#what? they're not medics and they probably would've made it worse if they tried to help | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cowgurrrl · 11 months

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Ptolemae

Pairing: Joel Miller x fem!reader (except this is all backstory)

Author’s note: I was listening to Ethel Cain the entire time while writing this and it shows

Summary: “Rage is not to be avoided, diminished, belittled. Rage is God. Better believe my rage is steeped in love.” — Shira Erlichman, as quoted in Jacqui Germain’s When the Ghosts Come Ashore [3.8k]

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, canonical type violence, PTSD symptoms, probably incorrect wound care, angst, feminine rage bordering on insanity (my favorite)

It takes you a full forty-eight hours to approach the soldiers in the center of what's left of the city. They've set up tents and medical sites among the rubble. They're calling themselves the Federal Disaster Response Agency or FEDRA. Their uniforms are identical to the one the woman who was ready to shoot you was wearing. They carry assault rifles and yell orders out, every so often burying a bullet in some Infected's head as they approach the camp. You don't trust them, but then again, you didn't trust many people before the world went to shit. You would've stayed outside the makeshift fence longer, but the graze on your arm is only getting worse, and Jane is only getting hungrier. You can't keep being stubborn when she's relying on you to keep her safe.

You tuck your gun and knife into the very bottom of your backpack, hoping the supplies and half-open gauze packages will distract them long enough to conceal your weapons. Jane watches your movements quietly and curiously. You glance between her and the camp beyond the treeline you're hiding in. She looks like she's aged three years in the past few days, dirt and fear hollowing her features in a way you've never seen before. You smile half-heartedly as you put your hands on her arms and squeeze.

"Hey," you say gently. "It's gonna be okay. We just need to go down there and tell them we need help, just like we practiced. Can you show me what you do?" You ask, and she raises her little hands to show she's unarmed. She's shaking. You can't tell if it's from hunger or fear. You don't know if it matters.

"My name is Jane Eloise. I'm five years old. I'm not sick, and I don't have anything that could hurt you." She says, and you nod.

"That's right. Good job. And then, let Mommy do all the talking, okay? Once they get us all processed, they'll take us wherever they've been taking people all day, and we'll be able to get you some food."

"What about you?" She asks. Jane knows you haven't been eating or sleeping. You gave her all three of the meal packs in the tactical backpack, and she's heard you curse under your breath when you tried to change your bandage. Still, you smile and tuck her tangled hair behind her ears.

"I won't ever leave your side. I'll be right here, holding your hand, and if you're feeling scared, you can squeeze my hand as hard as you can, and I'll take all your fear away," you say, grabbing her hand. "Wanna try?" You ask, and she smiles as she squeezes you with all her might. You make a goofy face, and she laughs for the first time in three days. It sounds like music. Once she's done squeezing your hand, you smile. "So, when you do that, you shouldn't be scared anymore. You should only feel strong and brave. Can you show me a brave face?" You say. She flexes her muscles and mean mugs you until you laugh at her commitment to the bit.

"Did I look scary, Mommy?" She asks, stepping into your arms, and you nod.

"Scariest kid on the block," you say as you hug her. For a moment, the only thing in the world that matters to you is her heartbeat against yours. It's steady and perfect and made from half of you. The consistent thumping gives you enough strength to stand, carry her in your arms, and walk down to where the FEDRA soldiers are stationed.

You're slow and careful as you come down the hill. If you run to them, yelling for help, they'll put a bullet in you without a second thought. They'll think you're sick if you act desperate like that. So you move like you're treading on ice, but even then, ten different guns point in your direction, and you swallow down your fear as you put the hand not carrying Jane in the air. She does the same.

"Stop right there." A FEDRA soldier yells once you're a few hundred feet away. You put Jane down and show them you're unarmed. All the soldiers look identical, with heavy tactical gear, menacing weaponry, and helmets protecting their skulls. Jane reaches for your hand and squeezes hard. You swallow around the lump of bile in your throat and find your voice.

"We're not sick!"

"Names!" One of them yells. Jane immediately launches into her rehearsed speech with one hand above her head and the other tucked in yours. You take a deep breath and tell them your name once she's done.

"I'm her mother. We need help." You say. The soldiers look at each other for several long seconds before lowering their weapons and approaching you. Jane squeezes your hand again and steps back into your body. One soldier removes his helmet and drops to the ground to show Jane that he's just a man. He's got kind eyes and dirt stuck to his skin, but he manages a gentle smile for Jane. You wonder how he would treat you if you didn't have a kid.

"We're gonna take you and your mom to that tent over there to get you checked out," he says, pointing to the tent beside the barely standing fence. "Once the doctors say you're okay, we can take you to a shelter with lots of food and water. Does that sound good?" He asks, and Jane nods hesitantly. The soldier glances between you and Jane before rising to his feet again and leveling you with a look, his grip adjusting on his gun. She's not a threat, he's saying. But you are. "Ladies, first." He gestures toward the tent, his tone starkly different than the one he used with Jane. Your jaw clenches, but you do as you're told. He follows closely behind as you walk over to the tent, the metal of his gun clanking against his gear. It sounds like bones rattling. You do your best to hide the shakiness in your step and keep the hand Jane's holding steady.

He follows you inside the tent, closing the flaps for some semblance of privacy. There's no medical gear inside, just a scary-looking table. Something squishes under your shoes, and you make a conscious effort not to look down at the damp ground as you turn and look at the soldier. "Put your bag down," he orders. You let go of Jane's hand to slowly slide the backpack from your shoulders and place it on the table. His eyes widen as he recognizes the tactical bag. "Where did you get this?"

"I found it in the woods while we were hiding," you lie, squaring your shoulders as he eyes you suspiciously. "Nobody was around, and I thought it could have stuff we needed in it."

"So, you just found and took a military-issued bag and didn't think anything about it?"

"No offense, soldier, but I don't think theft is the worst thing to come out of the past few days." You say, and he squints at you like he's trying to figure out if he believes you. His gun clicks against his gear as you stare each other down.

"I need to know you're not bitten before I can let you go any further," he moves on, and you feel your shoulders drop in relief. You remember seeing those things mercilessly attacking people, ripping their faces off, or chewing on flailing limbs. If getting bitten is how this is spreading, who got bit first? Who started this? The soldier looks down at Jane. "Can you wait outside while I talk to your mommy?" He asks, and you put a hand on Jane's shoulder before she can move.

"She's not going anywhere." You dig your heels in, and you watch his jaw tighten.

"I didn't think you'd want your kid in here when I asked you to strip to check for bite marks."

"The world fucking ended, and you think I'm going to trust you people with my kid after you dropped bombs on us?" You ask, tucking Jane behind you. You've done it so many times in the past few days that it feels natural, putting yourself between her and a threat. "She's staying with me."

"Fine, but I still need you to strip." He sighs, exasperated. You're pulling your arms through your jacket before he can even finish his sentence.

"I'd love nothing more, Waters." You spit, glancing down at the name tag on the front of his uniform. You throw your jacket down on the table holding your backpack, and he freezes when he sees the gauze on your arm. He doesn't move as you pull your shirt over your head to reveal the scrapes and asphalt burns from fighting the infected guy outside your apartment. Your legs don't look much better, the skin broken and stained red. Jane gasps once she sees the cuts and bruises for the first time, and the sound makes you want to cry. Waters gestures with his gun at the bandage on your arm.

"Take it off," he orders. With shaking hands, you peel the gauze back, the graze immediately bleeding and making you hiss as the air hits it. Your hands clench into fists as he looks at it intently. Once he's satisfied, he nods and hands you a new package of gauze. "What happened?"

"We got caught up in the bombings. Cut my arm on a piece of shrapnel." You say as he checks you for anything else that could be a bitemark. Once he's done circling your half-naked body, he clears his throat and turns his back to you so you can redress. You do quickly and painfully, your skin seemingly protesting against the sudden stretching. You ignore the scrapes across your shoulders breaking open, coating the back of your shirt in blood as you pull it over your head. He doesn't turn around until he hears your pants zip back up. You're quietly grateful he decided to be respectful when he could once he decided you weren't a threat anymore.

"You've been out there since the bombings?" He asks, and you nod. He looks at Jane before looking at you again. "And her? She's not sick?"

"If she were, we'd both be dead." You're shocked by the cruelty in your voice, but you don't flinch. Waters gives you a look before moving to your bag and searching through it. If he sees your weapons at the bottom, he doesn't take them or indicate that he knows about them. He zips up your bag and hands it back to you.

"Welcome to the Quarantine Zone."

The shelter isn't even half-full when you get there. What was a high school has since been turned into a home base for any survivors who made it past the FEDRA screenings. They give you a hot meal, blankets, toothbrushes, and a change of clothes. There are no showers, but you're just grateful to get the taste of blood out of your mouth. You and Jane set up your stuff on two little beds next to each other in the corner of an old classroom, your bed closest to the door. There are maybe ten other occupied beds in the room with you. Maybe.

You don't know why, but you search the wartorn faces for your ex. You haven't seen or spoken to Matt since Jane was a few months old, and even then, your last conversation was not one you'd care to relive. Still, part of you had hope that he'd be alive and safe. He's still Jane's father. But you don't find him. You don't see anyone you recognize as you and Jane walk to the medical tent in the old gym. An older woman with bloody scrubs and a clipboard greets you.

"Hey there. What do you need today?" She asks, surprisingly cheerful, and you glance around at the medical supplies.

