feels--on--wheels

[feels--on--wheels]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/28481829

Secret Solenoid gift for @carmarriage !

@secretsolenoid

[feels--on--wheels]

Inspired by @breakdownsbuttlights Humanformers. Had to write something warm and soft.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/27971432

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“A Cat and a lowercase cat”

(via)

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also you know that one tweet where the guy was asking for help because he didn't want his cat to enter his room, so he put a 25lb weight in front of the door, but the cat became strong enough to open the door, so he put a 50lb weight in front of the door, but then the cat became strong enough to open that too. that's literally the plot of hades

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gunmax & toudou drabble. please enjoy! i’ve had this in my head for a while.

tw: descriptions of a motorcyle crash/death by car collision. 

Gunmax had that lingering feeling that he shouldn’t be in Toudou’s deskspace. But, it was in the repair room, he just so happened to walk up to it. No big deal! He doesn’t think the engineer would really mind. It just drew his attention, due to the fact that some personal items were sitting on their desk. The Brave mech knelt down, optics scanning the chief engineer’s office space. Besides the computer in the middle, lay some die-cast car models, one being of the blue Austin-Healy Toudou proudly owns. Notebooks, files, pens, and blueprints laid sprawled over the desk, with some sketches of the combinations of the Braves.

There were framed photos of the Brave team on the left side. Gunmax smiled to himself, as his optics drifted over each member of his team. Below at their feet was Commissioner Saejima, dawned with his aviator sunglasses and striking a pose alongside Yuuta, and a beaming Toudou. He then settled his gaze to the next framed photo, a younger Toudou posed next to a brand new Chevrolet Belair, sporting a wide goofy smile and a thumbs up. Judging by the oil stains on the engineer, this was probably another finished car project he’s done. “Huh, oh chief. You were a serious car junkie.” he chuckled to himself. There was one last smaller frame, partially hiding behind the other. Gunmax couldn’t help but pull it out to view it. 

It pictured Toudou again. A bit older, smiling and arm over the shoulder of a handsome young man with biker clothes, dawning dark shades and sporting a wide smile. On one hand, he was saluting, while the other held his biker helmet. The two were next to a jet black 1984 Harley-Davidson Low Rider. Upon closer inspection, there was a written date in the lower-left corner. ‘September 23rd, 2000’ Gunmax studied the picture intently. He’s never seen the young man next to Toudou before. They seemed close, maybe they were a former colleague? Family member? Gunmax frowned to himself as he stared at the picture again. He wasn’t sure why, but there pooled a feeling in his A.I circuits. A feeling the Brave mech could only describe as ‘eerily familiar’. That feeling only increased as he flinched to the sound of Toudou’s voice behind him. Gunmax whirled around, peering down to see the chief engineer, looking back up at him.

“Er, Chief…what’s up? I–just, I just decided to take a look around. You have neat pictures.” the Brave mech gave them an awkward toothy grin. Toudou didn’t respond right away, but he returned the smile at the detective. He then focused ahead to his desk, he raised his head motioning towards it.

“Taken a good look at that one hm?” his voice, always sounding so gruff, a result of a hard-working man. But this time, was quietly smooth, sincere. He walked up to the desk, as Gunmax shifted himself to the side. 

“Uh, yeah. Who’s that guy you’re with chief?” the mech just had to know. “It sorta…drew my attention.” he shrugged. Toudou picked up the photo frame, his expression softened as he looked at it, his smile faded away. “You’re looking at my only son.” he managed to pull out.

Son. Gunmax was taken back. Toudou had a son? Since when?! Why the hell was the Brave mech not informed about it? Much less, why Toudou never mention anything about him having one, to anyone in HQ in that matter? Gunmax shook his head in disbelief. He couldn’t be upset with Toudou. Despite the man sharing almost anything with the detective, there were things to be kept private. Toudou gave the photo one last look before he set it aside. He leaned back against his desk, crossing his arms. He kept his gaze at the floor. “Yep. Naoki was his name. That picture was taken a day before…before I lost him.” clenching his jaw, Toudou flicked his eyes up to the mech. 

Gunmax felt immediately sorry for the engineer. He was hesitant to push this further, but he just had to know more. “How–how did he die chief?”

