All the while the goblins danced and the trolls laughed- three in all, three times as large as a man with leathery skin that was difficult to discern from the leathery skins they wore around the waist and shoulders. A thick ridge of bone grew across their forehead and down their spines, and on the largest one there were spines growing from the ridge, the other two sporting stone studded gauntlets.

“Kara,” Claire whispered, eyes wide with fear.

“We have to do something,” Kara snapped, watching the girl bury her knife in the dogs shoulder as it lunged with a finality to its motion. It dragged her with it as it pulled away, before she was able to recover the knife and scramble back to the baby.

“On your signal then,” Claire said, grasping handfuls of the hay to support herself in the shadows, afraid that she’d be unable to get up if she tried to sit.

“I’m going to try and get another angle,” Kara whispered, the short scythe in a white knuckled grip in her hand. She disappeared back into the corn rows, looping around to the other side of the camp, grateful that it seemed to be relatively small. She saw some ponies off to the side, stocky, mountain-faring creatures, and she felt a small chill as she saw a goblin tending to one of them, the pony accepting a scratch under the chin from its long, talon-like nails.

Goblins riding horses- they usually didn’t bother with such things, just eating them instead. This was a bad sign.

At the very least, it could be a method of escape, they’d never make it out on foot, and they wouldn’t make it to the ponies if something wasn’t done about those trolls. 

The dog had recovered from its stab-wound, the girl was beginning to flag, and even the toddler had softened down to a desperate, hiccuping snuffle of a whine. 

From where Kara was hiding now, she watched a goblin, wobbly from the empty bottle of wine in its hand, wander just a touch too close to the haybale, and for a moment she was afraid that Claire wouldn’t be able to hide.

Of course now it seemed that she hadn’t needed to. The goblin had frozen mid-step for the span of a few heartbeats, and now as it returned to crouch at the edge of the ring around the girl and dog, Kara could see the green glaze in its eyes, the stillness at its shoulders and the droop to its long ears that all indicated that Claire had taken its mind as her own. How long she would hold it for, Kara didn’t know, but she knew that it was time to act, and to act quickly. 

The shield pendant around her throat began to glow again, the light traveling to her eyes this time as she dug into that power to bolster herself, climbing carefully up the pile of wood, and then to the stack of haybales that was serving as a wind-break for their camp and fire, staying just barely in the shadows as she rose to be above the one with the spines.

If she missed this jump she would be impaled.

The dog got the girls skirt, tearing free, claws drawing vicious red lines in her back as she dove to protect the toddler instead, rolling away as it continued its attack.

It seemed to happen in slow motion, the goblin rising and pulling its short sword from its belt. None of the others seemed to notice or care that it walked across the circle until it buried its blade between the shoulders of the dog, which yelped and crumpled under the attack, and before the scraggly horde could react to that, Kara had lept for the troll’s back.

The scythe was old, but the farmer had kept it sharp. The leathery flesh of the troll parted under its point as she hauled back on the curve, ripping it through the things throat. The gout of blood that came from it nearly put out the fire, but that instead exploded into writhing tongues of flame– Claire’s work again, the base of the fire had turned green rather than white as it whipped out, wreaking havoc in the camp, lighting tents and more bales of hay off like torches.

Kara rode the dead troll to the ground as it thrashed in its last moments, using the point of the scythe to dig one of the rough, barbed spikes out of the beasts spine to hold in her hand like a spear as she turned to face the other two with a war cry of her own. The holy light burned through her skin, a flash of wings shimmering outwards as she lept for another troll, which was stunned into a frozen stillness.

That was, until she buried the spin in one of its eyes, hooking the point of the scythe into one of its bone platings to give herself something to hold onto, feet braced on its collar bones. It roared, and the other one swatted Kara off it like a squirrel off a branch. Something cracked when she hit the ground, but there was no pain as she rose and charged the uninjured one without hesitation. She dove, rolling out of the way of another ham-like palm, rising and dodging behind its leg, burying the scyths blade as deep as it would go behind the beasts knee. It was like a curved sewing needle, the sort used for patching flesh together, dipping it and coming out, the inner bend sharp. As the troll stepped forward, Kara dug in her heels, and felt the snap of a tendon as the blade cut itself free, the troll howling and collapsing in pain.

“Horses!” Kara yelled at the girl, pointing in the direction of the ponies.

