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bookdragonideas · 6 months

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Here's the thing. I'm a girl, and as a girl, I really like it when girls are portrayed in fiction. Especially fantasy.

But so much fiction/fantasy mixes up 'girls' with 'unstoppable forces of female badass' and there's not necessarily anything wrong with having a character who is an 'unstoppable forces of female badass'. But it gets old real quick. And it is not the same as portraying normal girls, or having good female characters.

And that's one of the many reasons I love Avatar the Last Airbender.

Because all the girl characters have flaws and weaknesses and sometimes act like idiots or jerks. They get emotional and make mistakes. They lose fights or arguments or are just wrong sometimes. Some of them are amazing warriors, and some aren't. Some are powerful or special and some are normal, with nothing special about them.

And I Love that.

I was around the same age as Katara when I first watched Atla. And I instantly connected with her as a character. I loved her optimistic attitude and her fighting spirit. And I could relate with her anger, and with her maternal instinct. I admired her fighting skills of course, but I loved how the show portrayed her compassion and kindness, the way she could both beat up a bunch of bullies AND enjoy a relaxing day at the spa. She was a baddass warrior that should never be crossed. But she was also a normal teenage girl who had a lot of the same internal struggles and problems that I did.

(I never connected to Toph on the same level, but I did relate to her on a few things. She's an adorable trash gremlin who would commit any crime for fun and I love that. But she struggles with being both independent and letting people help her, and I still struggle with that sometimes. I've learned that sometimes, you can help others by letting them help you.)

Yue is, in my opinion, a perfect example of a type of hero that seems to be disappearing. She is not a warrior. She is not a fighter. She's not even a bender.

Yue is a perfect princess, a perfect daughter. She is extremely feminine in a rather older sense.

And she was the only one who could save the world. She gave up everything for her people. She saved everything, everyone, the entire world. Without ever becoming a fighter.

Yue is a perfect example of a girl who was never more than a girl, and how that's okay. Not every girl has to be rough and tumble and fight for her rights in order to change everything. Sometimes it's okay to just be a quiet obedient girly girl. Sometimes that's all it takes to be a hero.

And I love that. Yue is strong in her own way. She is unique and interesting. She appears in only a few episodes and yet manages to be one of my favorite characters.

Song is another great example of this. Song is a healer in a small town. We don't see much of her but we see her compassion and empathy. She is gentle and generous. A healer not a fighter.

She watches Zuko steal her ostrich horse and does nothing.

Is that because she's kind and generous and knows he needs it more? Or is it because she's a healer girl who knows she can't actually stop those two from taking the horse? Maybe neither, maybe both. I have always thought that the scene where Zuko steals the horse and only the audience knows she saw it is one of the most thought-provoking in the series.

Suki is a badass warrior woman who is an awesome fighter and good leader. She is one of the best non bender fighter we see in the entire show. She was one of the smartest, most efficient, and powerful characters we ever saw.

She kissed a boy she had just met because she thought he was cute.

Now don't get me wrong I love SokkaxSuki. Its one of the best couples in the show.

But Suki totally did the old 'love at first sight' thing. And that is awesome. Because when she kisses him she delivers one of the best lines, not only from her, but, I think, in the entire show.

"I AM a warrior, but I'm a girl too."

Being a warrior doesn't mean that she isn't also a teenage girl. She might be a fighter, but she still gets crushes and likes to flirt with cute boys. And hey, she picked a good one. Not every boy is going to come break you out of prison.

Anyways, let's have more realistic girls in fiction. And please enjoy the next 24 hours.

#bookdragonideas #atla #katara #suki #yue #princess yue #avatar the last airbender

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callmerainman · 8 months

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Alastor with a pure hearted s/o

a/n I'm fully aware that Alastor is aroace. My scenarios are meant to be interpreted as a deep, unconditional love, not necessarily romantic. I'm not aroace but I'm all for educating myself, so please if something's off let me (gently) know. Hope you enjoy :)

TW! canon typical violence

being a twisted person is not a requirement to reincarnate in Hell. Sins depend on religion, culture, societal norms. You were more of a victim, in fact.

you never got used to being in Hell. Surviving not only the Extermination but also the inhabitants becomes harder and harder every year.

it's kill or be killed, but you just can't bring yourself to do any harm to anyone, even if it means risking your own life.

as soon as you hear about princess Charlie Morningstar's new hotel for souls who want a second chance, your bags are PACKED

it's not like you really need redemption, you are pure hearted already. it's more a matter of understanding the reasons why you ended in Hell and coming to terms with them. maybe then the gates of Heaven would open for you. it's also a safer place for you to be.

Charlie welcomes you excitedly; Angel Dust, Husk and Vaggie aren't that friendly at first since your personalities don't match, but they eventually grow fond of you

and then there's, well...the Radio Demon.

you never met an Overlord before, and Alastor was supposed to be gone for years. But his presence wasn't frightening. A big smile spread across his face, he welcomed you like a gentleman.

you heard stories about his lifestyle and even previous murderous acts as a human, but for some reason you just can't bring yourself to fear him.

at first you were kinda pathetic to him. so naive, out of touch with the evils of Hell. he didn't dislike you. just thought your life was so easy to throw away in a society like that and that you wouldn't last long.

it seems like you two don't have much to share. he just wanders in his den, while you spend time in your room. you greet each other and have small talks, but nothing more than that. that's until he hears jazz music play behind your door.

he mentions it during dinner, and you start talking about your interest in 30s jazz music, especially the one of the Roaring 20s. you come from a later era, but you're very much cultured about jazz and its forms and that's enough for Alastor to develop an interest in you.

he has so many jazz artists recommendations, and you share some of your favourite pieces with him through your gramophone.

