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moonstruckme · 3 months

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I sent a request a while back before I knew about you closing your request. (Sorry about that.) But maybe apocalypse Remus and reader finally reuniting with the others? Or dealing with the full moon approach while separated from the pack and all the reader wants to do is help, but Remus doesn't want to hurt her? Or maybe they get attacked again, and they get away just fine, but the reader gets hurt in the process or something. Idk something angsty just sounds so good rn 😅

Thank you for requesting love, sorry for the wait!

cw: blood

apocalypse au

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You’re off gathering more twigs to feed the fire when you hear a series of explosions. Your head snaps in that direction, time seeming to stop with your heart. In the next second you’re dropping the kindling, sprinting back for the campsite, because if someone’s found Remus, if they’ve gotten through his protections—

You only make it a few steps before you see he’s already racing toward you, barely glancing behind him to shoot a nonverbal spell at the three—no, four, five—bounty hunters chasing after him. You scramble for your wand to help, knocking a couple off his heels before Remus barrels into you. He apparates without hesitating, and a scream tears from your throat, pain searing through your side.

You and Remus grip each other tightly, rolling to the ground. The place where you’ve landed is, but you can hardly tell with the desperate ringing in your ears and the sound of your own panting breaths. Remus rolls off you, inadvertently putting pressure on the blazing pain in your side. You cry out and put your hands over the spot, shielding it from further harm.

“Fuck.” He’s panting too, shoving his wand in the waistband of his jeans with shaking hands. “Sorry, I didn’t have time to warn you, I—are you hurt?”

Your brain is all static, speech beyond you, but in a breath there are hands covering yours, pulling at the edge of your shirt. Your shirt, sticky with blood. You moan.

“You have to let me see,” Remus is saying, fighting to get your hands away from the wound. “I can’t help if I can’t see it.”

Your shirt sticks and clings to you as he peels it off, the cool air somehow making everything worse. Remus curses proficiently. His touch vanishes. It’s a relief, and also not. You want to go curl up somewhere by yourself until this hurt goes away, and also you don’t want him to leave you.

He’s back a second later, taking your wrists in a gentle but firm grip to get them away from your side. You hadn’t realized you’d grabbed it again.

“You’re okay,” he promises swiftly, and you must really trust him, because you almost believe him despite the leaves growing slick with blood beneath you. “You’re going to be fine. Sorry, this is going to sting.”

You don’t quite process the words before fire sears your side. You choke on a sob, but the pain only spreads, moving inward like it’s eating you away to nothing. Remus shushes you, tiny, helpless placations rushing from between his lips.

“You’re okay, sweetheart. You’re okay. I’ve got you. Almost done now.”

When the burning ebbs, you’re honestly not sure whether this new feeling is only the lesser pain you’d felt before whatever Remus had done to you. But a few ticks go by, and the static in your head fades. You can hear yourself breathing. The breeze rustling through trees. You touch your side tentatively, and it’s whole.

Remus’ scarred hand skims it as though making sure of the same thing. You look at him, tears still clumped in your lashes, and he retracts his hand, glancing down to screw the cap back on the bottle.

“What is that?” Your voice scrapes on its way out. You clear your throat embarrassedly.

Remus looks over like he isn’t sure you’re talking to him. “This?” You nod. “Essence of dittany. There’s some powdered silver in it, but that doesn’t tamper with the healing.”

You nod again, swallowing. Neither of you feel the need to discuss why he has the potion so readily available. Remus turns away from you, burying it back in his bag. You realize for the first time that he even has it, must have managed to grab it before the bounty hunters go too close. You’re both lucky he’s so quick on his feet.

“Thank you,” you say, sitting up, “and, uh, sorry for…making it so difficult.”

Remus softens. He kneels beside you again, holding a different bottle in his lap as he draws a careful finger under your lashes, catching the tears hanging there. “I’m sorry for splinching you. I should have warned you we were going to apparate.”

“You were under duress. I think you can be excused some hasty decision-making.”

“You splinched away nearly half your middle,” he says, a bit of teasing in his voice. “I think you can be excused a bit of hysteria.” You can’t tear your gaze away from his amber eyes, and he doesn’t shy from it. “You came close to losing a few ribs. I don’t know what we would’ve done then.”

“You would’ve fixed it,” you say certainly, and Remus drops his stare, a bashful smile lifting one corner of his mouth as he unscrews the bottle he’d pulled out of the pack.

“Maybe,” he allows. “Here, have a few sips of this.”

You sniff at it tentatively.

“Don’t smell, just drink.”

You do. Then you gag, coughing. “Ugh, what is it?”

“Blood-Replenishing Potion. Have just a little bit more,” he instructs, watching while you do before taking the bottle back and twisting on the cap. “You really scared me, bleeding all over the place like that.”

“Sorry.”

He hums as he stores the bottle back in the bag, eyes going somewhere foggy and faraway. It may be the new familiarity of this particular look, but you know instantly what he’s thinking of: the other people he’s terrified for, who might not be faring so well without his help and ample medical supplies.

“How do you think they’ve managed to find us twice in under a week?” he asks, quiet enough that you wonder if he’s even talking to you.

“They didn’t.” You match his tone, soft and careful. “Those were bounty hunters, not death eaters.”

Remus grunts. “Same thing, under this government.”

“Those guys found us by chance,” you say with certainty you don’t feel. “James and Sirius have always had better luck than that. And they’re smart. If anyone stumbled upon them, they’d get away, too.”

His throat bobs, but he nods. “You’re right. They’re perfectly competent on their own, I just…I don’t like the idea of them out there without us to help.”

“Me neither,” you admit at a murmur.

Remus only looks into the leaves, gaze still distant. You give him the time he needs to collect himself, surveying the area you’ve landed in. It’s not vastly different from the forest you’d been in before, but some of the trees look different and when you listen you can hear a few birdsongs that aren’t the ones you’ve lived among for the past few days. The sun is just starting to dip into the horizon. It lights everything in a soft, glowy orange. You’ll need to gather kindling again if you’re going to have a fire, but for now you just take a breath. The sunlight tangles in Remus’ hair, making his skin look buttery smooth and romanticizing his expression into one of contemplation rather than hauntedness. Your heart throbs, a warm sort of ache. You wonder if he can fix that, too.

“I know it’s not the same,” you say quietly, embarrassedly, “but at least for now, we have each other.”

Remus smiles. It’s small and weary, but a smile nonetheless. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m glad for it.”

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wito-chan-bla-bla · 15 days

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Concubine!(Y/N), who gets into the palace because of a mistake made by her father, the general. Her native land is destroyed and literally trampled under the feet of a man who is called "a god born in the body of a mortal." When the soldiers came to her house, (Y/N) tried to escape from them, but ended up being caught and sent to the palace along with many other young girls.

Concubine!(Y/N), who was noticed by the emperor's chief aide, Suguru Geto, and promoted to concubine status.

Concubine!(Y/N), whom the emperor calls "an innocent and sweet girl" with a chuckle. (Y/N) doesn't look up at him, she only listens as he talks about how he is very curious about how his new concubine will survive in such a cruel place like the imperial palace.

Concubine!(Y/N), in whose heart an incredible hatred for the young emperor was kindled. Because of him, she lost her home and family, her status, her wealth, and everything else that fate had given her. Now she is ready to kill the emperor, even if it takes her own life.

