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t-a-a-1 · 2 days ago

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More Than Meets The Eye

TFA Optimus! X F!Reader

Summary: Being a rising journalist is difficult. Especially when you have to live a secret criminal life. Things get worst when you start to fall in love with your enemy, Optimus Prime, leader of the Autobots and hero of Detroit City.

You believe the feelings can't be mutual. Yet, he slowly starts to notice that you are more than meets the eye.

A/N: Lots of yearning. Jealously. Enemies to lovers?? You are a journalist who is also a criminal. Idk. Takes place between Season 1 and 2 of TFA.

Chapter 1: Ride or Die

....

Detroit City could be ugly, nasty, unhygienic, gentrified and many other things.

But never boring.

Especially with robotic aliens patrolling the streets.

Bots that you didn't trust fully nor liked very much.

Even more, that Optimus Prime that everyone seemed to like so much.

With his red and blue colors, his helm that looks like he is always wearing a cap and straight posture that was too authoritative for your liking.

While everyone was excited, taking pictures of the Autobots, you were there to ask the real questions. Your job as a reporter was to tell the truth and that's what you plan to do by exposing the leader of the Autobots.

"Mr. Prime, I have a question for you."

You raised your hand, not really sure if that matters but you wanted to keep being respectful.

"Oh, yes, how can I help you, ma'am?"

Optimus sees you walk through the crowd of people and paparazzi. Press conferences weren't unknown to him. The citizens, the reporters, the speechless mayor and his assistant that probably did everything for him.

"I've done some research and Detroit's oil supply has plummeted since your arrival to Earth. This has created a tax increase for all of Detroit's citizens. How do you respond to this?"

"Well, we do need to eat to keep helping the city," Optimus bends down to be able to speak on the mic. "But we apologize for any inconvenience this may have caused."

"If you were sorry you and your team would have already found all the fragments of the AllSpark and departed Earth."

"How do you know about–?"

You didn't let him finish his question as you striked with another statement.

"But no, you and the Autobots are too focused on wasting Earth's resources and playing heroes to even think of recovering your world's most powerful energy source."

"What? No, we–"

He keeps getting interrupted by you. Although he tries to keep his cool, he wasn't in the best of moods either. Each statement you were making was ticking off his clock.

"Without mentioning that you have been spotted entering nearby natural reservation islands without the proper permissions or documentation."

"Well, yes but I thought it was fine–"

"Why would it be fine?" You look up at him. Even when you weren't very fond of the alien robots, you had to admit that they were a spectacle to look at. But you quickly shook the thought away. "Just because you are big and dangerous you think you are entitled to cross human law?"

"Look missy, I don't know what's your problem but–"

"My problem is that you are not answering my questions."

There's a bit of laughter coming from behind Optimus. If he had been smart enough, he could've said something along the lines of 'you aren't asking any questions, you are just saying statements.' Instead, he lashes out on you, giving you the exact reaction you wanted.

"If only you gave me time, I would respond to them!" Seeing his mistake, Optimus stands away from the pod, clearly frustrated at the situation. "You know what, we don't have the time for this."

Smiling Autobots was the first thing he saw as soon as he turned to look at them. He ex-vents, not wanting to deal with it.

"Autobots, transform and roll out."

The abandoned building had become their home. It was big enough to have rooms for everyone. Each catering for every bot's needs. But not even the vastness of the building could sparse the leader's rising annoyance. Walking from side to side of the hangar, looking down and with a servo on his chin, he questioned the previous interaction.

He doesn't remember seeing you before. Either that or your existence wasn't important enough for his processor to remember.

"How did that lady know about the AllSpark?" Optimus keeps walking as Bumblebee and Sari play video games on the sofa. "We haven't told anyone about the fragments."

Hearing something being dropped, Optimus quickly turns to look at the little girl who has taken long-term residence at their base.

"Sari?" Optimus questions, getting closer to her. "Is there anything you want to say?"

"Sorry, I thought yall were going to release that information to the public soon," she plays with her thumbs, moving them in a circle in between her hands. "So, I thought, why not sell the information to a reporter? Save you guys the time!"

"Why would you do that?"

Bumblebee questions her, he didn't know about her actions either.

"Because I need the money! If I don't have money, I can't afford food. If I don't eat, I'll die!" Sari feels threatened, especially when she sees the rest of the bots gathering around her. "And all my credit cards have been frozen ever since my dad disappeared."

It was as if everyone had a spoken agreement. Her explanation was a very good one. Feeling shy and maybe like a burden to them, she did what any little girl would. As best as she could with the current circumstances. No one was angry at her, just worried for what this could bring to the team.

"What else have you told her?"

Prowl asks this time, sounding as calm as ever.

"Nothing, I promise!" Sari exclaimed. "Actually, ever since I told her about my situation, she never fails to send me some money in the mail."

"Probably to gain your trust so you could later tell her more information about us," Ratchet always assumed the worst of people. A trait that no one could blame. Being a war-veteran, distrusting others was the best for survival.

"I don't think so, she just sends money. No notes, no letters, nothing."

"Whatever the situation is, we can't have her spreading misinformation about us," Bulkhead is the last to speak his mind.

"She wasn't lying, bulkhead," Optimus remembers your statements. Each of them had truth in them. "She was right. We did everything she said we did."

As much as he wanted to reprimand the little girl, he couldn't do it. Instead he takes a few seconds to think.

"But we can't have her writing negative articles about us," he says as he takes a moment to look at his very little friend. "Especially if we plan to ask for some monetary compensation for Sari."

He really didn't want to ask for any kind of payment from the humans. Everything he did, he did in the name of goodness and to further improve Cybertronian-Human diplomatic relationships. But Sari was part of the team and his duty as leader was to take care of everyone. And she was a helpless little girl. He needs to take care of her properly and for that he needs human currency. Not much, just whatever is needed for a human to survive. Food, maybe clothes? Water. Oxygen? Medication ... Education? Did she need that? He is not sure but maybe Sari could make him a list later.

For now, there is a reporter he needs to find.

You weren't new to doing undercover work. You enjoyed it, pretending to be someone else, getting the information you needed, then going home as if you had lived another life.

Tonight, it was one of those nights. Where you wore heels, a skirt and a revealing top. Loose hair and lip gloss and a wing to cover your real hair color.

During the day you were a reporter. Tonight you were a car enthusiast.

"So, would you take me?"

"A beautiful car needs a beautiful woman,"

You had been talking with a man for fifteen minutes. It's stupid how easy it was to get a man. Just listening to them talk for ten minutes straight without talking usually does the trick.

"And you know, racing is not the only thing I am good at."

Smiling, not because of his suggestive comment but because you were about to get what you wanted, you were about to make your way inside the car.

Until bright lights pointing at you ruined the moment.

"What does that freak want?"

There is a loud sound of engine coming from the large truck. Although the light was bright, you could see a few shades of blue and red.

"This is the police, stand down."

"Shit."

The man who you were talking to didn't hesitate to turn on his car and speed up. Letting off a train of fumes and leaving you behind.

Great, now you had to explain that you weren't a hooker but an undercover reporter to the officer.

Except that this wasn't a cop. It wasn't even a person. But a driverless car. A bot you tragically knew too well.

"So you have come for your revenge after today's press conference?" you ask sarcastically as you begin to walk away. You raised your hand and waved from side to side."Well, you got it. Now leave me alone."

You can hear the little 'click and clack' of your heels as they impact against the concrete ground. But close by you can still hear the roaring engines. Headlights were still pretty bright and you wondered if he understood human cues. Because this just looks like some guy harassing a woman.

"Not even a 'thank you' for saving you from that guy?" Optimus follows as he drives next to you. "I thought you would be more educated."

"Well, I didn't ask you to save me," you wanted to take bigger steps but you've been walking for so long with your heels that you can't do it anymore. "Is butting into other people's business an Autobot costume?"

"Look I am not going to fall into your tactics," he says. "I just came to say that I think we started off with the wrong pede."

"Oh? Really? Why do you think that?"

"Well, for starters, I think you have the wrong ideas about us," Optimus takes a closer look at you. Wearing a different style than what you wore this morning. "Yes you are right, sometimes we don't do the right thing. But we are new here and we don't know any better."

"So you should be excused for all actions just because of your ignorance?" you feel like you are being observed. Not in a desirable manner but rather a curious one. Optimus didn't have 'eyes' but optics. His vision is probably more enhanced, being a bot and all. "Is that what you are saying?"

"No, I am saying that maybe you could try and understand us and be more ... lenient whenever you write about us."

"And why would I do that?" you began to feel self conscious. Miniskirts weren't your thing, you liked them but Optimus heavy optics on you wasn't the most comfortable. Maybe it was all your imagination. Besides, you doubted that Optimus could feel attraction towards a human. "Are you going to hurt me if I don't?"

"What? No!"

You stop walking and suddenly turn to look at him.

"Then I won't change anything."

He doesn't want to think about it too much but he feels his something inside him short-circuit. Now, he realized he had been staring at you for too long. Particularly interested in your skin. As far as he knows metal and skin don't react the same way to cold. Your material being more sensitive to climate change. He was studying you and all he concluded is that you were cold.

"Why do you care so much about what we do and don't? How does it even affect you?" his engines roar louder. "We help the humans with crime, cleaning the streets, repairing buildings and other humiliating things without any type of compensation but I don't see you writing about that stuff!"

"Do you know what happens when you and your crew destroy a building?"

"The city repairs it."

"Yes, they do," you walk towards him, aggressively placing your hands on his door. His truck form was too large for you to reach his window. It's not like you were planning to punch him but rather make your point. "But who's money do they use to repair those damages?"

He stays quiet and you proceed.

"The people's money," using your index finger, you keep poking at him each time you make a statement. "Ever since you and your Autobots got here, things have become way more expensive. Food, gas, bills. There are families who will be homeless because they can't afford to pay rent. All because the city is raising taxes to pay for all the damages you cause."

His headlights blink every time you keep touching him, with every word that escapes your lips.

"It's already hard enough being a journalist in Detroit and now I have to focus on surviving too. I need to contribute good stories to the newsroom or I won't even have money to buy cigarettes."

Then, you point off into the distance, the road is clear but dark. Only the city lights illuminated the path but everything had an eerie feel to it .

"And that guy you just scared off? He was my ticket to have a warm meal tonight and you ruined it for me."

You take your hands off him. His headlights stop blinking.

"So, I am sorry. I am sorry I won't write about how the Autobots are Detroit's heroes and how good they are because they pick up some cans."

You walk away. Now thinking of whether to spend your last $20 bucks on food or a taxi to take you home.

At least you can't hear the roaring engine anymore.

As he sees you struggle to keep walking, Optimus notices your shivering. How you tried to cover your backside with your bag and how ever so often your stomach would quietly growl. Although he wasn't an expert on human biology, he knew that meant you were hungry.

He remembers your words and then Sari's. Although you were struggling to survive, you still somehow managed to help out Sari. A job he is supposed to be doing but failing miserably.

"I– " he drives up to you again. For a second, he doesn't have anything to say. Apologizing won't help you in any way. "Is there any way I can help?"

"Well, unless you can transform into a racing car and take me to do some illegal car racing, I don't think so."

Behind you, you hear metal shifting. Driving next to you is blue and red ... Corvette? Camaro? Ferrari? You didn't know a single thing about cars but the only thing you knew is that it was a nice looking car. Dynamic, elegant and shiny. Hot and sexy. And a beautiful car needs a beautiful girl.

"Anything else?"

It was 3 a.m.

A dark and isolated road on the outskirts of Detroit will be witness to your first car racing. You didn't know a single thing about cars and much less racing. But thankfully for you, your racer is a car. He should know better ... right?

As a reporter you are supposed to blend in with the crow but with Optimus, you knew that was impossible. All eyes were on you as soon as you drove by the starting line. Wondering who had just joined the car racing scene.

"Everyone is here ... Can't we just arrest them?"

"No, I am not the police. I am just here to report on things. To inform people this is happening."

You look around the vehicle, there was technology that Earth didn't have. There wasn't a single thing you could understand. Getting nervous, you tried to get some fresh air. Clicking a few random buttons, you hear Optimus make a few displeased growls.

"Would you stop that? You know you are touching my body, right?"

You quickly stop, not knowing how to feel about being inside a mechanic alien.

"Can you lower the windows then? I am starting to feel a little claustrophobic."

Optimus does as you told him and now you get a clearer view of your sides. To your right there is a white Camaro with black racing stripes. To your left, a red and white car. The fancy type which brand you didn't know nor care.

"Hey beautiful, when I win let's make out in the back of my car!"

Hearing that comment, you tell Optimus to roll up the windows again. He quickly didn't hesitate to ask questions.

"What is make out?"

You see another woman stand in front of the car. Holding a red handkerchief. Extremely beautiful and thin, she made walking in heels look easy. The cars start their engines and you start regretting this.

"If we win this, I'll show you."

"What do we get if we win anyway?"

Looking at the steering wheel, you think about holding it but then again Optimus seems very decided for you not to touch him. Not wanting to make him uncomfortable, you shake the thought off your head.

"I get a good story and three thousand dollars."