"I just need some surgical glue. Do you have any?" You say, and she gives you a look before digging around in a bin. She finally comes up with some, and you let out a relieved sigh. "Can I use some? I'll give it right back." You ask. Someone gasps behind you before she can open her mouth to say anything. You quickly pull Jane closer to your body and feel your fists clench as you turn to see who's behind you. When your brain catches up to the fact that an Infected is not rushing toward you, you see Mr. Lowery standing there. Jane wiggles from your arms and runs to him, an excited noise leaving her.

"Jane, oh my goodness. I'm so happy to see you," he says, his gentle teacher voice not wavering even in the apocalypse. You let out a shaky breath as you leave the medical table and walk over to them. Adam says your name in the same breathless tone once he realizes you're there, too, and throws his arms around your shoulders. You yelp in pain as his hand grazes your open wounds, and he quickly lets go of you. "I'm so sorry. Are you hurt? I didn't-"

"It's fine. Just sore," you shake your head once you see the worried look in Jane's eyes. "I'm glad you're safe, Adam."

"Yeah, you too. You're the first parent I've seen since I got here." He says sadly. You try not to think too hard about what that means and swallow around the lump in your throat.

"Ma'am, do you still need help?" The woman you were talking to earlier walks over, the surgical glue still in her hand, and you nod.

"Yeah, I just need to borrow that." You say, pointing at the bottle in her hand.

"I don't feel comfortable letting someone untrained use medical supplies like this."

"Oh, she's not untrained. She's pre-med. Right? Weren't you studying for the MCATs?" Adam asks, and you press your lips into a line as you nod. The woman looks between you and the gauze on your arm with a cocked eyebrow.

"Why don't you let me look at it?"

"No, it's really okay. It's not that deep."

"I'm only gonna ask nicely once." She says with the same stern, concerned tone you use for Jane. You sigh and grab Jane's hand, but she stands her ground.

"Mommy, can I stay with Mr. Lowery? I really, really missed him." She asks with praying hands tucked under her chin. Your heart lurches in your throat, and your mouth goes dry as you search for an answer.

"I can watch her while you get checked out if you want. We'll stay right here. We won't go anywhere." Adam offers, and you fight the urge to snatch Jane from his arms and yell at him to shut up.

"Please?" Jane begs, making her vowels extra long to plead her case. You take a deep breath and make eye contact with Adam.

"You stay here. You don't take her anywhere or give her anything. You don't even think about moving from this spot, got it?"

"Got it," he says without hesitation, and your jaw clenches as he stares at you. "I won't let anything happen to her." There's enough conviction in his tone for you to nod and follow the woman into one of her sectioned-off canvas rooms.

She puts on gloves and watches you sit on the edge of the cot, your knee bouncing as you stare through the curtain's tiny opening. You don't say anything as she carefully pulls the bandage away from your skin, blood breaching the surface as soon as it's off. You grit your teeth as she wipes at the cut with an antiseptic wipe but don't make any noise. You don't want Jane to hear you being in pain, so you clench your jaw so hard your bones creak with force and wipe your tears on your shirt sleeve.

"That your little girl out there?" She asks, trying to distract you, and you nod. "She's beautiful."

"Thanks." You mutter as she applies a little more pressure to your skin. Stars explode across your vision, and you curse under your breath. You don't remember it hurting this bad when you actually got grazed. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

"Did you come here with her dad?"

"Nope. Haven't seen the guy in four years."

"Sounds like his loss."

"That's a understate, fuck," you stop as she presses a line of surgical glue across the graze. It burns as it settles into your skin, and the woman offers you whispered updates of how much longer until it dries and little encouragements. Once it's finally done drying, she puts a sterile bandage over the adhesive and offers you two painkillers. You look down at the two little pills and raise your eyebrows at her. "Acetaminophen?"

"There's that pharmacology," she smiles as you take the pills. "What branch of medicine did you wanna go into?"

"Doesn't matter now."

"It matters to me." She says, and you shake your head. You bite the inside of your cheek as you debate on telling her or not. Is it fair to bring that dream up when it will never happen?

"Surgery."

"Smart girl."

"Something like that." You shrug, the movement irritating the scrapes on your back, and you wince. The woman stands and looks at the back of your shirt to see it stained with blood.

"What happened?"

"One of those things tried to get me. My back got cut up on the asphalt," you explain. "It's fine."

"Doesn't look fine. Can I take a look?" She asks, and you chuckle.

"You're the second person I've had to take my shirt off in front of today." You say, taking a big breath and holding it as you pull your arms in and pull the fabric over your head. You turn your back to her so she can see the extent of the damage done to your skin. She doesn't gasp or have any reaction. She just starts dabbing at the blood gently, like you cleaned the blood from Jane's skinned knees.

"May," she says like she's speaking to a spooked dog. "My name is May. I figured someone should give you the courtesy of knowing their names when they ask you to strip." She says, and you nod. You tell her your name in return, the rigid posture of your spine relaxing a little at her care.

"Jane is my little girl."

"How old is she?" She asks, and you swallow thickly.

"Five."

"Must've been scary. Tryna keep her safe out there."

"You have no idea." You whisper, your voice cracking over the words as memories of screaming creatures and shaking earth fill your mind. She cleans the rest of your blood in silence before putting ointment over the scabs. She checks for any broken bones while you're still sitting and tsks when she presses against a tender spot in your side, making you groan.

"You've got at least one broken rib and probably one of the worst cases of road rash I've ever seen, and I was an ER doctor," she says as she hands you your shirt and sits across from you on her rolly chair. She gives you a sympathetic look, but you're not all there. Part of your brain is still pinned to the concrete under a screeching human, clawing at your skin. "But that little girl," she says, recapturing your attention. "That little girl is in perfect health. If I didn't know what happened this weekend, I would've had no idea she was ever in any danger."

"Is this the part where you scold me for putting myself in harm's way when I could've just come here earlier?" You ask, and she shakes her head.

"No, this is the part where I tell you what I've told all my parents who've come through here," she says, resting her knees on her elbows so she can look you in the eyes. "I don't care what you had to do to survive. I don't care what you did to protect them. I don't even care why you're sittin' on my table. I care about making sure you know how lucky your kid is to have you. For every kid that made it out, there's three more who died. You did good." She says sincerely, and you have to look away from her to wipe at your eyes.

"Doesn't feel like it, but thank you."

"I know it doesn't, but I promise you it's true," she says. "And I see how much you care about others. Otherwise, you wouldn't have wanted to be a surgeon. Now, I know you didn't get your MD, but I did, and I want to teach you what I know. Lord knows I need the help."

"No, I can't." You shake your head.

"Yes, you can."

"I'm not the person you want for this."

"You don't know that."

"I do. I'm... I'm not a good person."

"Who is?"

"I killed people," The confession stuns you both into silence. Hot, angry tears stream down your face, and you pull your shirt back over your head. "I killed people to protect her. It was them or her, and I chose her. I will always choose her. So, whatever perfect, good, strong person you think I am or could've been at one point isn't here anymore. I buried her the second FEDRA tried to drop a fucking bomb on my kid," you stand on wobbly legs and pull your hair out of the collar of your shirt. "Thanks for your help, May."

That night, you don't sleep despite the aching in your bones. You stay awake and listen to the expanding and contracting of Jane's lungs as she dreams. When she wakes up screaming, you're already there to calm her down and remind her that she's safe. Adam ends up sleeping three cots down and tries to help when she wakes up, but you stop him before he can sit on her cot with a wide-eyed, annoyed look. He backs off after that. You've gone most of Jane's life without help from anyone, and you're sure as hell not going to accept any now.

You were the one shoving knives through skulls and burying bullets in throats to keep her safe. You were the one who hid your pain from her for two days while you hid out in the barn. You were the one who taught her to give her fear to you because you are the only one who can handle it. What the fuck does Adam Lowery or May know about that? You will never again be the woman they once thought you to be. No, after this, you will be bloody and rageful and ruthless. There is nothing you wouldn't do to protect her or ensure her happiness. There is no corner of the earth you would leave unturned for the tiniest chance of her having a future.

And God help any motherfucker who stands in your way.

#when you’re lost in the darkness #look for the light prequel #the last of us #the last of us x reader #tlou fic #tlou angst

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bisluthq · 2 years

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To me loosing Cristina was far worse than loosing Derek. Cristina was such a wonderful character, well developped even and very well acted. Ambitious, yet loyal and a very good friend. She imo was the soul of the show, it lost a lot of its charm for me when she left. I didn't really care that much for Derek (the character obvs the actor did a good job) lol he was a fucking egomaniac who pretended to be humble and kind but lowkey believed himself a god-ish genius and thought the sun shined out of his ass bc he was one of the world's best neurosurgeons. Those last episodes with the fighting between him and Meredith bc of his job in DC imo really showed that a lot of stuff made them incompatible (unpopular opinion lol). If they were an irl couple and he hadn't yk died they would've probably tried very hard to work through their shit but possibly end up divorced after 5-10 years when the kids were teens. Meredith was not just gonna stand in the sidelines watching him shine bc she was/is ambitious and very talented, she knew what she could do. And Derek was about following the rules at all times, while Meredith was/is very much about breaking them bc she can see that the system is fucked and wants to do something about it; though not always in the best ways bc she's a bit impulsive and very stubborn lol.

