#woc fandom

[silendastral]

I wanted to talk about it later, but I'm impatient.

In a nutshell, in my fanon, cars' insides calls "drivers" that have gone down the path of adaptation as humans.

Ancient drivers used rounded stones before the creation of vehicles, in which they hollowed out a space and a couple of holes for themselves: for the mouth and for a small limb, thanks to which they push off from surfaces, climb and grab.

Omnivores. Due to the fact that they were not adapted to hunting, they ate mainly fruits and carrion.

Since, in essence, they were initially considered as a brain, then gradually, like humans, they began to evolve (more intellectually than externally).

They go through an almost similar path of development as humanity.

With the creation of vehicles, life has become easier.

Driver's bodies became faster, comfortable, capable for self-heating to avoid cold spells and etc.

It seeps into the details of its body to control it using thin threads of itself, which both pulls and retracts if necessary (for example: repairing, tuning).

Their cycle looks like this:

They are born prematurely, otherwise their mother would have crushed them with her insides by accident.

+ Biology moment: layers ::::0

What would an average driver look like if we could get them out of the car (It's not a tail, it's a stomach...):

In practice, it is not possible to get it out of the body without damage.

+ Bonus:

As for the various unintelligent animals? - In essence, these organisms are mimics... So we have bigger sane beetles and smaller silly-willy beetles and etc.

They don't really control their size. They will copy what they find. Intelligent vehicles figured out how to tame this creatures, which gave rise to the tractors we are familiar with, the bodies of which eventually went out of production for intelligent ones.

And yes, mimics are completely organic, except that the outer cover is imitated as metal. And that's why there may be meat in the markets.

🥩Have a nice day and thank you for reading🥩

[silendastral]

Thanks for the game! I hope someone else will join it!

1. I became a part of the fandom relatively recently - sometime in late summer or early autumn of this year.

I could have joined the general fun back in 2021, when I remembered this wonderful movie again, but I was ashamed that I would seem silly and was just afraid to interact with foreigners who are more active in the fandom than my ru-segment.

I became a fan of live vehicles as a child - I am 4-5 years old, when I am already able to walk on my own, read and turn on a TV. The funny thing is that when I was little, I didn't care about the plot, I liked Cars THESE ARE LIVING CARS AND THEY INTERACT WITH EACH OTHER IN A FUNNY WAY, AND SO ON WOOOOOOO

And as I grew up, it became easier for me to understand the plot, trace various patterns, look for allegories and compare them. It's hard to be an under-psychologist to fictional characters. And well, thanks to pixar cars for trauma in the form of Frank(

2. In 2021 - maybe I was sorting through the discs on the shelf at that time and found my old disc "Cars: Mater-National Championship". I decided to remember my childhood and play the game, and after that I started drawing cars, but mostly like ponies.

In 2023, I find myself in the fandom because, strange as it may sound, in Spooky Month fandom where was a roffle about Bob Velseb who loves Cars and McQueen was his favorite character + I've checking my 2021 artwork. We combine two factors - boom, I am here with you now.

3. Chick damn Hicks. In short, so that you don't read the nonsense of the one who went: - He and I are similar, which makes it seem to me that I'm just his gender-bender, but who knows how to keep his mouth shut when necessary; - he is quite a well-written versatile character. It's clear from him what came from what, what makes him the way we see him; - In the first and third films, you can see how Chick has changed. That he became less twitchy and obviously happier in the role of the presenter.

Extended version: When I was a little girl, I liked him only because he has the features of my father's appearance (Brown eyes, mustache), and because he is green.

I'm growing up. I return to the work again, in fact, and to Mr. Hicks too, deciding out of interest to find out information from the wiki and materials provided by Tumblr users. And what can I say? - I really like Chips as a character, because he feels human, imperfect, but at the same time attractive. Because of his father's influence in the past and resentment after many years of racing, they do their job, from which we get a toxic man who does not know how to live for his own pleasure, so he also hinders others because of envy. He's just broken af inside like a porcelain vase, and now take the tape in your hands and try to glue it back together, provided that the fragments run away from you.