without even noticing, Alastor starts spending hours in your room just listening to music. some time even practicing swing dancing. and talking about jazz culture all around the world, and entertainment in general. he has many fun facts about the history of radio too!

the others at the hotel notice your growing bond and low-key support it, in their own, weird way. Angel Dust is especially convinced that you two are hooking up, as Husk not-so-kindly explains that it's more likely for Alastor to ascend to Heaven than express interest in sex.

you would start to open yourself up a bit to the Radio Demon. he doesn't understand why, since it didn't ask or never showed much empathy. but he just can't bring himself to tell you to stop. he wants to listen.

you manage to make him talk about some glimpses of his own life and thoughts. you knew that he was the complete opposite of you. incline to Evil, an enjoyer of all things that made your stomach clench. but he's still the one person who spends hours with you just listening to both jazz and your fears.

one day, Alastor decided that in no way you are walking around the city without him. it's just too dangerous for you. he tries to teach you how to use weapons and demonic powers to defend yourself but he doesn't feel like you can make it into Hell by yourself.

you like strolling through the streets with him, arms intertwined, chatting and laughing even if demons around you are shitting their pants just by seeing the Overlord walking around.

but one day, Alastor can't find you.

you're not in your room, or in the Hotel hall. No one saw you that morning. He starts to feel something he never felt in his life: fear.

he darts out the Hotel, trying to find you. that's when he sees you just a few streets away.

a group of animal-like demons is encircling you. you are on your knees, arms over your head to protect yourself. A lion-demon is holding a knife over you and your arms are covered in cuts. you hold something close to your stomach.

that's when Alastor realized that he had feelings for you.

when he threw himself between you and the demons attacking you.

it's the first time you see Alastor without a smile. his teeth are gritted, face full of unprecedented violence and will to kill, breathing heavily in and out in a sort of animalistic way, but there's no trace of his characteristic smile you love.

his body starts to morph into his full demon form. his horns grow exponentially, his body too as it hovers menacingly on top of your aggressors as they start to feel a pure fear they never felt before.

in a matter of a second, they are gone. Alastor has always been a calculated, elegant killer, but this time he only felt a raw, ferocious instinct to kill.

as he's done, he turns around towards you. he doesn't want to, but he snaps.

"W̶̞̐H̷̻͒Y̷̰̅ ̶̠͛D̸͕́I̸͔̍D̴̿͜ ̷̯̇Y̶̭͌Ỏ̴̬U̵̖̍ ̷̛͎Ģ̷̕O̸̩͑ ̷̹̈́O̶̮͆U̸͍̇T̴̙͆ ̷̧̀W̴͓̅I̷̞͑T̸̗͒H̴̹͒O̴̺̓Ṷ̵̂T̵̺̚ ̵̢́M̴̜̅E̶̬̋?̸̻͋!̸̦͂"

you flinch, you never saw Alastor lose his composure. he was always so calm and collected. his voice was static, choppy.

the tears that were cornering your eyes start streaming down your face "I-I..."

"Ţ̶̈Ḧ̴͙́Ė̵̩Ỳ̷̳ ̷̳̒Ã̸̡L̷̛͚M̶͇̚O̸͈̔S̴̜̎T̸͚̊ ̷̤͝K̷͊͜I̵̺͝L̵͚̎L̴̤̆Ẽ̴͖D̶͍̈́ ̵̻͝Y̵̰̑O̸̜͘Ù̶͍!̵̻͝ ̸͓̾D̴̯͒O̶̅͜Ṉ̶̌'̷̹͒T̵͎͋ ̶̺́Y̴̹͂O̶͍̅U̴̘͌ ̵̘̾Û̷̪N̸̩̊D̵͎̋Ȅ̴͜R̵̮͂S̸̰̄T̸̝̅A̵͓͘N̷̩͂Ḏ̴̀?̵̗̍!̸̭̎"

suddenly, your bleeding arms fall from your head. you expose what you've been protecting all along.

a vinyl, a really old record from Alastor's favourite jazz artist. a rare find.

"I-I know but...tomorrow it's your death anniversary and I wanted to give this to you...as a surprise. I'm sorry"

Alastor's face immediately softens. Eyebrows raised, smile still not seen. He's just surprised and...moved.

He doesn't say anything, he just picks you up in his arms and takes you back to the Hotel where he bandages your arms.

Feeling guilty for putting yourself in danger, you ask Alastor to come to your room in order to apologize to him.

As he closes the door behind him, he says that there's no need to apologize.

"I'm...glad that you are still in your room. Listening to jazz, alive"

words didn't come easy, but he did feel the need to say it. you smile at him.

you propose to put his gift on the gramophone and so you do. music starts to flow between the small space you shared with the Radio Demon.

that's when you and Alastor start slow dancing. his arms around your waist, yours encircling his neck. his smile is back, but soft and...almost loving.

with his silent agreement, you reach for his cheek and graze it.

"Thank you for saving me, Alastor. Even if you are everything I distance myself from in this life...I'm glad you are the person that you are with me. In my next life, I'll make sure to be a sinner again if it means dancing with you like this"

Alastor now understands his feelings. It's something deeper than care. It's love. But not the same love you reserve to a friend and not even romantic. It's something deeper, more visceral.

He doesn't answer, just closes his eyes and leans in to press his forehead against yours.

you later fall asleep on your bed to the quiet sound of the gramophone playing, hands intertwined on Alastor's chest.

#alastor #alastor the radio demon #radio demon #hazbin hotel #vivziepop #alastor x reader #alastor x reader headcanons #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor fanfiction #writers on tumblr #headcanons #hazbin hotel fanfiction

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rafecameronssl4t · 2 months

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Wildflower || Rafe Cameron x fem!reader

Summary: Based on what Wildflower is about, helping your friend get through a breakup only to fall in love with her ex and breaking girl code and feeling haunted by what you know about their past relationship

Warnings: ANGST!!!!