Concubine!(Y/N), who quickly abandons her plans as soon as she really sees... him up close. No man from her homeland could compare to the young Emperor Satoru Gojo. This man, who was taller than any general or official, managed to smile as sincerely and warmly as little children do when they see one of their parents. His aura seemed to draw (Y/N) towards him. As soon as she looked into those heavenly eyes, she couldn't think of anything but the man who had ordered her family estate to be burned to the ground.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who changes her decisions incredibly quickly, but she absolutely doesn't care.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who is beginning to be called a "traitor to her motherland". Her own former maids turn their backs on her when they discover that she has fallen in love with the Emperor at first sight. But what they didn't know was that their lady's heart was never as kind and good as they thought it was.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who doesn't understand what's going on with her. She can't take her eyes off the Emperor. She wants to stare at him for hours, even if they put her on hot coals and force her to endure horrific torture. She would do anything to keep admiring him.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who seems to be enchanted by these heavenly eyes, given by the gods themselves. She doesn't know why she can't stop admiring them, as well as the fluffy white hair, pale skin, and cheeky boyish smile, as if Satoru Gojo isn't an emperor running a huge country, but a neighborhood boy calling (Y/N) to play with him in the yard.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who is gradually going crazy. Any rational thoughts are obscured by the emperor's face, the sound of his laughter, the smell of him, and the feel of his skin under her fingers. It's a trap set by the gods to force mortals into submission. Now (Y/N) understands why there has never been even the slightest revolt against the emperor in the empire.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who wants the emperor to be hers and hers alone. She's willing to do anything to get his attention. She is ready to trample her feet into meat to perform the most beautiful dance for him. She is ready to read hundreds of books to impress him with her knowledge. She is ready to argue for hours and listen to the speeches of the palace "smart guys" in order to please the emperor with a stupid joke or a witty phrase.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who is ready to go to study with prostitutes, just to please her emperor. And when their first night together happens, she's ready to give him all of her, leaving nothing for herself. So when Satoru gently removes her jewelry and whispers "don't worry, I'll take care of everything, you just need to relax and honestly whisper how much you love me", (Y/N) falls in love with him even more.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who falls into the abyss of depravity and sin, only to be the only one whose body is near the emperor's bed.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who notices that the other concubines don't consider her their "rival". They believe that (Y/N) is a "wild, barbaric", "daughter of a defeated enemy", "girl whom the emperor took into his harem out of pity". And it makes something that has been trying to wake up all this time open its eyes completely.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who with her own beautiful, well-groomed hands, which only recently played beautiful melodies for the emperor and touched his naked body, makes a real hell.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who personally plunges a dagger into the chest of her father, who has been in prison all this time, killing him. All she wants is for the Emperor to have no doubts about her loyalty! The emperor's advisor and childhood best friend Suguru doubts that the concubine is okay. "Satoru, she literally drooled after she killed her father and looked at you. I think she's sick or something." "She's just very loyal to her emperor. What's the problem, Suguru?"

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who along with killing her father killed her humanity.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who is suspiciously close to the palace doctor. Everyone is saying that soon (Y/N) will be pregnant with a princess or prince, so it would be nice for her to get an ally in the form of a good doctor. (Y/N) does not even know whether to laugh at the naive speeches of others or not.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who manipulates the first, youngest, concubine and forces her to run off with a young servant, with whom the other girl allegedly "fell in love at first sight". They are forced to leave the country because such behavior is interpreted as a betrayal of the emperor.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who uses sleeping pills, kidnaps a second concubine and sells her to a brothel. The girl can't even go back because she's declared a traitor and will be executed as soon as the guards catch her!

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who puts poison in the third concubine's food. Ah, what a pity that the girl suddenly died for unknown reasons! And the fact that (Y/N) secretly gave her small doses of poison that can't kill immediately has nothing to do with it! Just like the fact that the maidservant who had tasted the concubine's food had been drinking the antidote along with her evening tea all this time. Ah, it seems that someone is going to be hanged for poisoning her own mistress!

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who throws the fourth concubine off a cliff while walking. She flies straight at the sharp rocks washed by the sea, and then her body freezes, broken and pierced. Her flesh is devoured by predators, and soon no trace of the woman remains.

The main assistant!Suguru, who tells his close friend that there is definitely something wrong here. "The concubines started dying one by one after (Y/N) arrived at the harem. Maybe we should order guards to keep a better eye on her?" What for? (Y/N) looks so innocent, I'm sure she couldn't even punish a thief caught pickpocketing! Besides, what did these women want anyway? Being the emperor's concubine means putting your life on the line. There is no place more unsafe for a concubine than the imperial palace."

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who can't stand the thought of her emperor touching another woman. So when the lucky concubine returns from him, (Y/N) can't wait. She raises her dagger and plunges it right into the other girl's neck.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who cuts another concubine into pieces, strips the skin from those parts of the body where the girl could touch her emperor. In the (Y/N)`s head, Satoru Gojo belongs to her and only to her. Because who else can make him happier than (Y/N)? That's right... no one.

The main assistant!Suguru, who sees (Y/N) in front of him dismembering into small pieces a concubine who only recently smiled sweetly at him and asked what kind of tea their emperor prefers.

The main assistant!Suguru, who wants to call the guards or deal with the situation himself, but he freezes when he hears the same gentle, beautiful voice that his best friend constantly hears. He watches (Y/N)`s lips move, but he can't hear anything. It's like she's saying a spell that makes Suguru go away and not say anything to the guards or the emperor.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who, as usual, sobs violently at the funeral of another concubine, hiding a smile in the clothes of the emperor, who pulled her to his chest to hug and calm her down. She knows they won't be doing anything in his bed tonight. Satoru will just lie there, clutching the last surviving concubine, as if trying to protect her from the maniac who lives in the palace grounds and so skillfully evades justice and guards.

The main assistant!Suguru, who does not understand how he was manipulated that day, even when he is standing at the funeral. Still, he can't stay silent forever. He had to do something.

The main assistant!Suguru, who tells everything to his best friend, but in response, the emperor only laughs and sends him on forced leave. Suguru is afraid to leave his friend alone with a literally psychopath, but Satoru says that he is a great emperor, no one can beat him. Especially if it's some cute little concubine!

The Honored One, the Great Emperor!Satoru, who was born with special "Six Eyes" and "Limitless" abilities that only the imperial family knows about. Six Eyes can see everything that happens in the empire, so Satoru all along the identity of the little assassin slaughtering his concubines. Limitless also changes space itself, it gets into people's heads and changes their brains. And so no one... no one is physically capable of hating Emperor Satoru. They are simply fascinated by him, like puppets.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who was lucky enough to become the great emperor's favorite puppet. No one would believe that the charming empress who received this status from the emperor himself broke the necks of many elders who were not affected by Limitless with her own hands. No one would believe that there was nothing left in those beautiful eyes but a blind and obsessive love for the emperor.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who was another stepping stone for Satoru, so that he and his country ascended to the top.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who loves her emperor so much that she will be happy even if he steps or sits on her. She is willing to endure any humiliation if it comes from her dear emperor.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), whose mind most easily succumbed to the Limitless effect. But (Y/N) is all the same. She just loves her emperor to the point of cutting off other people's heads and breaking all her fingers if its make her emperor smile.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who, even if she knew about the existence of Limitless and looked at her actions rationally, did not want to take everything back. Because that's what she made the meaning of her life. And if her beloved emperor wants to use her in any other way than in bed, she will accept it with a smile.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who is so obsessed with the sweet, poisonous love of her beloved emperor that she has completely lost all moral foundations and conscience.

Concubine!Yandere!(Y/N), who is… happy even though her hands are covered in someone else's blood. As long as it's for the Emperor's sake, for Satoru Gojo's sake... she'll shed her own blood as well.

#x reader #jujutsu kaisen #gojo x reader #fem!reader #yandere!reader #satoru gojo #gojo #yandere #au

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geeks-universe · 1 day

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Cooper Howard x F!Reader (not to spoil it, but you know I love my crossovers so…)

The Fallen

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Once, when the world was younger and you were still naive enough to believe in fate, you asked your father about love.