(Many thanks to @kaderp for the comics materials!) Chick, if you look at all his behavior, is well suited as an example for the phrase "To seem, not to be." He just seems like a tough guy. He behaves pompously, just so that no one thinks that he has problems with self-esteem: He will resent being called a loser; show his disregard to all those who, in his opinion, are "unworthy".

It's unpleasant to be overshadowed by someone else, isn't it? Before Lightning's appearance in racing, Chick has his own 'I', without "admixture". But as soon as the rookie appears on the sports scene, our green goblin, afraid of being forgotten by the public, takes over other people's things: - catchphrase, - shiny sticker - in the third film, the banter is in a similar manner as the Rust-eze racer (in the 1st film McQueen's "You know 'cuz thunder always comes after lightning." - in the 3rd film Chick's "Ka-chow, or more like ka-booze, 'cuz his always in a back").

WOC Question game!

Let's get to know everyone in the fandom better!

Rules of the game: I'll post some Cars/Planes questions. Reblog with your answer. Create a new post with new questions directed at the fandom.

Include the tag "wocquestiongame" in your responses and be sure to tag the cars fandom. Let's see where this goes.

My questions:

How long have you been a part of the fandom?

How did you get involved in the fandom?

Who is your favorite character and why?

My responses

1 and 2: I've been a fan of Cars since 2006, when I saw it in the theater. Only within the last year have I gone balls-to-the wall with hyperfixating posting WOC art online, writing fanfiction, and generally interacting with the fandom...so I guess I'm pretty new to the things, here. I'm not super active online because of my work schedule (I'm a groundskeepee for a local zoo), but I try the best I can with the time/energy I have at the end of the day.

3. Doc Hudson, hands-down. When I first saw the movie, I liked Doc...but thought he was being rude and unfair to Lightning. Fast forward a while to when I got my dream job, teaching college geology. After three years, I realized that the admins didn't give a shit about education and that they seemed to be doing everything in their power to shut down anything that myself, or other professors, tried to do for the student body. I quickly became disillusioned by the apathy and lack of support...and I had to resign because the stress was literally killing me. I know now that this is a common theme in higher ed...but all I wanted to do was teach. To see that flame of understanding kindled in the eyes of my students...

To lose that, was like having my soul pureed in a blender, and I...havent been able to teach since.

Every time I hear Doc's line "there was a lot left in me, and I never got the chance to show 'em"...I tear up. He's still reeling from an apathy that ended his career ..and I understand how hard that feeling can be to rebound from, how you can lock everything in a garage and hide behind a new personality... because your old life is too painful to think about.

[haunted-planes]

Put this guy out of his misery

[m-art-usia]

This is a drawing of two imaginings of Inej in the fandom. The desi one is on the right, and it is the more popular of course. The left one is the Romani one, which is less shown in fandom but seems more fitting in the universe to me.

[strip-weathers]

If you’re in Cars / Planes fandom, please stop scrolling!

You reached one of Cars blogs! I’m pretty active on here and would like to get to know some other blogs!

I’ve noticed a lack of support and noticing smaller artists (like me) in this fandom so I want to say:

Let’s support each other! If you don’t follow me, leave me a follow and I’ll follow you back! A follow, reblog or like is something that we artists need and help us to stay motivated with our creations!

Come and reblog this for others to see this post so we can support more people in this fandom!

[vee6lolz]

hello!!! how are you?

i was thinking about spencer meeting a teacher hehe I'm not so good at describing it, but maybe she's giving private lessons for a kid's neighbour of his and then they meet at the elevator of the building? pretty please? 😍

𝖑𝖊𝖘𝖘𝖔𝖓 𝖎𝖓 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖑𝖎𝖋𝖙. -- spencer reid x teacher!reader.

warnings/tags: (fluff!) , teacher / chaotic (but sweet) reader.

a/n: i had so much fun writing this help me i love u to whoever suggested it

wc: 1.9k !!

summary: you're a teacher whose putting in the work for summer school students, you wake up late one day and even though it seemed like the most inconvenient thing ever, it worked out in your favor after all.

