annoyedfanfiction

[annoyedfanfiction]

*lies on the floor* why must I “write.” why can the story not simply appear, finished, in a word document, as an audience manifests to shower me with impressed applause

[annoyedfanfiction]

Trained

Yondu x reader

CW: violence, cannibalism mention, self-hatred, self-esteem issues, mission gone wrong, self-harm, shouting, misunderstanding, anger, ravagers

“Eat ‘er!” Taserface sneered, all too close for comfort. Narblik had tried pushing them away, but to no avail, and you’d quickly told him to leave it as you made your way to the bridge. You knew what was waiting for you. “Throw ‘er out!” Brahl countered, leering on your other side. Similar jeers patterned around you, but you held your head high, unmoving. “Take ‘er rags!” someone roared, and there was a tugging on your jacket. In an instant, Retch had been tossed back into the crowd and the door to the bridge was opening. “Enough!” And there was the voice you had been waiting for. A jolt of anxiety shot through you and you thought for a moment you would be sick. “Clear out. The lot o’ ya!” Disagreement surged from the crowd, then there was a whistle, a flash of red, and silence. “I said CLEAR OUT!” And they did. Jostling past you, sending sneers your way, but still, they left. It was almost worse with them gone. Only Kraglin remained, ever at his Captain’s right hand. You met Yondu’s scarlet eyes, begging. Pleading. You would never put it into words but he knew what you were asking. “You too, Kraglin.” Kraglin’s eyes fell to you and you saw worry in them. “Yer not gonna hurt ‘er, are ya, Cap’n?” You were surprised Yondu let him finish the question. He didn’t like being questioned. But Kraglin got away with almost as much as Quill, you supposed. The silence stretched, heavily. “I said clear out, Obfonteri,” Yondu repeated, quieter this time, but still dangerous, and you shook your head at Kraglin when he opened his mouth again. A man, now, but still almost your son. You wouldn’t let him get hurt defending you. Reluctance traced his gait, but he was gone. The door slid shut behind him and you waited. What else could you do?

You waited, as he crossed the room and dropped into the captain’s chair. Waited as he kicked his legs up onto the console, and settled back into a deceptively comfortable-looking position. Waited as he sighed. “It were a simple mission.” You couldn’t deny it. How hard was it for someone who had spent their life fighting and stealing to steal one damn jewel? “There was five guards, (L/N). FIVE! An’ Narblik still had ta bail ye out!” There was no point apologising. You knew that. “I oughta have yer rags right now. You got anythin’ to say fer yerself?” You shook your head. “Speak.” “Nothin’, Cap’n.” Even to you, it sounded pathetic. “M’sorry Cap’n.” “Rags.” Even with just that word, you knew what he meant. You could feel him watching you as you peeled the red leather jacket from your shoulders. “I trained ye maself, (Y/N). I know what ye can do, so why ain’t ya doin’ it?” he demanded, now, leaning forward. You didn’t answer. “ANSWER ME!” “M’sorry Cap’n.” What could you tell him? Him, with his whip scars and his battle scars and his strength. Him, who had invested so much time in training you to be half as good a second mate as he needed. Him, who had a crew to keep alive and a ship to run and– “Sorry ain’t gonna bring back our bounty, girl!” he snapped, and then he was surging to his feet. Before you could even think about moving he was standing before you. “Is it?” You fixed your gaze on his boots. And you didn’t see his hands coming until he grabbed your wrists, forcing them above your head. “Is it?” You couldn’t help the wince of pain which caused confusion to litter across his brow, loosening his grip a little. “No Cap’n,” you murmured, hoping he wouldn’t think too much of it when he released your wrists, letting your hands drop back to your sides and your gaze back to your feet. “M’sorry Cap’n.” But he wasn’t listening anymore, too focused on the red stains on his rough, blue hands.