He’d laughed then- a deep, cheery kind, that spoke of a wisdom you could never hope to achieve.

“In time,” he’d promised, taking your hands into his, “You’ll learn that love comes in many forms, and the love you choose will always be the greatest.”

Even after everything, after years and years of disappointment, of cruelty and emptiness, you couldn’t forget his words.

So, in an act of rebellion, you chose love.

You chose the love of your brother, the brother who would lose everything, who would fall from Grace, just for defying fate.

You chose the human race, who turned their back on you, who hurt you over and over again.

You chose a better life, that seemed impossible most days- but sometimes, just sometimes, everybody lives.

And you chose wrong.

The world tore itself apart, and just when you wanted to believe it could find itself again, it would fall into the greatest trap in human history: greed.

The love in your soul turned to dust, like the cities you’d once roamed, crumbling until all that remained was an empty space and broken dreams. You’d held onto what you could of yourself, desperate to piece together the fragments into something that resembled the person you’d been, but there was no hope. The spark of hope you’d once kindled and raised to an inferno was doused, nothing but ashes in the ocean of your disappointment.

There were still a few things you couldn’t abide by, however, and Cooper Howard dragging an innocent woman through the desolate Wastelands was one of them.

You’d happened upon the scene by accident, just passing through, but the familiarity of the figure had you lurking longer than what was normally deemed safe.

“Coop?”

Your voice was gentle, like the beginning strums of a sweet song. Cooper wasn’t sure how the harshness that had etched itself into your demeanor never invaded your speech, but he would be eternally grateful. It was a goddamn godsend he didn’t believe he ever deserved.

“Well, now,” he drawled, careful to keep the smile that threatened to peek through hidden. “Last I heard, you were headed East.”

You had no such reservations, and even the years of guilt and pain couldn’t wipe away the upturn of your lips. For an action so small, it sure did radiate in a way the sun never could.

“I did, but it didn’t stick,” you shrugged, grabbing the straps of your backpack. Never one for subtlety, you gestured at the vault-dweller, who had been eyeing you with a keen interest.

She had been quiet, obviously, for the sake of herself and how Cooper might react to her asking for help. Now that you’d acknowledged her, though, she started speaking up, much to Cooper’s chagrin.

“I’m Lucy,” she said, tugging harshly at the restraints around her neck. “I’m looking for my father.”

You nodded, and the fluttering in Lucy’s heart slowed, fear mixing with her initial curiosity. You knew the ghoul holding her captive, the chances of you helping her were slim to none, but she tried to remain optimistic. Maybe, just maybe, there was still a good person on the surface.

“Might be hard to do with that,” your eyes flicked from her neck to Cooper, with a pointed raise of one brow.

He let out a low whistle, leaning back with the confidence of a man who’d lived long enough to not be afraid of shit. If it were anyone else, friend or not, he would’ve shot them dead and been done with it. He didn’t need to answer to anyone, but something deep in his chest forced his hands steady.

“She broke my vials,” he explained, cautiously avoiding your gaze. “Seems only fair she gets me more.”

“He used me as bait!” Lucy argued indignantly, trying to take a step towards you only to be tugged back by Cooper. “I had to do something.”

“Your father,” the word is strained, a haunting in your eyes Lucy can’t place, “Where is he?”

Lucy tried, once again, to walk to you. Coop, however, was keeping her on a tight leash, refusing to let her near you. It’s for his benefit, he tells himself, even if some small part of him does it for your protection.

Over the years, he’s run into you many, many times. No matter how hard he’s tried, it’s like fate keeps bringing him back to you. At first, he’d been downright horrible to you, terrified to admit that there was something in your eyes that made him feel human again. Slowly, ever slowly, like a stubborn weed you grew on him, and it’s been impossible for him to deny the way his body reacts to you.

“Coop,” you chide, your voice like velvet, enveloping his skin in a soft warmth. Fuck, he did love it when you used his name.

You gave Lucy a half smile, and the growl that threatened to leave Cooper’s mouth got caught in his throat as he realized you weren’t walking to her, but to him.

“I’ll get you the vials, just let her find her dad.”

He stood a little taller as you approached, planting his hands on his belt as he ran his tongue along his teeth.

“Darlin’, I ain’t doing this for the hell of it,” he replied, and then paused. “Mostly.”

You reached your hands out, carefully enveloping them around where he was grasping the rope. In all his years, he hadn’t recalled a single touch ever stirring his stomach the way yours did. You’d only ever touched him once before, and it was a brief graze of his cheek. This was intentful, and it felt a hell of a lot more intimate than it had any right to be.

“Please,” you breathed, and he could see the despair in your eyes - eyes that were far too old for someone who looked so young. He could never quite piece together how you fit in this world, or how you managed to look as if you’d stepped right out of the past just to have this moment with him.

He sighed, maintaining a scowl for all he was worth. Cooper Howard would not let you see the effect you had on him.

“Thank you, Coop.”

His stubborn heart skipped a beat as he clenched his jaw, his expression emanating annoyance. You weren’t perturbed, however, turning away to free Lucy.

“I’m (Y/N),” you introduced yourself, careful not to irritate the marks on her neck further. Cooper was rough around the edges, you knew that, but you saw the man beneath the armor in the little moments, the times he couldn’t quite hide who he was.

It intrigued you, made you think about yourself and the person you’d become. Perhaps, you had been too hasty in throwing that person away. Maybe, that part of yourself was still alive too, buried underneath layers of armor.

“Thank you,” she was sincere in her gratitude, and that tiny piece of yourself flared, begging to be remembered.

“I could help you too, you know,” you offered after a delayed pause, chasing the optimism she held tightly onto.

No matter how hard you tried, your soul fought back, demanded to be whole again.

“Really?” Her surprise morphed to joy, and you found it contagious.

“Now hold on just a damn minute,” Cooper interrupted, not pleased with that development. “Your services are required elsewhere.”

“I’m capable of servicing more than just you.”

His leg twitched at the insinuation, at the way you looked at him from beneath your lashes with an innocence he doubted you possessed.

“But, since you asked so nicely cowboy,” your smile was devious, your tone far too sultry for the sweltering heat of the desert. “You first.”

Lucy’s brows were to her hairline, unsure what to make of the dynamic between the two of you. Her entertainment, however, was cut blissfully short when you threw a canteen towards her, which she caught instinctually.

“Now you’re coddling her, sweetheart?”

You took a moment to wrap the lasso Cooper carried around into a neat loop, your gaze locked with his as you approached once more. Lucy was too preoccupied with her water to notice the two of you sizing one another up.

“Don’t be jealous, Coop,” you grabbed the front of his belt roughly, forcing him a step closer to you.

He fell into the motion, tracing his eyes dangerously slow from where you gripped his belt to the soft curve of your lips.

“You’re still my favorite,” you promised on a breath as you tucked his lasso securely into his waist.

His hands snatched your wrists before you pulled away, and for a brief moment, the intermingling of your breath was all that interrupted the silence. His gaze was a challenge, and yours was far too playful.

It was damn near unfair how you could walk through the apocalypse and still look like you belonged on a fucking billboard. There was an unnatural allure around you, and he wasn’t sure if it was the twinkle in your eyes, or the smoothness of your skin, or the gentle bur of your voice- but holy fuck you looked like an angel that’d accidentally stumbled into hell.

The silence was interrupted by Lucy clearing her throat, an awkward smile as she caught your attention.

“I’m sorry to interrupt but-“

“It’s okay,” you assure her, grazing your fingers along Cooper’s palms as you step from his proximity.