Toudou shook his head, silent holding back the tears, his face tight with the oncoming emotional response to the thought of it. “Collision. A freight truck collided with him at full speed, with little time to divert it. He—“ Toudou squeezed his eyes shut. “—he was crushed beneath the wreckage of his bike and the trailer. He died upon impact.”

Shit…Gunmax furrowed his optics. That was heavy. This was unbelievably tragic. The Brave mech couldn’t even imagine how hard it was to accept the reality of it. To even think it he was the only kid Toudou ever had…it was heartbreaking. It then impressed the mech to see how in the past Toudou was always such a dedicated, passionate engineer. He was always at work and always determined to get the job done- no matter what. Little did he know such a tragedy existed within the engineer’s personal life. Gunmax kept his attention at Toudou, who was now puffy-eyed, blinking back tears as his fingers gripped slightly at the fabric of his sleeves. He was fighting back the pain. The old memories, the trauma resurfacing. Gunmax felt the stinging sensation of guilt in his oil tanks. His A.I chip sparked strong waves of sympathy. God, what a blessing and a curse it was to feel real human emotional pain.

“Chief, I—I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I’m asked—“ Toudou raised a hand, shaking his head.

“No, you’re fine. I knew this day would come. Gunmax, I have to tell you something.” Toudou raised his head at the mech.

“After—after my son died, I felt like everything came to a screeching halt. My life goals were no longer important. My motivation diminished completely. I struggled to even decide whether I’d keep my job as an engineer. The days after he passed away, I couldn’t function as a human being. I had to accept the reality of it during his funeral. It took too many years to mourn him, but with the help of Guv, I was able to move on. So then- came the Brave project. At that point in my life, I have nested myself in new surroundings, a new goal in life: Building a more secure, more capable police force of robots.” He looked down to his spread of notes and blueprints.

“Then, the decision of a highway patrol came to. In that time, I started my work with Guv in designing you, Gunmax.” He glanced over to pick up the small framed photo.

“If I were, to be honest with you, I don’t think I’ve ever truly let go. I’ve learned to accept that he was gone, but it still hurts. That’s when I came to, I was assured that the others didn’t notice….”

Gunmax leaned in, lowering his voice. “Didn’t notice…what?” 

Toudou looked up, smiling sadly at the Brave. “I modeled you after my late son, Gunmax.”

There was a cutting edge silence in the air between the two. Gunmax stood frozen where he was. He could’ve sworn his A.I chip ‘skipped a heartbeat’.

“Chief…” he barely managed to utter out. His whole body grew stiff. It could be the closest thing to what a human would describe as ‘heart-stopping’. Was this the feeling of complete shock? Letting out a shaky breath, his chest plate heaved with receiving such information. “You didn’t…” a hand flew over his mouth. He felt his optics sting with tears. Tears? Jeez, he didn’t even think that was possible.

“When installing your databanks, I had programmed it to have your personality based off of him. I thought to myself, this was madness. Pure madness. A selfish act on my behalf. Yet–yet I continued. The face design you have was based on his features. This is why—you were so drawn to this photo in the first place. Gunmax, you became the closest thing to having a son again. This is why you’re so damn special to me. This is why—why you’re my baby.” He croaked, gave the Brave mech a wide sincere smile, his face now smeared with streaming tears. 

Gunmax bit his bottom lip, chuckling in between his sobs.

“Dammit Pops, you—you son of a—“ The Brave started, realizing he always has seen the man as like his own, his dearest friend, his father.

Gunmax felt himself embracing a tidal wave of emotions, his body wanting nothing but to overload and shut off from such a strong surge of emotion. Yet, he wanted to hug the man. He wanted to burst out crying like a toddler. The mech tried as best as he could to have the engineer hug him. For the first time in his life online, Gunmax felt a genuine warmth brew inside him. A type of warm feeling one would get in between human interactions, between father…and son.

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you should be in a relationship with someone because you actually want to be in a relationship with them, not just because you don’t have a “valid” enough reason not to be with them. you don’t need to justify not being with someone. that’s the default because you’re your own individual human person. relationships are opt-in, not opt-out.

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Children don’t choose their parents. If a child had the chance to decide who they would be born to, the world would be a very different place. Parents however, choose to have that child. Parents can abort, can adopt, can dump them on on the other parent or grandparents. When parents choose to keep their child, they’re making a conscious decision. They know when a child is born that it will require care, food, a roof over their heads, clothes and school supplies, medicine when they’re sick and trips to the doctor to keep them healthy. Parents make a decision to take on that responsibility when they keep a child.