Anyways, as a biology/pre-med student it's very entertaining to watch the show for the sole reason that it exaggerates certain things so much in order to make them dramatic😂 like no, you don't immediately go for a defibrillator the moment you don't find a pulse and shock the patient multiple times in a row, chest compressions are the first thing you should do for several minutes. And if someone cut an L-VAD wire like Izzie did or stole organs for transplant they would most definitely have their medical license taken away permanently idk. Some other things are pretty cool to watch bc they're directly taken out of medical journals based on irl cases so looking up those cases after watching the episode is fun lol. And fwiw, my cousin who recently finished his fellowship as an ob-gyn/ neonatal surgery says that the way they portray residency is very accurate.

That tracks!

#nat talks rando tv stuff

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thewidowsghost · 3 years

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The Daughter of the Sea - Chapter 7

(Y/n)'s POV

The next few days I settle into a routine that feels almost normal if you don't count the fact that I am getting lessons from satyrs, nymphs, and a centaur.

Each morning I take Ancient Greek with Annabeth, and we talk about the gods and goddesses in the present tense, which is kind of weird. I discover that Annabeth is right about my dyslexia: Ancient Greek isn't hard for me to read. At least, no harder than English. After a few mornings, I can read a few lines of Homer without too much headache.

The rest of the day, I'd rotate through outdoor activities, looking for something Percy and I are good at. Chiron tries to teach Percy archery, but the three of us find out pretty quickly that he isn't any good with a bow and arrow, but I find that I was pretty okay at it.

The only thing Percy and I excelled at is canoeing, and that isn't the kind of heroic skill people expect to see from the kids who had beaten the Minotaur.

I know the senior counselors are watching the two of us, trying to decide who our dad is, but they aren't having an easy time of it. Percy and I aren't as strong as the Ares kids, or as good at archery as the Apollo kids. I don't have Hepheastus's skill with metalwork or - gods forbid - Dionysus's with vine plants. Luke tells me and Percy one night that we might be children of Hermes, a jack-of-all-trades, master of none. But I get the feeling that he is just trying to make us feel better. He didn't know what to make of us either.

One day, I am out by the canoe lake, just sitting on the dock, when I look over my shoulder to see Annabeth walking down the dock. She silently sits down beside me.

"Whatcha thinking about?" Annabeth wonders and I gather my thoughts before speaking.

"What if I'm not good at anything? What happens if I never get claimed?" I look over, my sea-green eyes meeting Annabeth's stormy-gray eyes.

Annabeth's gaze is slightly sympathetic and when she answers, her response doesn't really make me feel better. "You'd stay in the Hermes cabin."

I nod before gazing down the calm water of the lake again.

. . .

Thursday afternoon, three days after I'd arrived at Camp Half-Blood, I have my first sword-fighting lesson. Everyone from Cabin Eleven gathers in the big circular arena, where Luke would be our instructor.

We start with basic stabbing and slashing, using some straw-stuffed dummies in Greek armor.

I can't feel a blade that feels right in my hands. Either they are too heavy, or too light, or too long. Luke tries his best to fix me up, but he agrees that none of the practice blades seem to work for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Annabeth and Chiron standing at the entrance of the arena.

We move to duel in pairs and Luke announces that he would be my partner, and Percy would have an older camper since it's our first time.

"Good luck," one of the campers tells me. "Luke's the best swordsman in the last three hundred years."

I face Luke, an uneasy expression on my face and he shoots me a reassuring smile.

3rd Person POV

Annabeth and Chiron watch (Y/n) and Luke's demonstration, and even Chiron is slightly interested as he watches (Y/n).

Luke thrusts his sword forward and (Y/n) instinctively sidesteps, and Luke, expecting to hit (Y/n)'s shield, stumbles forward.

Luke's eyes narrow and he presses her with more force.

(Y/n) steps forward and tries a thrust of her own and Luke deflects it easily.

The two's blades clash over and over again for a minute or so when the sword in (Y/n)'s hand grows heavy; the balance not quite right.

She tries the disarming maneuver that Luke had been talking about earlier.

(Y/n)'s blade hits the base of Luke's and she twists, putting her whole weight into a downward thrust.

Clang!

Luke's sword rattles against the stone; (Y/n)'s blade is an inch from his undefended chest.

The other campers are silent.

(Y/n) lowers her sword. "Sorry," she says sheepishly.

For a moment, Luke is too stunned to speak.

"Sorry?" his scarred face breaks into a grin. "By the gods, (Y/n), why are you sorry? Show me that again!"

This time, there is only a little bit of sparring before Luke hits the hilt of (Y/n)'s sword and sends it skidding across the floor.

After a long pause, someone in the audience says, "Beginner's luck?"

Luke wipes the sweat off his brow, appraising (Y/n) with an entirely new interest. "Maybe," he says. "But I wonder what (Y/n) could do with a balanced sword. . ."

. . .

Friday night, after dinner, there is a lot more excitement than usual.

At last, it's time for capture the flag.

When the plates are cleared away, the conch horn sounds, and all the campers stand at their tables.

Campers yell and cheer as Annabeth and two of her siblings run into the pavilion carrying a silk banner. It is about ten feet long, glistening gray, with a painting of a barn owl above an olive tree. From the opposite side of the pavilion, Clarisse and her buddies run in with another banner, of identical size, but gaudy red, painted with a blood spear and a boar's head.

Percy turns to Luke and yells over the noise, "Those are the flags?"

"Yeah."

"Ares and Athena always lead the teams?" (Y/n) asks curiously.

"Not always," he answers. "But often."

"So, if another cabin captures one, what do you do - repaint the flag?" Percy asks.

He grins. "You'll see. First, we have to get one."

Luke fives Percy a sly look, as if he knows something the other two don't. The scar on his face makes Luke look almost evil in the torchlight. "We've made a temporary alliance with Athena. Tonight, we get the flag from Ares. And you are going to help."

The teams are announced. Athena had allied with Apollo and Hermes, the two biggest cabins. Privileges had been traded —shower times, chore schedules, the best slots for activities—to win support.

Ares had allied themselves with everybody else: Dionysus, Demeter, Aphrodite, and Hephaestus. From what Percy'd seen, Dionysus's kids were good athletes, but there were only two of them. Demeter's kids had the edge with nature skills and outdoor stuff, but they weren't very aggressive. Aphrodite's sons and daughters he wasn't too worried about. They mostly sat out every activity and checked their reflections in the lake and did their hair and gossiped. Hephaestus's kids weren't pretty, and there were only four of them, but they were big and burly from working in the metal shop all day. They might be a problem. That, of course, left Ares's cabin: a dozen of the biggest, ugliest, meanest kids on Long Island, or anywhere else on the planet.

Chiron hammers his hoof on the marble.

"Heroes!" he announces. "You all know the rules. The creek is the boundary line. The entire forest is fair game. All magic items are allowed. The banner must be prominently displayed, and have no more than two guards. Prisoners may be disarmed, but may not be bound or gagged. No killing or maiming is allowed. I will serve as referee and battlefield medic. Arm yourselves!"

He spreads his hand and the tables are suddenly coated in metal equipment: helmets, bronze swords, speaks, oxhide shields covered in metal.

"Whoa!" Percy says. "We're supposed to use these?"

Luke looks at him as if he's crazy. "Unless you want to get skewered by your friends in cabin five. Here — Chiron thought these would fit. You'll be on border patrol, (Y/n), you're with me, I want to see what you can do with that sword."

Luke hands (Y/n) a circular shield and she straps it onto her arm. She tests the weight of the shield and is satisfied with the fact that it's not too light or too heavy.

Annabeth yells, "Blue Team, forward!"

The Blue Team cheers and shakes their swords and follows her down the path to the south side of the woods. The Red Team yells taunts at them as they head off to the north.

Percy manages to catch up to Annabeth, (Y/n) at his heels, without Percy tripping over his heavy equipment.

"Hey," Percy says; Annabeth keeps marching. "So what's the plan?" he asks. "Got any magic items you can loan me?"

Annabeth's hand drifts towards her pocket, as if afraid he'd taken something.

"Just watch Clarisse's spear," she tells Percy. "You don't want that thing touching you. Otherwise, don't worry. We'll take the banner from Ares. (Y/n), come with me."

With a blink, the two girls had ran forward, leaving Percy in the dust. . . .

Once they're in positions, a conch horn blows, and (Y/n), who Annabeth had left with Luke, sneaks forward.

She moves forward a few yards and instinctively raises her shield against an Ares camper. (Y/n) thrusts her sword and the Ares camper sidesteps. Changing her momentum, (Y/n) does a spin, hitting the Ares camper in the stomach with her shield; the camper falls to the ground.

Feeling more confident in herself, (Y/n) slinks into the shadows, her shield and sword low as not to glow from any lights nearby.

(Y/n) makes it across the boundary into enemy territory and sneaks forward a few more yards until she hears Clarisse's voice, "Give him a haircut. Grab his hair."

(Y/n) changes direction, breaking into a run and then bursting from the line of trees.

The five Ares campers turn on her and three advance, Clarisse and another continuing to beat on Percy.

(Y/n) swings the flat of her sword and hits the first guy's head and he crumples to the ground.

Two other guys come at her and she slams her shield into one's face and uses her sword to shave off the horsehair plume on his helmet.

(Y/n) steps into the water and pulls her twin to his feet, feeling as though she'd eaten some of her mother's double espresso beans.