“Vials first, daddy dearest after,” you reminded them, taking the lead.

Lucy was more than happy to walk beside you, while Cooper trailed a small distance behind. Where Lucy was insistent on speaking, keeping up a steady conversation through the long trek, Cooper preferred to observe.

First, he focused on the way your black jumpsuit hugged all the right areas, tight enough it could be considered a damn sin. That train of thought was dangerous though, and left him with an ache he knew he couldn’t satisfy on his own.

So, he instead focused on the way you effortlessly dodged Lucy’s line of questions, and redirected the questions to learn about her. It was curious, that. As much of a tight lipped bastard that Cooper was, you were doubly so. Through the years and the friendly encounters, he’d let some of his life slip in conversation. Nothing substantial, but you certainly knew more tidbits than anyone else.

He, however, didn’t know anything about you. He knew what he observed, but you never told him anything about your past.

It helped pass the time, sifting through your noncommittal answers to make assumptions about the life you lived.

It was difficult though.

Sometimes, you talked about things like you’d witnessed them, even though it would’ve been impossible. He didn’t know your age exactly, but if he had to guess, he’d put you at maybe mid-twenties, and that’s at the oldest. It was damn near a miracle you didn’t have any missing limbs or obvious scarring. You looked as unmarked as a damn vault dweller, and he was starting to think that perhaps you had been one.

“Have you always lived on the surface?”

He never thought he’d be thankful for the damn vault dweller, but it was nice having someone try to pry some answers out of you.

“That’s a harder question to answer than you’d think,” you laughed a little coyly, like there was a joke that only you were privy to.

When it was obvious you weren’t going to continue speaking, and Lucy had far too many manners to push any further on the subject, she asked another question.

“Why’d you help me?“

Your gaze turned toward the setting sun. It had been over half the day since you’d decided to help them both, and the sun was just now slipping below the horizon. The three of you would have to rest soon.

“It’s hard to forget the person I was,” you admitted lowly.

The symphony that was your voice turned decidedly melancholy, unnaturally so. Normally, it sounded more like a romantic string of tunes that captured the essence of life. This, however, was sad, dead.

“Maybe the world needs more people like that,” Lucy provided, and Cooper didn’t miss the flash of guilt that devastated your expression.

Curious, indeed.

“I’d reckon that’s the last place we’ll find ‘fore the sun disappears,” Coop states, pointing to a rickety, old house, somehow still standing against the desert in defiance.

“It’s as good a place as any for the night,” you shrugged, leading the small group to the rest spot.

Where Cooper was cautious, weapon drawn, you were careless, opening the door like you knew nothing was in there that could hurt you. He felt a twinge of annoyance that you would be that reckless, knowing the dangers of the Wasteland. He was many things, but a protector was certainly not one of them.

“Here,” Lucy tried to hand you back the canteen you’d gifted her earlier as you settled yourself down in a corner.

The building was definitely empty, and provided some amount of protection from both the elements and any creatures lurking about, but there wasn’t any intact furniture. You’d found a relatively comfortable pile of sand and laid your pack down, as if it were a pillow.

“Keep it,” you refused to take the offering. You were honestly a bit surprised she had even saved some for you.

“But you haven’t had anything to drink all day.”

It was an oddity that Cooper had noticed too. While both he and the vault-dweller had taken an occasional sip of water or a bite to eat, you hadn’t done either, and the brutal pace you’d set hadn’t reflected that.

“Believe me, “ you said, turning your back to your two traveling companions. “I’m okay.”

Obviously unsatisfied with leaving the conversation, Lucy frowned, but obeyed. Her probing look to the ghoul warranted no answers, and eventually she found her own patch of sand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next few days passed along in a similar manner, and the more of you that the two observed, the more confused they became. They didn’t voice their concerns, however, far more focused on the destination you had in mind.

“It’s…”

Lucy trailed off, side eyeing you with a questioning look.

“A lab,” you supplied.

“Right, a lab!” She echoed enthusiastically, deciding it best not to point out that it was very much in a state of disrepair and the likelihood of anything surviving the looting prevalent throughout the Wastelands was little to none.

“Sugar, I don’t have the time to be fucking around right now.”

It was the closest tone to anger that Cooper had spoken to you since his first year of knowing you. In the past two days specifically his coughing had grown more severe and more often.

You’d explained a generalized version of what would happen without help to Lucy after the first night, and since then she’d been a bit more apologetic to the ghoul, even if he was a dick.

“Stay out here,” you ordered, not waiting for their inevitable protest as you slipped into the decrepit building with a loud screech of the door.

At the very least, your traveling companions didn’t follow you into the descending hallway, which was more than you expected.

Whatever source had powered the underground facility had died years ago, leaving the bulk of the supplies sealed tight behind an impenetrable door. The bunker was lined with 2 feet of lead, and a door weighing many tons. It was nigh impossible to get in, and if you were anyone else, you would’ve considered it a lost cause.

Instead, you cast a glance back towards the faded light where the entrance was, ensuring that you were not followed while you grabbed hold of the door handle.

You sighed, yanking with a great deal of force until the door made a loud pop, coming unhinged and falling to the ground with a deafening thud. There was a hushed murmur from where Lucy had yelled down to you, but you didn’t bother replying, instead focused on the rows and rows of vials.

Most of the initial testing sites were still secret, a forgotten part of history that, despite their usefulness in the current state of the world, had fallen into the cracks of negligence. Luckily for you, and by extension Cooper, there was enough supply to last him damn near a year if he could ration and store it properly.

Just as you dropped the first vial into your backpack, which was in a convenient metal container, you heard a distinct whooshing noise. You didn’t need to look at the falling object to know who had decided to drop by, and with an exasperated sigh, you tilted your head toward the ceiling of the very dark, very cold bunker.

“Brother…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Do you think we should check on her?” Lucy was having trouble keeping still, straining her eyes down the dark hallway. “What if she’s hurt?“

“She ain’t hurt,” Cooper shot back, leaning back against the dingy building and crossing his arms over his chest.

“She could be de-“

“Finish that sentence and you might find yourself there, sweetheart,” He threatened, his fingers reaching down toward his holstered gun.

Maybe it’d be better to keep her mouth shut, but after a tense silence, and quite literally nothing better to do, Lucy couldn’t help herself.

“So, you and (Y/N)-“

“Do you like breathin’? ‘Cause I’m getting the distinct feeling that you certainly do not.”

“I couldn’t help but notice you look at her with this-“

“I have no qualms with blasting a hole through your head ‘nd tellin’ her you decided to run off.”

“And then there’s the way she talks to you-“

“I’m gonna stop you right there, sweetheart. If one more word comes out of your mouth, it’ll be the last.”

The two met stare for stare, the threat lingering in the hot breeze between them. Lucy had no doubt she was beginning to grate on the ghoul’s nerves, but she also didn’t really think he’d harm her, not when it was obvious you’d know it was him that did so.

He wouldn’t risk you being upset with him.

Probably.

And because Lucy really didn’t know when to stop talking, she spoke one more time.

“I know that you think I’m naive, and maybe I am, but I do know that life is unexpected and people die, like, a lot.” She dragged in a breath, envisioning her last, and only, memory with her mother, surprised that Cooper had actually let her speak for this long without interrupting.

“Especially up here, so maybe, just… keep that in mind.”

The silence stretched, and for a long moment, Lucy was sure he was going to shoot her. Or at the very least, not answer.

Ever so quietly, however, in a low grumble she heard him mutter, “I know.”

The air felt significantly less murderous after that, and she left the ghoul to contemplate his complex feelings on the subject. She might not fully understand the extent of your connection, or even why you felt that way towards him, but she could appreciate the raw emotion that sparked in the conversation between you both.

