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enchanted-sorcery · 3 years ago

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Hi there, I scrolling through the arcane tag and saw your post saying you were gonna write for it and im always looking for new arcane blogs to follow so can I ask for jinx's s/o getting hurt fighting ekko during the bridge scene. S/o was trying to save jinx but gets hurts in the process not like fatally but enough to not be able to walk by themselves

In a Moment

fandom: arcane

pairing: jinx x gn!reader

warning(s): minor cursing, violence, angst(?)

word count: 1.0k words

date of post: january 22, 2022

author’s note: hi there! always happy to have a new follower, welcome to my humble blog. :D as you know if you saw the post, i’m pretty new to writing for arcane so forgive me if anyone is out of character- and for the way i self indulged in the fact that i simp for jinx. <33 for context, reader in this fic grew up in the undercity, but not around vi and the rest of the gang. hope you enjoy! reblogs are greatly appreciated.

also i think i might make a part 2?? hmu if anyone’s interested

masterlist

the art of stealth was not an easy one to perform. it took caution, a type of grace and elegance, the ability to be quick on your feet and not make little to no noise. it took a lot of training and practice in order to pass by undetected.

as a citizen of the undercity, this was an art you needed to perfect the moment you were born. for the sake of your survival, you were able to.

in all honesty, you didn’t know why you were following jinx in the first place, using what you learned over the years so she wouldn’t know you were there. you especially made sure to keep your shadow in mind, keeping an eye on possible sources of light. it had been something your girlfriend pointed out one day while you were trying to sneak up on her.

maybe you had wanted to make sure she was safe. maybe it was because you wanted to be able to see her in action, something you didn’t have the joy of seeing often. maybe you didn’t want to die by silco’s hand if something were to happen to her. either way, you found yourself looking down from a pier, using the arch to better hide in case someone were to for some reason look in your direction.

watching jinx take aim at the two opponents was captivating. it was a beautiful balance between passionate and calculated, a warped showcase of grace and elegance not so different from your own. one of the people in front of her was a young woman, seemingly from the undercity from what you could see, with pink hair; her red jacket and bandaged arms immediately caught your eye. though if she were from the undercity, you were pretty sure you would have remembered her. she sort of reminded you of the sister jinx would often talk about. the second young woman was obviously from the topside, the posh energy that radiated off of her something you were able to feel all the way from your hiding place. the girl you had grown fond of seemed to be winning- something you would be able to celebrate with her later.

then, he appeared.

you weren’t able to tell where he had come from, only that he came flying in on some board of sorts.

shit.

did the posh girl call for reinforcements somehow? you needed to get down there and help your girlfriend.

you jumped down from your location, using the cracks and imperfections of the structure to minimize the impact and possible noise from the landing. as you looked around, you remembered something. your girlfriend can handle herself. what she lacks in strength she makes up with intelligence. it would be a slight blow to her pride if you waltzed in like some knight. finding some rubble to hide behind, you watched the white-haired person stand in front of jinx.

tick, tick, tick, tick

was that a pocket watch?

tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick, tick

knowing jinx as long as you had, you knew that she was rather… spontaneous with what she does. she would take aim at the threat and start firing. instead, she paused, only positioning herself to shoot like she was playing paintball. did she put her gun away? why was she hesitating? did she know this person? or was she just as confused as you were, actually taking a moment to think of what her next move would be?

as soon as the last question crossed your mind, you curled up into a ball from where you were. most, if not all, of jinx’s plans involved explosions- you wanted to make it out of this alive.

tick, tick, tick, ti-

it took you a moment to process that the sound stopped suddenly. you couldn’t help but peek over the rubble, wanting to know what was going on. as you did, the white haired boy lunged towards jinx, expertly dodging her attacks. the pipe in his hands seemed to have popped out of nowhere, knocking your girlfriend onto the ground. you heard her groan, which snapped you out of your slight trance.

“jinx!” you jumped up, charging towards the attacker. he looked up in your direction, not having the time to comprehend what you were doing before you knocked him over onto the ground. you didn’t know where you found the strength to, but keeping him on the ground with your heel to his neck, you grabbed jinx’s gun from the ground. when had that gotten there?

you heard your own name being called out from behind you before it happened.

the next thing you remember was the blinding light. then the burning sensation quickly spreading through your right leg as you instinctively covered as much of yourself as you were able to. for a moment, you felt yourself succumb to unconsciousness. when you came to, you found the boy gone, and jinx lying on the ground.

you moved to stand, but the burning pain shooting up your leg anchored you to the ground. taking a deep breath, you tried again. it wasn’t the best decision you’ve ever made, but you needed to make sure jinx was still alive. with determination and all the strength you could muster, you began to crawl your way over to her.

the sound of footsteps made you pause. panicking, you tried moving faster. was it more enforcers? were they going to arrest you? what would they do to jinx if they got their filthy, corrupted hands on her? what if-

“jinx!”

silco.

you watched him run past you and towards the blue-haired girl.

one of the goons by silco’s side went to help you up. he practically carried you with the way you pushed most of your weight onto him. once you were able to see more clearly, you watched from behind as he picked her body from the ground, holding her close. as he got up to leave with her, something caught everyone’s attention.

the gemstone, glowing a bright blue in jinx’s hand.

#arcane x reader #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #jinx x you #arcane jinx #arcane jinx x reader #jinx x gn reader

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douxie-casperan · 3 years ago

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Rise of the Titans and the assassination Hisirdoux Casperan’s character development

I’ve been ranting so much since Wednesday morning that I finally condensed by thoughts of WHY this one subject keeps setting me off namely the utterly diabolical way they handled Douxie and Archie’s relationship in Rise of the Titans and how it wasn’t just enough to hit him with the nerf bat.

Please note I’m at the point where I literally cannot tell the difference between Aaron headcanons, Teny headcanons and my own they are all mixed together in the blender that does funky things. I also apologise for typo/weird wording it’s half 1 in the morning and I’d rather sleep than edit.

If asked to sum up Hisirdoux Casperan there are certainly several things that come to mind:

Sees the value in people as a whole and will find do anything if there is a chance of help someone out

Prefers tactics that disable/banish rather than kill an enemy yet willing and able to pull the trigger if circumstances become forced

While not academically inclined he is very capable of thinking on his feet and outside the box calling back to his time on the streets where a split-second decision making is the difference between being caught and not

Terrible at planning he’ll be in there figuring it out as he goes along which is what makes the previous point so vital to literally how he goes through life

A natural charmer that would let him talk his way out of trouble 9/10 providing a perfect cover for his distrustful nature and reluctance to be touched by random people

Very down to earth, humble and never one to brag unless outright sassing someone

Will bang out some hot tunes at the drop of a hat, his love of music has never wavered once since he caught the bug despite instrument hopping ironically becoming a jack of all trades much like his magic style

The earliest memories he can recall are him as a young boy lost in the woods where he was for an unknown amount of time before his soon to be familiar finds him amongst the roots covered in dirt and drying tears, there is nothing before that. Unbeknownst to him is the colour of his magic matches the blue of a lost mother’s eyes and the song that haunts his nightmares as much as fire could well be hers though there is no way to be sure. From that moment on Archibald, shortened to Archie, would become his entire world and their friendship only becoming closer during the years they prowled Camelot together trying to keep themselves in one piece until the fateful day Douxie tricks the wrong person leading him straight into the path of the famous wizard Merlin Ambrosius.

It's no real secret that Merlin is a very closed off person who keeps his emotions as well guarded as his secrets, prefers the style of negative reinforcement over positive encouragement and is a very strict perfectionist in his. At this point in his life he can be very easily described as a disaster that is genuinely doing his best with every little mistake held of his head and his future self when brought back to that time period is belittled by Lancelot (Errand boy) and Arthur (Boy) too meaning it’s hardly a wonder his confidence was very fragile revelling in the times where he could do things without being told off for it. With Morgana largely ignoring him too (Though personally I like to think as he got older she’d occasionally take an interest until the blistering arguments with their master started to talk over daily life) a certain disguised dragon would have remained a lifeline and give that physical affection he craved much like being told he’d done well never seemed able to earn.

With Killahead he’d lose that home and family he made leaving just the two of them behind struggling to figure out their place in the world that had abandoned them.

There wouldn’t have been the words for it back then but the way he had been treated prior was outright abusive instilling very bad habits into Douxie yet by irony he was always willing to give people the benefit of the doubt and help those in trouble without thinking earning a reputation as the Shepard of Fire. He refused to become like him seeking to be better, perhaps not as a wizard (Even though he was learning new charms and spells along the way) but certainly as a person. Despite everything he suffers through or witnesses in the intervening years, the loss of friends and kindling of far newer ones he never loses his good heart

That said is it any wonder that after rightfully sassing Merlin for resurfacing, ignoring his existence despite being in the same town and only visiting him to run a finding errand that all the confidence he’d managed to build completely from scratch after Camelot wavered causing him to fall back solely into trying impressing his old Master who was acting like his humble apprentice must have coasted the past few centuries who himself fell back into old habits of belittling? It’s only when Merlin started to truly listen and acknowledge that this was not the same Moppet he once knew after Excalibur was fixed that their relationship finally started to become more like equals. After the defeat of Janus the changeling that broke into the castle he touched Douxie’s shoulder with a genuine smile and for a second he simply didn’t know what to do because the old man never did this before his brain kicked into gear and realised he’d finally earned that one thing he’d been so desperate for his entire life: That in Merlin’s eyes he could be more than a failure who only caused problems for the closest thing to a father figure he’d ever had, never solved them.

A staff will be earned, history would be set back on trap by banishing Morgana tag teaming with Archie because they know one another inside and out, as promised he’d get the kids back to the present but soon after things would go badly wrong. They’d lose Jim and because of his very nature he’d make a gamble to try and get him back because that life is worth trying for just for in a moment of surprising selflessness Merlin would be sacrificed to save him. The only constant in his life apart from Archie would apologise, openly express pride and how the greatest thing he’d ever done was saving this orphan, call him son for the first and final time before turning into ash in his arms. There would be no time to grieve for things will barrel into the crescendo of Douxie sacrificing his own life to buy everyone time to escape because if they did that everything he’d ever done would be worth it with one last whispered goodbye.

(Zoe sees him fall, so does Archie – His heart would break if he was conscious just like theirs does when his body crumples into the ground)

On the very fringes of the Light Realm he is gifted one more conversation with Merlin in a truly heart-breaking sequence (THANKS TENY) where they can just talk without any fear of consequence or politics and just be completely honest. Douxie is allowed to stand equal to Merlin, to have the hug he’d needed since he was a child and be allowed to simply let go of every pretense and cry his heart out because this can never happen again. He’s allowed to say goodbye to both his master and Morgana who had both shaped so very much of his life but like the painting he’d always remained firmly in the long shadows of until that moment.

When Hisirdoux Casperan finally leaves Wizards if we just accidently deliberately put the shawarma back in along with checking in with Zoe before departure, it is with having learned to live during his wandering years but this is the point of true freedom because he can finally escape into his own light with Archie by his side to keep Nari out of the hands of those that would see the world harmed. It won’t be easy but it feels possible somehow even with the knowledge everything is simply running on borrowed time.

Then Rise of the Titans happens.

At first everything is genuinely fine! No more running, they engineer a solution shut the Order’s magic down to make them a lot less dangerous and potentially at least incapacitate them until they can come up with a longer-term solution but all the best laid plans and all that. Douxie’s quick thinking stops the train from crushing any of the people below and it’s a very him style move to switch places with Nari to stall for time because for some reason the plot disabled Claire from portaling her or any of the threatened people/heroes to safety. He openly sasses the Order despite knowing the consequences will be bad for him because once again he’s managed to trick them, buy time that at the other end isn’t even slightly utilised until he’s forced back into his own body in excruciating pain. Archie immediately mobs him with comfort just as he has done every single time the wizard is distressed or collapsed with exhaustion without thinking because that is what their bond is like, incredibly close and far more than the Soul Bond mark that connects them together. They’re very alike in that regard, you have to earn the right to touch while equally knowing exactly what form the other needs the most in that precise moment in a way very few others could.

Bar the moment of figuring out that an illusion is in place to hide where the Order is opening the Genesis Seals and the brief insistence on reconnecting with Nari somehow Douxie manages to forget everything that makes him who he is after this point choosing to stand in the background being very no thoughts head empty or can only use the most basic spells of his youthful days not the seasoned master wizard he should be. Nomura is treated like an innocent slip rather than an outright death he did absolutely nothing to prevent (Not to mention the stupid daytime thing) nor seems to care particularly about afterwards yet with Nari’s he’s allowed to openly grieve in a gorgeously animated visual showing how he’d failed to keep her safe despite everything. He did nothing to help here either mind despite allowing himself to be tortured in the same piece of media to keep her safe, just watched another loss happen right in front of his eyes in his conga long line of them.

Then there’s Archie, oh god then there was Archie.

The dragon who even here he’d been shown to have an incredibly close bond with him decides you know what sod that tell him goodbye I’m going to make a joke about having a kingdom now dad and me are trapped in here forever. Douxie on his part looked sad for all of three seconds saying that he hoped he’s happy like it's a pet that wandered out into the world one day and never came back instead of a lifelong companion that has been there for as long as he can remember. He was now completely alone in the world since Zoe was also written out entirely and because every bit of his background had been forgotten about it somehow meant nothing. This wasn’t “I know you miss him, I know you need to grieve but you are running out of time” moment like things had been with Charlie, this was “cool shapeshifting dragon cat is now stuck in a plot hole that’s a shame” with zero pay off or any of the genuine reaction that should have been there or hell even trying to Ohana him back that very second because it never should have happened in the first place. Then even this wasn’t enough somehow, they managed to de-power Douxie even further into uselessness bar the (Admittedly nifty!) sticky feet stunt, the one who fought Skrael and Bellroc to a stalemate was shunted aside with barely a thought and his head would somehow get even emptier.

The one person who knew the danger of time magic the most stood by and said nothing.

The one person who would suffer the most by a reset because the lynchpin to his issues would be asleep if you got it wrong and should have drilled it into Jim’s head the best time to aim for stood by and said nothing.

The one person who had just suffered the loss of his familiar, best friend and only family along with the almost sister like Nari stood by and said nothing.

Then to add further insult to injury the caption when Douxie and Archie is shown says Some go their entire lives living an existence of quiet desperation because every drop of his character growth, his ability to finally start addressing his trauma instilled back in the 12th century, the staff he longed for was instead openly mocked by going “Aww he got his cat friend back how nice!” Everything he’d rightfully earned and had now would be unable to progress until certain criteria are met because it hinges entirely on the Trollhunter going to Merlin’s tomb and there’s only so much your support network of two (One if she’s written out) can do, the root of the majority of his issues all stem from one man.

And this folks is why I’ve been going on multiple rants about Douxie in particular, everyone was hit with the out of character bat to some degree in this film but when they came for him they didn’t just stop after they took his legs out because they wanted him to suffer from something he’s never had any control over to begin with all over again. Abuse survivors deserve better, these characters deserve better and we as viewers deserve far far better writing than we were forced to endure.

#Ooc - Behind the curtains #Rise of the Titans #Rise of the Titans spoilers #RotT Spoilers #RoT spoilers #Wizards #Tales of Arcadia #ToAWizards #Hisirdoux Casperan #Douxie Casperan

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one-abuse-survivor · 3 years ago

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what should you do if you think someone is self harming? Not asking cause I know anyone who does it, but because I recall once almost getting caught and the thing I used to harm myself was taken away even if they didn't know I was hurting myself (it wasn't mine so I had to put it back on a bookcase every time I was done instead of hiding it). Yet when they took it away I just became stealthier and more secretive about it and learned how to hide it better, taking it didn't help me at all.

I also have a bunch of stories of my own of people trying to help me stop self-harming and doing the opposite of actually helping, so I'm very glad to answer this question. Please bear in mind my answer is going to be based only on my personal experience being on both sides of this situation, though. It's okay to have a different experience or point of view than mine, and if anyone wants to share theirs, you're more that welcome to.

Dos and don'ts of helping someone who's self-harming:

If the person just self-harmed:

Don't immediately take their self-harm tool away from them unless they ask you to. Chances are having it in their hand makes them feel control over the situation, and you could escalate it by trying to grab it from them. Work on calming them down first, then gently ask them to hand it to you.

Don't raise your voice or do any suddent movements. Move slowly, talk calmly.

Don't touch them without permission when you reassure them.

Don't ask why they did it or tell them it was selfish or stupid to do it. They're probably already judging themselves, and the last thing they need is for you to reinforce their negative self-talk. Remember self-harm isn't something you choose to do—it's more often than not a survival mechanism to cope with levels of pain greater than we can hold inside.

Do take a moment to breathe deeply before helping them, because you won't be able to help deescalate the situation if you yourself are panicking.

Do reassure them it's okay, that you're right there for them and you're not mad at them.

Do help them tend to their wounds if they're okay with that. Help them clean, disinfect, patch up or soothe them. If you don't have the right materials for that, even just offering a clean tissue to control the bleeding is better than nothing.

Do ask them if there's anything they need right now, like going to a quiet place or drinking some water. Focus on their needs in the moment, not on bigger-picture things like seeking help.

Do model soothing behaviours for them if they need it. For example, breathe in and out deeply and slowly, encouraging them to follow your lead.

In the long run:

Don't take away the person's self-harm tool without their consent. It's natural to want to do it: you care about this person and want to protect them from harm. But taking away the tool doesn't address the root problem and won't stop the self-harm from happening. On the contrary, it creates shame and distress, which might cause them to self-harm more and/or to not come to you the next time the self-harms happens.

Don't shame them, make jokes about their self-harm (unless they've told you they're okay with that) or throw it in their faces when you're upset. Remember self-harm isn't a personal flaw or a sign of weakness; it's morally neutral and something anyone could do. Always keep that in mind and remind the person of it when they're being hard on themself.

Don't treat relapse as a failure, or like it negates all the hours/days/months/years they didn't self-harm. Remind them their goal doesn't need to be to never self-harm again; their goal can be to space out their self-harm episodes as much as possible. This can help get through many bad moments without self-harming, because they'll feel more in control of the situation if they know the option will still be there later if they really need it. “I'll self-harm in 5/10/15 minutes if I'm still feeling like this” can be much more helpful in getting through a bad moment without actually self-harming than “I really want to do it, but I can't, because if I do I'll be a failure and it'll all have been for nothing”.

Don't tell them they're attention-seekers. This phrase has a very negative connotation and implies that they're bad, stupid, weak, annoying or selfish for reaching out to you for help. A generally preferred term for it (from what I've seen) is “a cry for help”. People who self-harm when others will see or know about it are desperately trying to communicate they need help. There's nothing wrong with needing help.

Do reassure the person you'll love and support them if they self-harm again. Let them know they can come to you when they do it, and meet them with reassurance when they do (see the previous list).

Do discuss the possibility of them handing their self-harm tools to you when they're ready for that. If you take the tools from them, it needs to be a decision you come to together. Be prepared for this to be too big a step initially, and even if you do come to this agreement, you need to be open to the possibility they might do it again through other means.