“(Y/N).” Something in his voice made you look up, and you immediately wished you hadn’t. Hurt and fear weren’t expressions that often crossed Yondu Udonta’s face, but there was no other way to describe his expression right now, as his gaze flickered from his blood-stained hands to you. You looked away. “(Y/N).” His tone grew more determined, but you just kicked your rags away from you, pulling your arms close to your chest. “(Y/N), please.” That brought your gaze up. “Di’n’t think ye knew tha’ word,” you muttered, in some kind of half-hearted attempt to change the subject. Never in the decades you had known the Centaurian had such a word fallen from his lips. “Why di’n’t ye say ye were hurt?” Oh. He was almost as good at denial as you were. You saw the tears before you felt them, vision blurring against the sudden flood and you could only look away. You felt yourself shaking your head, felt his silence weigh in upon you. And then his hands were on your arms again and you couldn’t even flinch away as he pushed up your long sleeves, revealing the ridged scars and pulsing bruises that scattered your arms. You weren’t sure if it was you or him shaking more when he pushed up the second sleeve, revealing the messier, jagged scars made by your non-dominant hand.

“Why?” You didn’t know. You had asked yourself that question innumerable times and come up empty. What were you meant to say? Something within you remembered that the rest of the crew was undoubtedly as close as they could be, listening to what they could catch. But you couldn’t suffocate these sobs as you had for so long. You were clawing at your arms and then you weren’t, as a solid blue mass clasped around you and you were pulled against a firm chest. You didn’t bother to stop your shaking, to stifle your sobs, you knew there was no point. You had already lost your rags and his respect, what more did you have to lose? “Don’t play,” you managed, through the limited breath you could manage. The room was swimming around you, Yondu nothing more than a blur of red and blue. “Jus’ send me away. I know yer gonna.” For some reason, the arms around you tightened. “No.” A kiss – rough, but gentle – was pressed into your hair. “Ye ain’t goin’ nowhere.” You shook your head, sobs deepening. “Don’ play the pity party,” you rasped, breath shallower by the moment. “Ye need to breathe, darlin’,” he warned, pushing you back from him a little. His hands came to cup your face. “Listen ta me. Breathe.” You couldn’t. You couldn’t. You just shook your head as his face began to flicker in and out of your vision. “(Y/N).” There was something almost desperate in the way he said your name. “Damnit.” You weren’t sure if you were being lifted or if you were just so lightheaded the ground alluded you, but the door was definitely opening and another voice was definitely saying something when your vision faded out.

You came to and you weren’t alone. Kraglin, baggy-eyed and clearly exhausted, was leaning over your bedside. He looked at you, fearful and angry, opening his mouth to speak. “I’m sorry.” There were already tears in your eyes and his jaw went slack. “M’so sorry.” “Wha’? Hey, you don’t gotta ‘pologise,” he assured you, voice quiet. “Why would ye– he hurt ya and yer ‘pologising ta me?” He hurt you. Something in you froze, and it was your turn to look incredulous. “Yondu di’n’t– it wasn’t him.” Kraglin frowned, but wasn’t quick enough to respond when a shadow fell over the doorway. “Cap’n.” Kraglin jumped to his feet as Yondu entered. “Go ’n git some rest, boy,” Yondu instructed, gruffly. Kraglin looked like he wanted to argue. “Ye look like yer ‘boutta fall asleep on yer feet,” you told him, avoiding Yondu’s gaze. He shot you an unhappy look, but left anyway, smothering a yawn. 