Word count: 1,548

A/n: this song acc has me bawling you guys i love it sm

MASTERLIST

divider by @h-aewo

Things fall apart and time breaks your heart. I wasn’t there, but I know.

Everyone thought Rafe and Sofia were destined for forever. They were total opposites in every way—personality, interests, dreams—but their love was so deep that breaking up seemed impossible. Yet, as the 2 years went by, something felt off with Sofia. Even from miles away, during your FaceTime calls, you could sense a change in her. She never said a word about it, but you could feel the shift. After all, you were her best friend.

She was your girl, you showed her the world.

Rafe was everything to Sofia. He was her entire world, and though it might sound cliché, it was true. He was her first love, her first everything. He made her happier than anyone ever had, and everyone could see it. It was almost surreal to think that someone who had given her the universe could ever be the source of such pain.

You fell out love and you both let go.

Rafe couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment he fell out of love with Sofia. The transition was subtle, an ebbing tide he couldn’t fully grasp. He couldn’t even bring himself to utter the words that would shatter their shared dreams. Once, he had believed she was the one—his soulmate, his future wife, the mother of his children. Yet now, Sofia found it unbearable to hold onto a love that was no longer reciprocated. The weight of his unspoken truth was too heavy for her heart to bear, knowing that his feelings had shifted while hers remained steadfast.

She was crying on my shoulder, all I could do was hold her. Only made us closer until July.

The second your feet touched the sands of obx, Sofia’s tears soaked through your shoulder like a storm unleashed. You could feel the weight of her anguish, a heavy, unspoken truth that you sensed from the moment you saw her. As she unraveled her sorrows into your embrace, each sob a silent plea, your heart ached at the sight of your best friend’s shattered world. All you could do was offer your presence and comfort, feeling helpless yet determined to be there for her.

Now I know that you love me, you don’t need to remind me.

You stared at the locket, the image of you and Sofia as young girls reflecting back. Tears welled in your eyes as you took in the precious memory. “You really didn’t need to do this,” you sniffled, meeting her gaze with glassy eyes. She smiled softly, pulling you into a tight embrace. Her hand comfortingly stroked your back as you struggled to hold back your sobs.

“I love you,” she whispered, and the weight of her words made you sob even harder. The guilt of being with Rafe behind Sofia’s back pressed heavily on your heart. Each tear you shed was a mix of sorrow for her pain and the crushing guilt of hiding your true feelings.

I should put it all behind me, shouldn’t I?

“She’ll get over it,” Rafe says with a dismissive shrug, his gaze flicking briefly towards you in the passenger seat before returning to the road ahead. His hand rests firmly on your thigh, giving it a reassuring squeeze that feels more mechanical than comforting.

“But she’s my best friend, Rafe,” you murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you absently fiddle with the ring he gave you, feeling its cold metal against your skin.

“So? If she was your best friend, she’d want you to be happy,” Rafe responds, his tone dismissive and frustrated. His lack of empathy makes the tears well up in your eyes, despite your efforts to hold them back.

“It’s more complicated than that, Rafe,” you cry out in frustration, your voice cracking as you cover your face with your hands, unable to contain the sobs that begin to shake your body. The harshness of Rafe’s chuckle only amplifies your distress.

“How is it more complicated? Please, fucking enlighten me, because I’m sick of you cry about this,” he shouts, his eyes never leaving the road. His words feel like a dagger, deepening the anguish you’re already feeling.

“Because I fucking care about her—” you start to explain, but Rafe interrupts with a loud scoff. “You obviously don’t care as much as you say you do, or you wouldn’t have kissed me back!” he yells, his voice sharp and accusatory. The intensity of his words makes your breath hitch, and you feel the weight of his anger crushing down on you.

“Stop the car,” you say calmly, though your voice trembles with a mix of anger and desperation as you quickly unbuckle your seatbelt. Rafe’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What?”

“I said stop the fucking car, Rafe, or I swear to God I’m going to jump out,” you scream, the urgency in your voice leaving no room for argument. He slams on the brakes, pulling over abruptly on the side of the road.

“Are you fucking serious? We’re still in the cut, someone could—” Rafe begins, but you cut him off by flinging open the door and stepping out into the chilly night air. The door slams shut behind you with a resounding thud, echoing your frustration and pain. Tears flow freely down your face as you feel your phone vibrating in your pocket. Glancing at the screen, your heart drops—Sofia is calling. You swallow hard, turning the phone to silent before shoving it back into your pocket.

“Come on, baby. I didn’t mean it!” Rafe’s voice calls out from his truck, his tone desperate as he drives slowly alongside you. “Just go home, Rafe. I’ll be fine,” you reply, wrapping your arms around yourself in an attempt to ward off the cold and the emotional turmoil. Despite his lingering presence, Rafe eventually speeds off, his truck’s taillights fading into the darkness as you are left standing alone on the side of the road.

But I see her in the back of my mind, all the time

You lounged against Rafe’s back, soaking in the warmth of the sun as you lay sprawled on the deck of his yacht feeling the gentle sway of the boat beneath you. His thumb traced absent-minded circles on your hip while you stared out at the water.

“You good? You haven’t said much since we got here,” Rafe’s voice broke the silence, a note of concern laced with a hint of impatience. His hand rested lightly on your thighs, a gesture meant to reassure, yet it only intensified your unease. You snapped out of your daze, feeling the weight of the guilt that had been shadowing you ever since you and Rafe hooked up that one night.

“‘M fine,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. You fidgeted with your ring, a nervous habit you had developed over time. Rafe’s gaze, sharp and unyielding, didn’t waver. His frustration was palpable, and you could sense the slight edge in his tone.