If anything good came out of her coming to the surface, besides bringing her dad home, she hopes it would be them realizing the gift they have. Idly, she thought about the knight she’d met back at Filly. That was the first real connection she’d had with anyone, as silly as it was to think about.

“I’m glad nobody’s shot,” you interrupted the quiet contemplation, the smile on your lips not quite reaching your eyes.

Whatever happened in the mysterious lab couldn’t have been good, but you seemed entirely unscathed outside the haunted, nervous look in your eyes.

“Ain’t you a sight for sore eyes,” Cooper greeted, tipping his hat back a titch so he could inspect your person. If he took a little extra time to appreciate the curves of your body- well, who could blame him?

“It’s cleared out,” you rattled your pack in the air before you, nearly dropping some of the overstuffed vials.

Coop let out a low whistle, and Lucy commented, “That’s enough for a lifetime.”

“Not quite,” you laughed, passing along the top one to Cooper. “But it will certainly last a while.”

While the ghoul tended to his needs, Lucy and you wandered further into the Wasteland, eyeing the pipboy on her wrist with the directions to the head.

“So the head for your dad?”

There it was again. The sourness in your voice at the word “dad”. Lucy wanted to ask without being too terribly intrusive, but let the subject drop.

“Did anything happen in the lab?”

You bummed, shaking your head. It was clearly a lie, further proven by the frown that settled on your lips. There wasn’t a lot of yourself you trusted other people with, especially not when it came to your family, but your soul was burning with the desire to shed your armor.

“My brother’s name is Lucy,” you said suddenly, unprompted. “Well, his nickname.”

Lucy, at the very least knowing where the boundary was, decided not to press her luck. Despite seeming to be such a small piece of information, she could see the effort you put into sharing it nonetheless.

“Lucy?” Cooper echoed, having snuck up at some point to follow you.

You weren’t bothered that he’d overheard though. On more than one occasion you’d wanted to share pieces of yourself with Cooper.

“Lucifer,” you provided his full name, a twinge at the top of your shoulder blade, where your battered, broken wings began, ran down the length of your spine.

“Like the devil?” Lucy inquired cautiously.

A laugh crawled up your throat, and before you could stop it, you were giggling heartily, nodding your head.

“That’d be the one, yeah.”

She didn’t understand the truth you were telling her. You knew she wouldn’t, couldn’t possibly fathom the implications that ensued with that knowledge either.

Lucy casted one quick glance at Cooper, then cleared her throat and claimed she was going off the path to use the bathroom quick.

There was a tense silence that permeated the hot, desert air when she left, a new development that neither occupant knew how to navigate. Finally, Coop broke it.

“Ya know, you’ve never actually talked about… all o’ that.”

Your family.

He didn’t say it in so many words, but you could fill in the unspoken topic without much thought. You hummed, acknowledging your own secrecy regarding your past.

“Sometimes it’s better to leave the past buried.”

Coop breathed out a laugh.

“Don’t I know it.”

The smile you gave him was genuine, albeit small. Hesitantly, you reached out towards his gloved hand, grasping it lightly between your own. You didn’t have anything you really wanted to say, didn’t need to, actually. He could see it in your eyes, the gratefulness shining in your bright gaze, clearing some of the guilt that stayed stagnant on your person.

“The vaultie reminded me today,” he drawled, his voice even lower than normal. If you didn’t know him any better, you’d say he was almost flustered.

“People die.”

You waited for him to continue, and when he didn’t, you raised a brow in question.

Cooper felt his heart jump to his throat. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t bare himself- not now, maybe not ever. The world felt like it started spinning around him, and he pulled his hand from yours, cradling it to your chest.

“Just hope you’re not one of ‘em, darlin’,” he finished lamely.

You swallowed, deciding it was better not to push. Not today.

“You too, Coop.”

Words simmered between you. Dangerous, terrifying words. But Cooper couldn’t get them out, couldn’t get past the panic that played his heart like a damn fiddle.

And you, well you couldn’t let go of your guilt, couldn’t see past the pain of watching the world go to shit and not doing anything to stop it.

So those words stayed unspoke, utterances of the heart, but not of the lips. Maybe, if they were never voiced, they could freeze, and eventually crumble, like time did to all.

Lucy returned then, and the unlikely group continued on as before, leaving the forgotten words to decay away in the dry sand of the Wasteland

#cooper howard x reader #the ghoul x reader #fallout x reader #cooper howard x you #cooper howard insert #i love him #i warned y’all #anyways #bye I have no regrets

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freyjhasdesiredreality · 1 year

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Schatje and The Lion (Max Verstappen x Reader)

(Credits to GIF owner)

A/N: Hey people! This is the first of my 24-race winners x reader challange. We are starting with Max Verstappen, the winner of Bahrain GP! Hope you enjoy!! (English is not my first language, grammar mistakes are my own and I apologise for them!)

WC: 1000+

Warnings: Childhood friends to lovers, abusive boyfriend (not Max!!), injuries, blood (Let me know if I missed any!!)

Max absolutely hated your boyfriend. It was even beyond hate. If he had a chance he would rip his head off from his shoulders, put you in his wardrobe and never let anyone touch you ever again. You were so precious to him. You opened your eyes to the world together. All he knew was you growing up.

When he won his first race in karting, you were there for him, cheering from the first row with Jos, holding your hand. He still remembers that day, hugging you so tight. He believed you were his lucky charm, so he begged his father to convince your parents to come to his every race.

Years passed, many things changed in both of your lifes. The only thing that didn’t change was your friendship. It grew stronger each day, you were inseparable. You were his comfort zone. Whenever he felt overwhelmed from his world, he took refuge in you. He didn’t want to share you with anyone else but he knew better than that. You were a person too, you had your own life.

When he felt for you, he made a plan to open up to you. He wanted to confess his feelings at his first championship celebration party but things didn’t go as he wished. You brought a guy to his party and introduced him as your boyfriend.

“I didn’t know you were seeing someone, schatje,” he said, eyeing up and down the man next to you. He was challenging him, claiming his place on you. He was unhappy, and he made it very clear to the man. “And I didn’t know, the famous Max Verstappen calls my girlfriend ‘schatje’,” he struck back. It was like a fight between alphas for their only omega.

“Well, since she's been my best friend since the age of 1, I call her whatever I want,” he spitted.

Things were heathen up so you interrupted them but made sure you gave Max a speech to be nice with him.

“He is trying to own you and it’s my fault?” he yelled. “This day was supposed to be about me and he ruined it!”

He regretted his words right after they left his mouth but it was too late. Tears threatened your eyes, you struggled to find words.

“It’s always about you, isn’t it?” he wanted to interrupt but you shut him up. “Save it, Max. You’ll call me when you want to apologize.”

He called you the next day to make everything right. He even offered to buy dinner for you and your boyfriend as an apology. When he learned he was a Mercedes fan, he swallowed up his pride and talked with George Russell to get him a paddock pass. You were happy so he was happy too. At least that’s what he thought.

Behind the closed doors, you were constantly abused. When you wanted to break up, he beat you. This became a routine. Every time you found courage to leave, he found a way to keep you in his place. So you covered up. Put on a nice smile for Max. You knew he would lose his mind if he learned. He was fighting for his second championship. He didn’t need a distraction.

Cries of joy could be heard through the closed doors. He was the world champion once again and of course there will be a party. Max wanted to see you with him once again and he made sure you were coming. He booked a car for you, so you didn’t have to take Uber. Your boyfriend didn’t like it. He beat you until he made sure you couldn’t cover up with only makeup so you had to stay.

“Wait here until I come back. I’ll bring food,” he said and left like nothing happened. It was now or never. You listened to his footsteps, took your purse and ran for your life. Luckily, the car that Max hired for you was still waiting after 25 minutes.