Tension settled across the room as Yondu took Kraglin’s seat at your bedside, and cleared his throat. “Wha’s all this then?” he asked, vaguely. Yondu was a straightforward man, but clearly out of his comfort zone. “S’nothing,” you answered, unconvincingly. “Nothin’ generally don’t end up w’ you in th’ medwing.” You could hear the eyeroll in his voice, but just continued fiddling with the bandages around your wrists. “Jus’ let it go, Yondu. Ye can drop me at th’ next port and never think ‘bout me again.” “Yeah, like I’m jus’ gonna let ya kill yerself and not do nothin’!” You didn’t understand why he was so angry. Why did he care? “What’s it to you?” you snapped, finally meeting his gaze. You could hardly bear the hurt in his scarlet eyes, but you didn’t understand why it was there. “‘M disposable. Ya said it yerself, I let tha clan down an’ I almost got Narblik killed on a simple mission! Ya can’t trust me anymore! I can’t even trust maself!” Your voice cracked and you looked away again, burying your face in your hands. “I ain’t worth it. I don’t care ‘bout maself and you shouldn’t care ‘bout me either.” “But I do!” Your head jolted up in a shock. “What? Y’think I take th’ time ta train people I don’ care ‘bout? I thought I trained ya ta be safe from any weapon.” His gaze drifted down to your wrists, melancholy smile fading into sadness. “Di’n’t count yer own.” And you broke. You felt the dam walls shatter, felt the sorrow and pain and guilt you’d pushed away come crashing in on you. And you felt him pull you to him again, as though it was the most natural thing in the world, fitting you into his lap, his fingers soothing through your hair. “‘M sorry I let ya down.” His words were almost enough to shock you into silence, but your breathing wouldn’t slow. “We’ll do better. Can’t be losin’ ma best damn thief.”

#yondu x reader #yondu udonta #guardians of the galaxy #ravagers #self-harm #self-esteem issues #cw self harm #cw self loathing #tw self harm #yondu udonta x reader

[annoyedfanfiction]

YOU hates terfs

[annoyedfanfiction]

“We chose the term “asexual” to describe ourselves because both “celibate” and “anti-sexual” have connotations we wished to avoid: the first implies that one has sacrificed sexuality for some higher good, the second that sexuality is degrading or somehow inherently bad. “Asexual”, as we use it, does not mean “without sex” but “relating sexually to no one”. This does not, of course, exclude masturbation but implies that if one has sexual feelings they do not require another person for their expression. Asexuality is, simply, self-contained sexuality.”

— The Asexual Manifesto, Lisa Orlando and Barbara Getz, 1972

[annoyedfanfiction]

the explosion at the start of civil war killing wakandan aid workers was shitty writing and using black deaths as a plot device to further white characters’ storylines

we see the same thing later with charlie spencer (the young man killed in sokovia, whose mother confronts tony)

they wanted to make both sides sympathetic so they couldn’t have the explosion occur in new york or something bc that’s too close to home and white american audiences would be more outraged by that and less split

but by redirecting it outside of the us and killing off hundreds of unnamed african characters, they allowed for a huge – albeit accidental – loss of life to seem more acceptable

imagine responses if wanda had accidentally blown up an office building in nyc

#civil war #captain america civil war #ca: cw #ca: civil war #wakanda #tw death #tw explosion #wanda #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch

[annoyedfanfiction]

Resources for Writing Injuries

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femoral artery (inner thigh)

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common carotid artery (neck)

aorta (heart & abdomen)

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In the Head

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General Resources

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[annoyedfanfiction]

Having Celtic ancestry or being celtic does not excuse racism or cultural appropriation. Yes, what happened to the Irish is awful but that does not give anyone an excuse to oppress others. The mysterious Celts of old are not a scapegoat to justify anyone’s shitty behaviour. Celtic is not a get-out-of-racism card.

[annoyedfanfiction]

my fatal flaw is not being able to contain my disgust when i see a man spitting on the ground and it’s gonna get me murdered

[annoyedfanfiction]

Don't Go Talking Classics Out of School: Medusa

by now, most of you have probably seen this post about how “Athena gifted Medusa with ugliness and the power to turn men to stone as a way of protecting her from further violations of her person…As the original myth tells it, she lived in solitude because she did not wish to be around men after what Poseidon had done. And Athena gave her the power to never be at the mercy of a male again”

In addition, it makes some claims about how the image of Medusa’s head was found on the lintel of women’s shelters, and it was patriarchal Rome that subverted this myth into the one of rape and victim-blaming and turned her ugliness into something shameful.