"Can I have some of that money? For Sari, of course."

"Absolutely but," you look around the car, trying to look for the seatbelt. The race was about to start and you couldn't find it. "Where is the seat-"

But the race had started, Optimus didn't listen as he sped though the road. You abruptly lay back on the seat. Making mental notes about the situation. The racers, the rules, the cars, the place.

You wished you could enjoy the excitement of the race ... if it only wasn't that your life was held by a threat.

As Optimus makes an abrupt turn, you move from one seat to the other. Almost doing a complete 360.

"Would you care to drive more carefully?!"

You rub your head. Feeling like a small bump on the back, you are thankful the windows are tinted dark. No one can see your humiliating falling and bumping into Optimus windows and door.

"Don't you want to win, missy?"

"I can only win if I get to the finishing line ALIVE!"

As if he wasn't hearing you, he makes another aggressive movement. This time you end up side down, with your head on the feet rest and your legs on the passenger seat.

"THAT'S IT! I AM DRIVING!"

You straighten up and quickly put your hands on the steering wheel, taking control of the alien mech.

"Hey, missy! Hands off the steering wheel!!"

"I'll do that when you learn how to drive!"

You fought against his strength, as he moved himself to the opposite side. It wasn't often that you fought against an alien but if your life wasn't in danger you wouldn't do so. Watching all the cars passing by was also alarming, you weren't only going to die but also lose.

"I'll have you know my driving skills have been renowned by the Elite Guard!"

"I don't give a f–"

He lost control, as you did. The screeching tires against the pavement could be heard as the rubber of them burned. You couldn't react as Optimus crashes against a pine tree. Hitting your head against the steering wheel, you thought you might get a concussion. However, you get enough strength to get out of the car and walk a few meters away from him. It wasn't until all the racing cars had passed you that Optimus transformed back to his robot form.

"I just got a new paint job and a polish!"

He says as he sees some scratches on his body.

"And you almost killed me!" you put a hand on your head, it hurts as if your whole brain was pulsating. Your sight is dizzy and your body is weak. "I knew it, I knew this wouldn't work out and I still trusted you."

"We wouldn't be here if you had only kept your hands to yourself."

"No, we wouldn't be here if only you had a goddamn seatbelt?!"

Optimus was also frustrated with the situation. Now he is too far behind to win the race and he needed the money to buy food for Sari. Not only that but after tonight he is going to have to give explanations to the rest of his team. He is probably gonna be made fun of for not having a 'leader-behavior' and they were right. Because why was he here? At first, he just wanted to help you. But it seems you don't want to nor appreciate his effort.

"And why would I? I don't let humans inside me," he points at you, unaware of your delicate state. "Besides it's not my fault your body is so weak."

"Well, for someone who is supposed to protect life, you certainly do a great," there is clear sarcasm in your voice. You probably shouldn't be fighting against a giant robot but if he were to squish you right now, he would be doing you a favor.

"I don't even know why you are on Earth if you don't even like humans."

"Oh, I like humans, I just don't like you."

"Well, the feeling is mutual."

You take off your heels and start walking back on the cold pavement. Feeling cold everywhere, you wonder what is going to kill you first. Hypothermia or brain damage.

"Where are you going?"

"Home."

"We are on the outskirts of the city, you'll get home by the next solar cycle if you walk."

As much as Optimus dislikes you, he wouldn't let a lady walk alone at night.

"Let me take you home."

"No," now it hurts to breathe. You probably got a few injuries but you tried to hide the pain. The last thing you wanted was to confirm Prime's idea that you were weak. You were, but he didn't have to know. "Just leave me alone."

"Does your pride have no end?" Optimus' words weren't helping either. "Just come inside–"

He was going to keep talking until he noticed that you had stopped walking. He sees you put a hand on your head and the other on your stomach.

Suddenly, you lose balance and he quickly reaches a servo out to catch you. He had assumed that most humans should be warm. The coldness of your body was not common. Analyzing you, he sees that you are still breathing but unconscious. You are small on his servo and he feels as though he needs to cover you.

Maybe, you were right ... he should have let you drive.

There were many questions in Ratchet's processor. But seeing Optimus' worried face restrained his voice box from instigating the Prime.

"I am not an expert in human biology but my analysis says that she is dehydrated and malnourished. She probably hasn't eaten in days."

Ratchet sees you in the medical berth. In a deep sleep and weakend, he doesn't know when you will wake up.

"Don't you think it would have been better to take her to a human medical center?"

"I thought about it but while I was driving, she woke up momentarily and asked me not to take her there."

Optimus had assumed that the reason you didn't want to go to a 'hospital' was due that maybe you didn't have a means to pay for it. The thought alone made him spark ache, he didn't understand why humans would charge for a basic right.

"Well then, make yourself useful and bring her some warm human fuel," Ratchet says. "And maybe some human clothes with more fabric or a blanket."

Optimus nods, but there is hesitancy. He doesn't move and Ratchet catches on this. His optics are on you as if studying you. Most obvious, there is guilt and worry. He takes a closer look at him. Some part of his paint was ripped off and his metal was scratched.

"Did anything of importance happen?"

"I tried to help her with something but things didn't occur as I planned them."

There was something he was keeping to himself.

"Did anything else happen?"

"It's just ...," he pauses and the longer he looks at you, the more Ratchet wonders. He has known the boy for some time now. He has seen him at his best and at his worst but this is different. It's like he wants to say or do something but he can't. Either because he is too timid or because he can't find the right words. But Optimus' eloquence was known through all of Cybertron.

"It's nothing."

The smell of chicken noodle soup wakes up. It is an unknown place but you feel warm. Much more than your cold, small apartment. It was a bright room, and underneath was a red, giant medical bed. A white blanket covers your body and the face of a little girl stares right at you.

"Hi!"

You slowly stand up, your head still hurting but at least you were alive.

"Hey, kid."

You take a better look at the place around you. At least it wasn't a hospital and for that you were thankful.

"I am Sari! And you must be (Y/N)? We exchanged Autobot information before?"

The girl was smiling, excited to see you. By hearing her name, you immediately knew what she was referring to. A few weeks ago, you had received a letter from someone, you assumed that it was a kid due to the wacky handwriting and simple vocabulary. Nonetheless, this kid was selling Autobot information to you, some things valuable, others not so much. After learning the truth behind the kid, you decided to help her as much as you could.

"I am guessing this is the secret base of the Autobots?"

You ask the obvious. You didn't find any other logical explanation as to why there would be such big beds and medical equipment.

"Yeah ... Please, don't tell anyone," Sari says. "Or Optimus is gonna have to threaten you."

"Well, I would like to see him try," you give the little girl a head pat. "But I promise I won't say a word, just because you ask me to."

This would have been valuable information if it wasn't due that it didn't matter anymore. You were supposed to have a story by today and the only thing you have is a headache. Another day, another non-existent payment. You are gonna have to get used to eating air at this point.

"You should eat," Sari puts the bowl of soup closer to you. "Optimus made it for you and I helped, of course."

After hearing his name, you quickly turn to look at the little girl. You could tell she was telling the truth but she also had a mischievous smile.

"Is there something you want to ask me?"

You weren't about to make a meal go to waste. Picking up the spoon, you start to dig in. It wasn't bad and you wonder if Optimus actually helped at all because you can't imagine someone who is unable to taste human food, being able to make something this good.

"Well, I was wondering ... Will you be staying with us from now on?"

"No," you simply say, too concentrated in eating to think properly. "Why are you asking that?"

"Well, do you want to?"

"Thanks for the offer but I don't think the Autobots would like me here."

"But I can get so lonely sometimes!" Sari puts puppy eyes on her face and you have to admit that it was slowly working. "I need a friend."

"You can still write to me if you would like."

"That's not enough ..."

Suddenly, you heard loud and big steps approaching from behind you. You didn't want to think about it. If you don't see it, it's not real. But then you hear mechanics moving and you are sure that if you were to turn around, you'll find a very unpleasant faceplate.

"Sari, do not overwhelm our guests," Optimus says. "She's still recovering."

"Don't mind me, I was just leaving."

Like an animal, you drink the last of your soup and put it next to you.

"Hey um ... About last night, I ..." He pauses and struggles with his words. "I wanted to apologize–"

"No need."

You stand up and let the white blanket covering you slip off your body. It gets cold immediately and you are tempted to ask if you can stay with the blanket.

"Wait! If you really need to, you can stay here,"

"And become your charity project? No, thank you."

His faceplate was still very close to yours. Now you can take a closer look at his optics. You didn't want to admit it but they were quite beautiful. A type of blue not found on Earth. Maybe not even in the entire universe. It was unique to him and you were a bit jealous of his own individuality.

"I am just trying to help."

"I think you have helped enough," you weren't about to fall for his kindness. It was his own stubbornness that put you in this situation. That and that you haven't taken care of yourself properly but he doesn't have to know that. "If I let you help me again, then I'll for sure die."

"If only you would put your pride away, we could help each other–"

"You want to help me? Why? Because you like me? Or to subside your guilt?"

"Because it's the right thing to do."

"The right thing to do?" You can't stand his righteousness. Pretending to be this all-good creature when you know that can't be. How good can he be when he is the cause of your misfortunes? Not only yours but to a lot of more people. The worst part of it all is that he doesn't seem to want to do anything about it. "Why don't you start by leaving my planet first then?"

Optimus stares at you and you look back at him. It was a few seconds but to you it lasted minutes.

He doesn't say anything but slowly moves apart from you and walks away.

You turn to look at Sari who was still sitting close by.

"Sorry you had to see that kid."

"It's alright, but can I tell you something?"

You didn't want to be here. The sun was probably about to rise and you just wanted to go home. But you couldn't say no to the girl, she seemed too sweet and her situation was still lamentable. You nod, confirming for Sari to continue.

"I've known Optimus for a time now and I can tell you that he is not very well-versed with the ladies," she says. "He rescued a woman once and she asked for his phone number."

Tilting you heard, a lot of things crossed your mind. You have so many questions, especially about the kind of woman who would want a machine as something more than a friend.

"And what happened?"

"He gave it to her and she texted him," she raised a small hand, pointing up. "The text said 'Do you think I am pretty?"

"And Optimus texted back saying 'I think you look soft and squeezable. And she never texted back."

You stopped yourself from laughing. Although a small smile left your lips. You look away for a second and then look back at the young girl.

"Optimus is good at hiding his feelings but you can tell he was sad she never texted him back."

"Why are you telling me this?"

You finally ask, curious about the story but mostly about Sari's intentions.

"Just so you know that he can be an idiot sometimes but he has a good heart ... Well, spark," Sari's voice becomes more gentle and this caught your attention. This wasn't supposed to be a funny story and now you feel a bit shameful for laughing.

"And I think he just doesn't know how to tell you that."

The sun was starting to come out.

You took off your heels for a little bit until the cold pavement was too much to handle for your skin.

You weren't expecting for things to go this way. Wanting to start a new life, away from everything. It was all going smoothly until they arrived. Now you find yourself on a bench, cold and hungry. Waiting for the first bus to take you home.

How much longer did you have to endure?

You cover your face, ashamed of yourself. Of every decision you have made in your life. This is your reality now. About to be kicked out of your apartment, without a stable job and nowhere to go. No one to talk to.

Your cellphone rings.

Not recognizing the phone number on the screen, you were hesitant to answer but lastly, you picked it up, things can't get worse anyways.

"It was harder to get a hold of you than I thought."

You recognized that voice.

"But I am glad you are doing fine. How's the city life treating you?"

"How did you find me?"

You ask as you look around you. No one was out yet. Just a few cars passed by and the tweets of birds could be heard.

"That doesn't matter. I called thinking you may be interested in a job."

"I am not. No matter what you say, I won't go back there."

"Are you sure? I can send you over the first half of the payment right now."

You were in desperate need. He knows that and is taking advantage of that. Your instincts were begging you to say yes. To just do one more job, to get enough food to survive for a little while until you can get back on your feet. But ...

"I appreciate the offer. But I have to decline."

There is a long pause.

"We'll keep in touch."

"Still thinking about that woman?"

When Ratchet says things like that, it's difficult not to notice the subtle hits in his voice box.

"Perhaps."

Ratchet can tell many things from the Prime's actions. He wasn't drinking his fuel and in deep thought. At least he wasn't denying the question.

"I am sure you'll see her again," Ratchet says as he pat's Optimus' shoulder plate. "Next time ask for her number."

"It's not like that."

His cheeks have a slight blue. Very minimal but Ratchet knows better than that.

It was a lively evening in the Autobot's base. With Bumblebee and Sari playing video games while Prowl and Bulkhead stand next to them. Optimus and Ratchet usually watch from the sidelines, never participating but just treasuring the tranquility of the moment.

"If it's not that then what is it?"

"I just ..."

Optimus hesitates not because he didn't want to tell Ratchet but because he couldn't understand his own feelings. Was it guilt? Curiosity? It's strange and yet both emotions are something he wishes to not feel. He should be worrying about the things he can fix, people he can help.

He shouldn't think about you.

About yesterday night. About the drive back to the base. You laid on his seat, unconscious. Yet you mustered the strength to say three simple words.