“You’re obviously not, Y/N. What’s wrong?” His words were laced with a subtle annoyance that made you sit up abruptly, breaking the comfortable silence you had been trying to maintain. “I’m going to go inside for a bit,” you said, standing up and stretching. Rafe watched you carefully, his expression softening as he chose not to push further when you clearly didn’t want to talk.

As you moved past him on the sun lounge, he reached out and grasped your hand, making you pause in your tracks. The intensity of his gaze was almost palpable, his eyes searching yours for answers. Slowly, he drew your hand closer to his face and pressed a tender kiss to your knuckles.

The gesture was both affectionate and vulnerable, and his next words made your breath catch. “I love you,” he said softly, the sincerity in his voice making your heart ache. A shiver ran through. A shiver ran through you as you tried to process the weight of his confession.

You couldn’t shake the image of him saying those same words to Sofia, the unresolved guilt gnawing at your insides. You managed a tight-lipped smile, the weight of your conflicted emotions pressing down on you. “Love you too,” you said quickly, before withdrawing your hand and heading inside. The door clicked shut behind you, and you were left alone with your thoughts.

It wasn’t that you didn’t love Rafe—quite the opposite. You were certain that you’d never felt as deeply for anyone as you did for him. That's why you didn't stop seeing him. But the reality of loving him, especially given that he was your best friend’s ex, made everything feel so much more complicated.

So you couldn’t help but see Sofia in the back of your mind whenever you were with Rafe. It felt unfair to him, but most of all it was so fucking unfair for Sofia. Every time you were with Rafe, all you could think about was how fucked up it was that you ended up hooking up with her ex at a party she had skipped because she was still getting over the breakup. She’d wanted you to have fun, and yet here you were, knowing you were betraying her trust.

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moonyswoony · 1 month

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A stitch in the heart

pairing: Diego hargreeves x reader

Summary: After Five’s betrayal you and Diego find unexpected comfort in each other.

Warning(s): making out, insults, humour

Your fingers trace the edge of the old, worn-out armchair, a painful reminder of all the moments you thought you once shared with him. A hollow feeling settles in your chest, and you can’t decide what hurts more—the betrayal or the fact that you actually hadn’t seen it coming.

The doorbell rings sharply, startling you from your thoughts. You hesitate before opening it, your heart sinking as you see Diego standing there. He had come straight from the Umbrella Academy’s chaotic mess, having heard about the situation from Klaus, who had filled him in on the details. Diego’s dark eyes are filled with frustration and concern as he steps into the apartment.

“I didn’t know he was that stupid,” Diego says, his voice rough with a mix of irritation and empathy. His short brown hair is slightly tousled, and his mustache gives him a rugged, determined look.

You scoff, biting back the tears that threaten to spill. “Neither did I. But hey, at least I’m not the one who’ll be dodging flying knives for a while.”

Diego’s jaw clenches, the muscles working under his skin as he processes your pain. He had always been the protector, the one to throw himself into danger without a second thought, but this was different. He couldn’t punch Five without making things worse—without hurting you even more.

“He’s an idiot,” Diego mutters, stepping closer. His presence is like a comforting weight, a reminder that not everyone in this messed-up world would abandon you. “And if he wasn’t, I’d be happy to throw him off a building for you.”

You look up at him, trying to find solace in his words, but the wound was too fresh, too deep. “You’re way too good at the ‘throwing people off buildings’ thing, Diego. I’d hate to see what you could do if you really put your mind to it.”

Diego’s jaw twitches into a reluctant smile. “Trust me, I’ve got a lot of practice. But this isn’t about me or Five or Lila. This is about you.”

“You mean it’s not about making sure Five ends up face-first in the dirt?” you ask, a hint of sarcasm in your voice.

He shakes his head, his expression serious again. “Look, I know you’re hurting. And I’m not saying Five isn’t a jerk—he is. But you don’t deserve to be dragged down by his mistakes.”

A heavy silence sits between you, filled with unspoken words and the shared history that ties you both to the people who had hurt you. Diego has his own scars, the ones Lila had left on his heart. He knew betrayal, maybe as well as you did.

“Lila…” you began, but Diego cuts you off.

“She’s not worth it,” he says sharply, his tone brooking no argument. “And neither is he.”

His words are a balm, a gentle reminder that you aren’t alone in your pain. You take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the day begin to lift, if only slightly.

Diego’s hand finally finds its way to your shoulder, a tentative touch that sends a shiver down your spine. His fingers, rough but warm, rest gently on your skin. “You don’t have to go through this alone, you know.”

You look up at him, really look at him. The scars, the bruises, the lines of worry etched into his features—Diego had always been there, in the background, watching out for you even when you didn’t realize it.

“I’m sorry about Lila,” you whisper, not really sure why you’re apologizing. Maybe because it feels like you should, because your pain is linked to his in a way you hadn’t expected.

Diego shakes his head, his expression softening. “Don’t be. That chapter’s over. Has been for a long time.”

There’s something in his eyes, something that made your heart skip a beat. He’s not lying, he had moved on. But from the way he’s looking at you, you wonder if he had been waiting for you to realize you needed to move on too.

And maybe… maybe with him.

“Diego,” you breathe, the air between you crackling with a sudden tension, a shift that makes your heart race for an entirely different reason.

His fingers tighten on your shoulder, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment before returning to your eyes. “If you ever want to forget about him,” he says, voice low and intense, “I’m right here.”

The world seemed to narrow down to the space between you, the inches that felt like miles. Your breath hitched, your heart pounding in your chest. This was the Diego you knew so well—hotheaded, stubborn, fiercely loyal Diego. The man who had been by your side through thick and thin, who was willing to pick up the pieces of your heart when they fell apart.

You take a step closer, your hand coming up to rest on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart under your palm. His eyes darken, and he leans in, his breath warm against your skin. The tension between you is palpable, like the air before a storm.

Then, as if on cue, he closes the gap between you two.