Clarisse and the fourth guy advance and the guy swing his sword, catching (Y/n)'s shield arm and leaving a huge cut, from her wrist to elbow.

Percy catches Clarisse's electric spear with the edge of his shield and sword and snaps it like a twig.

"Ah!" she yells. "You idiot! You corpse-breath worm!"

She probably would've said worse, but Percy smacks her between the eyes with his sword-but and sends her stumbling backward out of the creek.

Then the twins hear yelling, elated screams, and see Luke raising towards the boundary line with the red team's banner lifted high. He is flanked by a couple of Hermes guys covering his retreat, and a few Apollos behind them, fighting off the Hephaestus kids. The Ares folks get up and Clarisse mutters a dazed curse.

"A trick!" Clarisse screams. "It was a trick."

The Ares kids stagger after Luke, but it's too late. Everyone converges on the creek as Luke runs across into friendly territory. The Blue team explodes into cheers and the red banner shimmers and turns to silver. The boar and spear are replaced with a huge caduceus, the symbol of Cabin Eleven. Everyone on the Blue Team picks up Luke and starts carrying him around on their shoulders. Chiron canters out from the woods and blows the conch horn.

(Y/n)'s POV

The game was over. We'd won.

Percy and I are about to join the celebration when Annabeth's voice, right next to me in the creek, says, "Not bad, hero."

I look, an eyebrow quirked, but Annabeth isn't there.

"Where the heck did you learn to fight like that?" Annabeth asks. The air shimmers, and she materialized, holding a Yankees baseball cap as if she'd just taken it off her head.

"You set me up," Percy says, looking slightly angry. "You put me here because you knew Clarisse would come after me, while you sent Luke around the flank. You had it all figured out."

Annabeth shrugs, "I told you. Athena always, always has a plan."

"A plan to get my pulverized," Percy retorts.

"I came as fast as I could. I was about to step in . . ." she shrugs. "You didn't need help."

Then she notices my wounded arm. "How did you do that?"

"It's a sword cut," I respond. "Where do you think it came from?"

"No. It was a sword cut," Annabeth says. "Look at it."

I look down. The blood is gone; where the huge cut had been, there is a long white scratch, and even that is fading. As I watch, it turns into a small scar and disappears.

"I - I don't get it," I stutter.

Annabeth is thinking hard. I can almost see the gears turning. She looks down at my feet, then at Clarisse's broken spear, and says, "Step out of the water, (Y/n)."

"What -" I question.

"Just do it."

I step out of the creek and immediately feel bone tired. I almost fall over but Annabeth steadies me.

"Oh, Styx," she curses. "This is not god. I didn't want . . . I assumed it would be Zeus . . ."

Before I can ask what she means, I hear a canine grows.

A howl rips through the forest.

The campers' cheering dies instantly. Chiron shots something in Ancient Greek, "Stand ready! My bow!"

Annabeth draws her sword.

There on the rocks, just above us is a black hound the size of a rhino, with lava-red eyes and fangs like daggers.

And it's looking right at me.

Nobody moves except Annabeth, who yells, "(Y/n), run!"

She tries to step in front of me, but the hound is too fast. It leaps over her - an enormous shadow with teeth - and just as it hits me, as I stumble backward and feel its razor-sharp claws ripping through my armor.

There is a cascade of thwacking sounds, like forty pieces of paper being ripped one after another; from the hound's sprouts a cluster of arrows.

The monster falls dead at my feet.

By some miracle, I am alive. I don't want to look underneath the ruins of my shredded armor and sway a little. My chest feels warm and wet, and I know I am badly cut. Another second and the monster would've turned me into a hundred pounds of deli meat.

Chiron trots up next to us, a bow in his hand, his face grim.

"Di immortales!" Annabeth says softly. "That's a hellhound from the Fields of Punishment. They don't...they're not supposed to..."

"Someone summoned it," Chiron murmurs. "Someone inside the camp."

Luke comes over, the banner in his hand forgotten, his moment of glory gone.

Clarisse yells, "It's all Percy's fault! Percy summons it!"

"Be quiet, child," Chiron tells her.

We watch the body of the hellhound melts into the shadow, soaking into the ground as it disappears.

"You're wounded," Annabeth tells me. "Quick, (Y/n), get in the water."

I'm too tired to argue and I step back into the creek, the whole camp gathering around me.

Instantly, I fell better; I fell the cuts on my chest closing up.

Some of the campers gasp.

"Look, I - I don't know why," I say, trying to apologize. "I'm sorry . . ."

But they aren't watching my wounds heal, they're staring up at something above mine and Percy's heads.

"(Y/n), Percy," Annabeth says, pointing. "Um . . ."

By the time I look up, the sign is already fading, but I can still make out the hologram of green light, spinning and gleaming.

A three-tipped spear: a trident.

"Your father," Annabeth murmurs. "This is really not good."

All around me, campers start kneeling, even Ares cabin, though they don't look happy about it.

"Our father?" Percy asks, looking completely bewildered.

"Poseidon," says Chiron. "Earthshaker, Stormbringer, Father of Horses. Hail, Perseus and (Y/n) Jackson, Son, and Daughter of the Sea God."

Word Count: 2641 words

#female reader #reader insert #fem reader #percy jackson x sister reader #percy jackson and the olympians reader insert

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anxious-ace · 3 years

Note

📂any rando FACE family hetalia headcanons you have /or individual headcanons for the face members! 😊

Absolutely

France/Francis:

The chef of the family

He is also the fashion designer

He will make sure that they are the most stylish family in the town

Definitely has a "kiss the cook" apron

Got absolutely black out drunk during quarantine and made out with a mannequin he uses for designing clothes

Hair stylist

Basically anything fashion and food is his domain

Helped style the kids' hair when they were younger, he even taught Matthew how to do it so he could help Michelle

Has some, interesting, things in his house 👀

He would've bought a wine filled bean bag chair if Arthur let him

PANSEXUAL, CIS GENDER, GENDER NON CONFORMING KING

Isn't allowed to drive, ever

Speaking of England/Arthur:

He is diabetic so his food is made with less sugar, no one else besides Francis, Matthew, Alfred, Michelle and the rest of the Kirkland family know

Matthew carries a med bag that has his insulin and other medication in it

Fun fact: insulin was invented in Canada so thanks to him, Arthur hasn't passed out from diabetic shock in forever

That's why his food is bland

He also panics while he cooks if he's cooking for someone else

He probably has really bad head trauma from that shooting star and all the wars he was in, so when he stands up too fast, he starts getting dizzy

He also trembles really badly when distressed or panicking, sometimes he can't even hold a pen

While Francis makes sure they're stylish, Arthur makes sure they won't die from the cold (yes even Matthew has to wear a coat even though he's the coldest country out of the entire Kirkland family)

The only trans uk brother

"My sexuality is mind your business"

He's bisexual

Canada/Matthew:

As I stated before, he gets silent during meetings or other settings that can cause anxiety, he's selectively mute and has really bad anxiety

He is a nature photographer

He and Michelle take absolutely amazing pictures together

He is afraid of heights, mostly being in a plane, because on 9/11, he was in one of the planes that crashed into the twin towers

He was going to visit Alfred for a bros day out

He was in the window seat and saw the inside of the tower as they crashed

He also hates heights in general (just looking at a tall building is enough to give him a panic attack)

Was afraid of heights before the 9/11 attacks, that is what made it worse, no knows why, I'm not even sure he knows why

(Hint: Arthur's brothers + tiny Matthew + edge of a cliff = disaster + life long fear of heights)

He is a medical professional with a medical degree

He and Cuba get high together and chat about pretty much anything

Can sew clothes, either entirely from scratch or patches up damaged clothes

When he plays hockey, watch out, he will slaughter you

Trans man who's sexuality is maple, just kidding he's pansexual

Can get pregnant

Where did you think the provinces came from?

Francis taught him to love all genders, he took that to heart

His romantic and platonic feelings for people get blurred together in some weird way

America/Alfred:

He's not as fat or dumb as everyone believes, and he knows it.

He works out more than anyone and all throughout school, he and Matthew were the best in their classes

Statistically, along with one the highest rates of obesity, America also has a huge rate of people with eating disorders, meaning he forces himself to throw up everything he ate at the end of the day

He has a pressure point located just above his stomach and below his sternum, if you hit it, the pain is so bad, he'll throw up everything, including stomach acid and even blood in rare cases

During the Civil War, he tried to saw himself in half, symbolizing the south trying to secede from the country, he gave himself a nasty jagged scar which marks where the pressure point is

Both he and Matthew have matching scars on their chests from the war of 1812, only they know how they got them

They've reconciled since then, but Alfred won't let Matthew or Arthur near a lighter again

He saw the 9/11 attacks, mainly the ones in New York, meaning he saw the plane that Matthew was in crash into the second building

He knew he was visiting, that's why he was in New York, he was going to pick him up from the airport, instead, he needed him to pick him up from the hospital that day

Can cook, but it's more of a home style, basically American barbecue (hamburgers, hotdogs, etc)

He is trans and can get pregnant

Where did you think the states came from?

He's bisexual but he is also just really friendly so his romantic and platonic feelings get blurred

Seychelles/Michelle:

The best swimmer in the family

Helped take care of the twins after the 9/11 attacks

Has a pet turtle named Shelly

Matthew or Francis does her hair

Can usually be seen barefoot on the closet beach

Probably playing with a turtle or swimming

Has a full on aquarium in her house

Her sexuality is women who can kick your ass but can also give some mean cuddles when you need it

"Lesbian of the ocean, what is your wisdom?" "The world is cold and hard, but girls are hot and soft."