“Miss Y/L/N are you sure you don’t want to go to hospital?” the driver kindly asked with concern in his voice. “Just please take me to Max,” you cried. You hated yourself for being so vulnerable. The driver did as you asked, drove you to his hotel. “Mr Verstappen hasn’t left yet, Miss. Room 2501, I’ll inform the reception,” he said.

You thanked him and rushed to Max's room, like you are still being chased. You knocked the door violently. You heard his murmur silently wondering what was so important. He opened the door and froze. He couldn’t believe his eyes. The woman he loved for many years, standing on his door, tears on her eyes and covered up with bruises and blood.

“Y/N?” was all he managed to say. His heart broke when you broke down in tears, begging for his forgiveness that you ignored his judgment and still went for something you wanted. He took you in his arms, “Calm down schatje, it’s not your fault.” He was filled with rage, wanted to go to your hotel and beat the shit out of him like how he did to you.

You hugged him so tight, asked him not to leave you. “I’m sorry, I ruined your day again,” you said can’t look at his face. He gently grabbed your chin and lifted your head, “I don’t want to hear this ever again, liefje, okay? Nothing is more important than you,” he wiped the tears from your cheeks. “Let’s clean you up, okay? Your injuries look bad, I don’t want them to get infected.”

During winter break, he absolutely did his best to heal your broken soul. You were finally feeling like before, ready for the world with him on your side and so was he. The season was here and it was already the last lap of the race. He passed the checkered flag, finishing first. You were in the garage, cheering for him with the rest of the team. He met you in the crowd, hugged you so tight. Before he left, he held your cheek and leaned in to kiss. It was a soft, gentle kiss, but it sent sparks flying through both of your bodies.

“I’ve waited for this for a long time,” he said grinning ear to ear. Everyone cheered for you when you both kissed again but this time with more passion. “Go get your cup, my lion.”

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, requests are open for both F1 and Marvel!!

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen imagine

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olderthannetfic · 16 days

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AI and queerness: Thank you! AI is great for small domain tasks with a huge number of variables that classic algorithms would struggle to consider all and would be near impossible for humans to fine tune properly (audio speech synthesis or cancer cell diagnostic for example). It sucks at anything else. AI will only replicate and amplify the biases in the training data. You don't even have to maliciously slant training data. Subconscious biases will show up just as much. (1/2)

AI and queerness (2/2). That's why it bugs me when people talk about AI as if it will solve anything. No, hiring processes won't get less biased because a rational and logical AI makes the choices. It makes the choices that seem statistically sensible based on the biased training data given by the company! Also LLMs, they don't tell you what's true, they tell you what sounds statistically nice. That's why they impress. They sound good and confident. It would be a liar, if it was sentient!

And even aside from the stuff that's biased in the way we usually mean, there's the false positives for the big thing vs. the small thing issue.

If I like the more popular thing, I might have to scroll through 10% junk to find it vs. 90% junk for the unpopular thing. AI isn't going to prioritize queer things unless it's explicitly programmed to do so and trained on an appropriate dataset because the world overall is very straight.

(Can you tell I've been shopping for romance novels on kindle? Haha.)

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months

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Silver Lining 12

Warnings: non/dubcon, speech impediment, bullying and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: silverfox!Bucky Barnes

Summary: You have an unpleasant encounter with an older man.

Part of the Silverfox AU

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You leave your things in the guestroom, feeling less than homey in the unexpectedly cozy space. You stop at the top of the stairs and listen below. You hear a door and feel cold air seep in. Bucky grunts and you hear a loud clack as he mutters.

As you descend, the noise comes clearer. You approach the wide doorway to the front room and peer inside. He kneels in front of the fireplace, setting split logs inside as he bends forward, reaching back to rub his lower back.

He takes a flyer from the pile by his knee and shreds it into strips, stuffing it under the tent of wood as kindling. He takes the long barbeque lighter and lights and end of the newsprint and leans forward to blow the flame to life.

You observe him, rapt by his diligent work. You're not very good at those things. Not much of a camper or anything like that.

Finally, the wood begins to crackle and he sits back on his heel. He stacks the leftover wood against the wall and gathers up the newspaper. He places it on top and tilts his head up to stretch his neck.

He groans as he turns, starting as he sees you standing in the door. You clear your throat and sidle through.

"Sorry, I... d-didn't w-want to get i-in the way," you murmur.

"So, how do you feel about sandwiches?" He asks without a beat, "about the only thing I got that doesn't need the stove."

"Y-yeah, that's fine," you shrug and head back to the window, finding comfort in the peaceful fall of snow.

"Ham or turkey?" He asks.

"T-turkey, sure," you say over your shoulder, "I c-can help."

You turn to peek over your shoulder. He shakes his head, "I think I can handle it." He hesitates, "you don't think I'm tryna poison ya, do you?"

You blink and give a look. You know he's joking but it's a bit dark. You try to laugh but it's more a croak.

"Kidding," he says tenuously.

"I kn-know," you reply, "sor-ry, just... still a l-little antsy."

"Ah," he nods, "I'll... be right back."

You face the window again as he strides into the kitchen. Well, this is awkward. You rub your neck as you stare out at the night, bright with the pure snow. The noise of cutlery and plates fills the silence.

You close your eyes, trying to clear your mind. At least in this weather, you know his friend won't be coming back. Mr. Rogers... the last person you ever wanted to see again. You can barely even think about him.

You'll have to tell Lisa. She'll help you figure this out. She doesn't know everything but she knows he's dangerous.

You shudder and hug yourself. You don't feel good about it, even if he is gone. He knows you know Bucky, you could run into him again. You really don't think this is going to work out. He's ruined another job for you.

"Here ya go," Bucky interrupts your spiralling dread.

You flinch and turn to him as he crosses the room. You accept the plate and look at the tall can in his other hand. He offers it along with the sandwich.

"It's craft," he explains, "I got a bunch and it's just me so... I figured after today, you could use it."

"Oh, uh, th-thanks," you take the tall can as well, "I'll t-try it."

You sit down in the armchair and place the plate on the low coffee table. You take one of the coasters and lay it down. You pop the tab of the beer and sip as Bucky disappears back into the kitchen.

When he returns, you're setting down the can. It's alright, not really your favourite. You don't really drink and when you do, you don't go for beer.

"Th-thanks," you say as he sits one the couch, a can of his own in hand as he balances his plate in his lap.

"Yeah, don't sweat it. Bit of an unexpected twist to the night but better than getting lost out there in the snow," he comments.

"I g-guess," you say before nibbling on the crust.

"So... why'd you run off so quickly?"

"I..." you shake your head and swallow. You don't know what to say. He must think you're dramatic.

"You didn't like my friend," he says, "you're shy or something?"

You keep your eyes down and take another bite. You don't want to think about it anymore. It's as if you can feel Mr. Rogers, his hand on the back of your neck, his desk under your cheek--

"Sorry, I ov-ov-over-re-re-acted," you sputter, "I w-wa-was-wasn't expect-ting h-him."

"Me either."

You focus on eating. Letting him linger in silence. You reach for the beer and slurp.

"You're worked up again."

"S-st-stop," you say quietly, "I-I-I'm f-fine."

"Don't sound fine."

"I h-h-have a st-stutter," you exclaim, "y-you don't n-need to ke-ke-keep remin-ding me."

"I wasn't meaning..." he huffs and juts his jaw out, "I'm trying to ask you if you're okay?"

"I s-said so," you snap. You close your eyes and hang your head.

"Sorry," he apologises, again. Somehow, it doesn't help. "And I'm sorry you have to put up with an asshole like me."