NOT PROOF READ + ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE.

The morning sun spilled through the gaps in the curtains, casting stripes of light across the tangled mess of blankets in your bed. You blinked groggily, your eyes heavy and puffy from too little sleep and too many regrets. As you rubbed the remnants of last night from your eyes, your phone buzzed insistently on the nightstand, the screen lighting up with a string of missed calls. Four from your ex, two from his best friend. A dull ache settled in your chest—a reminder of things you’d just rather forget.

You groaned, realizing you had returned none of them. Not that you had the time, or the patience. Rolling out of bed, an overwhelming wave of yesterday’s choices washed over you; you reeked of sweat and something faintly reminiscent of cheap wine. Your gaze flicked to the clock on the wall—12:30. Oh shit. You were late.

With an urgency you hadn’t felt in days, you scrambled to gather yourself, moving your hair out of your face as you stumbled towards the bathroom, your heart racing along with the consequences of your procrastination.

you stumbled into the bathroom, splashing cold water on your face in an effort to shake off the fog of last night. the cool rush did little to calm your racing heart as you hastily brushed your teeth, already scanning the small space for something—anything—that was clean to wear.

just as you reached for a shirt that suspiciously looked like it might’ve been worn yesterday, your phone buzzed again. the caller id read “mrs. henderson,” one of your students' moms. with a sigh, you answered, knowing you had no choice.

“hello, mrs. henderson,” you greeted, trying to inject some cheer into your voice.

“yes, ma’am,” you replied, wincing at the urgency in her tone. “yes, i am on my way right now, stuck in traffic.” you glanced at the clock again; the minutes were slipping away.

as you hurriedly threw on a wrinkled pair of pants, you glanced out the window and noticed the swarm of cars barely inching along. your frustration bubbled over, and without thinking, you shouted toward the street, “come on! move it already!”

“ugh, you know how it goes during rush hour,” you continued to mrs. henderson, half-exasperated and half-amused at your own antics. “yes, almost there, buh bye!” you ended the call with a shaky laugh, shaking your head at the chaos of your morning.

with adrenaline pumping and a mounting sense of urgency, you quickly pulled a sweater over your head, choosing to ignore the wrinkles. tugging on your shoes, you grabbed your bag and took one last look in the mirror. you could only hope today wasn’t a complete disaster—and that you wouldn’t have to dodge any more frantic phone calls.

you got out of your car and parked in guest parking, the summer sun pouring through the window, painting the seats in golden hues. instead of lounging on a beach somewhere, sipping piña coladas and listening to the sound of gentle waves, you were stuck in summer school with one specific student. your friends were sharing stories of tropical adventures while you were grading notes on multiplication and grammar. it wasn’t that the student was a bad kid; in fact, she had been a solid performer until the semester began to slip away from her. she was bright but had a stubborn streak that kept her from doing anyone else’s work, that is, until she met you, ms. [l/n]. the school administration figured that since you had built such a great rapport with her, why not sacrifice a little vacation time to help ensure the girl wouldn’t flunk? and if they thought you were just going to say yes because you felt bad... then yeah, they were right. god you hated teaching summer school.

as you arrived and, rushed down the hall, you hit the button for the elevator, tapping it with increasing impatience as the minutes slipped away. the elevator door stood stubbornly closed. you groaned and hit the button again and again, tapping it with a combination of desperation and frustration.

“having trouble?” a voice chimed from behind you. you turned to see a tall figure walking toward you, his frame around six feet tall, effortlessly commanding the small space. he had tousled dark hair, and his cheekbones were high and defined, complemented by a slight smile. his eyes were a striking shade of hazel, an unusual mix that seemed to shift with the light. he wore a fitted black shirt that accentuated his lean frame, paired with dark suit pants. he looked almost too perfect—a professor-type, but a bad one. like someone who could educate you on the theory of relativity and then do things to you you would never forget.