The kiss is urgent, his lips surprisingly soft as snow.It all feels like a desperate attempt to make something beautiful out of the wreckage of the day.

The kiss deepens, growing more fervent as you both lose yourselves in the heat of the moment. Diego’s hands roam to your back, pulling you impossibly closer, his embrace enveloping you completely. His lips move with a new, careful intensity, exploring your mouth with a touch of tenderness and need.

After a few moments, Diego pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. His eyes sparkle with a playful glint, and he gives a light-hearted chuckle. “You know,” he smirks “Before Lila came along and turned everything upside down, I actually had a crush on you.”

You look at him, surprised and amused. “Seriously? You had a crush on me?”

Diego nods, grinning. “Yep, and I guess I was so busy trying to play the tough guy that I didn’t realize honesty might’ve worked out better. But hey, Five and Lila didn’t exactly set the bar high, did they?”

You laugh, shaking your head. “True, true. It’s not like they made the most convincing case for keeping things simple.”

Diego chuckles, pulling you closer again. “Exactly. And honestly, if I’m better at anything, it’s being upfront about my feelings.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words and the comfort of his embrace. “I guess that’s something I can definitely appreciate.”

Diego leans in for another kiss, his lips brushing against yours with renewed fervor and for the first time in a while, the future feels like something worth fighting for.

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grison-in-space · 10 months

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Listening to Artificial Condition again, it strikes me how much Murderbot uses empathy reflexively as a survival skill. Look at this bit.

Upon meeting it, ART allows it on board and then announces that it knows that Murderbot is rogue. Then ART threatens to destroy it if it hacks ART's own systems. Murderbot is immediately terrified and shuts down all inputs, gives serious thought to spending the entire three month journey unconscious, and then considers the potential avenues of damage from ART's drones. ART, not realizing why Murderbot had suddenly gone silent, tells it to quit sulking, which understandably pisses off the still-terrified Murderbot. It dumps a bunch of memories of coercive treatment into ART's feed, and ART goes silent.

Then this happens:

Then it said, I’m sorry I frightened you. Okay, well. If you think I trusted that apology, you don’t know Murderbot. Most likely it was playing a game with me. I said, “I don’t want anything from you. I just want to ride to your next destination.” I’d explained that earlier, before it opened the hatch for me, but it was worth repeating. I felt it withdraw back behind its wall. I waited, and let my circulatory system purge the fear-generated chemicals. More time crawled by, and I started to get bored. Sitting here like this was too much like waiting in a cubicle after I’d been activated, waiting for the new clients to take delivery, for the next boring contract. If it was going to destroy me, at least I could get some media in before that happened. I started the new show again, but I was still too upset to enjoy it, so I stopped it and started rewatching an old episode of Rise and Fall of Sanctuary Moon. After three episodes, I was calmer and reluctantly beginning to see the transport’s perspective. A SecUnit could cause it a lot of internal damage if it wasn’t careful, and rogue SecUnits were not exactly known for lying low and avoiding trouble. I hadn’t hurt the last transport I had taken a ride on, but it didn’t know that. I didn’t understand why it had let me aboard, if it really didn’t want to hurt me. I wouldn’t have trusted me, if I was a transport. Maybe it was like me, and it had taken an opportunity because it was there, not because it knew what it wanted.

The thing about Murderbot's survival is that it clearly involves quite a bit of negotiating with other constructs and bots. That's how it talks its way onto cargo hauler bots in the first place. It uses empathy--envisioning the emotional and cognitive context of the individuals it encounters--to work out what different kinds of people want, so that it can offer them fair trades. It also uses empathy to consider what humans might be looking for, so it can practice blending in and hide.

Murderbot would never have survived so long if it wasn't capable of assessing the individual desires of the people--human, bot, and construct--around it. It thinks about ART's probable fears and motivations so that it can consider whether ART is inherently an ongoing threat or a potential ally.

When your survival depends on evading detection, you get really good at assessing perceptual biases so that you can shape yourself to fit into them. People talk about murderbot being radically empathetic as a choice it makes, or as a feature of its personality that makes it a good person. But I think murderbot would be the the first person to tell you that this empathy is part of its threat assessment suite, a skill that was developed out of necessity in order to allow you to survive.

It is also a trait that makes murderbot a good person, of course: it chooses very carefully to try to survive by doing as little harm as possible and by offering things, like media, that buy it access to things it needs. But it started as a survival skill. It's part of hypervigilance.

I think one of the strengths of this series is that so many of the things we love about SecUnit are traits developed for survival in an inherently threatening world. The shape of its mind and heart have been changed by the trauma of its origin--but they don't make murderbot less good for being altered, even if that skill was developed in a traumatic context.

I like that.

#murderbot #empathy as a tool #note that this is not necessarily natural empathy #it's cognitive and only happens when the adrenaline eases off #going to work my way though the existing published series before I dig into my brand new copy of the new one

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la-pheacienne · 5 months

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George Martin, 2013: "In a very basic level winter is coming for all of us. I think that’s one of the things that art is concerned with: the awareness of our own mortality. “Valar morghulis” – “All men must die”. That shadow lies over our world and will until medical science gives us all immortality… but I don’t think it makes it necessarily a pessimistic world. Not any more pessimistic than the real world we live in. We’re here for a short time and we should be conscious of our own mortality, but the important thing is that love, compassion and empathy with other human beings is still possible. Laughter is still possible! Even laughter in the face of death… The struggle to make the world a better place… We have things like war, murder and rape… horrible things that still exist, but we don’t have to accept them, we can fight the good fight. The fight to eliminate those things.There is darkness in the world, but I don’t think we necessarily need to give way to despair. One of the great things that Tolkien says in Lord of The Rings is “despair is the ultimate crime”. That’s the ultimate failing of Denethor, the Steward of Gondor, that he despairs of ever being able to defeat Sauron. We should not despair. We should not go gentle into that good night".