"I d-d-didn't say th-that," you open your eyes and put what's left of the sandwich on the plate.

"I must be if you're trying so hard to get away from me," he sniffs, "I'm used to it. I know I can be blunt but... I thought we were working well together.”

You frown and entwine your fingers in your lap. Your heart is hammering. You could tell him right then who his friend is. Why you wanted to run. You could do it but you're embarrassed and scared and after all, you never did tell him no. You let it happen.

Your eyes tinge and your nostrils flair. You gulp thickly, "I--I-- I'm wh-what you s-s-said. A dis-dis-disappointment to ev-everyone."

"That isn't..."

"D-don't ask me w-w-why," you turn your face away as your eyes gleam, "ask him."

"Him? What?"

You cover your mouth. Why did you say that? Stop talking.

"N-nothing."

"You know him?" He asks.

"N-n-no," you grab the plate and bring it into your lap, "n-no. I--I'll h-help w-with the re-re-recording, o-okay?"

"How...?"

"Stop!" You squeeze the bread until you mush out a glop of mayo. You look down at the plate and drop the sandwich. "I s-s-said I'd do i-it. O-okay?! J-just--"

--like you told him. Just like did whatever he told you to. Just like he did whatever he wanted to you.

"Fine, alright," he raises his hands defensively, "god, you know, I'm trying to be nice and you just can't accept it."

Your lip trembles. You can't do it. You're fighting so hard and he just can't stop. You said you'd do the stupid show. You just want to change the subject.

"I... what did I do?" He's quiet.

You look at him as a tear slips out, "i-it's me," you say creakily, "I'm u-u-useless."

You stand and put the plate down next to the beer. You don't wait for an answer. He calls your name as you rush away, eyes bleary as you stagger to the stairs and grip the railing as you barrel up them. You shut yourself in the guestroom and sit against the inside of the door.

You're so stupid. Get over it! It's over so why don't you just grow up like everyone keeps telling you?

#Bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #drabble #series #au #avengers #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #silver lining #silverfox au

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artist-issues · 3 months

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How many times do we have to say:

Create characters with strength of virtue, not strength of skills.

I just finished A Tale of Two Cities with the character Lucie Manette, who "does" nothing but love the people around her and extend compassion toward everyone within her sphere of influence. She makes no "choices" that contemporary audiences would award the stupid badge of "giving her agency" to. She doesn't make a speech that saves Charles Darnay's life. She doesn't lead the victims of the French Revolution into a counter-revolt. She doesn't fight off the soldiers that come to take her husband, or beat up Madame Defarge when she threatens her child, or even come up with the escape plan to flee Paris.

She makes none of those kinds of choices. (You know who does? Madame Defarge. But the compare-contrast between those two can wait till another day.)

But she makes these kinds of choices:

She'll give her honest testimony in a trial for a potential traitor to the crown, and demonstrate her compassion and grief for a near-stranger, wearing that vulnerability on her sleeve in front of a huge court of people clamoring for blood.

She'll be compassionate toward Sydney Carton, even though he's rude, careless, and brings a bad attitude into her happy home.

She'll spend the energy of her life making that home happy.

She'll stand for two hours in any weather on the bloody streets of the French Revolution so her husband might have a chance of glimpsing her and getting some comfort from the prison window.

She'll trust the older men in her life when they ask her to.

She'll allow an old woman to care for her and go everywhere she goes, and treat her like a child, as long as it makes the old woman in question happy.

And what, WHAT is the consequence of these kinds of decisions, choices, that some ignorant people call "passive?"

That old woman is allowed to love Lucie Manette so much that she defeats the villainess in the climax of the story, holding Madame Defarge back from getting revenge with sheer strength that comes directly from that love.

Her father is allowed to draw strength from the fact that Lucie believes she can depend on him--because she chooses to let her father take the lead and do the work of saving her husband, Dr. Manette is fully "recalled to life;" he doesn't have to identify as a traumatized, mentally unstable victim anymore, because Lucie is treating him like he can be the hero.

Her husband does see her in the street, and does draw strength from that--just that--instead of losing his mind the way her father, starved for a glimpse of his loved ones, did during his own imprisonment.

Lucie's home is so full of the love and kindness that she fills it with that not only does her father return to remembering who he is after his long imprisonment--but Mr. Lorry, a bachelor with no family, can feel at home with a full life, there. Miss Pross, whose family abandoned and bankrupt her, has a home with a full life, there. Charles Darnay, whose life of riches and pleasure as a Marquis was empty, has a home with a full life, there. In Lucie's home, because she spends her life making it the kind of home others can find rest in.

Sydney Carton, a man whose whole life has been characterized by a LACK of "care" for himself or anyone else, suddenly cares about Lucie. When he thought it was impossible to. And he doesn't care about her because she's pretty. Her beauty was just a source of bitterness for him--one more pleasure he could've had but can't. Until he "saw her with her father," and saw her strength of virtue, of pity, of compassion, of self-sacrificial love--then he felt that she "kindled me, a heap of ashes, into fire." He started caring about life again, where it was associated with her, because she brought to life every good thing. Just by being a woman of good virtue. And we know what that inspiration led him to.

Without Lucie's strength of virtue, and the decisions that naturally came from that, none of the "active" choices other characters made would have happened. Sydney would not have been redeemed. Darnay would not have been saved. Her father never would've been recalled to life. Miss Pross and Mr. Lorry would've had no light or love in their lives. Even Jerry would've had no occasion to learn from his mistakes and resolve to stop abusing his family.

A character like Dickens' Golden Thread, who does what a woman should do, inspires the choices other characters make. That makes her more powerful, in her own way, than the heroes and any decisions they make. Because she's the cause. She's the inspiration. She's the representation of everything good, right, precious, worth fighting for.

Lucie Manette's not the only character like this. Cinderella. The original Disney Jasmine. The original Disney Ariel. Lady Galadriel. Jane Eyre. Amy March.

"Behind every great man is a great woman," indeed! Absolutely! Bravo!

Hang on! Hang on to those kinds of characters. Those a real "strong female" characters. The muses, the inspirations, the reminders of The Greater Good. The people who make fighting the dragons worth it at all. Who cares about fighting the dragon? That's not so great, without her.

Don't forget those kinds of characters! Reading Dickens just makes me desperate for our generation to keep up the reminder: make characters that the next ten generations can learn from: strength of virtue is much more important than silly little strength of skill.

#Dickens #Charles dickens #writing #storytelling #behind every great man is a great woman #strong female characters #strong woman #Lucie Manette #a tale of two cities #classics #writing advice #feminism #feminism is poison #Christianity #Christian fiction #tropes #Sydney carton

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go-see-a-starwar · 6 months

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Today’s installment of “I watch Hayden Christensen’s filmography and tell you how pretty he is in it” is Awake (2007).

Hayden is Clay Beresford Jr, heir to a billion dollar fortune who’s struggling to escape the shadow of his deceased businessman father. His heart is torn between his loving but overprotective mother and his beautiful girlfriend Sam, who he’s scared his mother will not approve of. Oh and that heart? It’s weak and he needs a transplant. But when the anesthesia for his heart surgery fails to fully put him under he discovers a sinister plot.

How pretty is he in it?

Ridiculously gorgeous, a damn dream. None of those billionaire romance books on Kindle Unlimited can compare.

Does he get drenched at some point? A classic Hayden in a Tub scene happens in the first five minutes and what a drenching it is. 4💦 out of 5

How’s the movie itself: If you have any familiarity with hospitals and cardiology, the medical scenes will likely make you go “wow that’s not how it works at all.” But if you can manage to suspend your disbelief regarding the medical stuff and focus on the suspense and drama of the plot it’s a decent psychological thriller. It’s also very beautifully shot with a ridiculously good-looking cast.