"Don't leave me."

And just like that. His spark ached.

Damn you.

He doesn't have time for this. For all he cares, he hopes to never see you again.

Because how dare you play with his feelings like that?

"I'm going for a drive."

There was nothing else to do but ride or die.

A/N: Here is a new story I am working on. It was really fun to write this. Thank you for all the support you have given me this far! I'll continue to write. For any ideas, comments, concerns, comments you can always message me/or inbox me here. Thank you. Also sorry for any mistakes I made. I don't proof read. Regardless, I hope you enjoy and I'll be answering comments soon!

See you in the next story!

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sugarplumfairy777 · 2 days ago

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⋆˚✿˖°failure..? doubt...? limitations...? uhh...what is that?

#nonegativityinmyvocabularycuzimgodduh

♡︎doubts

there are moments when doubt clouds your mind, when you question your true nature, and wonder if it’s really possible that you are the embodiment of pure consciousness, that you are god itself. but here’s the truth: you are powerful beyond measure, and doubt is simply the ego’s way of keeping you small. remember, you are not the voice in your head. you are the one who hears it. you are not your body, your circumstances, or the labels others give you. all of those things change. you, however, are the unchanging, eternal awareness behind it all—pure consciousness. that alone is your essence, and it is limitless. it is god in its most divine, infinite form. you are that. your are god.

so why doubt? doubt arises when we identify too strongly with our limited selves—with the ego, the stories we tell ourselves about who we think we are, and the false separation we feel from the universe. but here’s the thing: that separation is an illusion. you are not separate. you are one with everything, one with all beings, one with the source of all creation. if god is infinite and formless, then that is who you truly are.

the world we live in is built on beliefs that reinforce separation and limitation, which make us forget our true nature as god, as pure consciousness.

from a young age, we’re taught to define ourselves by external things—our name, our achievements, our social status, how others perceive us. we’re told that we’re just humans, separate from everything else, living in a material world where everything seems to exist outside of us. society measures success by how much we have or how well we fit into its standards. this constant focus on the external world leads us to forget the infinite power we hold inside.

there’s also a deep-rooted belief in scarcity and competition. we’re told that there’s not enough for everyone and that we need to work hard to “earn” our place in the world. this idea of having to compete with others to survive keeps us in a mindset of lack and limitation. it makes us feel like we’re small, powerless, and unworthy of the greatness we naturally possess.

on top of that, most of us are bombarded by information and distractions that keep our attention outside of ourselves—social media, advertisements, entertainment. these things make us constantly compare ourselves to others, reinforcing the idea that we’re not good enough, that we’re missing something. when our minds are always focused outward, we forget to look within, where our true power lies.

religion, too, can play a role in reinforcing the separation. many traditional religious teachings portray god as something outside of us—an all-powerful being up in the sky, separate from us, judging us. this can make it hard to recognize that god is within us, that we are one with the divine. instead of seeing ourselves as divine beings with infinite power, we’re taught to see ourselves as flawed, imperfect, and in need of salvation from something outside of us.

the education system also teaches us to prioritize logic, reason, and empirical evidence. while these things are valuable, they often make us dismiss our inner knowing, our intuition, and our connection to something greater than the physical world. we start to believe that the only “real” things are those we can see, measure, and prove scientifically, which distances us from the understanding that we are consciousness itself.

all these systems—society, media, religion, education—focus on the material, the external, and reinforce the idea that we’re separate, small, and limited. but these are just illusions. the truth is, beyond all these distractions, we are god in human form. we are the creators of our reality, infinite and powerful beyond measure.

to overcome this conditioning, we need to remember to turn inward, to connect with our true essence. by shifting our focus from the external world to the inner, we can begin to see that the separation and limitation we’ve been taught are illusions. we are, and have always been, one with the infinite.

think about that for a moment: you are the consciousness that creates worlds.

the doubt you feel is just the mind holding on to a false story. it’s the ego trying to convince you that you need to stay small, stay afraid. but you don’t have to. you have the power to step into your true nature at any time, to realize that you are already the infinite, and that nothing can diminish your divine power. cuz ur god duh. 😝

how do you release these doubts?

shift your perspective: any time you find yourself doubting, pause and ask, “who is doubting right now?” is it your higher self, your infinite consciousness? or is it your mind, your ego, your conditioning? you’ll realize that it’s always the latter. remind yourself that the real you, the one observing, is always free from doubt.

affirm your power: wake up every morning and affirm: “i am infinite. i am consciousness itself. i am god in form.” these words are not just affirmations—they are the deepest truth of your existence. repeat them, let them sink into your being, until you feel the energy of your divinity pulsing through your every cell.

remember your unity with everything: god is not something separate from you. the universe is not some distant force. it is you. you are made from the same divine consciousness that runs through every star, every planet, every being. the same consciousness that creates life flows through you, too. you are the universe experiencing itself.

embrace your power: you are not weak, you are not small. you are the creator of your reality, the manifestor of your dreams, and the master of your destiny. nothing outside of you can take that power away from you because it is in you. it is you. every time you doubt, remind yourself of this: i am the creator. i am the source of all power.

you are limitless. the doubt you feel is just a temporary veil over your true power, but it can’t last. every time you bring your awareness back to the present moment, every time you remember that you are pure consciousness, the veil lifts. the illusion fades.

there is no need to doubt when you realize you are already everything you seek. you don’t have to strive to become god, to become powerful, to become divine—you already are. it’s always been you. it will always be you.

so, the next time doubt creeps in, breathe deeply, smile, and remember: you are pure consciousness, infinite, powerful, and divine. you are the creator of all that is. step into that truth and watch the world transform around you.

♡︎failure

we’ve all grown up with the idea that failure is something to be feared, that it’s a sign we’re not good enough or capable enough. but what if i told you that failure isn’t real? it’s an illusion we’ve been conditioned to believe in, and once you truly understand this, especially in the context of the void state, you can release the fear of failure and step into your infinite power.

here’s why failure doesn’t exist and how realizing this can change your entire perspective on life.

1. failure is just a label, not a reality

first of all, the concept of failure is something we create in our minds. it’s a label we slap on situations when things don’t go according to our expectations. society conditions us to believe that if we don’t achieve a specific outcome, we’ve failed. but who decides what failure even means? it’s not the universe. it’s not some law of existence. it’s us, based on societal norms and conditioning.

society sets all these expectations—like getting a certain job, reaching milestones by certain ages, succeeding in school, relationships, and more. when we don’t meet those arbitrary standards, we call it failure. but the truth is, life doesn’t operate according to those rigid standards. there are no universal rules that say you have to achieve a particular thing by a certain time. when we attach the label of failure to an experience, it’s just a reflection of our own beliefs—not reality.

2. the void state: where failure dissolves

now, let’s talk about the void state. the void is a place where all external ideas and constructs—including failure—dissolve. the void state is the place of infinite potential, pure consciousness, and limitless creation. when you enter the void, you step outside of the physical world’s limitations, stepping into a space where everything is possible.

in the void, there is no concept of failure, because there are no external judgments or expectations. it’s a state where you can create whatever reality you desire, free from the constraints of your current circumstances. when you realize you can access this space, the idea of failure becomes irrelevant. why? because the void is a reminder that you are always in control of your reality, no matter what happens in the physical world. failure is tied to the ego’s attachment to outcomes, but in the void, the ego doesn’t exist. the void reminds you that you are not limited by past mistakes, external circumstances, or societal expectations. you are infinite consciousness with the power to create and manifest anything you choose. when you realize this, “failure” can’t touch you, because you understand that you can always start fresh, that you’re constantly creating in each moment.

3. there are only lessons and growth

instead of seeing failure, recognize that every experience is an opportunity for growth. when things don’t go the way you planned, it doesn’t mean you failed—it means you learned. it means you grew. each experience teaches you something valuable about yourself, your path, and the world around you.

when you shift your perspective to see every situation as a stepping stone, you’ll realize there’s no such thing as failure—there’s only progress. every setback is a redirection, a guide leading you toward a better understanding of yourself and your desires. it’s the universe saying, “this is what you need to learn before you reach the next level.” from this perspective, what we call “failure” becomes just another part of the journey toward expansion and self-mastery.

4. the power of the void to manifest success

when you fully embrace the void state and recognize your power to manifest, you understand that there is no wrong path. whatever you desire, you can create it. the void is a space where you can strip away all the beliefs that tell you otherwise, a space where you can manifest new realities instantly, regardless of what has happened before.

if you ever feel like you’ve failed at something, use that as a cue to tap into the void. enter that space of stillness, of limitless possibility, and remind yourself that you are the creator of your life. nothing is set in stone, nothing is permanent. everything is subject to change based on your thoughts and beliefs. if you desire a new outcome, you have the power to manifest it.

in the void, you realize that “failure” is just another momentary experience, not a permanent mark on your life. you can always rewrite the story, start fresh, and bring your desires into reality without being held back by what others call failure.

5. you’re always winning, even when it doesn’t seem like it

when you’re stuck in the mindset of failure, you’re looking through a narrow lens, focusing only on what didn’t go according to plan. but when you zoom out, you’ll often realize that those moments were setting you up for something greater. Trust that you are always winning. every step you take, even when it doesn’t look like success on the outside, is moving you closer to your ultimate goal. sometimes things fall apart so something better can come together. in the void, you can see this clearly, because it’s the place where your higher self is always in control, always guiding you toward your best possible life.

6. failure is just part of the illusion of separation

at its core, the idea of failure is rooted in the illusion of separation—that we are separate from our goals, separate from success, separate from the divine. but in truth, there is no separation. we are already one with everything we desire. the belief in failure comes from the false notion that we’re lacking something, that we’re not enough or that we’re disconnected from our power.

but the void state reminds us that we are already whole, already complete. we are god, we are pure consciousness, and we are the creators of our reality. failure doesn’t exist in a world where you understand that everything is connected, that you are already everything you seek.

embrace your power

the next time you feel like you’ve failed, remember this: failure doesn’t exist. it’s a label we’ve been taught to fear, but it’s not real. in the grand scheme of your infinite existence, there are only experiences—some of them are stepping stones to success, and some are lessons that help you grow. but they’re all part of your journey, and none of them diminish your power.

when you tap into the void state, when you realize that you are pure consciousness and the creator of your life, failure becomes irrelevant. you are always in control, always manifesting, always creating. setbacks are temporary, but your power is eternal.

so, let go of the illusion of failure, you are god, and in your world, failure does not exist. inducing pure consciousness/the void state is literally impossible to fail. failure simply does not exist.

♡︎limitations

as a god you are limitless. no matter what anybody tells you, you are limitless that will never change because that is just the truth. you will and can never stop being god. you are not just some random human who came across loa/manifesting some random friday afternoon. you are limitless. you are pure consciousness, you are the creator you determine what is real and what is to happen.

no dream is too big no desire is too out far out of reach, you are god so might as well just start acting like it lol.

#void state #loa #loa tumblr #loablr #loassumption #pure consciousness #vaunts & affirmations #manifesation #manifesting

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goldsbitch · 3 days ago

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Twelve grapes

chapter 2 - Red and Blue

Does he always talk so much?" Charles asks, wondering whether excessive talking is a requirement for Red Bull drivers. Max snaps right back. "Only when he's awake." Charles nods understandingly. "Must be hard for you," he mocks Daniel's tone.

or Charles spends the afternoon pinning over his ultimate rival.

warning: m/m kiss, 8k words

Fake it til you make it. But, Charles has been faking it for so long now, he can hardly remember what it feels like to believe in himself. He pushes through. There is no other option.

It only dawns on him after the dreadfully long medical exam, when he’s finally out of the car and watching the replays of Alonso launching himself over his Sauber. It hits him when he sees all the other people, worried and then relieved that he survived just fine. Another tell-tale sign is all the phone calls and messages he keeps getting, from just about anyone he's ever met.

But, there isn't fear inside of him - he does not allow that emotion entrance, ever. He is convinced that if he had, it would be over for him in the world of motorsport. And who is he without that?

Anger piles up inside him, which is not an unfamiliar feeling, but the intensity is on another level.

It feels like the paddock is trying to suffocate him. There are people, cameras everywhere and he would give anything to leave - like right now. He walks and walks and walks. Circles, triangles, whichever will confuse anyone watching the most.

The start of his first F1 season feels like a bittersweet dream. Him coming in, having three amazing races and then finding the person source of misfortune for the following ones. DNF's, crashes and who knows what else. There is always the debrief afterwards, where he has to sit and watch his mediocre teammate smirk with unmasked joy. Charles believes he is not a violent person, but if he really had to punch someone, it would be without a doubt Marcus Ericsson.

The more he spirals, the clearer the face of his teammate becomes, until Charles finally snaps, finds an alley between the technical trucks and proceeds to start kicking one of the tires with everything he has.

The-stupid-blonde-asshole. Untalented-waste-of-a-seat. He can't rob him of his chance at Ferrari. He is so close.

"Uhm, hm."