#aph canada #aph america #aph england #aph france #face family #faces family #hetalia #hetalia headcanons #tw caps #tw 9/11 #tw scar #nsfw?

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rpbetter · 3 years

Note

Urgh. Okay, full disclosure, I haven't been on tumblr much over the last week or so, because I was one of the people that Raven initially called out after the COAR mess, and it was in the interest of my own mental health to fuck off for a while so I didn't stress myself out into oblivion. So I'm scrolling through most of this stuff for the first time, and talking to other people who were targeted. And pardon my French here, but I'm fucking disgusted at the lengths Raven has gone to assert themselves as a victim, how many people they've affected, and the waving around of something as serious as suicide for brownie points.

I have sympathy for people who overinterpret things in a strictly emotional and mental sense (actual reactions aside) because they lack the maturity. There's always a reason for that, and it's not their fault. And I have sympathy for people if they legitimately feel suicidal. That, too, isn't their fault. If I hadn't been blocked, I would've reported Raven in case their claims were true as well, because yeah, I don't mess around with that stuff either. But what's unacceptable is how Raven acted on those sentiments and behaved towards others, even after people tried to provide perspective. How Raven claimed to be done with the drama, but continued inciting it; how they claimed to be suicidal and had left tumblr, but wrote what amounts to a "fuck you" in their header and were still putzing around on their blog, and were apparently still editing their posts until as late as today; how they claimed to have deleted but only changed the url; how they weaponized all of this stuff and used it as a tool for guilt-tripping. Like, come on. It's okay if you're down in the dumps, but it's not okay to treat innocent people like garbage, and carpet bomb half the RPC. To me, it really feels like there was an intent to weaponize all of their hurt, offense, anger, and suicidal ideations, despite the possibility it did come from somewhere genuine, and that's so harmful to anyone who is actually struggling with depression.

Every time someone weaponizes mental illness in this way, it just makes people more and more apathetic the next time someone is genuinely just hurting, and saying they feel like they're at the end of their rope. And it makes people suspicious of whether those words are being used maliciously, or legitimately. That suspicion and that association is now there, unconscious or not. And every time this kind of stuff happens, the association gets stronger. What happens if Raven does this again? Some people will still report, but some people might just scoff and walk away - people who might've actually acted before. So in a way, that kind of behaviour impacts Raven as much as it impacts other people.

And you know what? They're not the only one dealing with serious shit. I've been suffering from MDD for the last fifteen years, and I've been in the process of changing medications and having little success for months. I've been going through hell offline. I have a shit list of people I want to yell at because they're dragging their feet on really important things I need to function; I'm constantly running a deficit on spoons. Until a week or so ago, roleplay was one of the only ways I could unwind. So for Raven to bully me by sticking that stupid post in my tags, because they needed to make a scene on COAR, which I was obviously going to comment on (like many other people), then to "like" an unsubstantiated callout about me and other innocent people related to that mess, it's only worsened my own mental health. It sounds melodramatic, but really. Someone else mentioned this too, but the fear of being in another callout, and the fear of that first callout somehow exploding, was in the back of my mind all week, despite being away from tumblr. So that was a little anxiety-inducing, much as I tried not to think about it.

And I'm debating whether to return now, or take more time off, and I have no idea what to do. Because that callout post is still in my blog's tag. I'm freaking out because I was planning on approaching some people to roleplay, which is something I rarely ever do, but now I'm concerned that I'll contact someone, they'll look at my tag to get an idea of my writing/partners/who I am, and see the callout post, and immediately dismiss me because even seeing the word "callout" on its own will send up red flags, by unconscious association with more impactful drama. And as long as that callout is up, these fears are going to be there.

That's just not fair.

And Raven's "apology" is completely unacceptable. Like you and others said, it doesn't reach anyone who needs to hear it, because they've all been blocked. I would fucking love an apology if it came from a place of honesty, but am I going to receive one? Probably not. And even for the followers who can still see that apology, it doesn't address anything. It isn't directed to anyone in particular. It doesn't mention the specific behaviours that were wrong on their part. And miss me with the "my intentions were good" part. No, they weren't; going around blocks and sticking shit in peoples' tags is vindictive and entirely intentional in all the worst ways, and shame on them for pretending otherwise, and by leading with such a poor example for many roleplayers, some of whom are in their teens. One of the people who tried to message Raven (they, too, were called out on Raven's blog) was speaking to a nineteen-year old who was completely clueless about the extent of the manipulation Raven was pulling. They thought all of it was normal and acceptable behaviour. That genuinely terrifies me. And while I imagine if Raven was genuinely apologetic, they would've gone to the callout blog and ask them to delete the callout post (attempt it, at the very least), somehow, I don't think that would've happened given all of their prior actions. God forbid something else is going on there.

Phew. Yeah, I'm angry. Maybe I'm just biased and tired. But honestly, I have a right to be. Raven's apology is a handwave, and they know it. It's a slap in the face to me, to you, and to everyone else who was involved in this clusterfuck. They're not the center of the universe. They affected real people, with real problems of their own. Anyways, I am so sorry for this, argh. Really had to get this out, and I didn't want to dump it on discord or somewhere else; I sure as heck didn't want to go to COAR with it. But hey, maybe people here will feel less alone if I added my own account to the mix. The more, the merrier? In a sense, anyways. Sometimes if you feel like you've been singled out, it's nice to know you're not actually the only person it's happened to.

Sorry for saving your reply for last, Anon. It's such an important one, I wanted to be properly thoughtful!

I think that it is going to make some people feel less alone, and there is always some relief in sharing one's trials. That might be especially true when one has been unable to share them anywhere else. It's not like you can address this on your own blog right now, COAR is definitely not a safe place to do so, it's a very isolating feeling that is made worse for having done nothing.

Coming back and being required to wade through this shit was really damn disgusting to me as well, but at least in my case, I had neither been obliged to distance myself for the sake of mental health nor was I treated to the sickening display of drumming up ideas of victimization from someone who victimized me. What I experienced was just incredulity and disgust, I cannot imagine how incensing this must be for you, I am so very sorry. If it makes me angry having a degree of removal and watching in it real time? What you're experiencing...there really isn't a single word to adequately encapsulate that, I'm sure.

You've still expressed so many of the things I've thought and felt. I found all that initial behavior uncalled for, shameful, yet another display of what's actually wrong in the RPC, but it was increasingly upsetting to me the more I looked into it because it did feel a little (a lot) too reminiscent of the sort of bullying experienced in person. It's really something else to be viciously picked at by someone who keeps upping the game until such point as it begins to cause them trouble, then get to be painted the wrongdoer and punished in some way for it because they're presenting as a sympathetic victim. A more sympathetic victim than you, that's really what I mean, I'm just going to say it.

And that was already in swing by the time I got from the launch point to the smoking crater of then current events. I got to Raven's again after bouncing back and forth between their interactions with others, largely from COAR, yes, and the shit on the callout blog...to see...everyone else being blamed in increasingly drastic ways.

Because on tumblr, unlike reality, if you throw out enough times ahead of time that you have disorders people can get behind, you're more sympathetic, not less. So long as one has set that foundation and has others to broadcast it once convenient, any horrible action one undertakes is given a pass. Anyone disagreeing, anyone not tolerating the abuse, is in the wrong now. In the worst possible way, of course.

This whole thing began with incredibly unnecessary bullshit and every, I mean fucking every, further action taken was a new level of fucked up, but the trivializing of and damage done to the perception of mental health and differences is quite possibly the worst. Are those things that need any more of that? It's already such a problem! I already see suspicion and fatigue with this, every time it's given validation, it grows.

Even if I wasn't mentally ill, with one of the disorders that gets vilified even on tumblr, even if I were not autistic, even if I never knew a single person who suffered worse than I do from the the complications they won by way of being born, hadn't anyone I loved that took their lives, this would be extremely upsetting to me. Using the idea that "whatever I do, it's got to be acceptable because I am X" while not caring that anyone else is X, Y, and/or Z. Weaponizing it for bullying and sympathy simultaneously. Way too much. Incredibly gross and harmful, legitimately fucking problematic.

I want people to be taken seriously when they choose to speak of the boundaries their mental health requires, I want muns to be able to say that they are having a difficult time without it coming off (even to the rest of us with mental health conditions) as a ploy for attention/guilting for whatever action they desire be taken by partners, and I want people to take threats of oncoming, serious harm seriously. How are they to do this, when it is continually used as tool or weaponized against others? At very best, it becomes another thing to ignore and scroll by on the dash.

As we've all had the misfortune to experience or witness so recently, once it is weaponized, it's a problem of priority. I've said in damn near every message I've gotten that Raven isn't the only person involved here who has serious shit going on, but like the absurdity with trying to spin an accident as transphobia, or having the audacity to attempt speaking from a place of peace in a way that might benefit everyone, Raven included, resulting in a callout about being against ND people...it doesn't matter. Doesn't matter that any of us are neurodivergent, have serious chronic mental health complications, or are not cisgender. Raven was swinging that around like a flaming sword to drive off bigots real and imagined before we ever got their attention.

Attention they fucking asked for.