The girl didn’t hesitate, grabbing her brother under the arms and bolting the direction Kara had pointed, knife in hand. The goblins had scattered from, trying to put out the tents and rescue their supplies. Claire realized quickly that they were focussed on a particular stack of barrels, and in response, sent a chunk of burning wood lobbed into that direction. The goblins screeched and scattered, the barrels quickly revealing themselves to be blast jelly.

When Arni felt the ground shudder with an explosion, he thought that maybe it was time to get moving. He’d managed a rudimentary splint for his leg, but quickly realized that it would be more expedient for him to begin to crawl, a gardening fork in one hand. The barn door was bolted shut from the outside, but the window was only shuttered and easy to push open. The matter of crawling out of it was another thing, and he’d just fallen through when he saw Kara sprinting towards him.

There was a troll lumbering after her, one eye weeping blood and fluid. He forced himself to standing once more, feeling his stomach turn over, every inch of his body protesting the action as he took the fork in his hand. It was hardly balanced or weighted, it was worth a shot, wasn’t it?

Kara saw him take a moment of thought and dove forward as his arm went up, the gardening tool flying from his hand in a practiced toss.

He’d been hoping to get the creature in the throat, maybe knock some wind out of it’s thick head if nothing else, but by some small miracle, he missed.

It was a miracle because the points of the fork went into it’s other eye. The troll howled in pain, stumbling and driving a furrow into the ground as it fell, and Arni would have fainted to the ground if Kara hadn’t caught him. She ducked down and scooped him up unceremoniously onto her shoulders, draped like an old rug.

    Arrows were flying as they made it to the ponies once more and she dumped him onto the back of one, seeing that Claire had already made it up onto the back of one, and the girl was hauling another in tight circles as it grew antsy with all the chaos. The one that Kara had dumped Arni onto didn’t quite appreciate the sudden load of cargo, but being that these were creatures that had been in the care of goblins, they were robust, unflappable fellows.

    One of the other ponies stumbled with a horsey shriek as an arrow caught it in the side, and the girl took off as soon as she heard the bay of hounds.

    Claire wasn’t far behind her, and Kara followed shortly after, surprised by the speed of the squat little creatures.

[pancake-breakfast]

(Edit: For the full discussion with this post, go here.)

So after reading this thread by @mydetheturk and @shastafirecracker, I got to thinking about Vash as a gun in Trigun Stampede. (I would have responded in thread, but the thread is Trigun Book Club and I'm about to get into spoilers for Stampede here. Which reminds me....)

Spoilers for Trigun Stampede Ahead

The series is called Trigun because Vash has three guns: 1) the one he carries, 2) the one in his prosthetic left arm, and 3) his angel arm. The thread linked above gets into how, throughout Trigun (every iteration, TBH), Vash doesn't simply wield weapons, but because of his angel arm he very literally is a weapon, and that's an identity he resists as much as he can. He doesn't want to be used for violence. He just wants to help people, but his very nature makes pursuing that path a rather difficult one.

In particular, once he's aware of its presence, Vash wants to take every precaution he can to stop from releasing the power that channels through his angel arm, which is understandable since it can literally level cities. That destructive power the antithesis of what Vash wants to be, but it's also an irremovable part of himself... and it's something that Knives covets enough to severely violate Vash in attempt to gain control of it. The power itself might be Vash's, but it's Knives who activates it, forces it into being, and thus compels Vash to both channel it into his angel arm and to pull the trigger on that insanely powerful gun.

However, in Stampede, it's not just the weight of the angel arm that Knives forces on Vash. Knives is literally responsible for Vash having the other two guns, as well.

These can both be traced to episode 9. First, Knives thrusts the handgun into Vash's arms, calling it, "An evil weapon of the Sinners, taking lives easily from afar with the twitch of a finger...."

Nominally, he's doing this to protect Vash. Vash won't raise his hand to take down the humans that literally just overclocked their sisters to death, to protect them or to protect himself, so Knives provides him with a weapon he labels a coward's tool for evil (gun #1). In doing that, he very much implies his brother is both a coward and someone who needs to embrace doing evil in order to survive.

It's only a few minutes later that Knives makes way for the second gun.

Knives slices off Vash's arm to protect him from the power Vash (accidentally) summoned to try to protect Luida from Knives, thus making way for Vash's prosthetic arm (gun #2).

Thus, every shot fired by Vash from either the handgun or the prosthetic is the result of Knives' actions, even when Knives isn't actively sending people to harass Vash.

"But wait," you hypothetically say. "In TriStamp, Vash's prosthetic arm has a grappling gun, not a gun that fires bullets."