The excessively loud pseudo-cough snaps the young driver back to reality. Only then he realizes just how tense his whole body is and how his foot hurts from the numerous kicks he granted to the truck in front of him. He can't calm himself immediately. But, he stops and turns around, to evaluate the damage he would need to clear by not making sure enough to avoid any witnesses. He quickly concluded the worst thing to happen would be for a fan or a team principal to stand there. When he locks eyes with the person standing few meters into the alley, he makes a mental note never to assume he can imagine the worst.

Standing there, with all his grace and beauty is none other than Max Verstappen. He spares him one look and then goes on to examine the kicked tire. Charles is about to drown in embarassment when he hears him speak.

"Not bad for a French guy," he remarks with a smirk and stands back up. Why anyone would think teasing someone mid-rage is a good idea is beyond Charles. He avoids looking at him as he bites his lips in frustration and adds blond people of all hair shades to his list of enemies. Max's hair counts as blond, therefore that makes them two people he wants to kick, along with Marcus. As if he could read his thoughts, he runs his hand through the messy, post race strands, which sends Charles into the loudest sigh he probably ever mustered.

"You know, I have a special wooden desk back home for when I need to punch things," the Dutch says matter-o-factly.

"I don't have an anger problem like you," he snarls through gritted teeth, failing at proving his point.

"Right. I also have a cheeky bottle of whiskey in my driver's room, if you wanna take the edge off." Yes, alcohol after an anger spree practically screams healthy, Charles wants to reply - but doesn't.

His heartbeat is somewhat coming back to down to post-race normal, he rests his hands on his waist and stares at the tire once again. He gulps, turns his look back at Max, who is still standing there, waiting. Never before he thought that Max would be the one offering him help to find his peace of mind. He must be tired or sick. "Come on, Charles," Max states, but does not move. There is something incredibly grounding about his certainty. A wave of calm hits Charles like a tsunami. Out of nowhere, it's like time stops and the world around fades into a grey hue. Charles counts his deep breaths. Stoic Max stares at him, as if he knows something more than him. It's the tone he uses that grounds him the most. Charles would normally snap back into getting mad at that fact that three words and Verstappen manages to change his mood - but he is so tired. Sudden realization of that steers his answer. "Ok," he says simply and tries not to read into the smile that creeps onto Max's face. Charles can't get the song Pale Blue Eyes out of his head.

Charles is happy that unlike him, Max still has all of his five braincells working and chooses the least visible way into Red Bull motorhome. It is probably a miracle that he manages to sneak him in, though it was way later after the race than Charles assumed. His anger walk must have been minutes long. He suppresses any guilt about his team, who are probably searching for him. He likes Sauber people, but tries not to think of the as his team. Because they hopefully won't be for long. It's the thought about the ongoing Ferrari talks that get his riled up again. Maybe walking into the den of the devil - Red Bull - was the biggest mistake he made that day. A visible reminder of how Max already had everything Charles wished for. Top team that's capable of fighting podiums. A place that screams "Max' home". He is not a visitor, he is someone who the teams counts on in their plans for the future. Not only is Charles still angry, he feels smaller than ever, as he drags behind him. The perfect metaphor for his career so far. Anger is slowly getting replaced by despair. Typical Charles' spiral.

He sinks in deep into the couch in Max's room. A small glass with honey colored liquid is in his hands immediately after. This is the moment Charles remembers he hates whiskey.

"So, you're on a bit of a run of bad races, huh?" Max opens and sips his drink, without even a hint of having an intention of toasting. Then again, Charles has nothing to toast to. Yet. Despair gets overshadowed by the hope the Ferrari contract might be a way out of this "run of bad races".

"Yeah. The car just does not have it. Or maybe I don't have it and it's actually good that other people crash into me, at least the fans get a good show."

"There is a difference between self-criticism and self-hatred, you know?" Max says in an uncharacterically calm tone. Charles can't think of any other reply apart from an eye roll.

"However, you had an impressive start. I was actually worried," Max continues, making Charles's heartbeat freeze. "For a moment," he adds maliciously after few seconds of silence, bringing Charles back to life. Max was worried and now he pities him. Oh, how nicely paved the way to hell is.

"I don't need you to feel sorry for me," he spits out, party regretting that he ever followed Max, partly happy he can be unreasonably mad at someone without much of a consequence. He's always playing the good PR boy. It's all calculated, he is not in his final destination yet. His goal is not simply to be in F1, his goal is to crush it. And he is sitting across from the one who is on his way to have it all. Max dared to smirk as he kept casually leaning against the motorhome wall.

"I would never degrade you by feeling sorry for you, mate," Max reacts, his tone hinting he shared Charles's disregard for drivers pitying each other.

"Good," Charles concludes and sips from the horribly bad drink.

"Was the crash bad? I saw some replays and I'm surprised you're sitting here. I'd expect you be to locked with the medics," Max changes his tone to a more casual one. Like they weren't talking about a several G crash involving multiple cars and a world champion flying over his head.

"I think this was my worst one yet," he admits. "The medics let me go after making sure they do every test on this planet on me."

"So, tell me. You pregnant?"

Charles laugh as the stupid joke. He blames his tired mind. It is noticable that Max is pleased with himself. Who would have though he'd be sitting here, in a Red Bull driver room, after a massive crash, cracking dumb jokes with Verstappen out of all people.

"How long is the car going to take to repaire?" the Dutch asks, waking Charles up a bit. Was that why he brought him here? To lure information out of him?

"I'm sure it's fine. I have other cats to whip," he remarks quickly, already planning on starting to being the one asking questions.

"Wha-you're whipping cats?" Max frowns, half confused, half concerned.

"Yeah, why would-"

"Whipping cats?!" It is Max now who would be called the "angry" one in the room.

Charles doesn't understand why he looks so baffled. "Yeah, j’ai d’autres chats à fouetter, it's the mechanics problem to do so."

There is pure confusion in the room, before it finally clicks. "Mate, I don't think that translates directly. I don't want to give out advice, but don't go around saying you're whipping cats for fun," Max mutters.

"Um, does it not?" Charles speaks while red runs into his face. It's all the languages in his head, one jumping over another. How is it that everyone else seems to not make these mistakes anymore.

Finally, Max lets out a small chuckle. "Happens to all of us," he contradicts what Charles didn't even have a chance to say.

To say the door opens silently and smoothly would be an understatement. Daniel Ricciardo slams in, like the owns the place. Charles does not understand many things, the Australian driver will probably be on the top of that list. He automatically stiffs up.

Daniel closes the door and pauses, taking in the scene with his "punch me" grin. "Well, well. What do we have here? Max Verstappen and… wait, don’t tell me." He snaps his fingers theatrically. "Charles Leclerc. Sauber’s crown jewel."

Charles’s jaw tightens, but he doesn’t respond.

Max observes without a reaction. Daniel does not wait a response. "Didn’t expect to find you here, mate. Shouldn’t you be back at Sauber, poring over data and figuring out how to make that car go faster than a lawnmower?" he sings his vowels in a tone so unpleasant to Charles's ears. Yes, Charles thinks. I should be. But I am not. Sue me.

Max shoots Daniel a warning look, but Daniel either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

He leans against the counter, his tone shifting, almost sympathetic. "It must be hard, though. Coming into F1, everyone expecting you to be the next big thing. Having all those hopes and dreams on your shoulders, only to realize... the car’s not good enough. That no matter how talented you are, sometimes you just can’t win."

Charles stiffens, his grip tightening on the glass. He feels his anger building up again and the urge to storm out growing inside. He closes his eyes with the hope that maybe once he opens them again, the Australian will be gone.

Daniel smiles, almost kindly. "But hey, chin up. Every legend has to start somewhere. Even if it’s at the back of the grid."

There’s a beat of silence. Charles swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. Max, sensing the shift in mood, stands abruptly.

"Daniel," he says sharply. "Enough."

Daniel puts his hands up in defense. "Chill out mate, I'm just surprised he is here and I wanna cheer him up. But, Charles," he turns away from Max, "you're always welcome here. As a visitor, you know. Just to be clear," he says and ends it with his iconic, punch-worthy smile. To add another layer to Charles's pile of discomfort, he goes and puts his arm around Max, like the overly touchy friend he must be. Max does not seem to be phased by it. Charles tries not to think about how often that must happen. It's hard to control the cocktail of emotions, so adding a hint of jealousy to it is making his glass overflow. The older driver pinches the younger one's cheeks and Charles can't help but roll his eyes and shift his focus on the nearly empty glass of whiskey. One more minute of this and he is out.

To his luck, since Daniel seems to have run out of jokes to throw around, he spins on his heel and starts walking away. "I'll leave you guys to it then. Charlie, if you want, we are going out later in the evening, text me if you wanna join," he says and walks out. Charles finds it amusing to think he'd have Daniel's number saved. Once the door closes behind him, he can finally breathe again.

"Does he always talk so much?" Charles asks, wondering whether excessive talking is a requirement for Red Bull drivers.

Max snaps right back. "Only when he's awake."

Charles nods understandingly. "Must be hard for you," he mocks Daniel's tone.

Max nods back overly dramatically. "Yes. It is. Especially when the noise blocking headphones are just...not good enough."

Charles puts his head in his hand, exhaustion creeping in.

Max seems to not notice that and continues in their talk. "You really don't like him, do you?"

There is a smirk forming at Charles's lips. "And do you like him?"

Only he knows with what kind of undertone he is asking. The jealousy still present in the air. He hopes Max does not pick up on it. Or does he? It's a confusing day.

"Yeah. He's a good friend," he murmurs back, blue eyes now locked with the messy green ones. "Do you want a refill-"

Charles can't cope anymore. No more whiskey.

"Max, why are you being, so..." he interrupts him and immediately pauses, searching for the right word to define what ever he had been so doing. And since he can't find anything better suited, he inevitably ends up with: "...nice."

Out of all the things he would describe Verstappen, this was probably the last of them. Truth be told, the only reason he followed Max to his motorhome in the first place was the immortal curiosity Charles was born with. Anything that involves Max seems to draw him in. All of the arguments - which there hadn't been many these last few months - all the snarky comments and exchanges, frowned upon looks and lines shared through media...Charles knew, deep down his biggest weakness was just how much he wanted to be accepted by Max. The allure of Verstappen - Charles imagines that's how everyone feels about the Red Bull driver.

"I don't bother spending my time on thinking why I do, or say, things," he proclaims nonchalantly, providing Charles with something that feels like the key to the enigma of it all. Well, of course, that would explain hell of a lot things about this man. He stares at him, as he keeps his casual lean on the table and fiddles with his glass. There is something about that statement that Charles finds hard to believe. But he decides to keep that question for the future.

It's only now that Charles realizes he is not calm, in fact, he is the opposite of that emotion. Tense, on edge. Like before jumping off a cliff. He wasn't like that before Daniel interrupted them, only once he left them alone again. The contrast of just how much he hated Daniel's presence and if fact appreciated the lack of it starts to hit. Charles had been in different driver's room before. But, never in Max's and it was never kind of like this. Suddenly, he is hyper aware of his every move, how small this rooms feels, contrasting its actual size. The couch underneath him is too hard and the icy glass is starting to hurt his fingers. He gulps. Max has never looked so tall before.

"You're weirdly quiet. Getting calmer now?" Max asks and interrupts the thought spiral Charles fell into.

"Yeah, all calm now," he lies and almost burn holes into Max with his stare. He wants to stay in this moment forever. There is nothing pleasant waiting for him out there.

Charles winces after taking a last sip of whiskey. "You don’t even like it," Max notes, watching him. "No," Charles admits. "I hate it. It tastes like someone melted a campfire and put it in a glass." Max laughs, genuinely this time. "Then why did you take it?" "I don’t know. Peer pressure?" "Next time, just ask for a soda. You can still be mad with a Coke in hand."

Charles just nods, without needing to respond. Max takes a deep breath in and a pause, before he speaks again.

"When are you leaving Spa? Do you have time this evening?"

Charles's response would have been very different hadn't been for Daniel's invitation. "I'm not going out with you and Daniel," he says firmly.

Max rolls his lips. "So, you do have time."

There is a tingle somewhere deep inside him. An urge, curiosity and the inability to say no to Max. "I'm leaving at midnight," he replies and it sounds more like a question.

Max grants him one of the most obnoxious smiles this century has seen. "We'll just have to make sure you're back on time. Go to the hotel and pack your things in advance. Oh, and don't wear white sneakers."

Charles is totally normal about it. It's a perfectly acceptable reaction to pack in a time a pit stop crew would be impressed by. Cancelling a gaming session with one of the engineers he had scheduled for the evening was also a perfectly ok thing to do. The pacing around the room and nail biting until his finger tops bleed is maybe little over the top, but he is alone in the room. He's allowed to freak out.

He and Max are mere acquaintances. The definition of friends not really applying to them. It would be totally ok for him to hang out with his usual suspects, but this was new. Was Max luring him into a trap? Was he going to have him strip naked and then have his Dutch friends jump over from the bushes and laugh at him?

Charles is someone who freaks out ahead of things. He considers that to be an advantage for racing, panicking on flights rather than in the cockpit.

He unpacks and then repacks his suitcase, just so that he has something to do. Curses himself for only bringing one pair of dark blue sneakers (and white ones, of course).