Reblogging that post from COAR was just like posting those rules. The intention was to get attention, and it was asked for with extreme hostility. I have no idea how that is coming off to anyone as simply them defending themselves. It was a great moment to either not out themselves as the person in the confession at all, not engage with it, quietly remove the post, or to reblog it and take responsibility in a meaningful way at that point. Can you imagine what a difference that would have made then? If Raven had chosen instead to reblog it and apologize for doing what they had. Just that. No shitty, snide little comments about how they're sorry, but still absolutely correct and here are five reasons why everything they've misconstrued won't be tolerated. Just an acknowledgment of wrongdoing, an apology for doing so, and awareness gained moving forward.

Their decision to interact with that post in the way they did wasn't just more of the same nonsense, it was actively upping the game. I don't really care if it was intentional bait or just continuing to let malicious impulse run free, it was used as bait. Everyone who interacted with that post was effectively consigning themselves to harassment, and if they happened to interact on literally any other topic that group held a passionately opposing opinion on, they were attacked for it. Curiously, it became necessary for them to be harassed by way of the callout blog, but that is getting a little close to off-topic, so, I'll leave it at that.

So, while I initially really wanted to have the appeal to Raven work because their expressions of regret that I was greatly on the fence about being genuine, I'd say those flags were accurate. I cannot believe that someone who took every opportunity to do the wrong thing is genuinely sorry. Sorry for themselves, absolutely, sorry for anything they did, not so much. This constant narrative I got of "they SAID they were sorry" and "they apologized again and again and took the posts down," including from Raven, is incredible. On that last one, they, yet again, couldn't actually address me.

Appropriate response: messaging me or reblogging that post (you know, the rules snippet I found right the hell there still, despite the claim of it being deleted and the final catalyst of me needing to say something after I saw that, nope, surely was not) with the acknowledgment of a single thing I said.

Extra appropriate response: ^ plus going to everyone who could still be located that they harmed with a genuine, individual, private apology.

Inappropriate response that was had: new post, shitty, childish tone like they at once wanted to argue with me and didn't want to drop the act, restating of this apology that had already been deleted and meant exactly shit while it existed, restating of how they deleted this post and couldn't control reblogs, ignoring that I literally reblogged the original copy from their blog.

Apology neither believed nor accepted. Just as it wouldn't be if my nephew came to my house, broke a bunch of my things, said he was sorry while throwing the pieces at my pet, then threw himself on the floor screaming that he said he was sorry when I told him to go have a time out.

(Yes, I absolutely did just make a comparison to a child, y'all can shit yourselves again. It's not my problem if you want to misconstrue "this person's actions are not befitting of an adult" as "Vespertine said autistic people are children!" Fucking miss me with that. I'm an autistic adult who pays my bills, apologizes, doesn't treat people like shit while trying to excuse it by being ND. You're offensive with that shit, and contributing to the negative perception people have of those on the spectrum. Be a good ally today! Don't valid that! Free ninety-nine offer!)

Again, sorry for yourself does not equal being sorry for what you've done. The former can contribute to the development of the latter, but as I said in a response yesterday, there has been no display of that beginning to transpire. I genuinely hope that will eventually be the case because that would be the best outcome, the only "best" outcome at this point. Even if it was two years from now, if it did happen, I certainly would not be kind to people refusing them any such growth in peace, and I hope that, by some distant chance, I get to prove that.

But...stating "my intentions were good" over any part of this is not remotely promising. When? Where? At what point? Oh, right, when you took it upon yourself to label a random mun you took issue with. That's when your intentions were good. Then, when you vehemently needed to defend that point by callouts and individual attacks under the guise of it definitely not being about your pride, no! It was the defense of everyone else! Defending the community by carpet-bombing it, yes. This is not a "the path to Hell is paved with good intentions" situation.

I am so disturbed about the nineteen-year-old mun, my god. I'm telling y'all, my anger and disgust almost reach what I think is a pinnacle, then there's something new like this.

I don't even subscribe to tumblr's ideology that anyone under twenty-five is an actual infant who needs be kept in a protective bubble and forgiven for all bad behavior with infinite kindness, nineteen-year-olds deserve the agency of the adultier adults they are becoming, but it is a transitional age. Especially today. Most socialization and formative ideas take place online, and by the time younger RPers are entering the adult sphere of RP here, they've already got some really unhealthy ideas. About themselves, about others. There is such a demand for rabidly performative action that gets internalized, it shouldn't be being heartily fed by people in the community they might look up to.

At that age, someone like Raven is going to be a person looked up to. They espouse all the right ideas, and it's an age in which aggressive interaction over those things is seen as amusing and correct, no matter how wrong the actions taken are or the basis upon which they are founded. When these people foster an environment of cruelty for questioning, of course, that is not going to be the natural response. The response is now going to be the requirement of being told otherwise with adequate proof.

I have suspected that many of the hateful anons I've gotten were from Raven's even younger followers who feel like it's normal, acceptable, and that everything they're being told by Raven's sales team over at the callout blog is absolutely true. Of course, they're now morally obligated to come harass me for the things they were told I did! I think it's likely that several of the anons people got were from actual minors, which is so many levels of scary and irresponsible. Really great example all around, yes!

Because whether it is one's intention or not, that is potentially exposing minors, or muns who are still close enough to be more negatively impacted, to who even knows what. As well as violating the rules of blogs who do not interact with minors for good reason, setting those blogs up for yet another callout for treating someone they didn't know was a minor the way they did or having "freak shit" on their blog. Setting up the other party to be treated with full hostility as an adult would be. Very cool, very responsible.

There is just so much here that is unacceptable, I don't think people who were not directly impacted or have never had a callout against them understand the results, and that is one more unacceptable thing you've been good enough to talk about.

Even while taking a break from the RPC, it affects you negatively. Wondering what you're coming back to, your blog is no longer a safe feeling space, and there's nothing you can do to "cultivate your blog" to change that. They've taken away the ability to simply block and avoid others, the thing that keeps all of us comfortable here as well as allowing that to be all of us no matter how disagreeable we might be to each other. Callouts negate adult behavior. Callouts mean that one doesn't know where more potential for harassment might be coming from, or how long we might have to be worried about that.

It would be a major concern for me as well about what putting myself out there to new writing partners might bring. What the success of that might be. It's incredibly unfair that they've made finding new people precarious and more unpleasant than it can be anyway. That puts all of the future of your RP here in question, and if you're like me, just dropping a muse, picking up another, and moving to a new URL isn't going to be a good choice for you. It isn't that simple if you dedicate time to a muse for a long period of time, when that's the case, that's the RP you want to do and have laid the groundwork for.

I don't know if it will help at all, but it has seemed to me, over the past several days, that there are fewer people in the RPC who are inclined to believe or support callouts than there once was. I was hoping that was the case, since there is always so much interaction on my posts against callout culture, but until this crap went down, I had no idea just how many people are not positive toward it. It has seemed to be that the people who are inclined to listen to callouts are just louder.

I've also noticed that those people have the same set of red flags, so maybe sharing that will help you or others?

They don't have simple, basic, reasonable Do Not Interacts. It isn't simply asking that minors don't interact because the mun is over eighteen, that muns writing a triggering topic not interact, or that sort of thing. No, it's URL dropping of specific muns, outright links to callouts or "receipts," and an accusatory tone about any topics or types of muns who shouldn't interact. Such as "nasty ass proshippers" or "pedo apologists shipping incest."

Their rules are reflective this as well. A statement cannot be made that they do not write, let's say, toxic ships and left at that. There will be some morality wank present about normalizing or romanticizing toxic/abusive relationships.

There are less assured flags, but literally, anything that stands out as an interest in RPC or fandom-based activism as opposed to an interest in writing, their muses, or even their friendships with a variety of muns. I don't mean a rounded-out interest in things, I really do mean a glaring predominance of buzzword-laden reblogs and PSA's while they've not written a reply, headcanon, or answered a meme in months.

I'm not saying any of that because I feel like you, or anyone else's, judgment is terrible or that you're oblivious to warning signs! It's just that when we've experienced bad situations, it can compromise our ability to see clearly. It becomes easy to see a potential threat everywhere, and maybe that seems contrary, but it's then easy to fail to see real threats from those we're blowing up. We question whether we're being just as judgmental as the people who wronged us, putting words in other muns' mouths and thoughts in place of their own as was done to us. While we still are afraid to be wrong in giving someone an in to ruining our time again.

So, please, don't feel like I'm questioning your intelligence or speaking from a place of ultimate knowledge, never making mistakes in such a choice! I just really hate that you, and many others, are going through this, and anything at all that I can think of that might help you move forward from this utter bullshit you've been through, I've got to try to grab it.

Because, Anon, like all those sharing their experiences these last few days, you sound like the kind of mun we need in the RPC.

You're someone willing to share with others for the benefit of others. You're being honest about your feelings of anger and even the hopeless sensation of whether it's even worth it to try to return, having your progress on and offline stomped on, while still maintaining a sort of fairness and calm that I know is not easy. Because that's the mature thing to do, it's the right thing, and unfortunately, those are usually the harder things to do as well.

You did the right thing in expressing your opinion and doing what people like Raven's group love to be on about, can only do through bullying: not tolerating it. I'd hate for the RPC to lose someone like you!

Just as your message matters to more people out there than myself, I have no doubt that your choice to not quietly allow this behavior mattered to more muns than you'll ever know. I'm sure that none of them would have wanted this result for you, but so many muns have experienced such toxic, bullying behavior over the years in which not a soul spoke up.