Do discuss safe self-harm with them, if they're open to it. Safe self-harm includes, but isn't limited to, using clean tools and keeping the wounds superficial (for example, by avoiding excessively sharp tools). It also includes finding safer methods to feel pain, like holding an ice cube or pouring a drop of spicy sauce on your tongue. (But don't forget that these methods are also self-harm and should also be avoided when possible).

Do discuss ways they can demonstrate and express their distress without self-harming, if they're open to it. Some examples of this are: rubbing their arms to redden them or pouring mud or red food colouring over their skin to mimick blood, painting on their skin, running, jumping, screaming, stomping their feet, etc.

Do help them address the root problem(s) when they're ready for that: it can be mental illness, trauma, undiagnosed health issues, poverty, abuse, incarceration, addiction, and a very long etc. This is when you might want to help them find therapy, if it's available to them and they're open to the idea.

Lastly, remember that it is not your responsibility to stop another person from self-harming. Your own safety and well-being should always be your priority. Helping someone who's self-harming should always be your decision, and not something you do out of guilt, obligation or fear.

If you're in a situation where someone is threatening self-harm unless you do what they say, that is emotional blackmail, and you deserve to take any steps you can to protect yourself from it. If you fear anyone's life, including yours, might be in danger, call your country's emergency number. If your boundaries aren't being respected, you deserve to cut out this person whether they follow through with their threat or not.

#Ask #Self-harm #Self harm #self harm tw #Self-harm tw #Sh tw #Self harm resources #Self harm care #Emotional blackmail mention #Long post

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theseerasures · 4 years ago

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RWBY V08C14 reaction post

haven’t done something like this for this fandom yet, but the finale was so much all at once that i could not muster any level of critical thinking the first go-around. my thoughts have...settled somewhat with a second rewatch. still nothing conclusive (obviously), but at least coherent enough to be written down.

in rough chronological order:

i am very into it, of course, but i’m still not quite sure what to make of the fact that this finale very explicitly pivots around Winter Schnee, to the extent that the episode (sans prologue and coda) are bookended by her. she begins the episode charging into a fight, and ends it the same way. even putting aside that her in-universe presence has increased by magnitudes, that we end a season where she has mostly been a sparse supporting player with THIS has implications i can’t suss out for her narrative role going forward.

going into the finale i thought that Ironwood vs. Winter would turn out to be another RWBY Flagship Fight (ie long and flashy and indulgent in the best ways), but i pretty much knew that wouldn’t be the case once the fight began in earnest and they immediately started talking to each other.

for what we did get i’m happy to say that the Core Dynamic of the fight was exactly what i predicted: Winter rushing in to melee and not giving Ironwood enough time to fire, Ironwood trying to make room by shoving her away and using his cannon as a makeshift club--even down to breaking the cannon formation BACK to dual wielding to give himself an edge.

i will say that for Winter to have blocked him head-on--this is James Ironwood, who once stopped an Alpha Beowolf cold with one bionic hand, and now he’s got TWO--with her broken noodle arms is...incredibly cool. stupid! but cool.

Ironwood doing the double pistol whip while screaming about how no one is grateful has i wouldn’t have to be doing this if you just behaved all over it.

in retrospect i’m not sure why i expected a RWBY Flagship Fight when just about every fight this season has been extremely different. the camera work is always fucking frantic, we’re often cross-cutting between different simultaneous fights, and there are far fewer shots where both combatants are clearly shown and evenly matched. about the only fight we’ve had resembling that is AceOps vs Penny waaaaaaay back in Strings--even the low-stakes triumphant JNPER + Winter vs. Ironwood fight in Creation was extremely short and crosscut with BRA vs. AceOps.

case in point: the showdown in Grand Central takes up pretty much the entire episode, but combatants are continuously entering and exiting, the setting’s physical dimensions feel wonky and surreal, and the fact that half of the people fighting have flight capabilities means we’re relying on wide shots and oners to figure out what the fuck is going on. it’s a war now, and even though we follow only a handful of characters in it the fights carry that grander and more desperate tone.

Cinder relies twice this episode on just fucking nova-ing herself to overwhelm her Maiden opponents. it’s different from how she usually fights, which is still fireballs and conjured swords/projectiles--she’s learning to use her Maiden powers to wreak havoc on a larger scale, which a) reinforces what we already know of Cinder, but b) complements her recent relearning of subtlety and manipulation. still a tenuous balance of extremes that can and will shatter, though.

Weiss got to save everyone during the fight, and none of it mattered in the end.

the thing about priority one is that they all planned for this. they all went in planning for the contingency where they don’t make it out, where they have to watch others not make it out.

Weiss plucking Penny out of the air and Penny pleading to make the sacrifice play is an EXACT recreation of what happened in Enemy of Trust, down to the saved looking up at the savior while the savior is looking onward. she’s just swapped places with the Schnee in question, and...they are the priority targets this time, unfortunately.

Cinder smugly flipping her hair out of...her eyepatch...she really is living her best life and she knows it

Blake made the right choice, and it didn’t matter at all.

Qrow ending the last episode with a berserker charge at Harriet and then immediately pulling back here and trying to talk her down really got to me, as did him trying to block the bomb with his body. the man is so desperately trying to be better than he was, and it doesn’t take a lot anymore for him to realize the right path.

Elm and Vine--

the thing about Elm and Vine is that both their powers boil down to getting attached. so watching Elm hold Vine in place while Vine holds the two airships together, everyone in this little world, it’s...everything i could ever want, out of how the story of the AceOps would end.

Anairis Quinones for dark horse MVP. why can’t you just let me do my job, delivered in the way that it was, is the perfect encapsulation of Harriet Bree desperately trying to outrun her personal feelings and the grief it has given her.

Elm tells Harriet that she’s their friend, to stop her from killing a part of herself as she tries to kill others. it’s the first time this happens in the episode, but not the only time.

Penny saved Blake so they could save Ruby together, and it didn’t matter at all.

our heroes have GOT to stop falling for the “watch the thing flying in the air! OH WAIT I STILL HAVE A WEAPON IN MY HAND WALLOP WALLOP” trick. it happens multiple times in this one episode.

Harriet, who has the fastest Speed Semblance known, says there’s no time to make it out of the blast range. she doesn’t try to outrun it. she just...stays put, and admits that she brought them all here, to this. i’m sorry.

here’s the thing: they’re soldiers. they were prepared for this eventuality, where they don’t make it out. that’s why Elm let Vine go grab Harriet; because she thought they were all going to die, and if that happened she wanted Harriet close enough to reach.

but--just like with Team Hero--some of them do make it out. they just have to watch.

Vine and Hazel sacrificed themselves in the same way in the end: pulling their loved ones close wasn’t working, so they threw themselves around the thing trying to kill them instead.

Ruby was clever, and pragmatic, and brave. it didn’t matter in the end.

Cinder letting Neo fall as soon as she gets a chance proves that she still lacks patience, and that’s going to bite her in the ass.

the Penny-Blake fastball special and the fall; Penny crying tears for the first time, but not moving immediately to rage, as she had last episode, when Yang fell.

Weiss’ shaking hands around Gambol Shroud, crying berserker tears as she tries, desperately, to pull off another miracle. it’s another role reversal in a way: her sister’s the Riza Hawkeye, but she’s the one emptying useless clip after useless clip into an enemy she can’t kill, because her heart has been ripped in two.

the last time Nora Valkyrie saw Jaune Arc, they clasped hands, and their eyes met with determination, and hope.

it figures that a Schnee would be the last one standing, letting all her friends die first. she was right, but again: wrong Schnee.

Weiss diving past Cinder’s blind spot to slice the Grimm Arm, to save Penny--the same script, but the wrong player. and too late.

at Haven, Jaune went from trying to do harm to unlocking his Semblance, and realizing that he was meant to heal. here, he goes from trying to do what he is meant to do, what he has made peace with, to...

it will take a long time, i think, for him to learn to live with himself, even with Penny reassuring him that this is what she wants. to go from wanting to harm to being the one who does no harm, to being forced to acknowledge a person’s right to die, and carry out the deed himself. it’s a new variation on what he’s always had to wrestle with since Pyrrha’s sacrifice.

Weiss managed to outlast Cinder Fall without an Aura WITHOUT getting her entire body broken, Winter

the boundary between material worlds is made of darkness. the boundary between souls is made of light, and there is no danger of falling.

where...what is this? of course Winter doesn’t know. she never would have, even if she had gotten the powers, because she would have used the Transfer machine.

i thought of you, and here we are. that was all it took. the last time Penny saw Winter, Winter was still loyal to Ironwood. she’s only known abstractly, secondhand from Weiss, that Winter was on their side again and trying to help save Mantle, for about an hour. and yet: i thought of you.

and in the face of this thought that is love, Winter averts her eyes. tries in vain to hide her face, because she knows she is unworthy. she doesn’t deserve this.

but here’s the thing: no one deserves this. Penny. are you...the one? even Penny herself wasn’t sure.

you were my friend. the second time it happens this episode. friends save friends from themselves. friends transform what would have been murder into sacrifice.

remember what Penny said to Cinder, shortly before Cinder killed her? you wouldn’t know anything about friends. she’s right. it wasn’t Cinder’s choice, but she’s right. and now Cinder has learned how to use that.

i’ll be part of you. it is, of course, something that’s been brought up repeatedly this whole season. but it’s also what Winter said to Penny after Fria died: she’s a part of you now.

and i do love this yoking together of arc words. Winter is of course the firstborn Schnee, but Winter is, more broadly, The Firstborn in this new generation. so here we have something similar to the chain that begins with Winter letting her sisters go, through Penny letting Emerald go, through Emerald helping Oscar escape, to Atlas’ however ephemeral victory over Salem. what Winter begins--haltingly and with resentment--becomes transformed into radiant grace in the hands of her younger siblings. and she gets to be the direct benefactor this time. the prodigal daughter returns to her family.

during Enemy of Trust we watched from the outside as Oscar fell and Penny rose, as one set of eyes closed as another opened. during The Final Word, we watch from the inside: one set of eyes close. another opens.

Winter’s leitmotif plays on the piano for the first time since the previous season as she comes back to the world. it makes sense. the piano version is for her sisters, and she just left one of them.

here is the apotheosis of Winter Schnee: she gets back up. she falters and sways but she gets back up, and then she, the person who once managed to convince herself that so long as she could make peace with someone else’s choice it meant she too was choosing, tells the man who has been choosing for her for years: you chose nothing. and she rises.

in the end James Ironwood was finished by his petard thrice over. Atlas had defected against him. his greatest creation had become the Maiden and unshackled herself from him. and there is of course, the cannon: a literal petard, in the other words, which he fires at Winter, and Winter reflects back upon him.

Jaune Arc used the heirloom that his family has held for generations to kill a defenseless girl. he took the blade and sunk it in deep, because Penny trusted him and he had to be sure.

and then it shattered in his hands.

there’s something here in the second fight between Maidens, about Cinder having a named weapon and forsaking it for what she can make on the fly, and Winter insistent on using a weapon with no name at all, but i still can’t put my finger on it.

Winter never got to see Weiss try to Summon her Nevermore.

the thing that gets me about how it turns out is: Winter was winning. she’d managed to get her hands on the Staff, and even with Cinder’s immediate counterattack she managed to get the Staff away from Cinder. but then Cinder saw Jaune and Weiss, and she remembered a few days ago, when Penny saved Winter instead of going after Cinder, when Winter attacked Cinder to save Penny.

so Cinder attacks Weiss and Jaune instead of racing for the Staff. and Winter--

this is Winter Schnee. she saves people despite herself. she runs toward them, despite herself. and it has always, always been what saves her.

not anymore.

last time it had been Winter who was in mortal danger, and Weiss who, with Ruby’s help, drove Cinder off. same script, wrong player. and too late.

Weiss falls and for a moment, the camera makes it seem like Winter is falling too.

she wants to. no one deserves this.

the thing you have to ask when characters leap for the exit and fall just short is: is it about faith, or friendship? in Jaune’s case it’s both. his faith broke with Crocea Mors. and the portal is one-way, so he had no friends to grab him from the other side.

but Nora was still trying. they clasped hands. she promised.

the first time Winter sees her family--really sees them, after years of separation--she averts her eyes. she hides her face from them, because how can she tell them that Weiss is gone? how can she tell Penny’s friends that Penny is a part of her now, when Penny is just a part, now?

there are people all around her looking to her. there are voices within her. she has never been more alone.

(Winter Schnee has never met Pyrrha Nikos, and Pyrrha Nikos never became Maiden. because Pyrrha Nikos never became Maiden. Cinder Fall did that, too.)

this is what Winter Schnee thinks, as she screams and charges, as she kills Grimm faster than they are drawn in by her despair: in the fairy tales, eldest siblings never win.

i failed you again, master. master, but not queen.

Cinder won this. the heroes tried and tried and tried and none of it mattered, and she won this. but here’s the thing: Cinder won because she was LUCKY, and because she made her own luck. that she was able to pin things on Neo and Team Hero depended on things going exactly as planned, and some things going better than planned. and the reason she’d even made it that far was because she cheated, with the last use of a divine relic. it doesn’t take away her from her victory, but what i do know is this: this is her finest moment. she will never win as completely ever again, and she will fall farther than she has ever feared. (and that will save her, in the end.)

and that’s checkmate. i said that i wanted Atlas to fall the same way that Amity rose, but of course they did it like this. of course it would horrific yet unspectacular, with its General slumped in defeat, unable to fire a single shot from his gun. with the city in the sky falling onto Mantle, in Mantle’s palette. from the Dust from which it arose into Dust again.

as below, so above.

#rwby #helen writes meta

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warsofasoiaf · 3 years ago

Text

Writing Characters With Believable Military PTSD

I typically write these writing and worldbuilding essays from a dispassionate perspective, offering advice and context to prospective writers from as neutral a point of view as I can manage, with the goal being to present specific pieces of information and broader concepts that can hopefully improve writing and build creators’ confidence to bring their projects to fruition, whether that be writing, tabletop gaming, video game programming, or anything that suits their fancy. While writing this essay though, I struggled to maintain that perspective. Certainly, the importance of the topic to me was a factor, but ultimately, I saw impersonality just as a suboptimal presentation method for something so intensely personal. I do maintain some impartiality particularly in places where historical or academic context is called for, but in other respects I’ve opted for a different approach. Ultimately, this essay is a labor of love for me, love for those who suffer from military PTSD, love for those who love those who suffer from it, and love for writers who want to, in the way that they so choose, help those two other groups out. Thus, this is a different type of essay in certain segments than my usual fare; I hope the essay isn’t an unreadable chimera because of it.

This essay focuses on military-related PTSD. While there are some concepts that translate well into PTSD in the civilian sphere, there are unique elements that do not necessarily fit the mold in both directions, so for someone hoping to write a different form of PTSD, I would recommend finding other resources that could better suit your purposes. I also recommend using more than one source just in general, trauma is personal and so multiple sources can help provide a wide range of experiences to draw upon, which should hopefully improve any creative work.

And as a final introductory note, traumatic experiences are deeply personal. If you are using someone you know as a model for your writing, you owe it to that person to communicate exactly what you are doing and to ask their permission every step of the way. I consider it a request out of politeness to implore any author who uses someone else’s experiences to inform their writing in any capacity, but when it comes to the truly negative experiences in someone’s life, this rises higher from request to demand. You will ask someone before taking a negative experience from their own life and placing it into your creative works, and you will not hide anything about it from them. Receiving it is a great sign of trust. The opposite is a travesty, robbing someone of a piece of themselves and placing it upon display as a grotesque exhibit. And if that sounds ghoulish and macabre, it’s because it is, without hyperbole. Don’t do it.

Why Write PTSD?

What is the purpose of including PTSD in a creative work? There have been plenty of art therapy actions taken by those who suffer PTSD to create something from their condition, which can be as profound for those who do not have it as it is therapeutic for those that do, but why would someone include it in their creative works, and why is some no-name guy on the internet writing an essay offering tips as to how to do it better?

Certainly, one key element is that it’s real, and it happens. If art is to reflect upon reality, PTSD suffered by soldiers is one element of that, so art can reflect it, but what specifically about PTSD, as opposed to any other facet of existence? Author preference certainly plays a factor, but why would someone try to include something that is difficult to understand and difficult to portray? While everyone comes to their own reason, I think that a significant number of people are curious about what exactly goes on in the minds of someone suffering through PTSD, and creative works allow them a way to explore it, much the way fiction can explore scenarios and emotions that are either unlikely or unsafe to explore in reality. If that’s the case, then the purpose of this essay is rather simple, to make the PTSD examination more grounded in reality and thus a better reflection of it. But experiences are unique even if discernable patterns emerge, so in that sense, no essay created by an amateur writer with no psychological experience could be an authoritative take on reality, the nature of which would is far beyond the scope of this essay.

For my own part, I think that well-done creative works involving PTSD is meant to break down the isolation that it can cause in its wake. Veterans suffering may feel that they are alone, that their loved ones cannot understand them and the burden of trying to create that would simply push them away; better instead to have the imperfect bonds that they currently have than risk losing them entirely. For those who are on the outside looking in, isolation lurks there as well, a gulf that seems impossible to breach and possibly intrusive to even try. Creative works that depict PTSD can help create a sense that victims aren’t alone, that there are people that understand and can help without demeaning the sense of self-worth. Of course, another element would be to reduce the amount of poorly-done depictions of PTSD. Some creative works use PTSD as a backstory element, relegating a defining and important element of an individual’s life as an aside, or a minor problem that can be resolved with a good hug and a cry or a few nights with the right person. If a well-done creative work can help create a bridge and break down isolation, a poorly-done one can turn victims off, reinforcing the idea that no one understands and worse, no one cares. For others, it gives a completely altered sense of what PTSD is and what they could do to help, keeping them out, confusing them, or other counter-productive actions. In that sense, all the essay is to help build up those who are doing the heavy lifting. I’m not full of so much hubris as to think this is a profound piece of writing that will help others, but if creators are willing to try and do the hard work of building a bridge, I could at least try to help out and provide a wheelbarrow.

An Abbreviated Look At The Many Faces and Names of PTSD Throughout History

PTSD has been observed repeatedly throughout human history, even when it was poorly understood. This means that explorations of PTSD can be written in settings even if they did not have a distinctly modern understanding of neurology, trauma, or related matters. These historical contexts are also useful for worldbuilding a believable response in fictional settings and scenarios that don’t necessarily have a strict analogue in our own history. By providing this historical context, hopefully I can craft a broad-based sense of believable responses to characters with PTSD at a larger level.

In the time of Rome, it was understood by legionnaires that combat was a difficult endeavor, and so troops were typically on the front lines engaged in combat for short periods of time, to be rotated back for rest while others took their place. It was considered ideal, in these situations, to rotate troops that fought together back so that they could rest together. The immediate lesson is obvious, the Romans believed that it was vital for troops to take time to process what they had done and that was best served with quiet periods of rest not just to allow the adrenaline to dissipate (the "combat high"), but a chance for the mind to wrap itself around what the legionnaire had done. The Romans also recognized that camaraderie between fellow soldiers helped soldiers to cope, and this would be a running theme throughout history (and remains as such today). Soldiers were able to empathize with each other, and help each other through times of difficulty. This was not all sanguine, however, Roman legions depended on their strong formations, and a soldier that did not perform their duty could endanger the unit, and so shame in not fulfilling their duty was another means to keep soldiers in line. The idea of not letting down your fellow soldiers is a persistent refrain in coping with the traumas of war, and throughout history this idea has been used for both pleasant and unpleasant means of keeping soldiers in the fight.