….EXCEPT REALLY NOT

first let me say, I am all for reinterpreting and retelling Greek myths! People have been doing it down the ages, and I love the Romantic fixation on Prometheus and Freud’s fetish for Oedipus and tumblr’s fascination with Persephone/Hades. And I am definitely all for reclaiming stories that have been used to shame and silence women.

But I am also allergic to those retellings being retroactively fitted back into their sexist framework. On top of this being just plain old revisionist history, it does a disservice to why we needed to retell it in the first place.

Medusa was (probably) not natively a feminist heroine and her head was not hung above doorways of women’s shelters (not sure if Classical Greece had anything recognizable women’s shelters, my research hasn’t turned up anything.) Ancient Rome is not automatically more patriarchal than Ancient Greece, because Greece was pretty damn gross in a lot of ways and their myths are not exempt from that.

Let’s unpack the history of Medusa, shall we?

[cut for length and excessive sourcing]

Keep reading

[annoyedfanfiction]

FINAL NOTE: This is a really basic post to share my ideas about self-publishing. I want to strongly stress that self-publishing is as valid as traditional publishing. You are not “less” of an author if you choose to self-publish. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to ask!

[Credit me if you repost.]

[annoyedfanfiction]

this whole mutual thing is overhyped on this site. want to send me an ask off anon? do it. want to tag me in a post? do it. follower, mutual, or just random person who stumbled across my blog: I crave interaction and literally do not mind.

[annoyedfanfiction]

maybe the real quirk was the father figures we made along the way

[annoyedfanfiction]

writing is simple. i put my characters into a situation that i, the author, cannot figure out how to get them out of and i close the document

[annoyedfanfiction]

https://innocenceproject.org/petitions/stop-execution-pervis-payne/

link to washington post article

justice for Matthew Rushin

https://www.change.org/p/governor-mike-dewine-pardon-keith-lamar

https://www.keithlamar.org/ (includes donations + info about his case)

https://sign.moveon.org/petitions/abolish-the-death-penalty-3?bucket=&source=twitter-share-button&utm_campaign=&utm_source=twitter&share=880fc3bf-d248-46e6-83a7-1b08fb1e6d9e

petition

justice for Julius Jones

obviously feel free to add more. Despite me not being the creator of the thread I still encourage others to see and share more information

[annoyedfanfiction]

*Police sirens*

Hestia, who's never done anything wrong: They're after me.

Hermes, who the police are after: You better run then.

[annoyedfanfiction]

Rain Rain go away,

here’s a little something to hold you all over until the next big thing~~~

Kirishima

-An actual ray of sunshine 

-he thinks your quirk is super cool

- and he knows that you’re upset but every single time he geeks out over your quirk when he sees it in action. 

-do not train with him because half the time he is so in awe of you that he forgets what he’s doing and just stands there watching you. 

- Kirishima is a hopeless romantic and he loves to kiss you in the rain so expect a ton of kisses all over your face when you’re sad. 

Bakugou 

-he has absolutely tried to blow up the rain cloud

-it was terrifying and didn’t work.   

-now he mostly just sits under the rain with you 

-he usually doesn’t say much, mostly because he doesn’t know what to say 

-but his presence is usually enough to cheer you up 

- he will always want to train with you 

-so he can spend time with you train in all sorts of weather conditions 

Todoroki 

-he is really grateful you have the quirk you do

-he isn’t the best at reading people 

-but he can always tell how your feeling  

-he hates to see you upset and he knows it’s only made worse because of the rain 

-but he is so grateful to know that you are upset so he can at least help you.

-one time he brought you a little umbrella and tried to stop the rain but the cloud just moved under the umbrella. 

-he turns the rain into snow sometimes you seem to like that. 

#i'm actually screaming this is so fucking cute

[annoyedfanfiction]

GO 👏 THE 👏 FUCK 👏 OFF. Also, the American educational system is trash. I applaud this child’s parents for giving her a voice and standing up against bias authority.