Many of you proved something very important with challenging Raven and the callouts blog, that unlike them, it isn't necessary for good people to even know each other to do the right thing. They have to dogpile and engage in cliquish behavior, what they do isn't coming from a place of inner ethics and strength, but what you all did? It's the opposite.

So, not only do I thank you again for sharing and providing the important support of simply not being alone to others, I thank you for being the example to the RPC that people dealing in callouts and generalized shaming cannot be, no matter their platform.

I hope that, whether you choose to remain, leave, or take a very long break, everything you've been dealing with starts to look up. I know it's easy to say things made hollow for their repetition and flippant use, like telling you not to let them win, or that their bullshit just isn't that important. So, I'm not going to say them.

It doesn't work that way when you're dealing with mental health concerns! You can logically know that this is just petty bullshit not worth being run out of something important to you, but that doesn't stop the worry, frustration, or depression. You can have all the determination in the world to hang in there, even the spite to back it up, but neither is a match for the things you cannot control coming from your brain. That is the cruelty of mental illness on the very best of days.

You have all of my respect, support, and genuine sympathy that this happened to you. No one should be allowed to continually and unapologetically go out of their way to throw a wrench into someone's hard-won progress. You did nothing to deserve this, and the people out there worth interacting with are going to be the same ones who will have no question of that.

Lastly, I also hope that some of the anons sharing their experiences have helped you feel less alone, or like you're not just irrationally upset. Please know that you're seen and supported as well! And that you are always welcome to talk more, vent, share successes here.

Thank you, Anon.

#vespertine #answered #anonymous #long post #drama cw #rp harassment #callout culture

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stroni-bomb · 5 years

Text

Siren!Taeil: Eye of the Beholder {1}

CHAPTER ONE // NEXT

❃ Taeil didn’t know which was worse: being a male in a family of purely female sirens or being a rare phenomenon in a group of ‘normals’. He never had it easy growing up and going against everything which makes a siren didn’t make it any easier. He would always be thankful for that fateful day when Angel!Taeyong saved him. However when a certain individual puts all of N City on their toes as they’re a risk to another citizen’s life, why can’t Taeil feel nothing except sympathy towards her instead of the hatred the other’s hold? ❃

؂۵‗✩⑈

"Taeil," Taeyong gently shook the older brother and gave him a warm smile as his tired eyelids fluttered open. "You can go to bed now. Y/N's asleep, I've got everything under control."

He quickly checked on your sleeping figure in the infirmary bed. He didn't know how long he was out but he was certain that you were awake the last time he saw you. Slowly he stood up, giving a small thanks to Taeyong before leaving the infirmary room. He wouldn't go to bed, he didn't need to, all he did need was some fresh air and thinking time.

Quietly, avoiding waking up any of the other residents, he made his way through the dimly lit corridors until finding the back door. Sliding it open carefully he tiptoed out, allowing the cool midnight breeze to blow on his face. It was a quick walk to the lake. Well it was more of a stream really.

As he reached the water's edge he finally sat down with the grass underneath him, occasionally the wind would move the grass in such a way that it'd dance in between his fingers, lightly tickling him. He had an urge to shift into his siren form but decided against it, knowing the younger boys they're probably spying on him right now from their bedroom windows.

He brought his head down to the grass and lay there, silently. The grass moulded underneath him, leaving his temporary mark into the land. He could hear the lake gently lapping against the bed, running further and further upstream. There was probably a river somewhere nearby, acting out as a branch into the wide and vast ocean.

Ocean. That word alone reminded him of...home. Could he really call it a home though?

It always surprised him how he even managed to survive. No one had realised he was different until he was six, when sirens get their human form. His once loving family turned on him just like that. Why? He was a young boy, not a girl.

He had loved where he lived. The small, grassy cove reached out onto the beach. The grass had a different feel to the one that grew at N City, it was more...rough. Pretty much summed up his whole childhood. At first it'd start with the girls his age, pushing and shoving. As soon as Taeil retaliated though that's when the older sirens began to torture him.

They left scars but they were easy to hide with clothes, he couldn't say the same for his siren form. That's why he refuses unless necessary, he doesn't need his friends to see him like that.

"Taeil hyung!" A young voice yelled out, his feet flattening the grass beneath each stride. This was someone who didn't care if he woke others. Donghyuck. "What are you doing out here?"

Taeil quickly wiped a stray tear and lifted himself up from the ground. Donghyuck bounded into him, wrapping his arms around his elder brother. He awkwardly returned the affection, he himself wasn't much of a skinship person.

"It's cold out here," Hyuck shivered as he pulled away. Taeil noticed he was barefoot and only wearing shorts with a thin, white shirt.

There was a moment of silence between the two. A chilling breeze blew passed them both, pinching their revealed skin. Hyuck quickly brought his hands to his upper arms and rubbed in a sad attempt to warm himself up.

"You didn't need to come out," Taeil eventually smiled and brought an arm around Hyuck's shoulders. "I was just getting some air before going to bed but let's get inside now. You're right, it's freezing."

Maneuvering back into the mansion Hyuck looked up in awe at Taeil. He didn't say anything, he knew Taeil wouldn't talk about this stuff with him but he had so much hurt in his eyes, so much pain, yet kept it inside and kept being his jokey self. Much like himself. He admired Taeil for that.

After walking Hyuck back up to his room which he shared with Jaemin and Renjun Taeil finally collapsed into his bed. He had to resist the urge not to run back to your infirmary room and go to bed in the chair again, just so he could be there for her when she woke up. Maybe he was being too attentive though so he decided against it, he didn't want to give others the wrong idea.

Settling down under his duvet and forcing his past memories out of his mind Taeil was finally able to sleep. Before he was completely gone a small smile sketched onto his features as a quick image of you fluttered through his mind. You were sleeping, safe and sound in the infirmary two floors below him, a smile which mirrored his own blessing your delicate features.

؂۵‗✩⑈

"TAEIL GET UP WE NEED YOU!" A series of knocks hammered at his door as various voices yelled his name. As of yet he was in no real hurry to get up, usually when this happened -and it tended to happen a lot in a house with the devil himself in it- there ended up being no real threat but instead a cream pie waiting to smack him in the face.

"TAEIL IT'S Y/N!"

Now he was up. If his fate did end up being a cream pie then he can bet that whoever the pranker was would soon become the prankee.

Dashing into your infirmary room with a sense of urgency he immediately went to your side. You were out cold, pale and seemingly unresponsive.

Taeil's eyes scanned the faces which accompanied him in the room: Taeyong, Doyoung, Jaehyun and ... Mingcheng. Quickly doing a body scan of the latter he released a sigh of relief- she was carrying no weapons and she didn't seem triumphant. Always a good sign.

"Taeyong what happened? How did her vitals drop so drastically you told me she was doing fine!" Taeil questioned, he knew he should have never left your side, screw the attentive nonsense he would've been there for you when you needed him most.

"Her heart and breathing rate dropped after another... episode. We've put her on oxygen but we aren't medics Taeil, this type of healing is beyond my powers. I heal bones. Not curses," Taeyong said sternly, not appreciating Taeil's seemingly ungrateful tone.

He took note of the oxygen mask and evaluated your chest movements, not quite how he'd like it but assumed it was an improvement.

Suddenly a pang of realisation hit him, how he had forgotten the most important piece of information he didn't know. "Episode? Is Nev okay, what happened?"

"About time grandpa. She's fine, shaken up but fine. Your little friend here tried to kill her she's lucky she-"

"She tried to kill her Taeyong? But I thought she was bed ridden," it was more of a observation than a question, although he failed to observe the very obvious glares which Mingcheng was shooting through him.

"Did he just interrupt me?" She hissed to her mate, Jaehyun, evidently pissed off.

"He's on edge babe-" "He'll be on the edge of my foo-"

"Jaehyun. Mingcheng. Please go check on Nev and Leon, shoot I should really check on Leon...Taeil, could you give me a second? Come on you two," Taeil just nodded, not watching the three of them leave and not giving Doyoung much of his attention either. His full focus was on you, this wasn't the secure figure he pictured last night, no this was the exact opposite.

There was a gentle silence which occasionally was interrupted by the sound of the heart monitor. Every time a sharp 'beep' pierced through the air Taeil would look up and check your heart rate, noting down if there was an improvement or not every time mainly for his own sanity. He was so absorbed in...You, that he forgot about Doyoung who was sat on the chair opposite the bed, checking out his older brother's behaviour and gentleness regarding you.

"Why do you like her so much?" He suddenly questioned, cocking on eyebrow in a way which Taeil couldn't stand, as if Doyoung had just figured out his entire life story by watching him for five minutes.

"I have no clue what you're on about," Taeil dismissed by shaking his head. "Who's Leon?"

"Just some Lion girl who's been stabbed or shot can't remember the exact details, brought some half wolf dude with her or something too. Now answer my question." Doyoung leaned back in his chair now, his long legs outstretched across the floor.

"You should really pay attention to the people Taeyong saves. Maybe then people will like you?" Taeil sniped back, mimicking his younger brother's actions as he leant back in his chair. Debating whether to stretch out his legs too he decided against it, he was much smaller than Doyoung and didn't need to prove it.

"What's the point? They looked like a total mad show anyway. I don't waste my breath on obviously crazy people."

"Yet you ended up living with sixteen of them, now more if you count the mates. You should loosen up, you're stressed," Taeil smiled as Doyoung chuckled to himself. He had got him there, the residents at N CITY were far from sane.