In the Middle Ages, Geoffroi de Charny wrote extensively on the difficulties that knights could experience on the campaign trail in his Book of Chivalry. The book highlights the deprivation that knights suffered, from the bad food and poor sleep to the traumatic experience of combat to being away from family and friends to the loss of valued comrades to combat and infection; each of these is understood as a significant stressor that puts great strain on the mental health of soldiers up to today. De Charny recommended focusing on the knightly oaths of service, the needs of the mission of their liege, and the duty of the knight to serve as methods to help bolster the resolve of struggling knights. The book also mentions seeking counseling and guidance from priests or other confidants to help improve their mental health to see their mission through. This wasn’t universal, however. Some severely traumatized individuals were seen as simple cowards, and punished harshly for their perceived cowardice as antithetical to good virtue and to serve as an example.

World War I saw a sharp rise in the reported incidents of military-related PTSD and new understandings and misunderstandings. The rise in the number of soldiers caused a rise in cases of military PTSD, even though the term itself was not known at the time. Especially in the early phases of the war, many soldiers suffering from PTSD were thought to be malingering, pretending to have symptoms to avoid being sent to the front lines. The term “shell shock” was derived because it was believed that the concussive force of artillery bombardment caused brain damage as it rattled the skull or carbon monoxide fumes would damage the brain as they were inhaled, as a means to explain why soldiers could have physical responses such as slurred speech, lack of response to external stimuli, even nigh-on waking catatonia, despite not being hit by rifle rounds or shrapnel. This would later be replaced by the term “battle fatigue” when it became apparent that artillery bombardment was not a predicative indicator. Particularly as manpower shortages became more prevalent, PTSD-sufferers could be sent to firing squads as a means to cow other troops to not abandon their post. Other less fatal methods of shaming could occur, such as the designation “Lack of Moral Fibre,” an official brand of cowardice, as an attempt to shame the members into remembering their duty. As the war developed, and understanding grew, better methods of treatment were made, with rest and comfort provided to slight cases, strict troop rotations observed to rotate men to and from the front lines, and patients not being told that they were being evacuated for nervous breakdown to avoid cementing that idea in their mind. These lessons would continue into World War II, where the term “combat stress reaction” was adopted. While not always strenuously followed, regular rotations were adopted as standard policy. This was still not universal, plenty of units still relied upon bullying members into maintaining their post despite mental trauma.

The American military promotes a culture of competence and ability, particularly for the enlisted ranks, and that lends itself to the soldier viewing themselves in a starkly different fashion than a civilian. Often, a soldier sees the inability to cope with a traumatic experience as a personal failure stemming from the lack of mental fortitude. Owning up to such a lack of capability is tantamount to accepting that they are an inferior soldier, less capable than their fellows. This idea is commonly discussed, and should not be ignored, but it is far from the only reason. The military also possesses a strong culture of fraternity that obligates “Don’t be a fuckup,” is a powerful motivating force, and it leads plenty of members of the military to ignore traumatic experiences out of the perceived need not to put the burden on their squadmates. While most professional militaries stress that seeking mental health for trauma is not considered a sign of weakness, enlisted know that if they receive mental health counseling, it is entirely likely that someone will have to take their place in the meantime. That could potentially mean that another person, particularly in front-line units, are exposed to danger that they would otherwise not be exposed to, potentially exacerbating guilt if said person gets hurt or killed. This is even true in stateside units, plenty of soldiers don’t report for treatment because it would mean dumping work on their fellows, a negative aspect of unit fraternity. Plenty of veterans also simply never are screened for mental health treatment, and usually this lends to a mentality of “well, no one is asking, so I should be fine.” These taken together combine to a heartbreaking reality, oftentimes a modern veteran that seeks help for mental trauma has often coped silently for years, perhaps self-medicating with alcohol or off-label drug usage, and is typically very far along their own path comparatively. Others simply fall through the cracks, not being screened for mental disorders and so do not believe that anything is wrong; after all, if something was wrong, surely the doctors would notice it, right? The current schedule of deployments, which are duration-based and not mission-based, also make it hard for servicemembers to rationalize their experiences and equate them to the mission; there’s no sense of pairing suffering to objectives the way that de Charnay mentioned could help contextualize the deprivation and loss. These sorts of experiences make the soldier feel adrift, and their suffering pointless, which is discouraging on another level. It is one thing to suffer for a cause, it’s another not to know why, amplifying the feelings of powerlessness and furthering the isolation that they feel.

Pen to Page - The Characters and Their Responses

The presentation of PTSD within a character will depend largely on the point-of-view that the author creates. A character that suffers from PTSD depending on the presence of an internal or external point-of-view, will be vastly different experiences on page. Knowing this is essential, as this will determine how the story itself is presenting the disorder. Neither is necessarily more preferable than the other, and is largely a matter of the type of story being told and the personal preference of the author.

Internal perspectives will follow the character’s response from triggering event to immediate response. This allows the author to present a glimpse into what the character is experiencing. In these circumstances, remember that traumatic flashbacks are merely one of many experiences that an average sufferer of PTSD can endure. In a visual medium, flashbacks are time-effective methods to portray a character reliving portions of a traumatic experience, but other forms of media can have other tools. Traumatic flashbacks are not necessarily a direct reliving of an event from start to finish, individuals may instead feel sudden sharp pains of old injuries, be overwhelmed by still images of traumatic scenes or loud traumatic sounds. These can be linked to triggers that bring up the traumatic incident, such as a similar sight, sound, or smell. These moments of linkage are not necessarily experienced linearly or provide a clear sequence of events from start to finish (memory rarely is unless specifically prompted), and it may be to the author’s advantage to not portray them as such in order to communicate the difficulty in mental parsing that the character may be experiencing. Others might be more intrusive, such as violently deranged nightmares that prevent sleep. The author must try to strike a balance between portraying the experience realistically and portraying it logically that audience members can understand. The important thing about these memories is that they are intrusive, unwelcome, and quite stressful, so using techniques that jar the reader, such as the sudden intrusive image of a torn body, a burning vehicle, or another piece of the traumatic incident helps communicate the disorientation. Don't rely simply on shock therapy, it's not enough just to put viscera on the page. Once it is there, the next steps, how the character reacts, is crucial to a believable response.

When the character experiences something that triggers their PTSD, start to describe the stress response, begin rapidly shortening the sentences to simulate the synaptic activity, express the fight-flight-freeze response as the character reacts, using the tools of dramatic action to heighten tension and portraying the experience as something frightful and distinctly undesirable. The triggering incident brings back the fear, such as a pile of rubble on the side of the road being a potential IED location, or a loud firework recalling the initial moments of an enemy ambush. The trauma intrudes, and the character falls deep into the stress response, and now they react. How does this character react? By taking cover? By attacking the aggressor who so reminds them of the face of their enemy? Once the initial event starts, then the character continues to respond. Do they try to get to safety? Secure the area and eliminate the enemy? Eventually, the character likely recognizes their response is inappropriate. It wasn’t a gunshot, it was a car backfiring, the smell of copper isn’t the sight of a blown-apart comrade and the rank odor of blood, it’s just a jug of musty pennies. This fear will lead to control mechanisms where the victim realizes that their response is irrational. Frequently, the fear is still there, and it still struggles with control. This could heighten a feeling a powerlessness in the character as they try and fail to put the fear under control: "Yes, I know this isn’t real and there’s nothing to be afraid of, but I’m still shaking and I am still afraid!" It’s a horrifying logical track, a fear that the victim isn’t even in control of their thoughts - the one place that they should have control - and that they might always be this way. There’s no safety since even their thoughts aren’t safe. Despair might also follow, as the victim frantically asserts to regain control. Usually with time, the fear starts to lessen as the logical centers of the brain regain control, and the fear diminishes. Some times, the victim can't even really recall the exact crippling sense of fear when attempting to recall it, only that they were afraid and that it was deeply scary and awful, but the notion that it happened remains in their mind.

Control mechanisms are also important to developing a believable PTSD victim. Most sufferers dread the PTSD response and so actively avoid objects or situations that could potentially trigger. Someone who may have had to escape from a helicopter falling into the ocean may not like to be immersed in water. Someone who was hit by a hidden IED may swerve to avoid suspicious piles in the road. Someone buried under a collapsing ceiling may become claustrophobic. Thus, many characters with PTSD will be hypervigilant almost to the point of exhaustion, avoiding setting off the undesired response. This hypervigilance is mentally taxing; the character begins to become sluggish mentally as all their energy is squeezed out, leaving them struggling for even the simplest of rational thoughts. This mental fog can be translated onto the page in dramatic effect by adding paragraph length to even simple actions, bringing the reader along into the fog, laboriously seeing the character move to perform simple actions. Then, mix in a loss of a sense of purpose. They’re adrift, not exactly sure what they’re doing and barely aware of what’s happening, although they are thinking and functioning. In the character’s daily life, they are living their life using maximum effort to avoid triggering responses; this is another aspect of control that the character can use as an attempt to claw back some semblance of power in their own lives. Even control methods that aren’t necessarily healthy such as drinking themselves to pass out every night or abusing sleeping pills in an attempt to sleep due to their nightmares, are ways to attempt to regain a sense of normalcy and function. Don’t condescend to these characters and make them pathetic, that’s just another layer of cruelty, but showing the unhealthy coping mechanisms can demonstrate the difficulty that PTSD victims are feeling. Combined with an external perspective, the author can show the damage that these unhealthy actions are doing without casting the character as weak for not taking a different path.

External perspectives focus on the other characters and how they observe and react to the individual in question. Since the internal thought process of the character is not known, sudden reactions to an unknown trigger can be quite jarring for characters unaware, which can mirror real-life experiences that individuals can have with PTSD-sufferers. In these types of stories, the character’s reaction to the victim is paramount. PTSD in real life often evokes feelings of helplessness in loved ones when they simply cannot act to help, can evoke confusion, or anger and resentment. These reactions are powerful emotions with the ability to drive character work, and so external perspectives can be useful for telling a story about what it is like for loved ones who suffer in their own fashion. External perspectives can be used not just in describing triggering episodes, but in exploring how the character established coping mechanisms and how their loved ones react to them. Some mechanisms are distinctly unhealthy, such as alcohol or prescription drug abuse, complete withdrawal, or a refusal to drive vehicles, and these create stress and a feeling of helplessness in characters or can impel them to try and take action. Others can be healthy, and a moment of inspiration and joy for an external perspective could be sharing in that mechanism, demonstrating empathy and understanding which evokes strong pathos, and hopefully to friends of those who suffer from PTSD, a feeling that they too, are not alone.

As the character progresses, successes and failures can often be one of the most realistic and most important things to include within the work, since those consumers who have PTSD will see parts of themselves in the characters, which can build empathy and cut down on the feelings of isolation that many victims of PTSD feel. A character could, over the course of the story, begin weaning themselves off of their control mechanisms, have the feelings of panic subside as their logical sides more quickly assert control, replace unhealthy coping mechanisms with healthier ones, or other elements of character progression and growth. Contrarily, a character making progress could, after experiencing significant but unrelated stressors, backslide either into unhealthy coping mechanisms or be blindsided by another attack. This is a powerful fear for the victim, since it can cause them to think ‘all my progress, all my effort, and I am not free!’ This is often a great fear for PTSD users (people with depression often have the same feeling) that find methods of coping are no longer as effective, and the struggle is perceived as one that they’re ultimately doomed to failure. This feeling of inevitable failure can lead to self-harm and suicide as their avenue of success seems to burn to ash right as it was in their hands. More than one soldier suffering from PTSD has ended up concluding: “Fuck it, I can’t live like this,” as horrible as that is. Don’t be afraid to include setbacks and backsliding, those happen in reality, and can be one of the most isolating fears in their lives; if the goal of portraying PTSD accurately is to help remove that feeling of isolation, then content creators must not avoid these experiences. Success as well as failure are essential to PTSD in characters in stories, these elements moreso than any other, I believe, will transcend the medium and form a connection, fulfilling the objective we set out to include in the beginning paragraphs.

Coming Back to the Beginning

It might be counterintuitive at first glance to say “including military PTSD will probably mean it will be a long journey full of discouraging story beats that might make readers depressed,” because that’s definitely going to discourage some readers to do that. I don’t see it that way, though. The people that want to do it should go in knowing it’s going to be hard, and let that strengthen their resolve, and put the best creation they can forward. The opposite is also true. Not every prospective author has to want to include any number of difficult subjects in their works, and that’s perfectly fine. Content creators must be free to shape the craft that they so desire without the need to be obligated to tackle every difficult issue, and so no content creator should be thought of as lesser or inferior because they opt not to include it in their works. I think that’s honestly stronger than handling an important topic poorly, or even worse, frivolously. Neither should anyone think that a content creator not including PTSD in their works means that they don’t care about those who suffer from it or for those who care about them or who simply don’t care about the subject in general. That’s just a terrible way to treat someone, and in the end, this entire excursion was about the opposite

Ultimately, this essay is a chance not only to help improve creative works involving PTSD, but to reflect on the creative process. Those who still want to proceed, by all means, do so. Hopefully this essay will help you create something that can reach someone. If every piece of work that helps portray PTSD can reach someone somewhere and make things easier, even if ever so little, well then, that’s what it’s really all about.

Hoping everyone has a peaceful Memorial Day. Be good to each to other.

SLAL

#essays on writing and worldbuilding #ptsd

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fullbusterfantasmic · 4 years ago

Text

Love Potion ♋️ Chapter 4.7

Rated M

It’s all NSFW (As it should be)

1,933 words

A/N: The first position mentioned is called the butterfly or some shit (maybe?) idfk but I like it, & the second is the reverse cowgirl. Formatting is wonky, I know please look past it.

🌬Gray’s POV

The shine her eyes had held has begun to rapidly be overtaken as the (e/c) darkens, while she beckons me closer.

Her mouth is right beside my ear as she says;

“Ravish me...lay your claim on me...let every touch from you send me reeling, and begging for more...show me everything you’ve imagined doing to me and lastly...share every feeling you’ve kept hidden from me”.

The intense requests she made ignites a fire somewhere within me. Flames are rapidly consuming the protective layers of ice I’d long ago placed over my heart. Barriers erected after Deliora’s first attack, reinforced following the death of Ur...gone in an instant. Her tongue runs along the outer shell of my ear, lips placing a kiss to my temple. Pulling away, she then collapses back onto the pillows behind her, now surveying me through darkened, heavily lidded eyes.

My teeth clench as the familiar darkness begins to surface and my internal struggle begins. She asked for it....so why not give it to her? I shouldn’t...I....I’m ready to...no I NEED to let her in that now open space within my heart, within my very barren soul.

You don’t know what you do to me...

✨Your Pov

Im nervous...

I may have asked too much, it was too soon for me to come on so strongly! He still has yet to look at me, and his long bangs obscure his eyes from view.

“Gray I-“

I began to try and retract my previous statement but he interupts me. “From the very first moment I laid eyes on you I thought you were the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen....and the most dangerous...” he moves out from between my legs, motioning for me to lay on my side. “ I knew if I got close to you I’d end up falling for you and that would put you at risk...”. One of his legs now rest underneath mine and my other rests over the top of his.

“Try as I might, I couldn’t force myself to get or stay away from you; somehow we always end up spending time together” he pauses, pressing a kiss to my temple before continuing; “ -and now we’re here...”.

The room is growing colder once more, goosebumps cover my exposed flesh and I lightly begin to shiver. My entire body is shaking by the time his voice reaches my ear; “With all that being said...I’m done explaining myself, and I’m done talking”.

“Now I’m going to fuck you senseless, this entire town will know you’re mine by sunrise” The vow is whispered to me in such an intimate way, it has my internal walls fluttering, before clenching around nothing. That is soon remedied; A surprised turned pleasurable cry slips out from between my lips as Gray effortlessly slides into me.

This position is a first for me, and experiencing it with this god like man...Said position has quickly become a “10 out of 10, must do again”. He holds my body so closely against his, and somehow those skilled fingers are still roaming up and down my sides. Occasionally pausing their ministrations to ghost across my chest or rub tantalizing circles Into my clit. The angle in which he thrusts into me puts the head of his cock in the perfect position to hit my G-spot each and every time he bottoms out.

The whole “I’m finished talking now” line was absolute bullshit! As soon the smug Ice mage was balls deep inside me, did the sinful whispers begin. Dear God! That deep husky voice alternating between uttering the most endearing things, having my eyes growing wet with tears. Only to make a flawless transition into speaking the most obscene and sensual promises (or threats), have my face continuing to burn red.

I was an absolute wreck.

“You should see yourself right now...Completely fucked out of your mind, slobbering all over, and tear stains coating your cheeks...yet still so breathtaking”. My enthralled lover may no longer be whispering, but the chill of his breath on my neck is still ever present. I don’t speak, I knew my ability of coherent speech had vanished long ago.

Gray doesn’t need my words to go off of now, not when my breath hitches and my body jerks involuntarily. “This one will be....number four right?” He sounds so proud. That wasn’t really a question, and I wouldn’t of answered it even if I could have.

As much as I craved release, my pride urged me to deny it. A small voice inside my head is saying; “Ignore the relentless tingling of your clit, the tight wound knot in your stomach, the pressure from that magnificent cock sinking itself into your deepest depths...”.

Dammit ___________, get it together!

You are a proud Fairy Tail mage; A living embodiment of strength, determination, and destroyer of adversity! You’ve let this man turn you into putty within his hands, he thinks he owns you! Now it’s time for you to reclaim your pride and turn the tables on him!

Who am I kidding?

🌬Grays POV

“Holding back now are we?”

I can’t help but tease her when she’s trying so hard to hide the fact that I have her teetering on the edge of bliss. She lets out and annoyed huff and I poke one of her inflated cheeks, making sure my cock is buried inside of her as far as it can go.

“You take my cock so well baby, you’re already starting to shape to me on the inside...you’ll be my perfect little cock sleeve in no time” I murmured before giving her another nice dark love bite to match the one on the other side of her neck. “I know you want to drench my cock some more” my ice coated finger flicks against her clit before circling over it.

“Hah!” she shrieks at the frozen contact to her bundle of nerves, involuntarily jerking and in turn slamming her hips backwards, burying my dick inside her once more. The tip of my head just barely makes contact with her cervix, and then her walls suddenly contract, clamping down around me. I have to give every effort to not paint them white as not only her ecstatic wail reaches my ears, but I look down just in time to see her lightly spritz the hand id been using to play with her clit.

For a moment my brain begins to short circuit, and then it just shuts down completely.

✨ Your POV

That was....incredible.

Several minutes pass with my mind reeling from the intense orgasm I’d just experienced. It’s like I’m drunk, but not from the alcohol I’d consumed earlier. Drunk from the dopamine flooding my brain, and my heart swelling with overwhelming feelings of love. Love....love for the man currently sharing my bed. Before I can turn to Gray and embarrass myself with a bunch of post orgasm love drunk rambling, I remember something....oh my god.