“uh, yeah. it won't budge,” you admitted, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks as you briefly noted how attractive he was. he approached the elevator panel and swiftly pressed the actual button—of course, the one you had been mashing fruitlessly. the elevator doors opened with a soft ding, and you stepped inside, feeling a mix of gratitude and intrigue.

“thank you,” you said, glancing at him as the doors closed. you stood next to each other in the cramped space, and you couldn’t help but eye him curiously. he seemed absorbed in his own thoughts, occasionally looking down at his hands. you couldn’t figure out why he was so quiet, but you didn’t dwell on it for long; your focus was on arriving to the door.

as the elevator hummed its way to your destination, you noticed the number flashing above the door. to your surprise, you were headed to the same floor. just as you reached it, you both instinctively moved toward the door at the same time.

“oh, after you,” he offered, his voice smooth and lightly teasing. your heart raced again, not just from the sense of urgency but also from how charming his laugh was. you couldn't help but notice the way it seemed to echo around you, making you want to hear it again.

“no, please. after you,” you insisted in return, and you both found yourselves caught in an awkward dance, both trying to let the other go first, unable to decide who should step out first.

“after you,” he repeated, laughter dancing in his voice, and just like that, you nodded, cheeks slightly warm, before stepping out of the elevator. as you walked past him, you felt the warmth of his presence lingering, and that laugh—oh, God if you weren't so late right now...

you sat across from your young student at the small kitchen table, surrounded by a mix of colorful worksheets, pencils, and books. The late afternoon light poured in through the window, casting a warm glow over the room. The little girl diligently worked on her times tables, the crinkled paper a testament to her determination.

As you glanced occasionally at her progress, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of fulfillment. Teaching had its challenges, but moments like these reminded you why you loved it. You caught yourself smiling—genuine, unfiltered joy spilling over as the girl successfully rattled off another multiplication fact. but you also caught yourself remembering the tall man in the elevator, you smirked to yourself even more.

In a moment of concentration, she looked up and noticed. “You’re smiling a lot!” she blurted out, her eyes wide with curiosity. You chuckled softly, caught off guard by her observation. “I guess I am,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light.

“My neighbor down the hall works for the FBI,” she announced with an important air. Her youthful confidence was contagious. “He’s a profiler or something, and he says that when someone’s smiling a lot, it means that something happened to make them happy.”

“Yeah, I saw something that made me happy alright,” you said lighter than you intended, before a wave of realization washed over you. maybe that wasn’t... appropriate to say in front of a fourth grader. Your mind raced as you searched for a safe response.

“What does that mean?” She asked, you stammered and stuttered and asked. “Well, uh-- Hey would you look at that its almost time for me to go.” She looked at you curiously, clearly pondering what you’d said. There was a peculiar wisdom in her gaze, and you quickly ushered her away.

After a final glance around the apartment, you slipped on your coat and grabbed your bag, feeling the familiar excitement of stepping out into the bustling world again. The hallway felt cozy as you made your way to the elevator, your footsteps echoing softly against the polished floor.

As the elevator doors slid open with a soft chiming sound, you stepped inside, your mind drifting to thoughts of your next tutoring session and the plans you had for the weekend. Just as the doors were about to close, they jolted back open, and a man stepped in—tall, with tousled dark hair and a warm smile that lit up his face. He glanced over at you, and you instinctively looked up, catching his gaze. In that moment, time seemed to stand still amid the commotion of your lives outside.

A smile broke across your face, a soft, inviting expression that mirrored his own. And without thinking, you spoke up, "You came in this morning, but you're leaving this afternoon." you said, without thinking. It sounded creep to me, but he understood what I meant. He nodded, "Yeah my job it uh-- I work for the uh-- Behavioral Analysis Unit for the FBI." your jaw drops, and he looks, but not limited to, concerned. "Is everything--" "Yeah its just uhm, funny enough my student, I think she was talking about you today-- I teach, so," you mutter out, letting out a breathy laugh.