"I should say the same for you hyung, you should let us in and not push us away when we ask you stuff," now Doyoung had evened out the score. Taeil couldn't think of a reply and the sharp 'beep' of your machine left him unable to think straight anyway as he quickly noted down the results.

"I'm gonna check on Lion Girl and Wolf Boy, call us if anything happens okay?"

Taeil just nodded in response, "see you wizard boy," he smirked as the door clicked behind Doyoung as he left him by himself with you by his side.

He liked the thought of that, you standing by his side, just the thought of you standing without needing support made him happy.

He wanted you to be happy but this was just the sympathy talking... right?

--------------------------------

That's chapter one guys �� hoped you enjoyed and give my boy Taeil some love 💝 -Stroni-

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x688plsloveme · 7 years

Conversation

Companions plus faction leaders see get Sole get gravely injured and while trying to help them, they try to walk it off and continue the fight

Cait: One moment, both Cait and Sole were having the time of their lives, decimating supermutants. The next, Sole was screaming while a mutant dog tore up their arm. Cait bashed the dog's head in without a moment's hesitation. She was about to go back into the fight when she saw Sole trying to get up and grab their weapon. "Oh, no you don't! Sit back down Sole!" Sole said that they were perfectly capable of fighting, but Cait wasn't having it. She forced Sole to stay seated, then threatened them to stay or else. Sole begrudgingly allowed Cait to fix them up. After she was done, she pointed a finger at Sole and told them that if they worried her like that again, she'd kill them herself.

Codsworth: Codsworth honestly thought that Sole was invincible before he saw them get torn up by a feral ghoul. He told Sole that they should heal themselves while he takes care of the remaining ghouls, but Sole wasn't hearing it. They told him that they were fine and limped back into the fray. Codsworth couldn't really argue with Sole, so he made sure to take care of the toughest enemies. Ensuring that Sole would have it easier.

Curie: Curie lets out a rather loud gasp when she sees the blood blossoming on Sole's thigh while they were fighting gunners. Curie tries to treat it right away, even with Sole telling her to stop over and over again. Sole just keeps on firing their gun while Curie patches their leg up as best she can with them standing. When the last of their enemies were down, Curie properly fixes Sole's leg, not noticing their piercing stare until she glanced up. "What's the matter madam/monsieur..?" She looks quite shocked. "You got in my way during the fight!" Curie winces and tiltes her head down. "I-I'm sorry, but you seemed to b-be in pain..." She looked up. "I just wanted to help, really!" Sole put their hand on their kind hearted companion's shoulder. "I know Curie, but next time help me when everything wanting to kill us is dead."

Danse: Sole got knocked out for a few seconds when a synth hit them with a shock baton. Danse quickly destroyed it, before turning to Sole with his brow furrowed in worry. "You okay soldier?" Sole blinked out the remaining spots in their vision. "Yeah, I'm fine." They tried to stand, but ended up falling right back down. They tried twice more before Danse commanded them to stay. Sole tried to protest, but to no avail. They couldn't disobey a direct command from someone with a higher rank than them. By the time Danse returned, Sole was able to walk, but Danse still had them lean on him. After a few minutes of silence, Sole looked up at Danse and quietly asked him, "Please don't tell Elder Maxson about my screw up today." Danse kept looking forward, but there was a small smile on his face. "Of course soldier. I know you'd do the same for me."

Deacon: Sole and Deacon were doing fairly well against a group of raiders up until Sole slipped and got shot multiple times in the stomach. Deacon turned around when he heard Sole's scream. His eyes went wide, panicking for a second before pulling himself together. He shot the raiders around them before running up to inspect Sole's injuries. They tried telling him that they're fine, but coughed up blood while doing so. "Uh-huh. I've heard some pretty bad lies in my time, but I think that one just took the cake. Sorry, but you're staying where you are." All Sole could do was groan and lean their head back while Deacon finished up. He already had stimpacks ready when he came back to Sole's spot. They ended up camping there for the night, giving Sole plenty if time to think about how lucky they are to have Deacon as a companion.

Dogmeat: Sole gets grazed by a feral's bony hands while in downtown Boston. Dogmeat thinks that Sole is seriously hurt, so he goes absolutely berserk on the rest of the ferals. 'Must protect human!' Sole ends up not being able to shoot anything because Dogmeat's in the way. He gets rewarded with a brahmin steak later on for being such a good boy.

Hancock: Hancock damn near went feral when Sole got seriously hurt by a raider. He only increased the violence when he saw that Sole was trying to help him, scared that they'd get in an even worse condition. He was not going to lose the one good thing he had left on this world. When he saw Sole's dumbfounded look after he was done, he burst out laughing. "Chalk that up to 'reasons why I'm awesome." That snapped Sole out of it. "Yeah, yeah. Just fix me up already." He did it without hesitation and helped Sole to their feet. While they were walking away, Hancock ruffled Sole's hair affectionately, and told them not to worry him so much. Sole just smirked and said that they couldn't promise anything.

MacCready: While fighting a bunch of gunners, Sole was flung across the street by a man in power armour. "Holy fu-frick!" MacCready's eyes went wide when he saw his friend sprawled across the pavement. Thankfully, Mac shot the guy between the eyes before he could deliver the final blow. MacCready was relieved when he saw Sole get up, but that was quickly replaced by fear when they suddenly clenched their abdomen. "Boss! Are you okay?" Sole grimaced more than they smiled, but they assured him that they were alright. In reality, Sole just didn't want to worry him. A few broken bones is nothing. MacCready was a bit skeptical, but trusted Sole to know what they were doing. The poor guy never learned that Sole was actually very hurt.

Nick: Nick thought he was going to overheat with how hard he was working to keep Sole safe. Sole had just gotten a nasty gash from a mirelurk a few minutes prior, and Nick didn't want them to over exert themselves with more fighting. When the last mutated crab was down, Nick went to heal Sole straight away. They tried pushing him away, insisting that they were fine. Nick stared them down and said, "Sole." That one word was enough to make Sole give in. They couldn't compete with Nick's stern voice. He had a smug smile the entire time he was fixing them up.

Piper: "OH MY GOD! BLUE!" Needless to say, Piper was downright terrified. The last thing she wanted was for her best friend to die. She didn't even wipe out the rest of the enemies, she just picked up Sole and ran. She ran until she came across Diamond City. Piper took Sole to the clinic, demanding immediate medical attention. All the stress made Piper pass out on her friend's cot after the doc fixed them up. She was just glad that Sole would be alright.

Preston: There was only one stingwing left when it stung Sole. Preston made short work of it, but the poison was spreading quickly, making Preston tear up because he didn't know how to save his friend. He soon sobered, however, when he saw Sole start to walk away. "Where do you think you're going? We need to get you help!" Sole didn't even glance back, probably because they were wincing. "Eh. I'll be okay." Preston wasn't going to let them have their way. He ran up to them, and without warning, hefted Sole over his shoulder. He ran all the way to the nearest settlement, even with Sole demanding he put them down.

Strong: He let Sole get back up and continue to fight after they got hurt by some mutants. He would've thought them weak if they hadn't. Strong did go on ahead to take the brunt of the fire, so that Sole wouldn't die of course. Then who would help him find the milk of human kindness?

X6-88: X6 made a disapproving sound when he saw that Sole had been incapacitated by a stray bullet or four.vHe obliterated the remaining enemies before lifting Sole up bridal style. They asked him what in the world he was doing. One of his eyebrows lifting up in question was the only bit of emotion he showed. "I'm obviously taking you back to the institute to get treated." Sole started pushing against his chest, saying that they're not some damsel in distress. X6 sighed. "With all due respect sir/ma'am. Wouldn't it be better to get bullets dug out of you by sterile equipment?" Sole stopped and thought for a moment. "Holy crap, you're right. Well then, what are we waiting for?" X6 muttered a barely audible "We're waiting for you to accept the obvious answer," before calling in a teleport request.

Desdemona: She couldn't believe it. One of her best heavies knocked out on the ground. They fainted because they saw a molerat. Now Des has to make sure that none of the 'savage beats' could attack Sole. A few minutes after Desdemona was done, Sole woke up. Des wasted no time in chewing out Sole, putting emphasis on them needing to get over their molerat phobia.

Maxson: Maxson would be lying if he said that he wasn't scared shitless. What with Sole bleeding on the ground, and him being the only one who could fight against the rest of the gen-1 synths that infested a building near the airport. He long ago told Sole to not get up no matter what. Somehow, he destroyed all of the synths, and let the tension leave his body. Until it came back when he heard Sole's ragged breathing. He spun around and told them to hop on his back. He didn't know a thing about medicine, but people around the airport do. When he arrived, he was dead tired, but he managed a smile when the doctor that took Sole told him that that'd be alright.

Father: He was absolutely mesmerized by Sole's fighting ability. So much so, that he didn't hear Sole's warning. They had to tackle him out of the way, which made them take they blow he was about to receive. He was stunned for a moment, but when he saw that Sole was standing back up with blood running down their face he scrambled back to his feet. "Mother/Father! Let me-" Sole cut him off. "No Shuan. It's my duty as your parent to protect you. Let me." It tore him up to do so, but he obeyed. He never looked up more to his parent than at that very moment.

______________________

@conquerorofthewarriorprincess

Hope you like it! It took me a while because Tumblr deleted my original somehow.

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