I sober up and am slammed back into reality almost instantly. My face begins to burn and I Stifle a cry of humiliation as I realize; I’d just squirted all over his hand! That’s never happened to me before! Gray hasn’t said one word...he’s been silent since it happened! He probably has a look of disgust on his face, I can’t bring myself to look and see.

I try to move,, intent on getting away to take refuge on the other side of the bed. His arms immediately constrict around me, “Oh no you don’t, you aren’t going anywhere!”. Suddenly he’s flat on his back keeping a firm grip on my hips as I’m forced to straddle him. Glancing over my shoulder I see the proud smirk he’s wearing, then he speaks; “Never had a girl do that before...I like it” giving me a wink afterwards. “Sh-Shut u-up” I mumble as I return my gaze to the wall in front of me, breathing deeply in attempt to calm my palpitating heart.

“Y’know normally I’d give you a little break but... I can’t...not after seeing you do that” he pauses, and I can’t see his eyes roaming over my back side, but I feel his hands slide down from my hips. Then a sharp SMACK resounds around the room, followed by my startled gasp. “Ride me...now!” a fierce growl preludes another sharp smack to my other ass cheek.

I don’t even bother to stop the excited shake that over takes my body, the sudden change into this demanding demeanor is thrilling! Keeping my back to him, I’m quick to position myself over his length and begin to sink down on it. The soft mewl I emit is drowned out by a hiss as the tip of his dick slips between my lips. “That’s it...good girl” he praises as he begins to rub out the red marks on my ass.

Eager to please I get straight to work.

Albeit a bit awkward at first, but Im able to get a steady rhythm going in no time. “So much better than in my dreams...fuckin’ hell __________ your ass is perfect! Yeah that’s it babe, bounce it just like that” Gray mumbles appreciatively, completely enamored with the sight in front of him. “Dream about me often do you?” I tease, throwing him a smug glance over my shoulder. “More often than I’d ever care to admit, now turn around and face me would you?.

I do as he asked, rotating my body to face him. He gently pulls me down towards him and I stop short, my face now inches above his own. My stomach feels like it’s filled with butterflies at the sudden closeness. Unsure of what to do I quietly whisper an awkward sounding “Hi”. A wide grin appears on his face as he responds; “Hi” followed quickly by a chuckle at my sudden awkwardness.

Now we’re both smiling at each other like complete dorks, and I’m compelled to lean forward and kiss him. I resume my ride as his tongue curls around mine, quickly losing myself in the passion of this moment. Gray is quick to pick up the slack, thrusting his hips upward each time mine sink down. The atmosphere in the bedroom has changed, we both feel it. When I say his name again it comes out in a breathy whine.

His eyes reflect an emotion I’ve never seen in them before and his tone is gentle when he says “I know baby, hold on just a little longer for me”. Strong arms wind themselves tighter around me, drawing my body in as close as possible as he speeds up the pace of his thrusts. “I want to feel you gush all over my cock when I finally get to cum inside you” his lips are on mine again, kissing me passionately while bouncing me up and down on his cock.“That okay with you baby? Do you want me to fill up this tight little cunt?”

My confession comes out quick and shameless; “Yes! God there’s nothing I want more right now, I’ve wanted that for ages!”.

“Tell me, who do you belong to now snowflake?”

“YOU! I belong to you now Gray”

“Tell me you need me”

“I need you, I never want to be without you, so please just-“

“Tell me...” he pauses, placing a hand on my cheek and staring into my eyes.

“Tell me you love me”.

#gray fullbuster #fairy tail #fanfiction #anime boys #gray fullbuster x reader #gray fairy tail #fairytail x reader #reader insert #gray x reader

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galemalio · 4 years ago

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3 Examples of Racial Bias in Animation Storytelling

It’s not hard to grasp that a white person, while not explicitly or consciously racist in the sense we might usually imagine, is still inherently racially biased because they benefit from and grow up used to white supremacy.” - Scottishwobbly, Tumblr

This is nothing new. This is something POC (People of Color) have been talking about in separate fandoms. Nevertheless, it needs to be acknowledged by those unaware.

This article is not made to say that some of the animations that I will use as examples are bad. But in the hopes that we, as consumers and creators, will do better in the future in handling characters that are POC.

Most often, racial bias in storytelling is when the narrative treats white or light skin toned characters better than darker skin toned characters. The darker skin toned characters are often POC-coded or actual POC.

White creators often do not notice their racial bias in their storytelling as they benefit from and grow up with white privileges and white supremacy. This can also apply to light-skinned POC who have light skin priviliges.

Some of us don’t often see it but real people who relate to the characters of color do. Especially when it reflects from their experiences with racial bias, microaggressions, colorism and flat out racism.

So when they speak up, it’s important to listen to them to unlearn the racial bias we may have in ourselves.

I will be emphasizing “the narrative” for I am criticizing how the story treats its dark-skinned characters and not because I am criticizing the characters themselves.

This article is critiqued by @visibilityofcolor as a sensitivity reader once and then additions were made before publishing. If you’re looking for a Black sensitivity reader, you can contact her.

This article is a 14-minute read at average speed so buckle up. Unless you want to skip to your show mentioned below. External Tumblr Resources will be put in the reblog.

Here are three examples that I was made aware of.

Example #1: The Narrative Treats the Light-Skinned Character at the Expense of the Dark-Skinned Character

Steven Universe was one of the animations that pushed lgbt+ representation in cartoon media. However, there are narratives here and there that showed racial bias.

SU creator Rebecca Sugar was raised with "Jewish sensibilities" and both siblings observe the lighting of Hanukkah candles with their parents through Skype.[1] Rebecca Sugar also talked about being non-binary.[2]

But as a white person, she (and the rest of the SU crew) is not aware of the inherently biased values from growing up and benefiting from white privilege.

One example is the human zoo. There are people that have spoken up about this such as @jellyfax of Tumblr who pointed out that the Crewniverse mishandled a loaded topic and reinforced a white colonist propaganda where the captive humans of mostly black/brown people are naive, docile and childlike in order to subjugate the people that they colonized. .

What I’m here is how a character of color from the main cast is more obligated to the lighter-skinned character.

In the episode, Friend Ship, one fan had spoken out about how Garnet, who had been validly angry at Pearl, was compelled by a dangerous situation to forgive Pearl. Garnet is a Black-coded character. While Pearl is a light-skinned character.

Garnet was mad at Pearl for tricking her into always fusing with her. Then they were trapped in a chamber that was going to crush them. In this situation, they have to fuse in order to save themselves but Garnet refuses to because she was still angry at her.

In the end, they were forced to talk it out, for Garnet to understand Pearl’s reason for wanting to fuse with her and everything worked out well.

The narrative focused so much on Pearl’s self-worth issues at the expense of Garnet’s right to be angry.

Yes, it showed that Pearl is trying her best to make up for it but Garnet should have been allowed to work at her own anger at her own pace instead of being obligated to consider Pearl’s feelings over her own.

I wouldn’t have noticed it until someone had mentioned it. Because it was never my experience.

But it’s there, continuing the message that it’s okay to put the emotional labor on Black people and disregard their own feelings for the sake of the non-Black people who have hurt them -particularly light-skinned women.

White Fragility and Being Silenced White Woman Tears

Again, racial bias in animation storytelling is often not intentional because white creators do not experience it due to white privilege.

Without meaning to, that scene alone shows Garnet as the Angry Black woman trope that is ungrateful and rude to Pearl who then ends up in tears. Without meaning to, Pearl with her light skin, became the tearful white girl trope that had to be sympathized over.

The Angry Black Woman trope is a combination of the worst negative stereotypes of a Black woman: overly aggressive, domineering, emasculating, loud, disagreeable and uppity.[13]

The Tearful white girl trope comes from the combination of the stereotypes of white women being morally upstanding and delicate and therefore should be protected.[13]

Which, unfortunately, many white women have taken advantage of.

These two tropes are harmful to WOC (Women of Color) because they experience the "weary weaponizing of white women's tears". This tactic employed by many white women incites sympathy and avoids accountability for their actions, turning the tables to their accuser and forcing their accuser to understand them instead.

(Image by Виктория Бородинова from Pixabay)

In "Weapon of lass destruction: The tears of a white woman", Author Shay described that white tears turns a white woman into the priority of whatever space she's in. "It doesn't matter if you're right, once her tears are activated, you cease to exist." [11]

White woman tears have gotten Black people beaten and lynched such as Emmett Till. Carolyn Bryant who had accused 14 year old Emmett Till of sexually harassing her in 1955, admitted she lied about those claims years later in 2007.[15]

In Awesomely Luvvie's "About the Weary Weaponizing of White Women Tears", she states that the innocent white woman is a caricature many subconsciously embrace because it hides them from consequences. [10]

In The Guardian’s article, "How White Women Use Strategic Tears to Silence Women of Colour", Ruby Hamad shares her experience:

"Often, when I have attempted to speak to or confront a white woman about something she has said or done that has impacted me adversely, I am met with tearful denials and indignant accusations that I am hurting her. My confidence diminished and second-guessing myself, I either flare up in frustration at not being heard (which only seems to prove her point) or I back down immediately, apologising and consoling the very person causing me harm."[4]

This is not to say that all crying white women are insincere. But as activist Rachel Cargle said:

“I refuse to listen to white women cry about something. When women have come up to me crying, I say, ‘Let me know when you feel a little better, then maybe we can talk.’”[3]

One of the most quoted words in “White Fragility: Why It’s So Hard for White People to Talk About Racism.” is this:

“It is white people’s responsibility to be less fragile; people of color don’t need to twist themselves into knots trying to navigate us as painlessly as possible.”[3]

When white women cry in defense, instead of taking accountability, People of Color are then gaslighted into thinking they’re the bad guy. This is emotional abuse and a manipulation tactic.

People of Color shouldn’t have to bend backwards to accommodate discomfited white or light-skinned people who have hurt them.

How She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (SPOP) Did It Right

Despite SPOP having good lgbtq+ representations, there are other biases in the show. Such as Mara, a WOC whose only purpose was to sacrifice herself for the white protagonist. There was also the insensitive joke in their stream regarding Bow’s sibling that perpetuated an Anti-Black stereotype which Noelle Stevenson has apologized for.[14]

But the scene I have encountered where the Black character was validly angry and his feelings were treated well by the narrative, came from SPOP.

Bow, a black character, was validly angry at Glimmer, a lighter skinned character. Glimmer made a lot of bad decisions, one of them was using Adora and their friends as bait, without their knowledge, to lure out and capture Catra.

Glimmer tearfully apologized in Season 5, Episode 4. Adora readily forgave her. But Bow didn't.

They faced dangers along the way but the story didn't put them in a dangerous situation where Bow has to forgive Glimmer in order to get out of it.

This was Glimmer's words of apology:

"Look, I know you're still mad at me. Maybe you'll be mad at me for a really long time. I deserved it. And maybe... maybe we'll never be friends like we used to be. But I'm not going to stop trying to make it better. I made a mistake with the heart of Etheria. I should've listened to you and I'm sorry. You get to be mad. For as long as you need to be. But I'm not going anywhere. And when you're ready, I'll be here."

In short, Bow was allowed to take the time to be mad and not just get over it for someone else’s sake. The story validates his feelings and he was allowed to take his own pace. That is emotional respect the story gave to him.

Example #2: The Narrative Gives Better Endings or Portrayals to Colonizers than Their Victims

Avatar: The Last Airbender has handled dark themes well such as genocide, war, PTSD, disability and redemption with great worldbuilding.

However, I never noticed the racial bias in ATLA until people spoke up of the double standards in ATLA’s treatment of light-skinned colonizers compared to their dark-skinned victims-turned-villains.

The characters in question -Iroh, Azula, Jet and Hama- are all flawed and well-rounded in a believable way. But how the narrative treats them is unequal.

General Iroh is an ex-colonizer who gets to redeem himself and not answer for his past war crimes, living a peaceful life as a tea shop owner. The only reason Iroh changed was when he was personally affected by the negativity of their military subjugation -his son’s death. It wasn’t the harm of the Fire nation ravaging Earth kingdom villages or cities and affecting millions of people that opened his eyes.

Azula, the tyrannical daughter, had closure of her mother's rejection when she was a child and was able to escape imprisonment.

Jet and Hama, victims of colonization who have done bad things, did not get similar conclusions to their stories OR compensation for what they have gone through from the Fire Nation's colonization.

Jet was given a second chance but was arrested for trying to expose Zuko and Iroh being firebenders -firebenders who were their enemies for conquering their villages. Then he died from the injuries of the person who had brainwashed and mind-controlled him.

Hama was imprisoned for life.

Compared to the sins of the light-skinned colonizers, the narrative didn’t give Jet and Hama the development where they could heal from their trauma, receive compensation for what happened to them and really have a chance in life.

The dark-skinned victims of colonization just became a lesson to the viewers how they shouldn’t hold grudges for being colonized. The end. They have received consequences for their actions but there is no continuation to their stories after that.

It almost seems like the narrative is saying that because they have harmed colonizers who have no part in their trauma (and in Jet’s case, some Earth kingdom villagers), they are therefore unworthy to be given an actual chance in life.

While Azula and Iroh, who have actively participated in conquering, colonizing and attacking the Earth Kingdom itself, were.

Someone once said that if indigenous people have control over Hama’s story, it would have been done differently. But the ATLA crew are white, non-indigenous people who prioritized redeeming colonizers instead.

The narrative has also affected how the ATLA fandom thinks. If most fans are asked who they would want to be redeemed, the popular option would be Azula over Jet or Hama.

Once again, I don’t think the ATLA crew noticed it due to their racial bias. But still, the harm is done and the racially biased message is continued:

The colonizers and their descendants don’t have to make amends for the colonizers’ crimes. Or if they do, only lightly since it’s in the past (no matter how recent that past is).

The colonized who rebel will tend to hurt innocent people and then get a grisly end for getting in way over their heads.

I would venture as far as to say that the narrative may have the added subconscious desire to quiet their white anxiety on the vengeance of the colonized. As I have learned when writing about Vodou stereotypes and how they have stemmed from the history of white anxiety of Black vengeance, of Black fetishization and of dissolution of the white race through intermarriages.

In @visibilityofcolor’s blog, someone asked:

“So I saw some of the really heated debates on here and on twitter about how if Iroh and Azula can be portrayed sympathetically despite their actions then characters like Jet and Hama should've been given a chance too. Do you think that the writers understood the implications of only redeeming characters from the colonizer/fascist nation but not giving the characters who suffered because of their fascism a second chance too?”

To which VisibilityOfColor replied:

“No, because at the end of the day, the writers are white. When it comes to stuff like this, it’s no surprise when we see white writers redeem problematic characters before they actually redeem victims of those racist problematic characters. For instance, Dave Filioni, who worked on both avatar and star wars rebels, did the same thing when redeeming agent kallus who was an soldiers in the imperial army and took credit for a genocide. where as victims of the empire were still painted in negative lights. i really don’t think they understand.

They have this ‘be the better person’ view on things, which is what a lot of white people tend to emulate when it comes to people of color standing up to their oppressors. and unfortunately, these are ideas passed on to children, esp minorities. that they should forgive people and communities who hurt them and ‘be the better person’. this is why white ppl don’t need to write narratives for people of color.”

Example #3: The Narrative Favors the Light Skinned Character Than Dark Skinned Character in Similar Situations

I would like to reiterate that racial bias in storytelling is often not intentional. I am not saying the creators and the people who support them are bad people. No.

However, I encourage that once a racial bias is made known in our work, it is our responsibility to change them to stop the perpetuation of its harmful message.

Hazbin Hotel is a popular cartoon with whimsical designs and its concept opens the conversation about redemption. The creator, Vivziepop may not have noticed the racial bias in her cartoon as a white Latina [5] that grew up with and benefits from white privileges, along with the Hazbin crew.

In the Youtbe video, "Hazbin Hotel - How Art took over Writing", Staxlotl states:

“I understand that there was a lot of time and effort put into this pilot, almost three years worth of effort. But I think most of that time was spent into the art and visuals when it should’ve gone into polishing the writing in the characters.”[6]

Once again, I’m not here to critique the characters but how the narrative treats its dark-skinned characters.

The story treats Charlie, the white-skinned, “Disney-esque” protagonist princess differently from how it treats Vaggie, the dark-skinned, more outspoken and protective Latina girlfriend of Charlie who supports the princess’ cause.

In its pilot episode, both girls experience humiliation. While Charlie is portrayed by the story as someone the viewers have to feel sorry for...

...Vaggie is portrayed in her humiliation as the butt of the joke for the viewers.

While they both didn’t like what Angel Dust did, Charlie was sympathized over in the narrative as a moment...

...while Vaggie’s angry but valid callouts were dismissed and ignored as part of the comedy.

While Charlie was someone that needs to be protected in the narrative...

...Vaggie is left to fend for herself.

Again, I don’t think the creators noticed the racial bias of their cartoon. However, this racial bias is reflected in the harmful perceptions that dark-skinned women, particularly Black women and Black girls, are more mature, tougher and need less protection at a young age.[7]

This adultification bias perceives them as challenging authority when they express strong or contrary views and are then given harsher discipline than white girls who misbehave.[8] And this continues when they grow up.

In a 2017 study, Black women and girls aged 12-60 years old confirmed they are treated harsher by their white peers and are accused of being aggressive when they would defend themselves or explain their point of view to authority figures.[8]

This bias also coincides with the Spicy Latina trope of a brown-skinned, hot-blooded, quick-tempered and passionate woman.

Everyday Feminism described this trope as "Although objects of desire for many, the spicy Latina may have too much personality to handle. So much so that she is often viewed as domineering or emasculating." [16]

Sounds familiar? (Look at Angry Black Woman trope above.)

Why is it that a light-skinned character, Charlie, is allowed to be vulnerable and be sympathized while the dark-skinned Latina character, Vaggie, is mocked, dismissed and expected to tough it out?

Severina Ware had to remind the world in her article that relates to the bias against dark skinned characters:

“Black women are not offered the protection and gentleness of our white counterparts. We are not given permission to be soft and delicate. We are required to exhibit strength and fortitude not only because our lives depend on it, but because so many others depend on us. Black women should not be charged with the responsibility of saving everyone when nobody is here to save us.”[12]

As @cullenvhenan of Tumblr has said in her post:

“if you're a white creator and your brown/black characters are always sassy, reckless, aggressive or cold and your white characters are always soft, demure, shy and introverted you should think about maybe why you did that”

(Image above from Iowa Law Reviews’ “Aggressive Encounters & White Fragility: Deconstructing the Trope of the Angry Black Woman”)

Detecting Your Own Racial Bias

It would be hard. No matter how much you edit and create, you may miss it because it was never your experience.

So how do we prevent our racial bias from creeping into our creations?

Listen to POC and their feedback.

As @charishjb from Instagram has shared, here is one of the things that we can do (tumblr link here) [9]:

Consider POC voices. Listen to their experiences. Hire sensitivity POC readers. Put multiple POC voices in positions of leadership in creative projects.

Then we can stop the racial bias that perpetuates again and again in the media. I hope for that future.