JRR Tolkien, 1962 : "One reviewer once said, this is a jolly jolly book, all the right boys come home [...]- this isn't true of course, he can't have read the story. [...] Human stories are practically always about one thing, really, aren't they? Death. The inevitability of death. . . . . . (He quotes Simone de Beauvoir) 'There is no such thing as a natural death. Nothing that ever happens to man is natural, since his presence calls the whole world into question. All men must die, but for every man his death is an accident, and even if he knows it he would sense to it an unjustifiable violation.' Well, you may agree with the words or not, but those are the key spring of The Lord Of The Rings".

"Lotr is all rainbows and unicorns and Asoiaf is nihilistic and grimdark". Wrong, and wrong. In all its hope and radiance, lotr often gets very dark, and despite all the death and suffering, the hopeful moments in asoiaf shine bright. The meeting point of these two is this: having hope while in despair, and even better, refusing to give up because you have to go on despite not having any hope left.

#the fact that in possibly his most famous interview tolkien literally quotes 'all men must die' LIKE #GEORGE #I SEE U #you have studied the Professor really hard grandpa just speak your truth free urself!#don't get me wrong for me the Professor will always and forever take precedence there is absolutely no question about it BUT ALSO #stop pitting two bad bitches against eachother!!#i think about all of these a normal amount #and this is why i'll never lead a normal life #ridiculously long post #i must say i cried a little when i read them all back to back #especially the last sam quote #lotr #valyrianscrolls #tolkien #tolkien quotes #asoiaf quotes #lord of the rings #the hobbit #aspa reads tolkien #aragorn #frodo baggins #samwise gamgee #bilbo baggins #brienne of tarth #jon snow #jaime lannister #bran stark #daenerys targaryen #lotr x asoiaf parallels

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goldsainz · 3 months

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❝ SO LONG, MONACO ❞

MASTERLIST!

pairing . . . charles leclerc x reader

◦∘｡ﾟ. warnings . . . use of y/n (once, i think), cursing, a whole load of angst, charles is an asshole, rushed ending, barely proofread.

◦∘｡ﾟ. summary . . . you love monaco, but it has run its course just like your relationship has.

◦∘｡ﾟ. note . . . i am obsessed with ttpd, i don’t care what anyone has to say, it was a masterpiece and i will not take criticism about it. this is based on so long, london i really recommend listening to this while reading, or just listening to it in general if you need a good cry. i have been writing this for months now, so i hope you guys like it and please dont mind the ending it was the best i could do 😔💙

[ word count: 3,4k ]

You walked through the streets of Monaco, mystified by how bright the city looked even in the night. The street lights were enchanting to witness, and the chatter of people made you appreciate the small country even more. So private, yet so lively, like a hidden spot you had loved so much you just had to make it your home.

The walk to Charles’ apartment is more calming than expected, you’ve come to terms with the fact that you’ve been pulling at a thread that is almost undone. No matter how hard you tried, there was no use in pulling him tighter when he had already pulled out of the relationship.

You were, in all honesty, tired.

You swore your back almost hurt from all the efforts you made to keep him with you. It’s like you both had settled for conformity, for the monotony of not bothering to do anything. You were together for the sole sake of how harder it would be to separate, but not because of the love you had for the other, simply because of the aftermath of breaking up after 6 years of relationship. Moving out, telling your friends and family, the whole world scrutinizing what went down when really nothing had gone down. There was nothing that could go down, to begin with.

Your relationship had become more of a commodity, one that was draining you while your boyfriend continued his life like nothing was going on. Maybe that was your problem, you simply cared too much.

And so you stopped trying to make him laugh. Stopped making those small efforts that had amounted to hundreds of gestures that went unnoticed by him. Maybe you were selfish for that, for wanting his undivided attention to things that weren’t that great. After all, he had his own things to wallow over, things that were simply greater than you.

You tried to blame Ferrari. Ferrari that always was the topic of conversation. “Can you believe they made pit so late?” Yes, I can. “Do you think I’m putting to much faith in the team?” Yes, you are. You don’t tell Charles all the things you should, you share his sadness and give him a shoulder to cry on, just to receive that small amount of affection.

His sadness gives you the taste of what once was and now isn’t. You can’t find in yourself to blame him for becoming dependent on Ferrari, because haven’t you become the same way for him?

It isn’t long before your walk is over, and you have to face the moment you want to dread, but instead there is relief that surges in your heart. A feeling you resent but equally embrace.

You step into the elevator, pressing the button for his apartment that you wonder when you decided to let everything go on for as long as it did. That is something you incriminate Charles for. Did he really think you’d be willing to stand in the rain for him forever? Eternally condemned to wallow his sadness, were you supposed to be sad for as long as he was? And for a while you did, you shared his sadness but you didn’t have much more in you to give him. There was only so much pity you could feel, so much empathy you were willing to subject yourself to.

The elevator rings, a sign that you should get off and take whatever is yours and get away from Monaco.

You put the key in the keyhole, and enter what once was your home and now looks almost like a staged apartment, ready to be shown off and sold to the highest bidder. It feels eerie, what once was so familiar is now a distant memory you’re ready to get over.

Most of the boxes are all closed and ready to be sent away, with a few things left in shelves and drawers. You remember calling your family and asking if you could stay with them a few days, you felt ashamed at how you left everything behind just to come back to it so unexpectedly.

“Chérie, you don’t have to leave. I can stay with Joris until you find your own place.” no more ma chérie, just chérie. It seemed you’d both unconsciously already made the graves for your relationship.

“This is your place, Charles. I’m not going to kick you out of it.” you smoothly respond, trying to focus on taking whatever is left on the shelf by the TV.