He has been like this for the last hour. Waiting on Max to text him he can finally go downstairs - because he is not going to let him know that he is pacing nervously. He is not going to sit in the hotel lobby, like some loser that has nothing better to do than to wait at him.

Charles blames the headache on the crash.

The sky gets progressively darker when he start giving up on Max ever texting him. Charles is a stupid, stupid boy, for believing he was talking seriously about making plans with him.

This hotel room ceiling isn't the most interesting piece of art work, but Charles would be able to repaint it by memory by the amount of time he spends laying on the unmade bed and staring at it. There is a little crack in the left corner, slight elevation between the hallway and the bedroom and a knock on the door.

A knock on the door. His mind goes immediately to the handsome Dutch driver (not that the image of him ever left since they departed, really), but he quickly gets himself up and adjusts his expectations to reality. It's probably someone from Sauber checking on him. Or his manager with some updates, he also rarely texts before coming over.

Deep breath and he opens the door. His face is calm, but if someone took Charles's pulse, they'd probably send him straight back to the medical centre. Max is standing there, looking calm and composed as ever. Back in his casual non-team wear. If it were up to Charles, he'd finally take him shopping for some flattering clothes. This is not doing him justice at all. Thank God his face is protected from the effects of that ugly stripy t-shirt.

"Hey, man. You good to go?"

Most people would send a text—or, at worst, ask reception to make a call. The fact he must have asked for his room number (and the more alarming fact he managed to get it from them) and then came all the way up, is concerning.

Max's brows furrow. "Have you lost the ability to speak in the last two hours?"

Charles slaps himself mentally. "Funny. Hello to you too."

A totally concerned-free smile spreads on Max's cheek and he walks past him to his room. "Let's grab your bag and get going, we're on a schedule."

Before he has time to blink, he is standing in a hotel elevator and Max Verstappen is carrying his bag.

There is the usual crowd of people mingling around the hotel - crew members, reporters, some overly excited fans. Charles tries to hide as Max leads them through shortcuts, this place obviously being his playground. Charles manages to relax himself a bit when he realizes nobody probably managed to get a picture of them walking together. Another miracle of the day.

The sports car, older model, but obviously worked on, growls to life as Max turns the key. The engine’s rumble reverberating through Charles’s chest. He sits stiffly in the passenger seat, his fingers unconsciously gripping the edge of the seat.

There is an old school smell of a cheap gas station car scent that punches through his nose. Max seems to be extremely comfortable in the car, as if he’s had it for years.

Without much of a conversation, they depart. The car smoothly jolts forward, tires screeching slightly as Max accelerates out of the hotel parking lot. Talk about subtle. Charles is sure the sounds of this vehicle must have had half of the heads turn. The streets of Spa blur past them, the small town lights quickly giving way to the empty countryside roads. They drive on roads between fields, sometimes pass a small lump of forest. Max is treating the road as an old partner, smooth sailing - but definitely on the edgy side of things. If Charles hadn’t known Max as a Formula 1 driver, he’s think he was some small town tuning guy.

"You drive like this on the track too?" Charles mutters after minutes of silence, trying to sound casual.

Max grins, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "No, I’m much faster on the track,“ he says as he hits the top of the hill a little too fast and sends them nearly flying before they land back on the road. He laughs and it is in that moment when Charles realizes that THE Max Verstappen is just another car guy.

The countryside passes them by and Charles has to admit there is some sort of magic to it. It’s different than the roads around Monaco, more rustic and northern. Less glam and more roughness. Had he grown up here, he’d probably spend his teenage years cruising through.

„Did you used to drive here a lot when you were young?“ He asks, head lots in his own thoughts.

Max does not reply immediately, but then he goes onto explaining that yes, he has driven through every road this place is surrounded by. As early as when he was fourteen. Charles rolls his eyes and makes few comments on the incompetence of the local police.

„Is there a specific place we’re going to?“ Charles asks after what feels like thirty minutes of driving, glancing nervously at the dense trees closing in around them. He is not checking the time, his trust lies with Max on that.

"You’ll see," Max replies, his tone maddeningly cryptic and sends the car into another turn in a way that would have then crash had there been any car in the opposite lane. Charles is not bothered by Max's driving, he knows he is more than capable of judging the situation. Had the driver been anyone else, he'd be out of the car after the first turn. His faith lies in the fact Max probably does not want both of them dead.

"Great," Charles mutters. "This is how horror movies start, you know."

Max chuckles, flicking the headlights to high beam as they zip down a narrow country road. "Relax, Leclerc. If I wanted to kill you, I’d have done it on the track. More fun."

Charles throws him a glare. "Very comforting. Thanks."

Max doesn’t respond immediately, his focus sharp as he takes a turn far faster than Charles would.

"You’re tense," Max remarks, barely hiding the amusement in his voice.

"Oui, I wonder why," Charles shoots back with lips turned upwards. It's a different kind of adrenaline, to completely give in and follow his lead.

Max glances at him briefly, his smirk widening. "You don’t trust me?"

"I trust you to try and scare the shit out of me, yes," Charles remarks.

"Good. Keeps things exciting."

Charles tries not to wonders what exactly "things" means in this scenario. He notices that he left all of the worries and stress of today back at the hotel. It feels like they'd been on the road for days, in the good way. Time works in funny ways.

The road grows narrower, the trees taller and denser. They block nearly all of the remaining sunlight. Charles realizes he hasn’t seen another car, or even a house, for several minutes.

"Seriously, Max. Is there a destination we're going to?" His tone is sharper now, just a hint of panic in it.

"You ask too many questions," Max replies smoothly, his hands steady on the wheel.

"Forgive me for being curious when you’re driving me into the middle of nowhere," Charles says, his voice rising slightly, tone set on teasing mode. He hasn't noticed, but he is scrunched in the seat, leaning on the door and completely comfortable, despite the potential death threat of this all.

Max chuckles again, clearly enjoying himself. "Are you always this dramatiqué?" he mocks his accent.

Charles turns to him, exasperated. "Dramatic? You’ve practically kidnapped me. It is what it is, I have to face the situation. I am ready to cooperate. Should I start preparing a ransom note? "

Max tilts his head thoughtfully, his smile teasing. "Who would pay for you, Leclerc?"

"Funny," Charles deadpans, though his heart skips at the flirtatious edge to Max’s tone.

He leans over to examine the dashboard. "At least we have enough fuel to last us long."

Max looks in the same direction and bites his lip.

"What?" Charles asks, double checking if he hadn't read it wrong.

"Yeah, that thing has been stuck like this for years."

Charles lets out a loud breath. "Putain, Max."

Max finally parks the car as they reach something resembling a gate and a fence (he, of course, does not park like a normal person, but drifts the car in - Charles is not even surprised at this point).

"We're here," he announces and kills the engine.

Charles examines the creepy surroundings and sighs.

"What's up with you now?" the cheery Dutchman asks him.

"I'm trying to pick which God to pray to."

He hits his arm playfully. "Come on, enough with the drama, you're gonna like this," he says convincingly and gets out of the car. Charles has no intention of not following him, his blood flowing in the opposite direction than usual. Or at least that's how it feels.

He walks few steps behind him and takes in the scenery. The damp grass, leaves and small stick crunch below their feet. A distinctive humid forest smell is something he hadn't felt in forever and it's surprisingly refreshing to take a deep breath. He tucks his hands into the sleeves of his jacket, trying to fight the chilly air. Max appears to be unaffected by any of it and walks with intention. He passes the small cottage, which looks like it needed a renovation twenty years ago. Charles was expecting that to be the their final destination, so when Max walks by it, he nearly trips on wet leafs, trying to follow his direction. He hopes it went unnoticed.

It all starts to make a bit more sense when they pass the first two cars, parked in a place where normal people would plant a tree. He starts to realize this must be some sort lair of the Verstappen family or their close friends. The further deep they go into the forest / garden, the more car parts, tires and general junk they pass. Charles has many questions, but the anticipation of what is that Max actually wants to show him stops words in his throat.

Right on cue, Max starts speaking on his own, gradually slowing his steps. "My dad and I would come here in between races and we'd fix old cars together. It's a good place to test parts and repair karts. But it's become so messy over the years," he comments as he has to kick a random door frame blocking their way. "One day I'll come over for few weeks and clean it all up. He's never going to do that on his own."

The intimacy of this information is something Charles wasn't ready. He keeps his silence, sensing Max does not need a reaction anyway.

"But, there is a plus side to this being currently a shit hole," he stops and turns around to face Charles, who mimics his move. Even in this dim low light, Max's eyes shine like something out of this planet. "We can fuck some shit up," he grins like a little kid he was just few years and hands Charles an obscurely massive hammer that he picked up somewhere along the way.

Charles gives him a questioning look, before slowly accepting this strange object. Max's grin does not leave his face.

Charles stares at the hammer in his hands, its weight unfamiliar but oddly grounding. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

Max gestures ahead, and Charles’s eyes follow to where an old, rusted Volvo car sits under a drooping tree. The windshield is cracked, the paint flaking off like dead skin.

"Whatever you want," Max says casually, leaning against a nearby pile of tires. "But I’d start with the windshield."

Charles’s jaw drops slightly. "You want me to, what? Smash it?"

Max nods, arms crossed, looking far too pleased with himself. "It’s therapeutic. Trust me."

"Max, this is ridiculous."

They stare at each other and Charles feels guilty all of a sudden, for dismissing his idea so bluntly. He sighs as he faces second instance of peer pressure from the other driver within the span of few hours. He wonders which choice exactly he made this morning that steered his day in such a different direction. Had someone told him he'd be smashing cars with Verstappen in the evening, he'd laugh in their face.

"Just try it. One hit. I won’t tell anyone."

Charles hesitates, his grip tightening around the hammer’s handle. The thought of swinging it, of letting loose, feels... disturbing. But then again, everything about this day has been weird. Maybe that’s the point. Max babbles along, as he always does once he starts, something about getting all the emotions out.

Charles ignores the rest of his speech and tries to imagine this is just like any other sport, be it tennis, golf or anything that involved swinging. He takes a deep breath, picks up the inexplicably heavy hammer and swings it against the windshield. The material is surprisingly sturdy and the hammer bounces back, driving the force into Charles's body, as if to mock him. This pisses him off, he can't have Max laughing at him and calling him a "pussy". He tightens his lips, adjusts his stance and swings once again.

Finally, a crack appears at the point of impact, the quiet sound of breaking multiplied by the silence of the forrest. This is followed by a muffled cheer behind him. Charles is still surprised at how much force he needs to use to actually make any damage on the old plastic laced glass and it rilles him up. He is not going to walk away from here being beaten by a windshield older than him. He swings again.

And again, again and again. Each impact comes with bigger force until the glass start to crumble apart. He does not feel cold anymore, the old fire he barely tamed this afternoon fully back up.

Marcus. Alonso. Stupid lawyers making things too complicated. The reporters. Sauber. Ferarri. Ferrari. Ferrari.

The pieces are not only crumbling, but now they're falling in every directions - and Charles feels alive. Ferrari. He moves a bit to smash every little part that still survived in the corner. Ferrari. The structure of the windshield is completely falling apart. Ferrari. He smashes the big pieces that are pathetically lying on the ground, mushing them down into nothing. He lefts out a heavy breath. Ferrari.

I will be a Ferrari driver next season.

Only when he lets go, no more damage left to be done on his victim, he realizes he said those words out loud. He is met with a curious stare of Max Verstappen. Charles slipped up when he wasn't suppose to. It's been brewing in him for weeks now. Only his managers know. He figures not even Sauber knows.

"Nothing is final yet. It could still fall to shit," he clarifies, staring at Max with anticipation.

Max shifts his weight from one leg to another and blinks few times. "Nice. I hope it works out for you."

Charles is careful now, coming down his high, facing the consequences. "Please, don't tell anyone," he almost pleas, worried that this info getting out might somehow sabotage the whole mission.

The mood changes. Surely, he must feel it too. This is no longer "two bros smashing shit together". Oh God, please, does he notice the way the air stopped moving? Is his mouth also dry? His skin fired up with unholy electricity? Max as unreadable as ever. It's making Charles's brain spin. He would give everything, almost anything, for a quick glimpse into the brain of the enigmatic guy standing in front of him.

He isn't a teenager anymore, but Charles knows the boy is not fully a grown up yet. His features are a mixture of the hard lines and angles of and adult athlete, but all of that is still combined with youthful - Charles would dare to say naive - softness. It must be something in the damp air. Maybe he is suffering from fresh air reverse-toxic shock. His lungs so used to the painful unnatural environment of a racetrack, that it only takes few minutes in the forest to make him feel dizzy. He has to draw his gaze away for a moment. Deep down he knows he's going to appear as a creep, eyeing his rival, with an open mouth. If he could, he'd choke on the words Max's says and drown in his eyes for hours. But, that is not normal. Max is just few centrimeters taller than him, but it feels like he is towering over him. Charles's main concern should be that he had just revealed a precious information to the competition. He has to actively remind himself what the objective is - and that it does not have anything to do with just how long Max's eye lashes are.