#racial bias #racism #colorism #animation #steven universe #su #pearl #garnet #atla #azula #general iroh #jet #hama #hazbin hotel #hazbin vaggie #lynching mention #lynching tw #writeblr #artblr

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azucanela · 4 years ago

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6. LOCKED IN A CLOSET | BAKUGOU KATSUKI

1K CELEBRATION MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: In which Mina Ashido gets sick of the pining turned avoiding, so she decides the best course of action is to steal the Janitor’s keys and lock her idiotic friends in a closet until they sort themselves out.

WORD COUNT: 2.5k

WARNINGS: kissing, pining, stealing, references to events in season three, damn?

A/N: i was considering using another gif and realized that bakugou’s hands literally SMOKE after he uses his quirk

This was the last straw.

Mina had been observing Bakugou for a while now, and she had determined a few things. First of all, Bakugou does care, he just has his own weird way of showing it, his concerns were laced in with his insults in an attempt to prevent others from noticing that he cared. Even though he would complain about the presence of Mina and the rest of the Bakusquad, he’d never outright kicked them out of his room. And when they needed help, with anything, he’d be there. Studying happened to be something they did together frequently, and though Bakugou insisted on insulting them every five seconds, he was actually a fairly good teacher. Then again, Bakugou also sought to be good at everything.

The second thing Mina had noticed was that actions like this were far more pronounced whenever he was with Y/N L/N. It seemed the girl made him, ‘soft’ to put it simply, not that Mina would ever say that out loud, seeing as she wanted to live to see another day. But it was clear in the way he encouraged the girl, pushing her to work as hard as she could, and yet when she overworked, he was there to keep her from the edge. It had been pretty obvious the day he’d offered Y/N his lunch because she’d forgotten her own, and sure, his offering was couple with a few insults about how foolish she was to forget her meal, but it was an offering nonetheless.

It was then that Mina began to wonder if Bakugou could feel things other than anger. She’d tried to ask him herself, but he’d simply blushed furiously and begun cursing her out. So, Mina hatched her plan to try and get him to admit feeling something for Y/N. She’d send Kirishima to ask him about it, only for the boy to come back with holes blown into his clothes by Bakugou’s infamous explosions. Then, she’d tried to get Kaminari to hit on Y/N, to gauge Bakugou’s reaction.

That didn’t end well for Kaminari.

Prior to beginning her effort to bring the two together, she’d gone to Y/N to determine if the possible feelings were mutual. Though the only answer she got was, “I don’t see why it matters, Mina.” Which Mina had a feeling meant, “yes I do, but I doubt Bakugou would like me back since he has his sights set on being a hero.” Not that Mina needed confirmation, she just would’ve preferred it, though the few times Y/N had offhandedly mentioned Bakugou in conversation were confirmation enough.

But no, watching Bakugou, seated closely beside Y/N as he explained the homework that had baffled her, Mina knew that whatever Bakugou felt for Y/N, it was far from platonic. He hadn’t cursed, hadn’t called her an idiot or some other crude name, hadn’t teased her for not understanding the concept they’d been learning in class all week. No, he’d simply told her to shut up and listen as he explained. If Mina had made such a request, he would’ve told her to start paying attention in class, or to quit being such a damn idiot.

This, this was the last straw. Now, this definitely wasn’t Mina’s brightest idea, I mean, who in their right mind would lock Bakugou Katsuki in a closet? Nobody. And yet, there Mina stood— with keys she’d asked Sero to... borrow from the school janitor— ramming the keys into the keyhole and locking the door behind Bakugou and Y/N. Mina refused to watch the pair pine for each other any longer. If they wanted to simp for each other mutually, then they would do it as a couple.

Also, Mina just loved to play matchmaker with her friends.

“LET US OUT OF HERE RACCOON EYES.” Bakugou called out, fist ramming against the door as he glared at the girl through the door, not that this was possible.

He could hear Mina begin to laugh as she simply replied, “sort yourselves out and then I’ll let you out.” All the subtle hints of their true feelings disappeared after Y/N accompanied Midoriya and his friends to save Bakugou, Mina was fairly sure that Bakugou was avoiding Y/N at this point, though she couldn’t come up with a good reason why, aside from the kidnapping itself. So now, she would force them to make up, and hopefully confess their feelings.

The tension was getting tiring for everyone in their class.

This only serves to anger Bakugou more, and Y/N seems to take notice of this as Bakugou feels her hand come to his shoulder, he can’t help but hate the way he relaxes as he turns to see Y/N, shaking her head, “Calm down.”

“Yeah, Katsuki, we’ll be back in an hour. Have fun, lovebirds.” Mina could vividly recall the day Y/N had accidentally called him by his first name, the boy’s cheeks had become a bright red, but when Y/N tried to correct herself, he shut her down almost immediately. And yet Mina couldn’t even remember the last time the two had even acknowledged each other now.

These words earn a growl frmo Bakugou, who is moving backwards to aim his palms at the door, hoping to activate his quirk and blow the door down, only for his back to hit Y/N. “I don’t think using your quirk would be the best idea.”

“Well do you have a better idea?” She was right, if he used his quirk, it could easily do more harm than good. Bakugou wasn’t sure how reinforced the doors of the school were, especially in light of all the recent attacks, he also didn’t want to pay for any damage he did. That and he could easily end up harming Y/N in the process.

She exhales deeply, hands moving to his shoulders to force him to turn around in the small closet and face her. “We wait until someone comes by, the janitor will definitely be looking for his keys.”

Bakugou evades her gaze he turns to glare at the locked door once more, “what if no one comes by and we have to wait for those idiots to come back?” Y/N shrugs, looking behind her before moving to sit on the ground, just for Bakugou look back to her incredulously, “what the hell are you doing?”

“Getting comfortable.” Y/N brings her knees to her chest, resting her head on top of them as she continues, “it’s not like she’d free us until we sorted ourselves out.” The words come out harsher than Y/N intended, but she was annoyed at the way Bakugou had been treating her recently, the way he was obviously avoiding her.

The boy before her grimaces, but settles down against the door nonetheless. The closet isn’t that large, Even with his knees bent, there still isn’t much space between him and Y/N, who had taken to staring at one of the many cleaning products in the room, rather than him. “There’s nothing to sort out.”

A bitter laugh escapes Y/N as she returns her gaze to him eyes narrowing, “you’ve been avoiding me for weeks and there’s absolutely nothing to sort out?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He grumbles out, averting his eyes from her cold gaze.

And suddenly Y/N is grabbing one of the boxes of tissues on the shelf beside and and throwing it at Bakugou, hitting him square in the chest because of his spread legs. “What the hell?”

“I’m gonna keep throwing stuff at you—” She picks up another item, this time a spray bottle, “until you are honest with me.” Comes her response, throwing the item, only for Bakguo to catch it, placing it down beside it.

Y/N is already moving to grab something else off the shelf as Bakugou begins to protest, “hey—Hey! Cut it out.” Y/N is already throwing an unopened bottle of hand soap, which Bakugou dodges, glaring at Y/N as he hears it hit the door behind him. “Y/N, I swear if you—” she doesn’t break eye contact as she reaches beside her for another object, only for Bakugou to launch himself forwards and grab her wrists to prevent her from continuing her assault. “Stop.” There’s a tone of finality in voice, but Y/N disregards it as she begins to speak.

“You ready to talk yet?” She makes an attempt to yank her hands from his grasp, but Bakugou’s grip remains firm as he holds her. “Because I am sick of this, Bakugou.”

He pauses, brows furrowing as his grip on her wrists loosens and he releases them, “what did you just call me?”

“Your name.”

Bakugou is scowling now, falling back into a seat, though he’s no longer pressed against the door as he replies, “that’s not my name and you know it.”

Y/N can’t help but scoff, “first names are reserved for people who you care about.” He’d barely been interacting with her these past few weeks, ever since his kidnapping. Y/N had a feeling that had something to do with his behavior, but she’d assumed he had needed space to process, until space turned into Bakugou avoiding her entirely. She’d confided in Mina about the possibility once, and the girl had simply told her to confront Bakugou.

That was easier said than done.

“Do you really think I don’t care about you?” He asks, disbelief clear in his voice as he watches her, “Y/N, you could’ve died going to save me like the damn idiot you are. And what would I have done?!”

Y/N inhales deeply, bringing her hands to her face as she begins to speak once more, “Bakugou-”

“Don’t call me that.” He snaps, looking away from her, silence engulfs the pair as Y/N stares at him, still processing his words when he decides to continue, “I thought things couldn’t get any worse, but seeing you there? ” Bakugou runs a hand through his hair, tugging at it as he contemplates what to say next momentarily, before looking back up at Y/N, “I’ve never felt more horrified. So don’t you dare say I don’t care.”

Y/N is about to respond when the small light above them began to flicker to nothing, effectively darkening the room. Y/N can hear Bakugou rise to a stand, hand coming to the wall and ficking the light switch a few times, only for nothing to happen. Her breath hitches as she grabs the edge of one of the shelves, rising to her feet as well. “Do you think the power went out?”

Y/N can hear the way Bakugou inhales shakily, causing her to reach out for him, hand meeting his chest. Y/N could’ve sworn she could feel his heart beating as her hand fisted at the material of his shirt in an attempt to bring him closer to her. “You don’t think it;s an attack do you?”

Oh.

“It’s not, this is just an old light.” She assures, pulling him closer, something Bakugou doesn’t fight. “Bakugou.” Y/N mutters, trying to garner his attention, she can’t see his face right now, and he seems to have gone completely silent save for his breathing. “Bakugou,” she repeats, brows furrowing from his lack of response. “Katsuki, listen to me.”

A hand comes to her arm, grasping it tightly, “what?”

“Your quirk— do you think you could make an explosion small enough to light up the room and not cause any damage?” Seeing as they were in a room filled with highly flammable chemicals, it was a gamble, but Y/N had a feeling this would do more good than bad.

He doesn’t respond, simply removing his hand from her and taking a step back, Y/N can hear a small crackle as the room lights up spottily, small explosions at Bakugou’s fingertips. His brows are drawn together, attention focused on his hand that was now lighting up the room,

Y/N found herself bringing her hand to Bakugou’s forearm as she moved closer, causing him to look up at the small explosions faltered. “See?” She mumbled, “we’re safe.” Y/N is rubbing small circles in his arm as she looks up at him, meeting his eyes.

“You don’t know that.”

Shaking her head, Y/N replies, “are you calling me a liar?” She brings her free hand to the back of his neck, hand tangling with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I didn’t say that.” He grumbles, the small explosions now steadily brightening the room. “And be careful, idiot.” Bakugou tries to pull away from her, worried that the explosion could harm her, but Y/N doesn’t accept this, grip on his hair tigtening.

She scoffs, eyes narrowing as she looks around the room for something that could help them escape the closet, to no avail. Y/N fails to notice the way Bakugou’s eyes trail over her, watching as her face is lit up by the glow of his explosions. When Y/N turns to look back at him, she doesn’t expect his eyes to already be on her, and can feel the her cheeks warm.

Their eyes lock and and Y/N finds herself moving closer to Bakugou, he makes no attempts to stop her this time, but Y/N can see red blossom on his cheeks in the glow of his explosions, which were beginning to become more infrequent. It’s not until the explosions come to a stop entirely that Bakugou presses his lips to hers, his warm hand coming to her side as he pulls her closer.

Y/N’s hand leaves his hair to grip his other arm, just for Bakugou to force them to switch places without his lips leaving hers. He forces Y/N’s back against the door, only for her to pull away, mouth gaping open as Bakugou’s lips find their way to her neck as he breathes heavily.

“That was a very sudden change of pace.” Y/N mumbled, a small laugh escaping her.

Bakugou grunted in reply, playfully biting at Y/N’s neck and causing her to swat at his chest gently, before looking back up to her, not that either of them could see much. Despite this, Bakugou’s hand finds its way to Y/N’s face gripping her chin as he brings her into a much shorter kiss, “you’re my girlfriend.”

It wasn’t really a question, mostly because Bakugou wasn’t asking, but it wasn’t a demand either. Even though she couldn’t see him, Y/N could practically feel Bakugou’s eyes burning into her, awaiting a response, whether it was an agreement or not.

“Okay, Katsuki.”

A/N: well that escalated quickly, also i hate editing kjashkjdahskjdh

TAGLISTS[lmk if you wanna be added or removed via reply or askbox]:

BNHA: @shawkneecaps @beifongsss

BAKUGOU KATSUKI: @hadespleasesteponmyneck

#bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugo x you #bakugou x you #katsuki x you #bnha x you #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo x you #katsuki bakugou x you #y

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nastybuckybarnes · 4 years ago

Text

Monsters - Two

Pairing: Dark!Bucky X Reader

Summary: Bucky Barnes is a man who just wants to do better. But he can’t stop the monster from coming out every now and then. As a last and hopeless attempt at calming The Winter Soldier, SHIELD finds him something they figured would help. An innocent young woman with not a lot going for her. Or, The Winter Soldiers newest victim.

Warnings: Angst, Violence, Smut (DUBCON), Somnophilia, Injuries, Dark Themes, Language,

Word Count: 3.2K

A/n: Here you go! Pissed this out in like, an hour because I’m starting to really really like this series already lol. Hope you enjoy!

THIS IS A DARK FIC WITH SEXUAL AND TRIGGERING CONTENT!!!

Part One!

~*~

You pace around the kitchen of the small house, fingers stuck in your hair, pulling it at the roots.

You've been here for four hours. Alone. The Captain gave you few words before pushing you into the house and closing the door behind himself, leaving you alone with nothing but your thoughts and the worst-case-scenarios that your mind has been conjuring since leaving Fury's office.

There's no way for you to leave the house. That much you gathered quickly. After bruising your fingers trying to pry the door open, and wracking your brain trying to figure out a loophole for the DNA keypad, you gave up. The windows are all made of the thickest glass you've ever encountered, and nothing you’ve thrown at them made them crack in the slightest.

So you brought yourself to the kitchen, hoping to find a weapon to use to defend yourself, only to be disappointed. All the cabinets and drawers are locked. Why everything is locked and reinforced so much, you have no clue. And it only makes you more nervous.

Now you pace, back and forth and back and forth in the kitchen, trying desperately to figure out what they have planned for you and why they're doing this. They're supposed to be heroes, for god's sake.

Protectors. And yet they lock you in a strange place, with no contact with the outside world and no chance of escape. You find yourself wondering if they're really any better than the people they fight.

The front door beeps twice then opens, freezing you mid-step.

You stare at one of the two hallways leading to the kitchen, each hallway meeting in the front foyer and leading to the front door. The fact that there are two ways to access the kitchen puts you at ease and on edge at the same time. You won't know where the intruder is coming from, but you'll have an escape if they mean to harm you.

You strain your ears, listening intently for whoever is in the house. It's futile, however, because anyone entering the house would be a highly trained spy and would know how to stay quiet and be undetected.

"Jesus Christ, they really did it," A male voice whispers from behind you. You spin around, facing the hallway behind you. You stare up at him and instantly recognize him as the Winter Soldier.

He's wearing a casual outfit, black fitted jeans and a black hoodie, hands shoved into his pockets. His hair is long and unkempt around his head, and his eyes are a striking blue that seems to stare straight through your body and into your soul.

He remembers seeing a picture of you, one picture among thousands of others of women that fury deemed 'replaceable'. His lack of regard for human life made the metal armed soldier uneasy, and seeing you here in front of him makes him feel sick to his stomach.

"A-are you gonna hurt me?" The words fly from your lips before you can stop them, and you flinch away from him, squeezing your eyes shut as you anticipate a hostile move on his part.

He sighs, the sound bordering on a scoff, and shakes his head, metal fingers coming up and raking through his hair.

"No. I'm not gonna hurt you. Not on purpose." You peak your eyes open at that, curious about his intentions.

"C-Captain Rogers and Commander Fury said that I'm here to 'personally help you' and to 'take care of you'... what do they mean by that?" He looks at your frightened eyes then down to the ground.

"I uh... it..." He shakes his head and groans.

"I've been... falling back into old habits. At night... I get triggered into the soldier. And I've been trying to... hurt my female companions lately. The Captain thinks that having a woman to help satisfy my... primal desires will make me less of a hazard on the field." The words roll over in your mind and you look up at him.

"So I've been taken as some sort of sex slave?!" He winces at the way you spit the ugly words, not wanting to think about it like that.

"Well... no... I don't know! I was opposed to it, but they insisted. So... I picked you out of everyone. You've got a pretty face... and your body..." He trails off, eyes roaming up and down your figure then returning to your eyes. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth and nods. "Out of everyone, I'm glad it was you. You're... perfect." You ignore his compliments and shake your head.

"Do you realize that I've been taken against my will here?! I've been brought here to service you in a way that I don't want to. And now I'm going to be forced to have sex with you? None of this is consensual! None of this is right!" You shake your head angrily, trying to come up with a solution.

"You said you're against it, so tell them to let me go! I didn't agree to any of this!"

"Did you or did you not willingly come meet with me?" You jump, spinning around quickly as Fury walks into the room, arms crossed over his chest. Your hands tremble, anger and fear chasing each other through your veins.

"You willingly came to the tower to meet me. You accepted the job by coming in for the meeting. You cannot by law say that that was against any of your human rights. You accepted a job then came in to learn about the requirements. That is your own fault." You shake your head, hands clenching into fists.

"I changed my mind during the meeting. I told you I didn't want to do it. I signed no contract, I made no legally binding agreement." The man in front of you grins.

"There's fine print in everything I send. The email specifically said 'by going to this meeting I am accepting the position and all it entails'. It's not my fault you didn't read it. Now I advise you to stop complaining. Who knows, maybe you'll enjoy this position, and any others he decides to put you in."

You grimace and glance over your shoulder at the soldier. His cheeks are pink and he's staring at the ground.

"Now, I came to drop off your belongings. They're being put into the bedroom as we speak. I took the liberty of throwing in a few things I thought the two of you may need. Now, Barnes, any questions?"

You turn around and look at the brunet, eyes pleading with him to tell the other man to call this whole thing off. He stares into your eyes for a long silent moment then looks over your shoulder.

"I think this arrangement will help my performance on the field and in the office. I want to get started right away." Your heart sinks and you shake your head.

"Alright. By all means," Fury gestures towards you and you turn away from the brunet, tears prickling your eyes.

You go to push past the dark-skinned man when he grabs you by the wrist, staring at you with hard eyes.

"I can be a very patient man, but even my patience has limits. You agreed to this position, you chose your fate. Don't blame anyone else for your lack of attention to detail." You tear your arm from him and level him with a hard glare.

"Barnes, bring her upstairs. If she can't be talked into submission, maybe other methods will work better." An arm is wound around your waist and you start thrashing immediately.

"No! Let me go! Stop!" He ignores you, scooping you up in his arms with ease and taking you up the stairs.

"Let go of me! Help! Please! Someone Help!" He pushes into a huge bedroom and tosses you onto the bed, arms crossing over his chest as he stares at you.

"No one can hear you," Fury says, coming into the room shortly after. Tears streak down your face and you glare at both of them.

"Why are you still here? Shouldn't you be out ruining another innocent person's life?" He chuckles and looks over at the soldier.

"You've got a fiery one. Have fun with her." He turns and leaves the room, the beep of the lock letting you know that he's left the house.