You're right.

Interesting that the one gun Vash has the option to choose for himself in Stampede isn't designed for killing. Instead, Vash uses it to try and save himself, and to save Meryl.

(Though all things considered, I wouldn't be surprised if whatever upgrade he has in Season 2 is more in line with what fans of previous Trigun series are used to in his prosthetic arm.)

There's one other thing I'll note before wrapping this up. Going back to Episode 9 of Stampede... Vash is actually very quick to try and use that handgun Knives gives him. But he doesn't use it to defend himself from humans (or anyone else, really) the way Knives wants him to. Instead, he grits his teeth, does his best to steady an unsteady hand, and uses it to try and protect one of the only two humans left standing around them, Luida, from Knives.

[chaiaurchaandni]

while the terrorist zionist army kills 20k Palestinians in Gaza, zionist settlers do this in the occupied West Bank

[the-lady-maddy]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Eye On Palestine (@eye.on.palestine)

[repost-haven]

Dumb shit post about my kin list—

[rxttenfish]

while aaravi remains firmly within "yeah miranda has a difficult personality and isn't very easy to get along with + has many rough edges which are slowly being worked on but still going to be an issue" after having been very much so within the camp that miranda is a Vexing Bitch upon first contact/getting to know her, she DOES go from "miranda is unpredictable and dangerous as a merfolk and large macropredator and her emotions are inscrutable and random" to "merfolk aren't very hard to understand or predict and it's very easy to stay on the safe side if you keep basic rules in mind and don't freak out the second something unexpected happens"

[ejunkiet]

I- do not like New York city.

[shadelorde]

“look at this bitch they have an icon from April fools day where people would boop each other as a joke but say that going on a post about disabled people being dehumanized and talking about animals is bad and comparing them to animals draws from eugenics. uhm get ratio’d”

bestie. bestie.

[maddy-ferguson]

there's very few things i find as abhorrent as white men accusing men of color and immigrants of being the ones who rape/sexually assault women and commit femicide it's so insidious and it's a despicable way to shield themselves from feminist critique

[sskk-manifesto]

Ep 10!

[niko-mesu-the-dragon-dog]

A Grieving Mother’s Anger

[knaveofmogadore]

So like, imagine this. It's the first big family reunion after COVID restrictions let up, your family took a few years to all get vaccinated, ect. Your kid is 6, so they weren't old enough to take to the last one, this is the first time they're meeting some of these more distant relatives. So you introduce them to Uncle Mike, and you say "This is Uncle Mike. He thinks you're so small and delicious, and that it'd be so easy to pick you up and throw you at the nearest wall and break all your bones." If that 6 year old then power kicks uncle Mike in the nuts and runs away screaming, whose fault is that?

So this post is about Doctor Who. The patron unknowable Eldritch entity of your country has just spent an entire afternoon telling you that the universe is full of things that are stronger and bigger than you, and a lot of them will happily blenderize your planet for a bit of rocket fuel, or eat all of you for a big Sunday brunch. And he's letting that ship full of slavers happily fly away to tell the entire galaxy about your tiny planet's existence. You are an animal, your empathy and reason only extends to the boundaries of what you can understand, and the Doctor has just told you that the vast majority of the galaxy sees you as prey. Me, personally? I'm with Harriet, I wouldn't stand a chance in that situation, I'd 100% take that shot.

All I'm saying is that if the Doctor wanted to foster empathy, they probably shouldn't have started with enthusiastically explaining how cleverly the aliens were going to coerce them into slavery, especially not to a woman who grew up in Britain as it rebuilt itself from the blitz in a post-nazi Europe

[gacha-incels]

the reality for women living in South Korea. Extremely high rates of domestic violence, and many cases of abuse in which the man will violently kill the woman’s pet in front of her. The MTL is ok on the article, just mind the pronouns get switched around sometimes and some wording might be confusing.

article link

Original article text

[emmyrosee]

tw// police brutality, split juries, violence against POC, Straight up murder. Elijah Jovan McClain.

My family watches the news in the morning, and one of the stories that was playing was the murder of Elijah Jovan McClain, and how the jury was able to convict one officer, but was split on the other one.

And I just. I don’t fucking get it. I really, really, REALLY can’t understand it.

[sofiaspeaksart]

ceasefire now

praying for peace and healing

let there be an end to the violence

mountain gazelle, Palestinian sunbirds, and twigs from an olive tree