"You know I wouldn't tell anyone," Max says, momentarily kicking Charles out of his haze.

He stands still, frozen and barely reacts to the smile Max sends his way. Once again, it's like Max is drinking a third brew of the same tea Charles is having - the smirking boy unaffected by the bitterness.

He takes two steps closer to Charles. "My turn now," he whispers and reaches for the hammer Charles forgot he was holding. Max passes him by and the Monegasque stays still for a moment, trying to memorize the feeling of Max's fingers lightly brushing his own.

The trip back is like a negative photo, contrasting the brightly colored banter they shared when they were driving in the opposite way. The car is quiet, so quiet in fact Charles's in praying for Max's stereo to work. It does and now their drive is accompanied by some bad radio station, speaking in a language he does not understand. Like a third passanger in the car, laughing Charles directly into his face. You don't even understand the radio. How can you believe you'll ever understand what you feel right now.

Darkness has fallen some time ago and it's the first time Charles actually whips out his phone, to check the time and his messages, but mainly to distract himself and avoid looking at Max. Because suddenly, the Dutch boy is too close. He doesn't know why, but it's like Max has found a way how to make it physically impossible to be in his presence - yet this car, with Max in the driver's seat, is also the only place on the planet where Charles wants to be. There is comfort and excitement. Comforting excitement. Charles must be going crazy, he thinks and ignores all messages on his phone and reverts back to watching the dark countryside.

"Text your team that you'll arrive directly to the airport," he hears a pragmatic order from the driver's seat. Charles dares to look at him, but his eyes are glued on the road. He obeys without a comment. The realizations only hits him at that moment. Max has probably ditched way more people than he himself did, in order to go on this ride into nothingness. There are probably people waiting at him at several bars, his motorhome and few volunteers lined up to follow him to his hotel room. And yet, there he is, sitting next to him, driving on nameless roads.

"Did you have good time with me?" he asks, like the anxious boy he is. It's not a brave question, it's full of unspoken uncertainty and a worry, that Max had hoped for him to be a more entertaining company. Is that why he doesn't speak as much as he did on the way here?

Charles knows the way to doom is to push Max Verstappen. That boy won't do a single thing he does not believe in, unless the contract under he is makes it impossible. He hopes he is not pushing right now.

"You know this is the first time you've looked at me since we left the cabin?" the Dutch proclaims, ignoring his original question. And he is right, Charles is hyperaware of that.

Charles lets out a short laugh, the kind that’s more exhale than sound. "You’re impossible, you know that?"

Max’s lips roll into a grin as his eyes flick back to the road. "I’ve heard that before. But I think you like it."

"Don’t flatter yourself." Charles rolls his eyes, but there’s no real bite behind it.

"Too late," Max fires back smoothly, his grin widening. "Besides, you’re the one who agreed to smash my old car. What does that say about you?"

Charles straightens up, almost offended. "I did not-"

He is quickly interrupted by the Dutch. "You did not what - you didn't smash my car? Is that what you're saying?" He is clearly amused with himself and to prove that he playfully smashes the steering wheel.

Charles is silent, inhaling so much air to calm himself down he might actually explode. Impossible, this man was sent from hell to torment him.

"And didn’t that feel good?" Max continues smoothly, his voice dripping with chilli honey. Sweet, but punching.

Charles doesn’t answer, which only makes Max’s eyes widen.

"Aha! You did like it," Max says triumphantly.

Charles huffs, crossing his arms. "I never said that."

"You didn’t have to." Max’s tone is smug, his confidence infuriatingly unshakable. "Admit it. You enjoyed smashing something for once instead of, I don’t know, smiling politely and saying merci."

Charles snorts. "You think I’m polite?"

"Painfully," Max replies, his tone still teasing but just sharp enough to make Charles sit up straighter. "Like you’re afraid to let people know what you’re really thinking."

"And what are you thinking, Mr. Painfully Blunt?" he says more like a joke and does not expect and answer.

To prove Charles wrong, once again, Max turns slowly to face him. He makes sure each word he says has enough time to ripe. "That it's obvious I had a good time with you, Leclerc."

It's the same as trying to ignore a deafening sound. Even if you block your ears, it still pierces through. It creeps up into your chest in waves invisible to the naked human eye. A loud beat that makes your chest alive and your throat stuck - because whatever you might say, it won't be heard over the noise anyway. It does not need addressing, but it's impossible to disregard.

If I slip up, even for a moment, it might ruin everything we’ve both worked so hard to pretend doesn’t matter.

To completely counter anything he is trying to suppress, Max casually puts him hand on Charles's thigh - on Charles's thigh. The part of the human body between the knee and the hip. It's a true test to stay normal about it.

"Don't get lost in your head again, Charles," he says ever-so-casually and removes his hand to put it back on the steering wheel.

If they were to crash and die right now, Charles probably wouldn't mind. He's about to have a heart attack anyway.

It was getting more than clear they were reaching the final destination, even if only by the decreasing amount of trees growing next to the road. City lights and signs pointing to the airport giving away that this trip is about to end.

If Charles started this afternoon angry, he is ending it confused - about himself, about what kind of person Max Verstappen actually is and how is he suppose to go about his life after this. It's not a new information to him that he likes guys. But it is the first time he has to face having a tiny, minor, minuscule crush on another driver.

As they near the airport so much he can see the small plane he is about to board with the closest of his team, Charles speaks again.

"Maybe drop me of one street away...Just so that people don't have questions."

It's a pragmatic suggestion and he hopes Max does not read anything into it.

"Fair," is the response he gets and is somewhat satisfied with.

This time, Charles braces himself for another "drift park", but is met with a casual and very precise parking on Max's part.

They sit in silence for a moment. Charles wants to do something, but he can't put a name on it.

"Well, it's been fun. Thanks," he says almost coldly and pulls the thirty years old door handle.

Nothing.

Next to him, there is a chuckling noise. Charles tries again, but the only effect this has in the increase of volume on Max's laugh.

Fine, two can play this game, he figures and turns to him with a raised brow.

Charles meets his gaze for a long moment, the weight of the playful challenge hanging between them. "You know," he says finally, his voice low, "I could just climb out through the window."

Max snorts, leaning back and pressing the unlock button with a flourish. "Be my guest. The the dramatic diva you are.“

"You use that word a lot, you know?"

Max keeps his act on. "I think it's time to leave now," he teases and does absolutely nothing in order to open the car.

Charles leans back, also not intending on moving. There is warmth in his chest and it's spreading all over his body. The smile he has on his face is one he can't prevent.

"Is it now," he questions, and tries to open the door once again, this time without even looking at the handle. None of them expecting any other result.

After few shared looks, Max clicks some random button on his side of the car to unlock the doors. The soft click feels like a challenge.

Charles lingers, his hand resting on the handle but not pulling it. "You know, for someone who claims not to care, you sure put a lot of effort into keeping me around."

Max raises an eyebrow, his grin turning slightly lopsided. "You noticed?"

"I’m not blind," Charles replies, leaning back into the seat, a flicker of playfulness in his expression.

Max looks at him for a moment, something sparkly in his gaze before he nods toward the door. "You better go before I change my mind."

He tries opening the door once again and this time it really does.

Charles moves back and exists the car, pit in his stomach growing. He has to wait few seconds for Max to get and open the trunk with his keys. Illuminated only with the back lights, red mixing with yellow, he moves automatically, never letting Charles go off his sight. He hands him his bag and receives a little "Such a gentleman," comment from Charles. And then they keep standing there, as if Medusa herself turned them into a stone.

Charles feels possessed. Like he’s not in control of his movements anymore. He lost that ability somewhere in the woods.

He is pretty sure he’s shaking from the panic that drives him. His body is floating two meters above the ground.

Max’s eyes burn into him, as if it was all a dare.

The boy is standing too close for his own good.

Charles is pretty sure there is acid running through his veins. He knows, he is absolutely certain, he will regret whatever he is about to do.

There will be no going back.

Should I touch him, it will the perfect way to ruin this newly found friendship.

Max does not move or walk away.

Fuck it, he thinks and slams his lips again Max’s. Knock the wind out of me, Max Verstappen.

It is quick as a lighting, but bright as such. He reaches over to the back of Max’s head and holds him still, but giving him enough freedom to pull away. I’m begging you, please don’t.

It’s cathartic to know what his plump lips feel like against his own. He holds his lower lip between his own and moves, once or twice. He knows his time is running out. For a moment, he allows himself to drown in this real life fantasy. Max’s lips are soft and addictive. It’s like running a marathon is the time you would do a sprint.

He fights the urge to continue and moves back. Knowing this one moment, lasting only few seconds will be locked in his fantasies forever.

He pulls away and tries to avoid looking at Max’s face, knowing well enough that whatever he finds there, won’t be pleasant.

„I’m sorry,“ he murmurs and almost runs away to the airport.

Festival of shame is about to begin, but the insides of his body still burn with excitement and desire. He kissed Max Verstappen and he didn’t pull away immediately.

Their first and only kiss.

It was a mistake, one that Charles will have to apologize many times.

But he’ll be happy to die for. Feeling this alive should be illegal.

He does not look back. His bravery ran out the moment he put their lips together.

Oh, God. I’m stupid, I’m stupid, stupid, stupid.

chapter 3

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yellow-computer-mouse · 2 days ago

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oooooo tysm for tagging us !!!!

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

We're (almost) all fictives! There's also some therians and fictionkins rattling around :)

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

Polites is a cat therian, Anya is catkin and Peril fictionkin, and Icicle is (duh) Icicle fictionkin! Also, our old host Jimmy was a coyote.

We. Can't list off every one of our fictives. But we're sourced from

Wings of Fire

UTMV

Epic: the Musical

Mouthwashing

Parks & Rec

Malcolm in the Middle

Rot in Paradise

Super Mario Bros

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

Uhhh the core's most common shift was paws. Phantom paws. We don't really get any anymore, bc most of us don't front to get them, but Polites gets a phantom tail all the time!

But yeah, ears, tails, and wings! :)

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

It definitely affects our personalities a lot. Jimmy used to have really bad freakouts all the time because his source was a terrible person, and all the hate on that character transferred over to him.

We also. Bark at people. Jimmy was the most common one to do this, but some of us still do lol

5/ What do you think of the community?

Uh fire!! I love you guys!! We do need to work on the infighting though. Cut that shit out.

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

BEING. CALLED. BY OUR NAMES oh my goodness i SWEAR if you call us by our names irl we will love you forever

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

Not yet! Huzzah! The core definitely did, though.

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

Don't take it too seriously. You don't have to know exactly what you are, and you don't have to prove yourself to anyone.

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

YES. OH MY GOD. Tail, ears, hand em over now.

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

Fictive 👍

Um but for everything else it's kinda just. We Are Now. it's weird idk lol

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

@sombrathedragon @willoillo @mewos-laptop @elliott-the-creature @the-crystal-femmes @crystal-cluster-collective @yellowrabbitfurry @moon-and-fries /nf :)

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

#yellow yaps #mutuals <3 #polites ⛵🪷 //#not skeletons #not art #not dragons #<- LIE i'm reblogging from one

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boofindoopin · 3 days ago

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ugh everything is ow

BREIF MENTIONS OF SA

Fun fact about me! I adore Epic the musical! I, uh, definitely do not adore PJO. I obviously don’t care if someone likes PJO, like, I had my phase too. But, I do need people to know WHY I dislike one Greek mythology retelling and dislike the other.

____________________________________________

I, personally, don’t even consider PJO/HOO, TOA Greek mythology retellings that they market themselves as. I consider them stories loosely based of Greek mythology. When I say LOOSELY I mean it. Many, many, many creative liberties were taken with that series.

I would consider Epic: The Musical a greek myth retelling. Yes, it takes creative liberties, but, not to the extent PJO does. You can tell Epic is telling the story of the Odyssey and Odysseus throughout the whole soundtrack, a stark contrast to PJO where you have to sit there and say to yourself “was this part of the myth, or something Rick Riordan made up?”

Neither are accurate sources of Greek mythology, obviously. Retellings shouldn’t me where you get your info from, kids. I’ve read the Odyssey and can personally tell you that Epic isn’t always accurate to the source material, and it cuts out a lot of things, (Ex. You know, the SA….)

Even though Epic cuts out some things, it is still a lovely retelling, even though the things they cut do bother me sometimes, I can get over it. Also, the fandom is mostly amazing. All of them are so so talented. The songs are banger too, No Longer You and Hold Them Down are actually so amazing.

____________________________________________

I don’t enjoy PJO for two big reasons: The fandom, and the actual books

“But Marcella!” You cry, clutching your pearls. “The PJO fandom is comprised mainly of children!”

Yes, I was one of those children many years ago. Now that we are all grown up, there are also adults in the fandom. I honestly think sometimes they are almost as bad as Disney adults. Sometimes I question if they even know what the Iliad is. I can’t be in a fandom where no one knows their Greek mythology. There are few things that bring me joy in this life. Those things are: Thanatos, Greek myths, carbs, coffee, Ares, Aphrodite, books, and on the rare occasion my friends and family. Let me have my myths please.