You and James have a staredown as you sit on the bed and he stands by the wall, not moving, simply staring at you.

You finally give in, looking down at your hands, fingers trembling. "Please don't do it," you whisper, desperation dripping from your words. He sighs heavily and you feel the few shards of hope you have left glue themselves back together.

"Please. I just... please don't hurt me." When you look up he's directly in front of you, making you gasp.

"Why are you so against it?" He asks suddenly.

"I just..." You don't want to confess your fear to the man in front of you. You don't want him to know that he haunts your nightmares already.

"If you can't give me a good reason then why shouldn't I?" His voice is harder than before, stern, with an aggravated edge to it.

You take a deep breath and clench your hands into fists.

"Because you scare me," you finally whisper. "I've heard so many stories... seen so many things... and you scare me. I don't want to believe them but... this makes me wonder if they're all right about you. If you're truly the monster they say you are." The air is still and heavy with the weight of your words, and you find yourself regretting them instantly.

A metal hand is suddenly around your throat, pushing you and forcing you back on the mattress until your back hits the headboard.

You grab his wrist fruitlessly, struggling to drag in a breath as you look up at him. His eyes are dark with anger, and his chest is heaving.

"A monster? You think I'm a monster?!" He chuckles lowly without humour, shaking his head as he kneels on the bed. "I'll show you a fucking monster." He lets go of your throat and you gasp, coughing as the pressure gets released. You're definitely going to have finger-shaped bruises in the morning.

He grabs your knees and tears them apart, ignoring the scream of pain that leaves your lips as you feel a muscle in your thigh get pulled.

"Do you know how easy this is for me?" He demands, grabbing the fabric of your shirt and tearing it down the middle.

"Overpowering you is nothing to me. I could break you so fucking easily if I really wanted to. If I wanted to be a monster. I could make you cry and scream and wish for death." You sob loudly, fighting to free yourself as he presses his half-hard length against your centre through the layers of clothing separating the two of you.

"If I wanted to fuck you, I would. If I wanted to show you how much of a fucking monster I can be, I would. Because I can. And there's nothing you can do about it. You'll never be strong enough to fight back, strong enough to run. You belong to me now. Realize it. Embrace it. And don't fucking get on my bad side or you'll regret it."

He pushes off of you, kneeling between your legs and glaring down at you where you lay. You're shaking and sobbing, but he gives no indication that he cares.

"You haven't seen a monster yet, but test me again and I'll show you what a monster really looks like." You hiccup another sob, eyes staying trained on him. He glares at you for a moment longer before spitting at you. You flinch, humiliation pumping through your body as he chuckles.

"You're pathetic," he whispers, pushing himself off of the bed and leaving the room without another word.

You stay trembling and crying on the bed for what feels like hours after that, not moving for fear of aggravating your captor and your injured leg.

Meanwhile, Bucky sits in the living room, a glass of whiskey in his hand and regret swimming in his mind. He didn't mean to hurt you so bad, but you calling him a monster when you have no idea what he's been through? He won't tolerate that. He needed to put you in your place. To show you who you belong to. If you cooperate, you can enjoy yourself but if you misbehave, you'll be punished.

~*~

You're not sure when you fall asleep, but you're slowly roused from your slumber by a warm tongue sweeping itself over your clit.

A soft moan leaves your lips and your roll your hips gently, sleep clouding your thoughts.

The mouth disappears only to be replaced by something hot and big. Your eyelids flutter before slowly opening, and you feel confusion fill you as a big body hovers over you.

"Wh-what...?" You trail off, mouth dropping open in a silent moan as the man pushes his cock inside of you, stretching you out in the most perfectly painful way.

"It feels good, doesn't it?" He asks, voice thick and husky, the slightest twinge of a Russian accent decorating his words. Your hands find his shoulders and you blink a few times, the events of the day rushing into your brain.

"Wait... s-stop..." He doesn't. Instead, he cradles your head in his hands and presses gentle kisses to your face.

"You're okay. It feels nice. You like it. It feels good when you listen." His voice is so deep and perfect... you can't help but nod.

"This is what you're here for," he grunts, pumping into you harder. He grabs your hips and pulls out of you, only to flip you onto your stomach.

"This is why they brought you here. You're here for me to fuck. For me to have." He pushes back in and you gasp as he hits deeper than before.

"Yeah... feels so good... you were made for me, weren't you?" You find yourself nodding to his words again. He fucks into you hard and fast, his mind focused on his own release.

"Your cunt is so nice and tight and wet. So perfect for me. Waiting for me to fuck it, destroy it." You mewl in response, arching your back as he pounds into you, the slap of his hips against your ass making you even wetter for him.

You block out the shame of it all, ignore the fact that a few hours ago, this man was hurting and humiliating you.

His thrusts stutter for a moment before he picks up the pace again, this time reaching his metal fingers around to toy with your clit. "Gonna make you cum on my cock. You might not admit it, but you fuckin' love getting used like a dirty little whore. You like having your pussy fucked full of my fat cock. You fucking love it."

Your body starts convulsing, pussy clenching hard around him as he pushes you over the edge into an orgasm. Your eyes roll back, head spinning at the intensity of it.

"Fuckin' feel that... fuck... Fuck!" He spills inside of you, warm white filling you up then spilling out over your swollen cunt.

He pulls out and collapses on the bed beside you, panting hard. Your body aches, pussy fluttering and clenching around nothing while his seed spills out of you, staining the sheets.

You lower your hips and stretch out on your stomach, catching your breath and riding the aftershocks of your climax.

He rubs your back gently and you're surprised by the intimate and kind gesture.

"You only get punished when you're bad," he whispers. You don't acknowledge him and he sighs.

"I'll probably come to you again tonight, and I'll probably be rougher. I can't control myself when he takes over. If you fight back then it'll only be worse for you. Just lie back and take it, okay?" You still say nothing, yelping when his hand comes down hard on your ass. "Okay," you finally whisper, skin burning where he hit you.

"Good. Now, I'm gonna go make dinner. I expect you down in half an hour." He climbs off the bed without another word and leaves the room.

You stay there, silent tears sliding down your face at the fact that this man just fucked you, but worse, you liked it.

~*~

Dinner is silent, you limping to the table and wincing every time you shift your weight. Your ass burns, your pussy aches, and you definitely tore something in your thigh.

But Bucky seems to be in good spirits.

You only manage to force down a few bites before you push your plate away, stomach flipping uncomfortably.

“Eat,” he says, staring at your full plate then looking up to your eyes.

“I’m not hungry,” you whisper, voice rough and scratchy from the way he crushed your throat earlier. He sighs heavily and tosses his fork onto the table, leaning forward to look at you.

“My goal wasn’t to hurt you. Just to show you that I’m only a monster if you want me to be. I can be nice to you. I made you cum twice while you slept.”

That explains the deep throb in your pussy.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I think they’re right. I need you. More importantly, the soldier needs you. I think I'll be able to control him better. I know you’re not the biggest fan of this, but you’ve gotta admit that you enjoyed it.” You say nothing, but the way you shift in your seat makes him grin.

“This can be good for both of us. Just relax and accept it. I won’t hurt you again, not on purpose. And not unless you give me a reason to.” You simply nod, not wanting to be having any type of conversation with this man.

“Hate it all you want, but you can’t deny your body’s reaction to me. Just give in.” You glare at your plate, the word ‘monster’ bouncing around in your mind as he resumes eating as if he isn't holding you hostage here.

~*~

You can’t sleep. Your body aches too much and you’re far too terrified of him visiting you in the form of the Soldier.

It’s a little past two in the morning, and you’re fighting your heavy lids when the door to what he deemed as ‘your’ bedroom opens.

His eyes are dark and distant, and you know that this isn’t the same man as before.

He’s naked, cock hanging freely between his legs. An impressive nine inches of thick, hard flesh, waiting to abuse your cunt yet again.

He climbs onto the bed and pulls the blankets away from your body. You try to relax, you really do, but with the rough way he strips you of your clothes, it’s hard not to panic.

His hands come beside your head as he situates himself between your thighs, his huge frame making you feel even smaller and even more intimidated. He nudges his hard cock at your entrance and you wince as he pushes in with little preparation.

It stings. The stretch and pull off his cock dragging against your walls.

He gives you no time to get adjusted before he starts a fast and borderline brutal pace, not giving a single fuck about the way he’s abusing your pussy. You whimper, hands coming up and instinctively pushing against his shoulders to try and get him to slow down.

He mutters something in Russian, then grabs your hands and pins them above your head, squeezing your wrists together tightly in his metal hand. You yelp in pain, trying to twist into a more comfortable position. He doesn’t let up and you accept the pain, allowing it to distract you from the vicious way he’s fucking you. His other hand grabs your legs and pulls them up over his shoulders, leaning down so his body is hovering just above yours.

His hips slam into you, cock hitting your cervix painfully with each thrust.

“Ow! S-slow down, please! I-it hurts!” You beg him to have mercy, and he quickly grows tired of hearing your voice. The hand supporting his weight comes up and presses hard on your throat. With no free hands, he presses harder against your wrists to keep himself upright, the pressure on your neck growing with each savage thrust of his hips.

The edges of your vision start to get spotty and black, your mouth parted in a desperate attempt to drag in a breath of air. Your body starts going numb, and soon you can’t even feel him inside of you. Your ears start to ring and after a painfully long moment, the world goes black.

The soldier continues fucking your pliant body, even after you’ve passed out. He fucks you hard and fast until he finally finishes.

He cums hard, filling you up with his seed and leaving his mark on your abused walls. He pulls out of you with a soft grunt, then leaves you alone and unconscious in the middle of the bed, cum painting your swollen pussy white, and bruises already forming on your wrists and neck.

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simplyotometrash · 3 years ago

Text

Headcanons with Obey Me! Oc, Alex

Alex’s relationships to each of the characters

Lucifer:

Have you heard of love at first sight? You have?

Yeah this is not that whatsoever.

Alex hated Lucifer from the moment they met. His attitude, the way he talked to them, the way he talked to Mammon. All of it.

So they made it their mission to get on his nerves as much as physically possible.

They really wanted to see how far they could push him.

Lucifer knew their game and put up with the annoying human and their antics despite the headache it caused him.

They finally talked to one another properly without a fight one night. It was late and Lucifer was, unsurprisingly, still awake and working.

Alex quietly shuffled into his office and immediately was called out on it. Lucifer rightfully suspected a prank. But the truth was that Alex had a bad dream and didn’t know who else to talk to.

Lucifer turned and saw this tired, helpless, upset human and gestured them closer. He listened to their nightmare and did his best to provide them comfort.

Suddenly they weren’t the nuisance they usually were. They reminded of him younger brothers when they were much younger and new to the Devildom. Scared and feeling isolated.

Did their relationship get any better?

Well, yeah it did.

Lucifer grew to see the petite human as another sibling he somehow gained.

Their relationship became sibling-like and the torment only continued, though less hate-filled.

Mammon:

Did they like him? Not at first. He didn’t really care much for them either.

They came to their first major breakthrough early on, though, when Alex witnessed firsthand the treatment Mammon received from his brothers.

Oh they hated it.

Alex is the youngest of 9 and knows what Mammon’s experience is.

From that moment on they took it upon themselves to become Mammon’s designated protector.

If anyone tried to fuck with Mammon they had to deal with Alex and vice versa.

They also are touch starved, so there were many movie nights where they just cuddled up together because they both needed physical affection.

Mammon is one of their best friends in the Devildom and they would not trade him for anything in the three worlds.

Mammon isn’t sure if he is in love with them or wants to just be their best friend, but he protects them just like they protect him.

They also always get into trouble together.

Mammon always ended up going into their room at night when he was having trouble sleeping, sometimes they were awake and sometimes not.

They had an agreement, though, that if the other needed comfort at night they could always go to one another.

He quietly would crawl into their bed and it was as if Alex knew he was there without waking up. They would shift so he could cuddle into them and they’d sleep like that the rest of the night.

There’s something inherently comfortable about being around one another when it’s just the two of them, something Mammon does not want to risk losing. He is very protective over them and will do harm to those who try to hurt them.

Leviathan:

Anime fan? Video game lover? Alex is the epitome of heart-eyes.

Yes, Levi comes off a bit weird but they do not care.

They wanna become his friend as fast as fucking possible because anime nerds need to stick together. They need someone to show them good Devildom anime.

Levi was very hesitant to let the human in. He was a gross otaku, why would they want to be his friend?

He was terrified that it might be some super elaborate prank.

It was seeing them playing a game from the human world that made him begin to open up.

They were playing a video game that they loved and he merely caught a glimpse over their shoulder. That was all it took. He stood there, hovering behind them, watching their gameplay intently.

The rest is, as they say, history.

The pair became the best of friends and bonded over their mutual hobbies.

Levi is also one of the potential love interests for Alex so the feelings can run even deeper depending on how I am feeling.

Overall, though, they are just as attached at the hip as Mammon and Alex. Levi is fiercely protective over Alex and their friendship, often fighting his brothers to claim best friendship. They are his Henry.

They’re able to get through to him when he draws in on himself. When he is so plagued by negative thoughts and anxiety that nothing can reach him, Alex is able to crack through the negativity to shine light back on him.

They give him so much positive reinforcement and affection.

While they are touch starved, they never force physical affection without consent. They know Levi has issues with being touched and would never want to push it.

They’re the only one he is okay with hugging him out of the blue, though it makes him blush, it also makes him feel special.

Satan:

They did not get along at first.

Alex did not hate him on sight like they did Lucifer, but they did not take to him very quickly either.

They pretty much ignored each other for the first couple of weeks.

they could cohabitate in the House of Lamentation in peace without ever acknowledging one another.

It was Alex’s dislike of Lucifer that piqued Satan’s interest in them.

A fellow hater of Lucifer? Someone to plan pranks and piss off the eldest in the house? Maybe they were alright then.

They became friends over their disdain of Lucifer and truly bonded over a love of books.

Alex is a big reader, not only of manga, but of all literature. So they were able to find common ground in that they had some similar interests.

There was never the potential for romance between them and that’s okay.

Their relationship, similar to Lucifer and Alex’s, evolved into a very sibling-like relationship.

They became a younger sibling to him and he enjoyed their company. They proved good to prank with as well.

It was nice to have someone else who liked reading, someone who was calm, and also loved cats. Alex’s love for cats was just as strong as Satan’s.

I personally headcanon that Alex’s cat got to come with them to the Devildom so Satan really had to decide whether or not he was going to kidnap (catnap) their cat or not until they told him he could visit anytime for some kitty cat cuddles.

Asmodeus:

Asmo was a very fast friend to Alex.

The moment they met he was enamored. What drew him in specifically? Alex’s hair. They came to the Devildom with pastel blue hair with an undercut that needed to be maintained.

Asmo saw they were a lover of fashion and had nice hair and he wanted in on that. He volunteered himself to be their personal hair stylist.

They began bonding over these sessions where he would touch up their hair color and cut followed by painting their nails and telling them anything and everything he could think of.

But they did not hesitate to call his seemingly narcissistic personality a fraud. They didn’t buy that he was only a self-absorbed and shallow person who only cared for his looks.

This moment is what makes Asmo the second contender as a love interest for Alex.

They saw right through him and suddenly he felt...free. Free to express himself in more ways then he thought possible. He also began to view them as more than a doll to play with and a sounding board to talk to.

Suddenly they were so much more alive as a person. He wanted to truly know them.

He fights Mammon and Levi for the role of best friend but he also wants to be so much more than that.

He makes a point to spend time with them and never mentions his previous encounters or relationships. He doesn’t want to even risk upsetting them in case they love him back (which they do depending on what I’m writing oops-).

Asmo, though he struggles to admit it out loud, views them as even more important than himself. Their beauty inside and out is blinding. He wants the world to see it and their outfits to reflect it.

He doesn’t hesitate to drop just as much Grimm shopping for them as he does himself.

Beelzebub:

These two cohabitated quite peacefully. They didn’t need to talk or really do much of anything. They simply existed together.

Alex didn’t think much of the large demon at first. They were impressed by the sheer size of his appetite and thought he looked kinda cool.

Beel thought they looked so small and was afraid just breathing too hard might break them.

Their first bonding moment was when he came into the kitchen for a midnight fridge raid and found Alex, in their pajama shirt, cooking. He quietly sat down next to where they were standing and asked what they were making.

Comfort food was their answer. They were homesick. Their favorite thing when they were homesick was potato soup, their mother’s recipe.

Beel knew the feeling all too well and did not press the subject. There was comfortable silence before he asked questions about the human world. Before long, they were offering him a large bowl of soup.

They ate together, sitting there on the kitchen floor, and the hours flew by.

They did get in trouble together for not even cleaning up the mess in the kitchen where they inevitably fell asleep together, but Lucifer was lenient.

Beel became their confidant. The one person they could talk to without feeling judged. And they became someone he could also tell anything too.

Someone he needed for those bad nights plagued by nightmares or when he felt homesick, too.

Their relationship stays this way. There’s not romance that may blossom and neither of them are interested in that.

Belphegor:

They knew he wasn’t human from the moment they found him in the attic. These two had very little relationship prior to the incidents of chapter 16.

We all know how Belphie was about humans and what happened to the MC in that chapter.

Scooting past that, their relationship afterwards was exceptionally tense.

At least on Belphie’s side. He wanted to make up for what he had done but also felt uncomfortable with Alex. He wasn’t sure how to approach them.

Alex, on the other hand, took it as a personal mission to annoy the ever living shit out of him as revenge.

Did they hate him for what he had done? No. They did not hate him. What they felt was not hatred nor resentment, rather they felt irritated and rightfully pissed off.

They sought revenge in the form of annoying him.

But that only lasted a little while. These two actually get along very well once they have a proper talk about what happened and Belphie wanting to make up for what he had done.

Belphie is contender number 3 for Alex’s love and affection in a romantic sense (I’m soft for him, I can’t help it).

They bond over the stars and the fact that they can be in the same room together without even having to talk.

Alex is a high-energy kind of person but even they need breaks. They don’t like feeling as if they have to be like that all the time. And they don’t have to with him. They can be quiet and calm.

They nap together all the time. Belphie is actually the one they go to when they have migraines because his very presence is so soothing that they’re able to relax and sleep through it despite the pain.

Belphie knows they love pillows and buys a new one every time he goes out, whether with them or not, just to add to their bed so they have their own massive pillow collection.

I will do a part 2 for the rest of the characters! Let me know what you think!!

#obey me shall we date #obey me oc #obey me! oc #obey me oc headcanons #obey me oc alex #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey mee beel #obey me belphie #obey me headcanons #obey me shall we date headcanons #obey me

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successfullyadhd · 4 years ago

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Your Memory Isn't Terrible, I Promise

Okay, please hear me out. This is NOT a post shaming you for not being able to remember anything. It is, in fact, the opposite. There will be no “Just try harder and you’ll do better! :) :)” type of nonsense advice.

Here’s the true root of the problem - it’s not that you have a bad memory. If you have ADHD, it’s most likely that you didn’t truly absorb the information that you were supposed to remember in the first place. Or it’s that you have so much external stimuli bombarding your brain, you can’t pull out the piece of information hidden in your mind when you need it because it’s buried under a ton of other things coming at you in the moment. And now you’re probably thinking “Uhh, okay cool but that’s still not helpful!!!???”