Your hand brushes against an old photo of the two of you. His hands around your waist, you looking up at him with a huge smile on your face, with Monaco as the landscape behind you.

“This was our place, I don’t even—” he stops himself, like it pains him to say whatever is on his mind, resigned he sighs and changes his answer, “I might have to sell this, it’s too big for just me anyway.”

The implication of his words would have sent you down a spiral a few months ago, now you don’t even reminisce on the what-if.

“Either way, I’ve already arranged a place to stay. I really don’t want to inconvenience you, this is your home not mine.” you say, and you watch as his jaw clenches and his eyes dim, but it is too late now to go back. You’re both too far gone.

“Okay, then.” he sighs, and although you’ve made peace with the end of your relationship you want him to fight for you. It is his nonchalant way of going about life that makes you mad, and what sealed the fate of whatever remains of your relationship were left.

You’ve fought so hard and for so long, you want to make him feel what you felt. Retribution comes to you in his resignation, and yet it is simply not enough for your greedy, broken heart.

It pisses you off how so much of your youth he got to witness, how he got all the special moments of your life and now you cannot even recognise the girl you once were. All those dreams, all that naïveté, has long since died and is now buried in Monaco.

“It’s late and I’m really tired, so tomorrow morning I’ll have them pick up and ship off my things.”

“Where are you staying?” he tries to be casual, tries to hide the desperation in his voice, but fails to do so because you know him too well. He fears you know him better than anyone ever has.

“A hotel nearby,” you easily answer,

Don’t let me go.

A beat passes, he opens his mouth and closes it shortly after, like he’s not sure what to say or how to act.

Please, don’t let me go.

“Do you need me to take you there?”

“No, I’m okay, it’s a short walk from here.”

And so you put away the few things you were holding, brushing past him like he’s a stranger in the street. You’ve seemingly packed up your whole life in a few boxes, and you feel oddly calm about it. Hopeful about the future, all resentment you could have has turned into motivation.

You seal the last open box, and it’s like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. There are no scores to settle, no need for revenge, this chapter of your life has been sealed and you are ready to continue with whatever the story of your life has prepared for you.

“Text me when you get to the hotel, yes?” you pause at his words, and a part of you wants to curse him out for being the way he is, because despite everything he is a kind man. You just wish he could've been as kind to the old you as he is to the current you. And you wonder why you're given all this kindness, when you have both your feet out the door and every single remainder of your love has been tucked away. It is not fair, but nothing really is when it comes to love.

“Sure,” you say as you nod, a small smile gracing your face, though you're sure it looks close to a grimace.

You walk out of the apartment, leaving your copy of the keys on the table next to the door. As it closes, you let out a sigh and go out the same you came in, calm and collected. With the broken, bloody pieces of your heart in his hands and you with the same blue heart of his you know so well.

You don’t text Charles when you make it to the hotel.

You twist and turn in your bedsheets, not being able to sleep once again. You can't remember the last time you had a good night's sleep. And so you do what you've been doing for months, you go over every step and stone of your relationship.

Although sleep doesn’t consume you, the memories do. Those unforgiving, wretched memories about the downfall of your relationship. As you lie awake, the weight of your thoughts presses down on you, each recollection sharper and more painful than the last.

You reminisce on the brighter days, filled with laughter and pure love, where every touch was like electricity on your skin and every word a promise of a future together. You recall all those moments you fought to make him laugh, to bring back the warmth that had once been effortless. But those bright memories are quickly overshadowed by the darker ones— the fights that grew more frequent, the silences that stretched longer, the love that slowly turned to resentment.

Every detail is vivid in your mind— he look in his eyes as he drifted away, the chill that settled in your bones each night he didn't fall asleep beside you. You replay the conversations, the accusations, the desperate attempts to salvage whatever was left. But despite your efforts, the spirit of the relationship was long gone, leaving behind a shell of what once was.

As the memories flood back, you feel the anger and sadness welling up inside you. You gave so much of yourself, your youth, your energy, only to be left with the empty shell of a broken dream. You think about how he swore that he loved you, yet the proof was never there.

You recall that last fight, by then the stitches of your relationship had come undone, the fabric of your shared experience torn beyond repair. There was nothing left to cling onto, nothing more than your delusion and the memories you held close to your heart.

“Mon amour, why did you stay awake? You know how long I take at the factory.” he whispers, almost cooing at you but also filled with exhaustion. Like you being awake is another burden you're placing on him, now that he has to deal with your awakened mind.

“Couldn’t fall asleep, I guess.” you answer, playing with the ends of your hair, not daring to look at him.

You watch as he places his stuff on the ground, taking off his shirt and entering the bathroom to wash his face and prepare for sleep. It is quite a shame you have no intentions of sleeping, or to let the misery you're living through go on.

“I’ll join you in just a moment,” he calls out from the bathroom, his voice muffled from the ajar door between you.

“Okay,” is all you come up with, all you can muster to respond.

The silence in the apartment grew heavy. The ticking of the clock on the wall seemed to echo through the room, each second stretching out into eternity.

As you listened to the sound of water running, you traced patterns on the bedsheets with trembling hands. You couldn’t shake the feeling of suffocation, of being trapped in a life that wasn’t quite yours. The dreams you once nurtured seemed distant, obscured by the everyday struggles and compromises.

When Charles emerged from the bathroom, the lines of fatigue etched deeper into his face. His eyes met yours briefly before he turned away, pulling a worn t-shirt and slipping under the covers beside her. You could feel the warmth radiating from his body, yet you could see the coldness that he seemed to reserve especially for you. He made no effort to kiss you, to hold you, those miniscule actions were like finding gold nowadays.

It was now or never, you had decided. You had gained courage all day to finally speak your mind, the least he could do is listen and try to fight for you. For the remains of your love that hadn’t yet dusted away.