The books, along with butchering Greek mythology to the point I don’t even think it can be called a retelling, it also has some questionable shit. The whole thing about the fucking NAZIS, ARE WE FORGETTING ABOUT THAT? WTF WAS THAT? Also y’know, giving poor Nico every possible controversial character trait and aspect, so you could kill him off of it got too much hate. (I know your tricks, Rick, I’m a writer too)

Also, in a book where children have goodly parents and worship the Greek gods, you could have researched Hellenic polytheism just a little bit. Like, it isn’t that hard. Please bro.

————————————————————————

Anyways, point is, I’m not saying you can’t like PJO, and you can’t dislike Epic. Like whatever the frackadoodle you want. I just wanted you guys to know I have my reasons for being a hater.

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venomous-qwille · 1 year ago

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Can you please just tell us what is wrong with ai and why, I can't find anything from actual industry artists ect online through Google just tech bro type articles. All the tech articles are saying it's a good thing, and every pro I follow refuses to explain how or why it's bad. How am I supposed to know something if nobody will teach me and I can't find it myself

I'll start by saying that the reason pro artists are refusing to answer questions about this is because they are tired. Like, I dont know if anyone actually understands just how exhausting it is to have to justify over and over again why the tech companies that are stealing your work and actively seeking to destroy your craft are 'bad, actually'.

I originally wrote a very longform reply to this ask, but in classic tumblr style the whole thing got eaten, so. I do not have the spoons to rewrite all that shit. Here are some of the sources I linked, I particularly recommend stable diffusion litigation for a thorough breakdown of exactly how generative tools work and why that is theft.

youtube

or this video if you are feeling lazy and only want the art-side opening statements:

Everytime you feed someone's work- their art, their writing, their likeness- into Midjourney or Dall-E or Chat GPT you are feeding this monster.

Go forth and educate yourself.

#ai art #asks answered #qwillechatter #for real though guys please dont interact with me about AI #I intended for this to be the last post I'll ever make about it #but tumblr ate it so you miss out on the nice essay #all the sources tell you everything you need to know #Im so fucking tired

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cisthoughtcrime · 3 months ago

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#ok but fr marking undergrad essays is such a rollercoaster #i gave two very high marks today and was genuinely impressed and then the next three i marked were practically incoherent #one just copy and pasted their intro instead of writing a conclusion. like it's verbatim the same paragraph #i dont mark down for minor grammar and syntax errors because there's a high rate of ESL students...#... but some of the papers from native english speakers have me more concerned about functional illiteracy than I've ever been #these are 19-20yos in a humanities field at a top university! even the highest scoring essay had basic basic grammar errors and vocab misuse #at least i could tell what the student was trying to say there but some of the others...#if your punctuation and spelling and syntax are all so bad that i literally cant tell what you're trying to say there is a serious problem #even setting aside how many errors like these there were there's the flip side of the issue: actually writing an essay #the last one i marked yesterday had no structure or thesis or secondary sources #everything between the intro and conclusion was the same claim phrased in different ways with some irrelevant non sequitur quotes thrown in #no analysis other than the words 'analysis of this shows' which is *gasp* not a substitute for analysis #OH AND OMG #one made a direct claim about a figure's political stance and attached a footnote. i went to see what the student's source was.#the footnote literally said something like 'i know i should have a source here but it's only context and i don't want to waste my word count #like what???? do you think claims about relevant context don't need evidence??? and the audacity to not give a citation...#... and claim it's because it would take too many words away from your main argument??#just providing the actual citation for the claim would have been 3-5 words max but the footnote about not having room was 30 words #kid do you think i can't tell that you dont have that citation? do you think anyone's buying that you didn't include it to save space?#it's the very first footnote and most of the others are full-length bibliography entries jammed into the footnotes (which we don't require)#so either you were 'worried about space' at the first footnote then changed your mind as you wasted 250 words on unnecessary formatting #or you were over the word limit and were like 'gotta cut something!' and the only footnote you 'simplified for space' was a short basic one #^assuming i believed you. which i dont. because why would you think that would fool anyone.#i still have half the essays left. im tired and so disappointed in how little we're told we should expect from them

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skunkes · 7 months ago

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if life is categorized by Before Loss and After Loss then I exist in the before but with a countdown to the after. and the countdown is always always present and debilitating. the loss will be debilitating too but i cant help myself. i will always suffer twice.

#i cant let go of it. i cant even enjoy good moments without thinking about how they'll just be memories one day #how they're already memories since moments pass so fast #everything is I'll Miss This and i already miss it and i cant believe once you're gone you're gone forever #and ill never ever see you again. and your shell is in the ground but where did the rest of you go?#should i look at your body one last time? on one hand itll be the last time i see you.#on the other hand it will be the last time i see you.#and the memory of you will die with me too. as if neither ever existed #it impacts me so much too bc i dont feel close to anybody really...and i dont make friends easily #so whats going to happen when the people who have always been there arent there anymore?#im going to be alone for so much of my life.#i will record your voice so im ready for when i cant hear it from the source while also knowing it wont be enough and one day #ill be wishing it lasted longer. it could be 12 hours long and ill want more.#how do you surpass this? it hasn't even happened. when it happens i don't know what ill do. considering my whole life has been #the timer. the countdown. hours and hours of anticipatory grief #and then ill be next. me. some of all thats left of you. it cant be true.#sorry. this gets worse every single year and its been going insane lately #id surprisingly been managing it well for months somehow ! it wouldnt cross my mind...and now its there again #like it accumulated and its all coming out right now. ive been crying for hrs tonight and last night #one day his things will just be things. things ive made and given him will be in my hands again.#talkys #i want to go hug my dad but then ill just cry over how one day i wont be able to....! how do i store it? how do i save it?#how do i preserve it forever....even as i take my own last breath....#i cant believe im the only one of me. and my dad is the only one of him.#i wouldnt want to be reborn as anyone else. i cant believe one day i wont get to draw or eat or be comfy in bed anymore.#i cant take it !! im so scared. ill be scared until the end. and you wont be there to hold my hand. im going to be alone.#and none of those years of grief and joy and memories will matter.#i wonder if it would help to tell him about this. i need something to hold onto for when it happens. anything. but i also know it'll make i #hurt more; obviously. just another piece of him that'll be gone one day

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yellllowstar · 14 days ago

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slowly I'm recovering the beauty of discovery

(creature by half•alive)

(textless + timelapse below cut)

#yellowart #subnautica #i feel like the timelapse is kinda long but also this did take a long time to make #anyways. let me yap about the meanings of all the panels <3 #'i am creation' -> the ocean being the source of life and where shit evolved from also a good way to sort of 'set the scene' for subnautica #'both haunted' -> GHOST leviathan; in the BONE fields #'and holy' -> this one was a bit trickier. debated about using the emperor but i knew i wanted to use her elsewhere #also debated hoverfish because its cute and well liked so i thought that would be funny for 'and holy'#also something something jesus walking on water also makes it fitting. in the end though i decided on a peeper with the enzyme trail #and i *tried* to make it loop over its head like a halo but idk how well that imagery came through. still mentioned it in the alt text tho.#'made in glory' -> was REALLY torn about this one. on the one hand i wanted to have like a picture of the code because something something #divine machine and it being made out of code making it inherently holy or something; but i wasnt sure if that would be too #'immersion breaking' since most of the stuff in this is like in game stuff i wasnt sure if acknowledging that it was a game would be #too much. my other idea was to draw a couple of creature eggs like a stalker egg and a spadefish egg or something; but in the end i just #went with the one that i personally thought was cooler so if you think it does feel out of place uhhhh sorry i guess lmao.#also yes that is code from the game. idk shit about programming i just think code shit is cool so i poked though a modding tutorial til i #found what it is they use to look at that shit and started poking around. its pretty cool tbh. anyways the specific part i chose for the #drawing was something under the peepers; i think its the bit that tells the enzyme peepers to do the enzyme stuff like the trail obviously #but also some other stuff. not 100% sure though like i said idk shit about this sort of thing but everything in there seems pretty well #labeled its kinda impressive. and very helpful for navigating even if you dont know shit lol.#anyways. 'even the depths of the night cannot blind me' -> blood kelp trench is i think one of the darkest biomes in the game #possibly THE darkest so i thought it would be fitting. probably my least favorite panel though i dont think i did a very good job #representing the area or representing the bloodvines :/#'when you guide me' -> sea emperor but more specifically her messages to the player telling you to 'come here'#'creature only' -> not sure how well i can articulate this but basically the idea of humans beig animals with animal needs to eat and drink #and the idea of being a part of the ecosystem. modern life tends to make us forget that sort of thing but id imagine for ryley being on the #planet would violently remind him of this with things trying to eat him while he has to try to eat things as well. being part of the food #web. 'creature only' because he is only a creature not non-essential systems maintenance chief; but a creature living in an environment and #trying to survive. or something like that. does that make any fucking sense to anyone besides me? whatever.#anyways yapping over 👍

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medicinemane · 2 months ago

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Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy

You have... very very very very very very very very smart people you know, and they're say something that not only isn't true, but literally is as opposite of the truth as it's possible to be... and you'll... gently inform them "hey, it's actually a bit more like this" and then they just kinda... go on saying literally the exact same thing

I'm not sure if it's just that... I often feel like I must be very bad at communicating, or people must just not notice/ignore a lot of what I say, but... I don't know

Like dearest friend, you've said something as absurd as... I don't know, it's hard to say without saying it, but honest to god about as absurd as saying the United States was a part of the USSR, that level of completely getting it backwards

...and it just doesn't seem to matter when I try to explain it... I legit don't even know if you read what I said

Really end up feeling like I'm going nuts sometimes

#to be clear; I don't mind people disagreeing with me (though that's not what's happened here... I don't think I came into it at all)#but all I need in order to be able to work with disagreement is just... knowing you at least heard and understood me #like if it's 'I get that you think that vanilla is a good flavor of icecream; but I really prefer chocolate'... ok; this works for me #it's that... a lot of the time it honest feels more like 'what are you talking about? vanilla isn't a flavor' where... huh?#let's take a real example; not everyone needs to agree with me on nuclear #but like... someone saying 'I get that it's way safer these days; but I still worry about waste storage'... well ok then #but if it's just like 'but it's dangerous and will explode' even after I've explained about the designs now #where there's a salt plug that with melt and drain before anything can happen; and these materials don't like to run away #...and it's not like they're asking me to back up the source; it's like I never said anything at all...#what am I supposed to do here? you feel me on that? do you start to get why I feel like I'm going crazy when that's how it often feels?#no one is obliged to agree with me but... literally just active listening would fix this... say you heard me and we're good #acknowledge that I voiced something and it's been noted #honestly... honestly my who life it's felt like I must somehow actually be invisible #...to an extent maybe I'm a figment of my own imagination; I might well be a ghost that's lonely and makes you all up #...for all the impact my actions have #or maybe literally everything I say just comes out garbled... is that it?#this post is about something very specific; but it's also about something that happens a lot with a lot of different people #on a broader scale; why is it no one else seems to be able to connect the dots #and these aren't like... conspiracy theory dots; these are like russia buys drones from Iran; therefore russia and Iran are partners #that's the kind of dots I'm talking about connecting; please tell me that's not a conspiracy theory to you... it seems plain to me #I don't know... I really don't... I don't think much I say will ever have any impact anywhere on anyone #...honestly a good 90% of the time people don't even respond to what I say #not like my posts here; I mean direct in dms or whatever; I'll say stuff and it's just silence or a new subject #again; across multiple people; it's common... it's... I think it happens more often than it doesn't #I can instantly name 4 conversations with 4 different people that's happened with lately #and that's not counting the 3 where I know the reason why it's happened #I really am something unfit to live; the evidence is endless #mm tag so i can find things later

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lith-myathar · 6 months ago

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#f&b fans are v dramatic about some of the changes or omissions being made in the show and i say this #as someone who was regularly livid about choices GOT made #the difference is that asoiaf is a very character focused and character driven narrative being told to us first hand from those characters #f&b is an umpteenthhand account of events that occurred MANY YEARS prior written by many varried biased and unreliable sources #it also takes a historic view of those events and all parties involved. of course some of those characters aren't going to be in the show #because it's *a show* and has a much more focused narrative about the main players in the dance i.e. the families of the blacks and greens #like i'm sorry you aren't getting to see this character you liked but may i remind you #that everything we know about many of them consists of a few paragraphs if that #i have a much easier time rolling with alterations here because while there IS source material it is very thin and leaves so much more room #for reimagining and reinterpretation. sometimes the changes are better and tell a better story.#and if you don't like those changes that is fine and well within your right but maybe just don't watch the show then?#and while i absolutely believe we need to be critical of certain narrative choices made by creators #could we maybe not tack on personal accusations about a creator's moral character based solely around these choices?#so often it seems like ''i don't like this'' or ''i think this creative choice has some questionable implications i think we should unpack''#becomes ''i think this creator is scum and that they actively hate certain groups of people''#like this show has been very imperfect but it's kind of laughable to me how bent out of shape people are getting #when compared to the really egregious gross shit that was pulled in GOT #how quickly we forget etc

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iri-desky · 11 months ago

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GET KOSA TRENDING.