I used to constantly forget things. IMPORTANT things. A weekly meeting, doctors appointments, assignments - you name it and I’ve lost it in this grey matter behind my eyes. And then someone would mention it out of frustration or concern (usually both) and I would gasp, hate myself or just be completely shocked. The worst feeling is when you realized you knew something but your brain didn’t supply it until far after it was needed. I can’t number the amount of times someone has said “Em, did you know about this?” and a hot feeling of shame would pour over me because I did, in fact, know but had just completely forgotten. And it’s hard using the phrase “I’m so sorry, I completely forgot!” over and over again without skepticism from neurotypical people. “How is that possible?” they would wonder aloud as a I scrambled to make amends. Does this sound like a familiar scene?

So this is what I did about it - it might work for you, or maybe it will spark an idea of some things that are helpful.

First - names. I used to be the WORST with names. I’ve literally forgotten my cousin’s name while introducing him to a friend. I once read that if you said a person’s name three times during a conversation, you would remember it later. I couldn’t usually make it that far because the name would drop out of my head as soon as I would hear it, so I came up with another method. When someone tells me their name, I look them in the eyes and repeat it in my head three or four times. It took some time to train my brain to consciously grasp the information as it was being given to me instead of a panic of 1,000 other distracting thoughts, but I got into the habit. If I’m meeting a group of people, like clients or a team on the first day of work, I try a different tactic. When the name is mentioned, I repeat their name mentally with an unchanging feature. It will be something like this “Cindy - blonde, Cindy - blonde, Cindy - blonde”. If it’s a natural opening, I’ll make a point to speak their name out loud. “Cindy, it’s so lovely to meet you.” This helps cement it in my mind and makes sure that I’m consciously absorbing the information.

Next - write everything possible down. Smartphone notes are the greatest modern invention. If someone is telling me an important detail, I write it down immediately. Telling yourself you will remember it later is our favorite lie - don’t fall for it! Don’t be afraid of taking an extra moment or of people thinking you’re distracted - they actually love it. I will always say “Give me a moment, I’m just making a note of that in my phone.” and they are delighted that you’re showing that you heard them and the information is important enough to record. Again, it has the added benefit of forcing my brain to record the information instead of being distracted by external forces. It’s also a proven fact that if you write something down, even if you don’t read it again later, it reinforces that moment in your memory. And if you realize that your mind wandered while they were talking and you didn’t catch what you needed, writing something down is a great excuse to get them to repeat themselves without feeling as if you’re annoying them.

Now, you’ve put the facts into your brain - but how do you pull them out again? This one is a bit more tricky, and it has more to do with how your ADHD brain processes information. See, our brains are more controlled by external stimuli than neurotypical people. One theory is that ADHD was developed evolutionarily because the humans who could take in the most stimuli around them were more likely to notice and react to threats than neurotypical people, and therefore live longer. This was great while hunting on the savanna and far less helpful in a class lecture or corporate meeting. ADHD brains are great at reacting to what is right in front of us, but any stress - like being put on the spot to answer a question or being surprised by seeing an acquaintance out shopping - makes extra information harder to retrieve. When your body feels stress, it starts wanting to deal with it’s immediate needs and shoves everything else away.

To counteract this, I’ve found consistent practice of mediation very helpful. When I get the feeling I’m forgetting something important, I take a moment to calm my body and sort through my thoughts until the essential information begins to surface. The best way to explain it is that it feels like unravelling a crocheted scarf - if I can find the right thread to pull, everything else follows. “Okay, but I don’t have time to meditate in the middle of the grocery store when I can’t remember why I’m here!” you may be thinking now. I get it, and you’re right. The process I’m talking about should take just a moment. Consistent meditation practice will help you learn not to clear your mind, but instead evaluate and focus on specific thoughts. You know there is something important, and you start pulling threads until you find the right one. “Okay, I’m in the grocery store, and I know I’m forgetting something but what? What actions have I done today that could spark a memory? I was with my daughter earlier, and she has school tomorrow, is it something with that? Yes, she needs a packed lunch for her field trip! And if she has a field trip, she needs some sunscreen too and I need to remember to make sure her form is in her backpack. Lunch, sunscreen, form.”

The combination of meditation practice and writing everything down has changed the way I remember things and made me feel so much better about myself. Let me know if there are any other helpful memory tricks you use!

#actuallyadhd #actually add #adhd hacks #memory hacks #neurodivergent #executive dysfunction #successfully adhd

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writingfortoomanyfandoms · 4 years ago

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Mudblood

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Hufflepuff!Muggleborn!Reader

Summary: The complicated relationship of a pureblood and a muggleborn, shown through their time at Hogwarts

Requested: No

Warnings: Swearing, blood purity, angst, death, mentions of torture, all that kinda stuff

A/N: can you truly count yourself as a Harry Potter writer if you haven’t written something about Malfoy dating a muggleborn??? I hope you guys enjoy this! Please let me know what you think - hearing your comments always perks me up and inspires me to write more! Also this is a long’un so strap yourselves in!

First Year

Y/N Y/L/N wasn’t scared of Draco Malfoy.

It wasn’t because she was brave, or because she knew she could outsmart him or anything like that - nothing like the reasons so many Gryffindors and Ravenclaws gave to try and convince themselves that they held no fear of the Slytherin bully.

No, it was nothing like that.

In a way, she felt sorry for him.

Sometimes, it seemed as though he was merely parroting his father’s words when he spoke so harshly to people.

She had been scared of him - most Hufflepuffs were. Hufflepuffs were aware of the way that a lot of the students - Slytherin’s in particular - viewed them. Knew that they were often perceived as being the ‘lesser’ house. And being a muggleborn as well just seemed to reinforce the point that there was no way that Draco Malfoy and his band of Slytherins would ever allow her a single peaceful moment.

During her first term at Hogwarts, she had dreaded every lesson she had with Malfoy, who she felt went out of his way to make her and Justin (the other muggleborn Hufflepuff student) feel inferior to everyone else.

But it didn’t take her long to get over that initial fear.

It probably came from her friendship with Harry, Ron and Hermione. It wasn’t as though they were close friends, but after helping them out during Herbology class and studying in the library with Hermione fairly regularly, it was safe to say that they were definitely friends.

And any association with the trio was immediately seen as a red flag by Malfoy, putting an even larger target on Y/N’s back.

But after hearing the many, many, rather creative insults thought up by Harry, Ron and Hermione about Malfoy, it was difficult for her to fear him.

“Watch where you’re going, Mudblood.”

Y/N had collided hard with the floor, her books falling from her bag, scattering on the ground.

“You walked into her, Malfoy,” Ron piped up from where he had been walking with Harry, a little behind Y/N and her friends, all of them on their way back into the school after Herbology.

“Then she should have gotten out of my way, shouldn’t she, Weasley,” just one glance up at Malfoy’s face allowed Y/N to understand how happy he was to pick a fight with anyone - the fact that Ron was also getting involved only served to cheer him further.

There was nothing that Malfoy enjoyed more than aggravating Harry and Ron, goading them into a fight just so that he could somehow swing it to a teacher to place the blame on them instead, causing the loss of Gryffindor house points.

Harry had dropped to the floor beside Y/N, kneeling down to help her gather her books back up.

“Thanks,” she muttered with a small smile, standing up and watching the interaction of Ron and Malfoy, both of whom were getting more and more worked up. “Ron, just leave it,” Y/N called, grabbing the attention of both boys mid-argument.

Malfoy glared at her but Y/N ignored him, looking instead at her friend.

“It doesn’t matter,” she told Ron, who opened his mouth to argue, but Y/N cut him off. “It doesn’t matter,” she repeated more forcefully, looking to her Hufflepuff friends before walking away.

It was a surprise for Y/N when Malfoy approached her the next day, when she was sitting alone in the library, getting her Potions homework finished.

“Can I sit here?”

“You’re asking?” Y/N asked in surprise. She shook her head quickly before offering a slightly nervous smile. “Go ahead.”

Malfoy sat in the chair opposite, but didn’t say anything - instead he stared at her from across the table, seemingly deep in thought as he studied her.

“Did you want something?”

Malfoy glanced down at the parchment Y/N was writing her homework on, tilting his head just a little to be able to read it.

“You got question four wrong.”

“Oh - right.”

Y/N was still frowning in complete confusion at Malfoy’s actions.

“Seriously - can I help you with something?” She asked after they had sat in awkward silence for another five minutes at least.

“You never fight back - is it a Hufflepuff trait? Being a pushover?” Malfoy inquired cooly.

“I’m glad you sought me out to attempt to insult me.” Y/N commented mildly.

“Attempt?”

“It’s not a Hufflepuff thing, being a pushover. I just don’t think you really mean it when you’re rude to me, or to most people, in fact.”

“You think I secretly like you?” Malfoy asked scornfully.

“No - I just don’t think that you’re as big of a dick that you act. I think that you’re trying to live up to some stupid expectations that you think everyone thinks that you should.”

Silence fell between them again, but (and maybe it was just Y/N’s imagination) Malfoy’s gaze seemed a little less harsh on her. She returned to her homework, aware that Malfoy was still watching her and feeling embarrassed under his scrutinising look.

Second Year

“Y/L/N!” Y/N nearly jumped out of her skin at the harsh call of her name.

She saw Justin’s eyes widen a little, looking over her shoulder to see who it was.

Y/N turned around, equally surprised to see Draco Malfoy stalking towards her - unusually, he was not accompanied by Crabbe and Goyle, or any of his usual Slytherin crew.

When he came to a stop in front of Y/N, his eyes slid over her to glare at Justin, who quickly caught onto the message.

“I’ll just…” he pointed helplessly towards the Great Hall, where the feast was about to start.

“Save me a seat.” Y/N responded, smiling to her friend who nodded, before rushing away, evidently wanting to be as far away from Malfoy as possible. “Hey, Malfoy,” she tried to maintain her smile but was incapable of keeping the mild worry off of her face - even now that they weren’t on exactly bad terms, it wasn’t like Malfoy to go out of his way to seek out a conversation with her - Y/N wouldn’t kid herself, she knew how Malfoy continued to view her.

“You’re awake,” Malfoy finally breaks the awkward silence between them, stating the obvious. It brings a real smile to her face as she nods.

“I am.”

“I’m… I’m glad,” Malfoy confessed, looking uncomfortable, breaking their eye contact.

“So am I.”

“Do you… remember anything?”

“I don’t know what happened while I was petrified if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Oh… right,” a faint tinge of pink rose in his cheeks and he scuffed his shoes. “I… I visited you.”

“What?” The shock-induced word was out of her mouth before she could think better of it and she stared at him, wide-eyed.

“Nothing - it’s stupid,” immediately he had built his barriers back up, meeting her eyes again but the harshness was back in his gaze, his jaw set in place, all angles and hard edges.

“You visited me?” Y/N repeated, finally regaining control of her surprise and beaming at him.

“Well… yeah,” Malfoy looked wary of her as he confirmed his actions.

“Why?” A light laugh accompanied her words and she could have sworn that she saw the corner of Malfoy’s mouth twitch, too, as though he wanted to smile back at her.

“I… I didn’t want you to die.”

“That makes a change,” but it’s clear that she’s teasing him from her smile, from the tone of voice that suggests that she’s about to start laughing again and she sees Draco soften a little, even allowing himself to smile back at her, albeit tentatively.

“I can help you catch up, if you want,” he doesn’t seem to be aware of making the offer, judging by the look of mild surprise that crosses his face, but which he quickly covers up as best he can.

“Pardon?”

“I know we only have a few days left of term but, I could try and help you catch up, if you wanted - I’m pretty good at Potions,” he seems more sure of himself this time and it causes Y/N’s smile to widen.

“Thanks.”

“Of course.”

Third Year

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

Y/N turned her head to look at Draco, not at all surprised to see him standing there, with his arms crossed, glaring at her.

“Is that so?”

“You know you have,” Draco grumbled, pouting a little at her.

“You’re acting like a child,” Y/N warned, turning the page of her book dismissively.

“You’re being a bitch,” he huffed in response. “Hey!”

Y/N had hit him with her book the moment the insult had left his lips.

She lifted her book to hide the smile growing on her face from his indignant reaction.

“What do you want, Draco?” She sighed.

“I want to know why you’re ignoring me.”

“I thought you didn’t care what mudbloods think?” A groan slipped past his lips and he fell to the ground beside her, watching her intently.

“What’s it really about?” Draco asked at last.

“I thought everything was about blood purity,” Y/N commented.

“Y/N.”

“Why did you do it?” She burst out, snapping her book closed and staring at him.

“Do what?”

“Make such a big deal about your arm - I know it didn’t hurt that much and Madame Pomfrey healed it immediately. You didn’t need to get it executed.” Tears were burning in her eyes.

“I didn’t know it would be executed,” Draco protested.

“You knew your father wouldn’t let it go easily - you must’ve known something like this would happen,” Y/N declared, shaking her head.

“Why do you care so much?”

“Because Buckbeak was a living creature, Malfoy! It didn’t deserve to die just because you were too bloody proud to listen to what Hagrid was saying!”

“You weren’t in the class! You don’t know what happened!”

“Harry told me what happened.” Y/N muttered, aware of the reaction it would bring from her friend.

“So you’ll believe Potter over me?”

“You haven’t denied it,” Y/N pointed out darkly.

“You’ve been avoiding me for months because of a fucking Hippogriff?”

“Well it does make a change from it being you avoiding me.”

Her words had an immediate effect on Draco, who recoiled a little, becoming even more defensive, wounded by her accusation.

“You know why I avoid you.”

“Yes - because your reputation is more important to you than your friends.”

Y/N went to stand up but Draco caught hold of her hand, looking utterly desperate when Y/N cast her eyes back to him and he tugged, evidently hoping that she would sit down and join him again.

“Please don’t leave me,” guilt laced his voice, and Y/N wondered if he understood at last where she was coming from - if he understood how it felt for her every time he pretended she didn’t exist, when he scorned her in front of their classmates but acted like she was his closest friend when it was just the two of them. “I’m sorry.”

It didn’t take much to get Y/N to give in to his pleas, one look into his puppy-dog expression and she sighed, resuming her previous position beside her friend.

“You’re really important to me, you know,” Draco said after a while, his words quiet and when Y/N looked to him, he didn’t look up, studying his hands as though lost in thought but by the blush on his cheeks it was clear that he was just embarrassed.

“It’s okay, Draco - I understand. It’s how you were brought up.”

“But you really are - you’re one of the most important people in my life,” Draco insisted, finally looking up. Y/N gave him a small smile. “But… not just… as a friend,” he was frowning a little and y/N’s heard began to thud in her chest.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… that I like you. I like you a lot,” he breathed a slight laugh with his confession, giving her a nervous grin that sent her heart fluttering even more.

“You do?”

“Yeah.”

“You know that makes everything between us even more complicated than before?” Y/N asked, but she moved closer to him, resting her head onto his shoulder, wanting to reassure him that she wasn’t rejecting him.

Draco seemed to pick up on what she was truly trying to say and grabbed her hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Are you okay with hiding with me a little longer?” He whispered.

Y/N squeezed his hand.

Fourth Year

Y/N had been able to feel Draco’s eyes glaring into her all day, and she had a feeling that she knew exactly what it was about.

This knowledge was why she wasn’t exactly surprised when she was walking with Ernie, Justin and Hannah towards the Great Hall for dinner, after Transfiguration, and a hand reached out and clasped around her wrist, tugging her to the side.

A slight yelp left her lips, however and her fellow Hufflepuffs turned to look at her, frowning in concern.

“I just realised I forgot something - go in, I’ll catch up with you,” she offered with a strained smile. Her friends exchanged looks before doing as she asked and Y/N turned to the figure that had retreated the moment that her friends had looked towards them, rolling her eyes at him. “Way to be subtle,” she told him, but Draco just glared at her. “What’s wrong?” She sighed, following Draco a little further into the shadows, out of view of any other students.

“Is it true?” Hurt was clear in his voice and it was only then that Y/N took in the sadness that gleamed in his eyes.

“Is what true?” A feeling of dread settled in her stomach, though - she was well aware of what Draco was asking her.

“I heard Potter talking during Potions - apparently he’s taking you to the ball. Is that true?” Draco’s words were stiff, desperately trying to hide how much it hurt him to speak them aloud.

“Yeah, I’m going with Harry,” Y/N confessed.

“Why?” He didn’t even attempt to keep the shake from his voice.

“You weren’t going to ask me - Harry needed a date so he asked me to go with him. As friends,” Y/N shrugged.

“You wanted me to… to ask you?” Draco repeated a little faintly, his eyes searching hers desperately. Y/N smiled just a little and gave a half shrug of her shoulders.

“I thought that much was obvious.”

“I couldn’t ask you.”

“I know.”

“I wanted to.”

“I know,” Y/N reached up a hand, cupping Draco’s cheek and angling his face carefully to force him to look at her and she gave him a sad smile. “I understand, Draco - I do, I promise.”

“But why Potter of all people?”

“Because we’re friends, Draco,” Y/N laughed, watching Draco lean into her touch, his eyes closing contentedly. “And I knew you were going with Pansy,” she admitted in a whisper, not wanting to allow her own insecurities to be heard too clearly in her voice, but it was clear that she had failed in that regard when Draco’s eyes snapped open and met hers.

“It’s not like that,” he hastened to assure her and Y/N responded with a half-smile accompanied with a slight shrug of her shoulders. Silence fell between them before Draco let out a slight sigh. “I wish I could go with you,” he confessed, leaning down and resting his forehead against hers.

“I would’ve said yes if you’d asked - just for the record,” Draco breathed a laugh, his eyes closing again.

“I don’t deserve you,” he murmured, brushing his lips against hers, feeling her smile her shy, sweet smile.

“I’ll always wait for you,” she responded instead, stating it as though it was a simple fact.

Harry had conveniently forgotten to mention to Y/N that agreeing to being his date to the Yule Ball also meant agreeing to dancing in front of the whole school and their visitors.

“I thought you’d say no if I told you!” Harry laughed as he led Y/N off of the dance floor, towards Ron who was standing with his rather disgruntled-looking date.

“And it would have been perfectly reasonable for me to say no!” Y/N announced, pushing her friend’s shoulder playfully.

“Can we go sit down?” Ron muttered, barely sparing a greeting for his friends. Y/N raised an amused eyebrow at Harry who grinned at her, a silent promise in his eyes to fill her in later.

As Y/N crossed the room with Ron and Harry - Padma Patil in tow, though not looking at all happy about the company she was in for the evening - she could feel eyes watching her. Y/N looked over in the direction of the group of Fourth Year Slytherins. Sure enough, Draco was standing there, Pansy in front of him, evidently attempting to engage him in conversation. Draco was nodding along with whatever she was saying but his eyes were on her, an expression on his face that Y/N didn’t quite understand.

She offered him a small smile and thought she saw a slight quirk at the corners of Draco’s lips before he managed to get control of his expression again and returned to his conversation with his date.

Y/N felt a pang in her chest when she saw Draco laughing at something Pansy had said.