“You know,” you begin tentatively, your voice almost shaky with emotion, “it feels like we’re drifting apart. I miss us, Charles.”

He turned to you sharply, eyes flashing with something like shock and annoyance. “I’m tired, Y/N. Can’t we talk about this tomorrow?”

“But we never talk about it!” you exclaimed, frustration boiling over. “Every day, it’s the same thing. You come home late, exhausted, and we pretend everything’s okay. But it's not okay! It hasn’t been for a long time, and I need more than this.”

He sighs heavily, rolling onto his back and staring up at the ceiling. “I’m doing the best I can.”

“Sure you are,” you retort back, voice tinged with bitterness. You knew he would dismiss your feelings, but it still stung.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“I’m always second, Charles.” you retort, “I stay awake each night wondering if you still care, if there is even some part of you that misses me like I miss you.”

“You always find something to complain about, don’t you?” he turns to you with his eyes narrowed, “You know how much I’m dealing with Ferrari, I thought you’d have some empathy for me, at least.”

“I’m not complaining, Charles. I’m trying to talk to you!” your frustration has now reached its peak, “I miss us. I miss the days when we actually talked, when you actually listened.”

“I’m exhausted,” he says, ignoring your words once more. “Do you think this lifestyle pays for itself? Because, news flash, it doesn’t. You signed up for this, don’t put this on me now.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you ask, resigned to your situation and the emotions that have overtaken you, “You're never here, Charles. I feel like I’m living with a stranger instead of the man I fell in love with.”

“Well, maybe if you didn't make everything so difficult,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin. He doesn't dare to look at you, he can't bear to see the expression on your face.

You feel tears stinging in your eyes, a mix of anger and hurt washing over you. “I’m not making things difficult. I’m asking for us to work on our relationship, to make time for each other.”

“I don’t have time,” Charles shot back, his voice cold and distant. “This is the life we have now. Deal with it.”

“Is this really what you want?” you demand, your voice rising. “A relationship where we just coexist, where we’re barely holding on?”

He turns away from you again, his silence cuts deeper than any words ever could. You feel the despair, the realizations sinking in that your relationship might be beyond repair.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you whisper, voice cracking with emotion.

“Then what do you expect me to do?” he retorted, his frustration matching yours.

“I expect you to fight for us, Charles!” you exclaimed, a tear slipping down your cheek. “I expect you to care enough to try.”

He doesn’t respond, the silence a stark reminder of how far you had both drifted apart. You wiped your tears away, feeling the weight of your crumbling relationship pressing down on your chest.

“If you can’t even talk to me, then maybe we’re already done.” you say quietly, the finality of your words hanging in the air.

He doesn’t protest, doesn’t reach out to you. You turned away from him, curling up on your side of the bed, feeling the emptiness of your once vibrant love surrounding you. As you stared into the darkness, you wondered if you had reached the end, if this was all the closure you would get.

As you laid there, enveloped in the silence that now seemed thicker than ever, you realised that something inside you had shifted irreversibly. The pain of his indifference cut deep, but so did the clarity that you couldn’t continue living forever like this, forever under the blue of his days.

The weight of unspoken words hung heavy in the air, you couldn’t bear it any longer. With a shaky breath, you gathered your resolve and spoke softly into the darkness, voice trembling with both sadness and determination.

“I think… I need some time,” you began, your words tentative yet resolute. “Time to figure out what I want and what’s best for me.”

He turned to you then, his eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and resignation. “What are you saying?”

You struggled to find the right words. “I’m saying… I’m saying that I’m done, Charles. I can’t keep pretending that everything is okay when it’s not. I deserve more than this.”

His expression hardened, a flicker of frustrations crossing his face. “So that’s it? You’re just giving up?”

“I’m not giving up,” you shot back, “I’ve been fighting for us for so long, but you… you're not even here, I can’t keep begging for your attention, for your love.”

Charles doesn't respond immediately, his silence echoing loudly in the room. You felt a wave of sorrow wash over you as you realized that your love had turned into a battlefield of neglect and misunderstanding.

“I thought we could fix this,” he finally murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Maybe we could have,” your heart breaks with every word you utter. “But it’s too late now, I’m exhausted, Charles. I’m exhausted from trying to pretend like you care and for trying to fix something beyond repair.”

He sits up at your words, finally looking at you, the weight of your failed relationship heavy in his eyes. “I’m sorry, mon ange. I never meant for it to end like this.”

“Neither did I,” you replied softly, “But I can’t keep living like this. I deserve happiness. We both do.” he reached out to touch your hand, but you gently pulled away, the gesture feeling hollow now.

You sat there in silence, you knew that walking away would be the hardest thing you had ever done, but you also knew it was the only way forward.

Without another word, you stood up from the bed. Looking at him, the man you loved with all your heart but who had drifted away from you.

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” you tell Charles, and he doesn’t fight you, just wordlessly nods and longingly looks at you as you step away and into your living room.

You stood at the window of the hotel room, staring out at the city that had been your home for so long. The cobblestone streets, the azure waters, and the gentle hum of luxury. This place, once your sanctuary, now felt like a prison of memories that had soured with time. A reminder of a love that couldn't withstand the weight of reality.

Outside, the familiar sights and sounds of Monaco stirred memories that tugged at your heart— lazy afternoons by the beach, candlelit dinners overlooking the harbour, stolen kisses beneath the starlit sky.

But today, as the plane ticket lay on the table beside your suitcase, you knew it was time to leave Monaco behind. Despite the love you once felt for this place, you couldn’t ignore the ache in your chest, the realisation that your time here had run its course.

As you walked out of the hotel and down the winding cobblestone streets towards the waiting car you had called, you allowed a tear to trickle down your cheek because despite everything you really fucking loved Monaco. For so, so long.

But you’ll find somewhere new.

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