STOP SCROLLING NOW!

AS OF FEBRUARY 21ST, 2024, WE GOT FIVE DAYS UNTIL THE DAY OF DECISION OF THE KOSA BILL, WHICH WILL CAUSE MASS CENSORSHIP ROUND THE INTERNET IF PASSED. WE NEED EVERYONE TO KNOW ABOUT THIS AND CONTRIBUTE. I'M NOT GIVING UP ON YOU ALL.

(IMPORTANT UPDATE: Kosa will not necessarily pass on the 26th. It only has the support to pass in Senate, and we STILL HAVE TIME. That being said, time is of the essence.)

WE'RE DOWN TO THE WIRE BUT WE CAN'T GIVE UP YET. IF WE GIVE UP, EVERYTHING IS OVER. IF WE DON'T, AT LEAST WE HAVE A CHANCE.

I'M THE ONE WHO SOUNDED THE ALARM, AND I'M NOT GOING TO CURL UP AND DIE YET.

Reblog this post in every LEGAL way you can under the Tumblr guidelines with the appropriate tags. TELL AND TAG EVERYONE YOU KNOW, then add the tags to see below... and more if you can think of any complying.

Visit badinternetbills.com if you want to find a way to defeat KOSA. It WILL NOT take much of your time. Reblog with any other information or sources, too-- but make sure to reblog if you can.

Reblog if you support lgbtq+ content.

Reblog if you support questioning queer youth and/or abused youth getting the information they need.

Reblog if you support Ao3 and/or other sites that wholeheartedly preserve talentedly made media.

Reblog if you're going to repost this on other sites than Tumblr and spread the word across Twitter, Tik Tok, Pinterest, or elsewhere, alongside the link to badinternetbills.com.

Reblog if you think KOSA is unfair and shouldn't be anyone's problem -- including the adults ALL OVER THE DAMN EARTH forced to face the mass censorship it causes because "think of the American Children!".

Reblog if you support internet activism and Palestine.

Reblog if you hate fascism or censorship, and don't want actually serious and helpful conversations censored on the internet.

Reblog if you value the internet in any way at all whatsoever.

CHECK THIS PETITION, TOO! https://www.change.org/p/stop-the-kosa?recruiter=1331807538&utm_source=share_petition&utm_medium=sms&utm_campaign=psf_combo_share_initial&utm_term=psf&recruited_by_id=57368c40-d0fd-11ee-98f7-2175430f819f&share_bandit_exp=initial-36809664-en-US

(Also, please reblog with at least "stop kosa" as a tag and not "kosa". I made the mistake of not adding just "kosa" as a tag...)

We won't let this stand any longer. Let's start a riot and get this trending.

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esamadnan94 · 3 months ago

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My family, my dear friends and everyone who knows me or not ، we are Issam and Sahar , newly married and living in Gaza, I'm 30 years old and Sahar is 26.

Everyone who knows us knows that we are a reserved, quiet and reclusive person. We have always been an independent person and used to do everything ourselves for our family. So, I hope you understand that today it's difficult for us to talk about our personal issues and finally ask for help. I will tell you my story briefly, after I realized some of my dreams a short time ago by marrying my life partner and moving into my house, which we only stayed in for a few days until we were in the middle of the war, we fled to save ourselves and stay alive, we lost hope in life after all our dreams that we had dreamed of since childhood were shattered.

One of our dreams was to settle in the house we built stone by stone and be happy like other couples, but we couldn't because of the war.

I used to work as a lawyer in several companies, I am unemployed, I lost my job, I have no source of income, and everything I saved I put in the house, the house was destroyed and I have nothing now.

This is a picture of me as a lawyer with the head of the Bar Association

My wife and I decided to start a fundraising campaign so that we can get some money to evacuate us after we lost everything, to rebuild our house that was destroyed by the occupation, and to get food, water and other necessities of life so that we can live first and then think about our future, which we don't know anything about.

Now, this is our house, which was destroyed by the occupation after my wife and I equipped it

The place where we live now is devoid of all the necessities of life, and we struggle with access to water, food, safety, and all the necessities needed to live.

I realize that we're all going through tough times, so anything that helps, whether it's your love and support, your donation, sharing my story, or sending love and prayers, it's all accepted and greatly appreciated, and I hope that anyone who is able to help me will help me and spread the link, because literally every dollar makes a difference.

Here is the link to the private fundraising campaign

My campaign has been verified by:

@90-ghost here.

@el-shab-hussein here.

@punkitt-is-here here.

@wayneradiotv here.

@fairuzfan here.

@nabulsi here.

@tamamita here.

@gazavetters,my number verified on the list is ( #205 ) here.

@dlxxv-vetted-donations here.

@bilal-salah0 here.

@comrademango here.

@a-shade-of-blue here.

@gaza-evacuation-funds here.

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unproduciblesmackdown · 5 months ago

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being alive at the time i gleaned some general elements abt encanto but never actually heard we don't talk about bruno beyond awareness it existed popping off & i think i heard like the title recited off key off rhythm but in a way that indicates speak singing nonetheless lol so upon experiencing it it's like oh but it's the Verses? while the last refrain goes harder but prior to that it's comparatively underwhelming to said verses which feels appropriate like verses / pieces of a larger picture & that a "we don't talk about him" as a disappointing Lid on infinitely richer more characterful & dynamic "but: talking about him" instances. like well personally it'd be like um seven foot frame....anyway besides being able to firsthand go like oh damn Real (the kind of thing you know exists if alive at the time) it's like alright hang on lol. one thing when a core theme is yeah like "is it a refuge if 'especial' vulnerability ultimately gets pushed out rather than made safer" subset like the parties whose even observation of truths (problems) & drawing attention to them is seen as Ruining Things, like if you're painted as Making futures that aren't simply what's desired or reassuring rather than a guidance via just observing & sharing the truth. but then it's like whaddaya mean living in fear of bruno stuttering and stumbling you could always hear him sort of muttering and mumbling lmao like now that's just Association between the Truth Perceiving & Telling behavior & behavior that's just apparently distinctive of the same person. & like Not Accidentally when [what if people were magic] specifics are obviously primarily abt a metaphorical meaning & like, indeed it was made clear like oh this situation isn't Just b/c [boo we hate your prophecies] & that [an Ability that isn't directed towards what anyone Wants / is "weird" even by these magic standards] isn't Coincidentally given to someone who just so happens to already be "weird" in other ways & be set up to have a different perspective & be pushed away due to having the supposed "extra" vulnerability of unmet needs / insufficient support, same as someone who doesn't "correctly" have any kind of magic ability....like yeah banger and also like Oh Yeah Kind Of Devastating re: that metaphorical resonance allowing for like [set the metaphor aside] now hang on with this about this disabled family member lol. misinterpretation to The Ruinerrr / The Problemmm / The Maliciousss etc (i.e. the scapegoatinggg) despite their efforts likely entirely to the contrary. then despite like, efforts aside, Just Existing, always kind of muttering & mumbling like & what of it. & then like oh sorry weird pets. weird [auspicious for adaptable tenacious thriving surviving; either way simply creatures, existing] pets.

truly like As Is The Idea I'm Sure quickly becomes like hands behind back standing at the window Uh Oh Sisters musing on all the [disabled person] metaphorical & already literal elements there. blair witching it in contemplation like We've All Been There whether being so resented for the mere disruption of "existing in a group as the 'abnormal' odd one out" or like people talking shit abt anything associated w/you as soon as you've left the room, which is also made relevant like, this wasn't Only directed at this person when seemingly permanently gone, nor were they unaware / unaffected prior....pacing in the Musing parlor like things don't Have to be compared to billions but i only ever even see so many things & it's like billions sure is like "get scapegoated rword" & then said scapegoating is presented as only beneficial & we hate autists & even beyond that it's like, grabbing billions, Imagine If Things Meant To Be About Something Were About Something. quite a contrast when they are & furthermore like, deliberate thought & Care for [who gets scapegoated & why] & the truth of like, people getting pushed aside & out who have a key perspective & are primed / liable to come through for others similarly vulnerable & the supposedly Ruinous, Problems Generating disruptiveness is actually the strongest effort to make essential changes to a group. & come through with like, it'd be undermining thee point if it was "reassuring" us like oh haha people will be supportive b/c bruno will be more normal, so great that it Didn't like no, no Normality Reassurance(tm), presence of abnormalities(tm), Good, & everyone Can Deal b/c if you don't then it's pushing this person away, is exactly what happens, including even if they're still Around but are being mistreated b/c that is entirely part of that pushing away like anyone's victim blaming is ready to pounce at any time but if someone can't stand to stay / leaves b/c they can't see another option like that's not out of nowhere nor Regardless of what full support & flexibility they were getting lol. these Active Measures everyone loves so much, which are everywhere always & would include Staying & Trying To Make It Work & those efforts would be "disruptive" & resented & Bringing It On Oneself & etccc smh

that is to all say like. Woww when clearly basically the core thread was these beats of like, the crucial site of [thee scapegoated], & why that comes down on someone & how that plays out. endless ideas about how someone weird(tm) & disabled (&/or queer. but there's no Or here lol. & again like it's a Context like, to even be the one person without kids? likely not living up to "full" correct sexuality in that way alone; any oppression's logics of "inferiority" being logics of ableism, ready examples being that "inferior" race, gender, sexuality (& their experiences as people classed as inferior) all being pathologized as disordered) are seen & treated as someone Ruining Things & who cannot belong like whew. bracing. winding. which, i also recall like i was watching with headphones & during this one dialogue pause i was like "?? what's this Extra Sound i heard there" & had to go over it like twice before being hit upside the head like well it Was still the dialogue pause but it was also bruno Stuttering in a very quiet whisper for the duration of that pause before continuing like iiiiiiii x_x

#[sitting waiting right here] for billions to have its vulnerable weird scapegoated misfit outcasts actually band together lmao....#like Sure Doesn't b/c billions is like we all hate weirdos & we all love telling them to shut tf up & go away to die or w/e. correctly #can't believe ultimately the Different fund disappears w/o its scapegoat & the Correct ''weird'' char is full axe cap mode finally #& it's sure not a Comment when billions affectionately gives them their free heavenly reward & Ensure zero scapegoating consequences #the [imagine if something about something was about something] approach to Banished Relatives being thoughtful & loving like #& here you see how even As they're banished everything isn't Really fixed for it incl. that people aren't Really just happy he's gone #billions is like no we killed him And everyone has gladly & legitimately forgotten he exists (save the instant it's time to use him)#the hilarious(tm) tragedies surrounding rian like billions' can't make her ''care'' abt winston be anything save more violence #can't pretend rian was anything more than [again we all Know your nads like w/taylor like w/winston] bagina + dialogue source combo in s6 #when it's still dimly relevant for prince in s7 but you miss Nothing re: rian if you have no idea that plotline exists #& speaking of actual ''weirdness'' rian was never allowed to have: the tragedy of the tension of Closeted Transness present on screen fr #just as billions has no idea / further willingness to let rian be so ''weird'' as to actually care abt winston or abt not being a bully Lol #meanwhile i figured like oh i'll like a scapegoat. did know ahead of time like bruno's just some guy; not even ''redeemable'' antagonist #but In Practice & w/all that beloved Disabledness & crucial appreciation like you Need this guy; the understanding is Key #like well ofc i would kill for him. ofc just constant like mhm go off king slay fire etc. god tier character cherished forever thanks #but then also like im sure a zillion [intention; inspiration; thoughts] going into Tfw Family Things characters; a zillion interpretions &#thoughts to follow like it truly is Arresting like this clarity on A Disabled Person In The Group like. much much to consider & whew.#reference point like when autistic ppl in some job see an obvious [problem to future mess] pipeline; so you know bruno madrigal. My Vision #When You're So Hated like hey i wanna live unseen w/my so hated little friends lol. just reread how to disappear completely never be found #when it's like grabbing people Who Cares if someone's being ''obviously'' disabled or weird just as how they are existing godddd #people get so mean like Who Cares just talk to them; be around them. some effort some mind your own business some You're Not Above Them #when it's obviously You like yeah. nonzero but limited applicability like [specifically my own nuclear family] but re: Weird; Disabled #as ever i'll Relate & be like but i probably seem nothing like that. or maybe i am very much like that. kind of difficult to tell b/c like #you Do get the disinterest lol & feedback is Not that familiar / in depth even if positive like well. the emergent So Hated / Scapegoating #noting like if a character just seems refreshingly familiar; Understood; comfortable; fun; what's the odds they're cishet allistic lol....#anyway the epiphany like oh it was figurative blink & you miss it stuttering....did [waiiit] Pace that one off like inhaaale Waugh #in fact i'm sure the Verbalizing Effort has staved off the kind of [thinks about all of it a moment] to go Aauughhh about again #which; again; also something happening 5 yrs in re: the clairvoyant soothsayer autistic neuroqueer quant on the show w/No Thoughts abt it #ppl being invalidated by others having to validate themselves (& others in the same boat); billions going & How We Hate Them For It lol #oh & encanto's [excluded party's effort to partake] tragedy vs billions' [where's winston in this office? this event?] good riddance idc

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