It was late into the evening when she was, once again, grabbed by the wrist from the shadows, having been on her way to get butterbeers for herself, Ron and Harry.

Draco pulled her into an alcove off of the Great Hall, where they could still hear the music being played by the band. He smiled down at her.

“You look beautiful tonight,” he told her, squeezing her hand. Y/N’s skin crawled with embarrassment and she looked down to the floor, grinning to herself.

“Thanks - so do you.”

“I look beautiful?” Draco asked, laughter in his voice and when Y/N looked up at him, her heart fluttered at his crinkled eyes.

“You always look beautiful.”

Draco flushed a bright pink but his smile only widened.

“I know it’s not the same but - would you like to dance with me?” He offered, tilting his head a little in the direction of the source of the music. Y/N bit her lip and nodded, stepping closer to him and breathing in the scent that she had become so familiar with lately.

“I should warn you, though, I stepped on Harry’s toes a lot when we danced.”

“I’m sure that was Potter’s fault, not yours. He strikes me as an awful dancer,” Draco commented, beginning to lead them in their dance.

“I never thought you’d be so good.”

“Most purebloods are - we go to a lot of galas and dances, see?” He looked a little embarrassed. Y/N knew that, when he was with her, he didn’t like to talk about his blood status, it only served as a reminder to what she was - to the reasons why they had to dance in alcoves, rather than with the rest of the school.

Y/N didn’t reply other than to rest her head on his chest, her eyes squeezing shut as they continued to dance, wanting to savour every moment of happiness.

Fifth Year

“She’s a bitch.” Y/N stated, fixing Draco with a glare that practically dared him to disagree with her.

“She’s not that bad,” Draco insisted.

“You only like her because you share a dislike of Harry!”

“That’s not true.”

“She’s an awful teacher,” Y/N pointed out and Draco sighed heavily. “And she’s just awful to everyone!”

“She’s not that bad to me,” Draco shrugged, going back to his Defence Against the Dark Arts homework that him and Y/N were both meant to be working on.

“Of course she’s not that bad to you,” Y/N laughed.

“What do you mean by that?”

“You’re a pureblood - and a Malfoy at that! She respects you!”

“I am pretty deserving of respect,” Draco mused and Y/N rolled her eyes, throwing a scrunched up piece of parchment at his head, causing him to laugh, batting it away. “Does she really give you a hard time?” He asked and Y/N could see the concerned look in his eyes as he asked.

“It’s nothing that I’m not used to,” was her response, immediately feeling bad for bringing up her blood status.

“Y/N…”

“You of all people understand how some witches and wizards feel about mudbloods.”

“Don’t call yourself that.” Draco snapped immediately, a harsh look in his eyes.

“Why not? Everyone else does,” Y/N pointed out drily, going back to her own piece of parchment. “You did.” She added, not looking up. Not needing to, to know the reaction that her words would cause.

“I was stupid,” Draco told her, a pained edge to his voice.

“You still call the others it.”

“You’re different.”

“Why?” Y/N inquired, looking up again, tilting her head just a little to the side, taking in the expression on Draco’s face.

“You know why,” Draco muttered.

A heavy silence fell between them, unlike any that they had experienced since their second year. Y/N broke it at last, scooting over towards him and resting her head on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry - I shouldn’t have said anything,” she said quietly. Draco hesitated for a moment before dropping his head down to rest atop hers.

“I don’t want this.” He admitted and Y/N tensed up, unsure if she wanted to hear what else Draco was going to say. “I don’t want to hide you.”

“You said that it was for the best,” she reminded him mutely.

“And it is,” Draco agreed through a long sigh. “Especially now he’s back,” they were approaching dangerous territory.

They had yet to discuss Voldemort’s return. Y/N was aware that Draco’s parents were Death Eaters - Draco had confided in her that his father had indeed returned to Voldemort’s inner circle the night marking the end of the Triwizard Tournament the previous year. But other than that, it had been very much a taboo subject - it made their relationship even more turbulent than before. Even less certain of a future.

“But just because it’s for the best, it doesn’t mean that I have to like it,” he finished and Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little.

“You sound like a child.”

“I wish it were all easier.”

Y/N thought she heard a slight crack in his voice, but knew better than to mention it. Instead, she nestled a little closer to him, craning her neck to press a kiss to his cheek.

“One day it will be.”

Sixth Year

Y/N allowed her fingers to trail up and down Draco’s arm, lost in thought.

Lately, they had gotten into the habit of sneaking Y/N into the Slytherin boys dorms after everyone had already gone to sleep. Draco didn’t go to bed until well past midnight anymore anyway, choosing instead to spend his time working on the Vanishing Cabinet in the Room of Requirement.

He had confided in Y/N fairly soon into the term - he never had been very good at hiding things from her, and while he would by no means allow her to help him directly, completely refusing to let her be tied to his awful assignment in any way, she had done her best to help him.

Joining him in his dorm after he would turn in for the night was one of the ways she would attempt to soothe her boyfriend.

Draco didn’t sleep anymore.

His mind was plagued with far too many anxieties, overworked with ideas of how to fix the Vanishing Cabinet, of how to get Voldemort to forgive his father.

He was carrying the weight of his family on his shoulders and he was only sixteen. Y/N wondered how he hadn’t cracked yet.

“Draco?” Y/N whispered into the darkness.

“Yeah?”

“What’s going to happen now that… now that you’ve fixed it?” She asked and she felt Draco take a deep, shuddering breath and held onto him a little tighter.

“I have to… fulfil my duty,” his voice was hoarse and Y/N could feel dampness on the top of her head and felt her heart break. She moved so that she was looking up at him, meeting his eyes, swimming with tears that had begun to overflow.

She reached up a hand, cupping his cheek, using her thumb to gently brush away his tears.

“Hey - it’s going to be okay.”

“Is it?” He sniffed, turning his face to kiss her palm, his eyes shutting. “I’m so fucking scared - and it’s happening tomorrow. There’s nothing I can do anymore.”

Silence engulfed them again, broken only by the sounds of Draco’s dormmates snoring.

“I think we should break up.”

Y/N physically recoiled from him, staring at her boyfriend in wide-eyed hurt shock. She can see the response that the loss of her touch has on him, Draco looked a lot more alert, a lot harder than before, but a little more broken, craving the reassurance that her gentle touches would bring him.

“It’s for the best,” he whispered, another tear slipping down his cheek.

“Draco…”

“He’ll hurt you if he finds out about you - he’ll use you to get to me, just as he used my Father. And it’ll be worse for you because you’re...”

“A mudblood,” Y/N finished for him. Draco gave a quiet, pained moan at her words, grimacing.

“I shouldn’t have started this,” he said quietly. “I shouldn’t have let myself fall in love with you.”

Y/N let out a quiet laugh, though her cheeks were wet with tears.

“If only it were that easy.”

Seventh Year

“Where is she?” Draco demanded Harry.

Tears were burning in his eyes, pain radiated off of him, the aura of loss hung around him. He had just lost Crabbe - one of the closest things he had ever had to a friend, one of the people he figured he’d always have, even just as back up.

He needed her.

The one person who wasn’t scared or intimidated by him, but who loved him because she thought that he could do some good.

“She was tortured because of you!” Harry screamed back, the two of them seemingly unaware of the Battle that continued to rage around them.

“I love her,” Draco told him, utterly defeated. “I’ve always loved her.”

“We had to rescue her from your home!” Harry raged, his gaze murderous, ignoring Ron and Hermione’s calls to him.

“Please just tell me that she’s not here - please tell me that she’s safe somewhere - somewhere far away from here,” Draco pleaded.

Harry didn’t respond, but the look on his face before he rushed away with his friends was answer enough for him.

It was enough for him to pull himself together, heaving himself up off of the floor outside the Room of Requirement and, leaving Goyle still recovering on the ground, he moved towards the sound of fighting, determined to find her.

Determined to put her right.

The last time that he had seen her was one of the worst days of his life - it was tied with the day that Voldemort had looked into his mind and discovered her existence and the importance that she held to Draco, and also with the day that she had been captured and brought to Malfoy Manor.

It was his Aunt that took the most pleasure in her company.

While Draco had screamed and writhed against his father’s restraints, wanting to get to her, Bellatrix had cackled and tortured Y/N, though Draco wasn’t exactly sure what she had hoped to gain from it.

Y/N was screaming for death by the time Bellatrix had grown weary and she had been taken to the basement to join Ollivander and Luna who were already being kept captive down there.

Draco had screamed himself hoarse and was sobbing, pleading with his parents to let him go, to let him free her.

It hadn’t taken long for him to realise that they kept her alive only to keep him in line.

Anytime he showed even the slightest sign of doubt, Y/N was brought back up.

When Fenrir had appeared with Harry, Ron, Hermione, Dean and the goblin, Draco had for the first time since her arrival, allowed himself the slightest bit of hope.

“Take her with you,” he had pleaded in his mind as the group were thrown down to join the others in the basement. Draco knew that there was no chance of Harry remaining there - he knew he would escape because it was Harry Potter. As infuriating as it was, getting out of tight situations was what Harry did best.

Draco didn’t find her until he entered the Great Hall after Voldemort had called a truce and implored Harry to find him in the forest.

He skirted around the sides of the room, not wanting to disturb the mourners. He felt a pang in his chest when he caught sight of the group of redheads, all of them gathered around a body on the floor.

But his sympathy didn’t last long because only moments later did he catch sight of her and relief flooded through his veins.

He was running towards her before he could think better of it. Tears were streaming down his face and she looked up, hearing the fast approaching footsteps. Her lips parted in shock and then they seemed to twitch upwards in the beginnings of a smile.

Y/N stood up, opening her arms to embrace Draco the moment that he barrelled into her, muttering apologies to her over and over again.

“I’m okay,” Y/N whispered, running her hand through his platinum-blond hair which was, at the moment, tinged black with soot and grime. “I’m okay.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” Draco hiccuped, trying to get a hold of his emotions, pulling back but before he could wipe his eyes, Y/N had lifted her hands to do it for him.

“You still look beautiful, you know.”

And even though the word was burning around them, even after the horrors that they had both seen in recent days, months, years, even with the grief in the room and the hollowness in their chests, Draco laughed.

And then, aware that they were being watched by many of their former classmates, he pushed some hair away from her face and kissed her.

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy angst #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #draco malfoy x hufflepuff!reader #draco malfoy x y/n #courts writings

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niqhtlord01 · 4 years ago

Text

Humans are weird: Mutiny

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord )

Merchant ship Noble Voyager Current commanding officer: Grumbug Folif. Crew: 125 Cargo Manifest: Mineral ore, Dytaxium Crystals, Methane gas cylinders, and mining equipment in need of repair. Charted route: Round about journey from Yenniri trade world to mining world of Alia 1 for cargo then returning to Yenniri for distribution.

Captains log Entry 2905.40 I didn’t think my fortune would take such a turn for the better but it seems the weavers of fate have finally smiled upon me.

Members of the merchant guild approached me shortly after landing for refit to hire me for a transportation assignment. They needed someone to go out to one of their mining subsidiaries on Alia I and transport freshly mined minerals, gases, and crystals back to them. It seems they had hit some sort of wealthy vane and were eager to exploit it before the local officials noticed and increased their mining taxes. They were even willing to pay extra to bring back some of their damaged mining gear for repair.

They wanted to me to depart immediately but I told them I would need at least a day or two to finish refitting the Noble Voyager for transit. Were it not for the timetable they found themselves on I am sure they would have went out and found another ship, but considering the speed in which they wanted their cargo and the shadiness they were no doubt hiding that I was willing to look the other way for they reluctantly agreed and a contract was drawn up.

Captains log Entry 2905.41 With their timetable bearing down on me the merchant members insisted I take off by the end of the day. Those damn money grubbers are pains in my thorax but their money is good and I can’t lose this contract.

I had to put a halt to some of the refits. They’d take too much time and time was something I did not have to spare. Even more to my disgust I had to bring on some new crew and the only ones available seemed to be humans.

The pink flesh sacks aren’t the brightest of the galaxy but they can use a wrench and pick up and carry a crate like a pack animal like any other so they will have to do.

We set off just before dusk and now are heading towards the system jump point. It’ll take about three to four days to reach Alia I. I need to have a word with engineer Hoplop to see if he can boost the engine speed to reduce travel time.

Captains log Entry 2905.42

I have come to regret bringing on the human crew. All they do is complain in about every tiny detail.

“The ship shakes violently some times.”

“The lights and air go out on our crew quarters deck regularly.”

“We need more food.”

It’s as if they are an endless machine that spews infractions for the tiniest matters while the rest of my crew have learned to keep their mouths shut and do as they are told.

Once we get back to Yenniri I will kick them off my ship myself.

Captains log Entry 2905.43

In all of my twenty three solar cycles as captain of this ship I have never once had to deal with insurrection by my crew; a track record that I have proudly worn as a badge of honor when meeting potential clients.

Today that record was ruined when the humans “elected” a representative from among them to bring a list of “grievances”.

I was so enraged by this I don’t even remember what the flesh sacks name was as they rattled off and whined how they were being treated unfairly and working conditions were unsafe. I had the human dragged from my bridge down to the human quarters and flogged in front of all of them as a warning to do as you were told and nothing more.

Captains log Entry 2905.44

Since the flogging there have been no more complaints from the human crew. They now remain silent and do not venture out far past their crew quarters unless on assignment.

As always there is no problem with humans that cannot be solved with a good flogging.

Captains log Entry 2905.45

We exited out of our jump at the systems edge. I wish I could say it was a graceful exit that befitted the Noble Voyager but it was anything but.

The moment we exited back into real space I felt a shudder rack and shake the command deck. I found out that this was not an isolated event but that the entire ship had violently shook along the entire spin of the ship originating from the engine room.

Within moments I was speaking with engineer Hoplop who from the sounds of it was in the middle of hectic action. It sounded so dire that I left the bridge and made my way to engineering to see for myself.

Upon reaching engineering the room was filled with a smell of burning and yet no fires were present. I found engineer Hoplop directing work crews in frantic motion around the starboard engine and called him over.

He reported that the starboard engine upon deceleration from our jump had shook free of its restraints and had damn near torn loose before stabilizing. Even then several connection ports and venting tubes had ruptured but the damage was limited to the engine room.

I asked him if we could still travel at sub jump speed and he that the starboard engine would be out of commission until it was re-secured. The amount of time we would lose for repairs would push us out of the timetable so I ordered him to continue repairs on the engine but we would navigate with portside engine along with emergency thrusters to adjust course.

Hoplop said those were only meant to be used in the event of an emergency and should not be used otherwise. A swift back of my hand across his face silenced him and I told him to just do as he was told before I made my way back to the command deck.

Captains log Entry 2905.46

Repairing the engine is taking up more time than expected and the use of just the portside engine will still add an additional day before we arrive at Alia I.

I’ve switched some of the human crew to assist Hoplop wit repairs. He expressed concerns that humans may become violently sick after being exposed to dangerous engine chemicals.

If they were to die after we had loaded the cargo from Alia I onboard then that would be fine with me.

Fewer crew members to pay leaves a bigger cut for myself for ship expenses.

Captains log Entry 2905.47

We reached Alia I today and set down at the requested landing pad the merchant guild had provided us.

While some of the human crew were still helping repair the engine the rest began moving all of the cargo onboard and stowing it safe for travel.

We are a day behind schedule from the engine malfunction but if we could load the entire cargo haul in a single day we could make up for lost time.

To that end I ordered that any human slacking would result in the entire human crew having their pay docked. To show the flesh sacks I was serious I docked them a quarter pay after finding one of them kneeling behind crates and coughing violently rather than carrying.

I had my provosts carry the stupid being to the brig to be flogged later once we were space bound again.

Captains log Entry 2905.48

Just as I had expected we were able to fully load the cargo in a single day and be on our way back to the systems jump point.

Engineer Hoplop he has stabilized and secured the starboard engine to the best of his ability but has found a new problem. The cabling systems from the engine to the power core were damaged and the engine will not jump unless more power could be obtained.

Sometimes I wonder why I even keep the oaf around when he can’t find the answer to his problem right in front of him.

I told him to continue monitoring the engine and I would inform him of new changes once we reached the jump point.

Captains log Entry 2905.49

Just as we reached the jump point I ordered all crew to their stations save the human portion.

Over the communications system I expressed my gratitude for our newest crewmates handling such trying times with ease and composure worthy of any solar sailor and that they each had been awarded some down time to recuperate and my previous order for docking their pay would be rescinded. I ordered them all to return to their quarters where they would receive their bonus as well.

Once I had confirmation the majority of the human crew had returned to their quarters I had my provost’s seal off the bulkheads leading into the area. Over the intercom I spoke to them directly and said that for their lack of effort and laziness that none of the humans would be receiving their wages and would be dumped back on Yenniri. I then ordered Hoplop to cut the power to the human quarters bulk heads, lighting system, and reduce life support in that area by 75% to generate the needed power for the starboard engine.

I could see through surveillance units that all of the humans were upset at this; some even began trying to break through the bulk heads amusingly.

Overall I feel proud of myself to have tricked them into coming aboard and essentially working for free.

Captains log Entry 2905.50

Some of the other crew members have stepped forward concerned about the treatment of the humans; or so they say. They were easily compliant with my actions once I said they would be receiving a portion of the humans share instead. You can always count on money smoothing things over.

My provosts report they can hear loud banging noises coming from the other side of the bulkheads sealing off the humans and a faint sound of human voices. I’ve told them not to worry about it and that it would be over within the next day or two.

Human resilience was legendary across the stars for being able to survive without food or water for days if not weeks, but thankfully the flesh sacks were not known for being able to break through reinforce Trivar metal bulk heads with their bare hands

Captains log Entry 2905.51

Sirens are blaring across my ship and just like everything else those damn humans are to blame!

Shortly after we exited our jump thermal sensors detected a spike coming from inside their quarters that risks to burn through the cabling supplying power to the engines that overlaps their quarters.

I have dispatched provosts and repair teams to the human quarters and ordered Hoplop to restore power to the bulk heads.

Captains log Entry 2905.51.1

Those fraking flesh sacks were waiting for us!!!

As soon as we opened the bulk head a wall of smoke poured out and blinded the provosts as the repair teams went in. They’d not gotten three steps before humans poured out and tackled them to the ground and moved on the provosts.

The damn humans set fires to whatever they could get their hands on to trigger the thermal warning sensors and get us to unlock the bulk heads.

They’ve broken out and are now running rampant towards engineering. I’m taking a squad of provosts myself and ending this once and for all.

Captains log Entry 2905.52 New captain designation: Nathan Hydel

It is with great sadness that I must report that the former captain of the Noble voyager, Grumbug Folif, along with engineer Hoplop and a large portion of the crew died in a freak engine malfunction that damaged a portion of the outer hull and sucked them out into open space.

As the last remaining officer, chosen by popular election, it is my responsibility now to take over as captain of the Nobel Voyager.

I would say we should mourn the loss of so many of our fellow crew mates but we have no time to spare.

It is now our responsibility to complete our former captain’s last contract in the timely manner he was so proudly known and as such we are now known for as well.

For if nothing else the weavers of fate do not take kindly to those that do not honor their word.

#HUMANS ARE WEIRD #humans are insane #humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #scifi #mutiny

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