Is the RottenTomato rating unfairly low?: it’s sits at 23% and I feel it should be at least double that, it has a solid cast that give good performances all around and a very intriguing premise.

Surprise Star Wars!: Hayden playing a character with mommy issues and having a secret, somewhat forbidden love affair is a little familiar. A more tangible Star Wars tie is Awake writer and director Joby Harold would go on to be a head writer for the Obi Wan Kenobi series, aka Hayden’s triumphant return to Star Wars (Hayden thanked Joby specifically in his Saturn award acceptance speech).

In Short: The fascinating (if not entirely plausible) premise and overall beautiful look (and cast) makes this one of Hayden’s better films. And if nothing else it contains great inspo for your modern AU Anakin/Star Wars fics. (also has a couple adorable Hayden bloopers)

#hayden christensen #clay beresford #jessica alba #awake (2007)#awake #while the medical plots not realistic there is some medical ickiness so TW for the squeamish #gsasw reviews hayden movies #not sw

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blinkpen · 4 months

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note: i wouldn't bother finally verbalizing my held back for literally years hateboner for these shows just for the crime of being poorly written garbage if the creator was not some i personally know for a fact is an abusive toxic nepobaby hack who stole shit and left multiple people i love literally fucking traumatized after working for her and treating anybody she doesnt parcel into the Secret Special Mean Girls Clique Discord as disposable kindling to be burnt up used and discarded the instant that's more beneficial to her than keeping them around, and all while every time they hinted at that abuse everyone screamed anybody who ever said anything bad about viv ever is lying bc everyone who viv decides to be nice to says she's nice and also they don't want their conscience to itch when they look at cartewn so it MUST be a lie for the sake of comfort, and then see no irony in serving as viv's personal attack dogs to silence any and all speech or even fanart she takes issue with

#she points at someone and frowns and then legions of freaks send literal fucking rape threats death threats and start doxxing #and she sits on her hands acts like she is but a delicate tender lamb about it #darla dimple but IRL #she's a transphobe also but nobody cares for some reason

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unpretty · 3 months

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do you know of any good epub readers for android? i used to use overdrive but thats not an option right now sadly

I've always used MoonReader, or alternately I've uploaded the epub to google books to read it there. You can also email it to yourself to add it to your kindle library. I like MoonReader best because it has the most options to tweak appearance and functionality etc, as well as access to android's native text-to-speech, so I've never really bothered messing with other apps.

#original #how to internet

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pazzesco · 7 months

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~ Helen Keller ~

Helen Keller (colorized)

Miss Helen Keller - Portrait US Library of Congress

Helen Keller was an author, lecturer, suffragists and crusader for the handicapped. Born in Tuscumbia, Alabama, She lost her sight and hearing at the age of nineteen months to an illness now believed to have been scarlet fever. Five years later, on the advice of Alexander Graham Bell, her parents applied to the Perkins Institute for the Blind in Boston for a teacher, and from that school hired Anne Mansfield Sullivan.

Keller (left) with Anne Sullivan vacationing on Cape Cod in July 1888

Through Sullivan’s extraordinary instruction, the little girl learned to understand and communicate with the world around her. She went on to acquire an excellent education and to become an important influence on the treatment of the blind and deaf.

Helen Keller in 1899 with lifelong companion and teacher Anne Sullivan. Photo taken by Alexander Graham Bell at his School of Vocal Physiology and Mechanics of Speech.

Her unprecedented accomplishments in overcoming her disabilities made her a celebrity at an early age; at twelve she published an autobiographical sketch in the Youth’s Companion, and during her junior year at Radcliffe, she produced her first book, The Story of My Life, still in print in over fifty languages.

Helen Keller — Groundbreaking Girls

Painting of Keller's colorized portrait by Wayne Pascall

Her friendship with Mark Twain

"Helen Keller, Miss Sullivan, Mark Twain and Laurence Hutton."

“From that day until his death we were friends,” Keller recalled later. She was already a fan of his work and thrilled to his deep voice and his many hand gestures, which she followed with her own fingertips. She wrote of him:

"He entered into my limited world with enthusiasm just as he might have explored Mars. Blindness was an adventure that kindled his curiosity. He treated me not as a freak, but as a handicapped woman seeking a way to circumvent extraordinary difficulties. There was something of divine apprehension in this rare naturalness towards those who differ from others in external circumstances."

Helen Keller with Mark Twain - Twain came to Keller’s defense, after reading in her book about a plagiarism scandal that occurred in 1892 when, at only twelve years old, she was accused of lifting her short story “The Frost King” from Margaret Canby’s “Frost Fairies.” Though a tribunal acquitted Keller of the charges, the incident still pissed off Twain. The letter is attached to the photo above

Letters between Mark Twain and Helen Keller.

Though Helen hailed from a respectable Southern family, 19th-century America was flummoxed by the prospect of teaching a deaf-blind girl to talk, read, and learn. Helen’s tutor and governess, Annie Sullivan, fought for her admission to various schools that offered special education. But the cost of educating someone like Helen was high. Clemens wrote to a rich friend on her behalf:

"It won’t do for America to allow this marvelous child to retire from her studies because of poverty. If she can go on with them she will make a fame that will endure in history for centuries. Along her special illness she is the most extraordinary product of all the ages…lay siege to your husband & get him to interest himself and Messrs. John D. & William Rockefeller & the other Standard Oil chiefs in Helen’s case; get them to subscribe an annual aggregate of six or seven hundred or a thousand dollars- & agree to continue this for three or four years, until she has completed her college course…."

Thanks to his intervention, the support of his friend Henry Rogers and Standard Oil, Helen was able to complete her education and graduate cum laude from Harvard’s Radcliffe College. Clemens and Keller remained friends for the rest of his life. They shared an interest in radical politics and a love for life despite their different temperaments. Helen, an avowed optimist, often made fun of Clemens for his avowed pessimism, telling him she didn’t believe a word of his sardonic jokes. As for Clemens, Chambliss writes that he felt she was one of the most important historical figures of all time, “the most wondrous person of her sex that has existed on this earth since Joan of Arc.”

Keller, Sullivan, Twain, & Sullivan’s husband John Macy above at Twain’s home

We also have Twain—not playwright William Gibson—to thank for the “miracle worker” title given to Keller’s teacher, Anne Sullivan. As a tribute to Sullivan for her tireless work with Keller, he presented her with a postcard that read, “To Mrs. John Sullivan Macy with warm regard & with limitless admiration of the wonders she has performed as a ‘miracle-worker.’” In his 1903 letter to Keller, he called Sullivan “your other half… for it took the pair of you to make complete and perfect whole.”

Twain was especially impressed by Keller’s autobiography, writing to her, “I am charmed with your book—enchanted.” (See his endorsement in a 1903 advertisement, above.)

Keller & Clemens also shared a love of dogs

Helen Keller with her dog Sir Thomas.

Helen Keller seated on a window bench with an arm around her dog Sieglinde.

Helen Keller seated on a bench indoors, possibly in the photographer's studio wth a dog seated on the ground beside her.

Helen Keller seated on a slatted bench in front of a Farm House in 1935 with her dogs Dileas, on her lap, Maida beside her & Golden.

Helen Keller teaching a girl sign language.

Widely honored throughout the world and invited to the White House by every U.S. president from Grover Cleveland to Lyndon B. Johnson, Keller altered the world’s perception of the capacities of the handicapped. More than any act in her long life, her courage, intelligence, and dedication combined to make her a symbol of the triumph of the human spirit over adversity.

Helen Keller - 1880-1968

Helen Keller Archive

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