Parents shouldn’t hold the basic necessities of a child over their heads. Children owe their parents nothing for fulfilling the responsibility that they chose to take. You take care of that child because you decided to instead of giving that responsibility to someone else. And if you do think your kid owes you something for being a child and having needs, they probably would have been better off with someone else anyways.

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“If autism isn’t caused by environmental factors and is natural why didn’t we ever see it in the past?”

We did, except it wasn’t called autism it was called “Little Jonathan is a r*tarded halfwit who bangs his head on things and can’t speak so we’re taking him into the middle of the cold dark forest and leaving him there to die.”

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“Despite popular theories, I believe people fall in love based not on good looks or fate but on knowledge. Either they are amazed by something a beloved knows that they themselves do not know; or they discover a common rare knowledge; or they can supply knowledge to someone who’s lacking. Hasn’t everyone found a strange ignorance in someone beguiling? …Nowadays, trendy librarians, wanting to be important, say, Knowledge is power. I know better. Knowledge is love.”

From The Giant’s House, Elizabeth McCracken

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“I just can’t trust words. But I can believe in what I feel with my body”. -Little Forest.

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Yoshitaka Amano Art of Final Fantasy VI 

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“The “Nice Lady” Syndrome: If we are nice ladies, how do we behave? In situations that might realistically evoke anger or protest, we stay silent–or become tearful, self-critical, or “hurt.” If we do feel angry, we keep it to ourselves in order to avoid the possibility of open conflict. But it is not just our anger that we keep to ourselves; in addition, we may avoid making clear statements about what we think and feel, when we suspect that such clarity would make another person uncomfortable and expose differences between us.

When we behave in this way, our primary energy is directed toward protecting another person and preserving the harmony of our relationships at the expense of defining a clear self. Over time we may lose our clarity of self, because we are putting so much effort into “reading” other people’s reactions and ensuring that we don’t rock the boat, we may become less and less of an expert about our own thoughts, feelings, and wants.

The more we are “nice” in these ways, the more we accumulate a storehouse of unconscious anger and rage. Anger is inevitable when our lives consist of giving in and going along; when we assume responsibility for other people’s feelings and reactions; when we relinquish our primary responsibility to proceed with our own growth and ensure the quality of our own lives; when we behave as if having a relationship is more important than having a self. Of course, we are forbidden from experiencing this anger directly, since “nice ladies,” by definition, are not angry women.

Thus begins a self-defeating and self-perpetuating cycle. The more we give in and go along, the more our anger builds. The more we intensify our repressive efforts, the more we unconsciously fear a volcanic eruption should we begin to let the anger out. So the more desperately we repress … and so it goes. When we finally do “blow,” we may then confirm our worst fears that our anger is indeed “irrational” and “destructive.” And other people may write us off as neurotic, while the real issues go unaddressed, and the cycle begins again.”

“Unlike the “bitches” among us, who are doomed to lose popularity contests–if not our jobs–“nice ladies” are rewarded by society. The personal costs, however, are very high and affect every aspect of our emotional and intellectual life. “See no evil, hear no evil, speak no evil” becomes the unconscious rule for those of us who must deny the awareness and expression of our anger. The “evil” that we must avoid includes any number of thoughts, feelings, and actions that might bring us into open conflict, or even disagreement, with important others. To obey this rule, we must become sleepwalkers. We must not see clearly, think precisely, or remember freely. The amount of creative, intellectual, and sexual energy that is trapped by this need to repress anger and remain unaware of its sources is simply incalculable.��

Harriet Lerner, The Dance of Anger

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love really is cooking. cooking for and with your friends is an act of love. cooking for and with your partner is an act of love. cooking for YOURSELF is especially an act of love. the care, the tenderness, and affection??? to nourish not only yourself but the ones you love??? those moments you spend??? god its just love thats all i can say

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タンポポ (Tampopo) 1985, dir. Jûzô Itami.

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your kids should feel safe disagreeing with you. they should feel able to express a dissenting viewpoint knowing that their feelings will be heard & acknowledged. if your kids don’t tell you things, about their thoughts or actions, because they don’t feel safe–that’s on you. it’s not dishonesty, it’s self-preservation. you’ve taught them that honesty will get them punished.

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‘previously undreamed-of’

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hmmm