"She 'profiler..ed'? me, I guess. I was smiling and she knew that something happened this morning to make me smile. She said she got it from you," he looked in complete and udder awe as he let out a chuckle. he nodded, then thinking for a bit. The elevator dinged, and instead of parting ways there, you guys walked the parking lot together. "Anderson? The little one," He said, making the motion with his hand to the side of his hip. You nodded your head in agreement. "Yeah she's really bright," he adds with a smile.

You agree with him, and look at him with curiosity in your eye. "Why were you smiling this morning?". The question lingers through the air, as he gives that laugh, that laugh, that he gave this morning that you almost risked everything for, filling the silence.

"You were staring, really hard." You feel your whole world shatter in embarrassment as those five words escape his lips, you laugh out of complete shock and horror as he can't help but begin to join you out of response to your reaction. "It's okay, it was just funny. Plus, I was too.". You let that stay in the air for a bit— those gorgeous hazel eyes looking down into yours, you smiled. And that's all you did. He walked you to your car, making sure you got there safely. And before he could walk off to his own, you spoke out. "Hey would you— happen to have a card? Just incase I wanna talk to you about, profiling or, the right buttons on the elevator." You say, realizing how stupid that sounding coming out. But he didn't think so, not at all. "Or incase I just wanna, talk to you..." Your voice fading out as he walked back over to you. Spencer Reid.

"I'll be expecting a call from you, you know. About, the right buttons on the elevator." He smiled, chuckling out. You nodded your head. 'will do...' you thought to yourself as you turned the engine on, letting the rumbling of your car fill your ears for a moment.

oh thank, God, to being late.

[travmalyubvi]

I don't believe they are siblings

How the fuck does genetics work here?

[xoxorealitygalore]

Trust and Believe II

You pushed me far

You brought me to it

You had my heart

But then you blew it, oh

summary: Keyshia and Joe had a seemingly perfect life together after marrying in 2010. However, as their careers grew, so did the strain on their relationship. When Joe cheats on Keyshia. The emotional fallout from the incident leaves their relationship hanging in the balance, with Keyshia questioning if they could ever recover from the betrayal.

Keyshia Anoa’i Ordered to Pay $100,000 to Woman She Assaulted in Roman Reigns’ Penthouse

Following an assault in September, Keyshia Anoa’i's three-month-long legal drama has finally come to an end and the singer will have to fork over a large amount of money.

According to a report from TMZ, Anoa’i's lawsuit ended in a default judgment after the singer never showed up to court. Anoa’i has been ordered to pay $100,000 to the woman suing her.

Anoa’i was originally arrested in September, for assaulting the woman, after she noticed the woman in the penthouse of her husband Roman Reigns. The singer reportedly went into a fit of rage and immediately attacked the woman, leaving bruises on her face.

Following the attack, the woman pressed charges against Anoa’i. The victim then filed a lawsuit and sought punitive damages for battery, intentional infliction of emotional distress, negligence, and premises liability.

Keyshia stood near the window in Joe's office, her arms crossed tightly over her chest as she watched him carefully write out the check for $100,000. The words Court-Ordered Payment were typed at the top, followed by the name of the woman who had sued her—the woman Keyshia had attacked after discovering her with Joe.

Keyshia couldn't help but feel a sharp pang of bitterness. She wasn’t proud of what she’d done, but part of her resented the fact that this whole situation had spiraled so far out of control. Joe had betrayed her, yet she was the one facing the consequences. The weight of the money, the legal issues, the humiliation—it all felt like a cruel reminder of how little control she had over her own life at that moment.

Joe placed the check in an envelope and sealed it, his face a mixture of frustration and resignation. “I hope you learned your lesson, Keyshia,” he said, his voice firm. “You can’t go around putting your hands on people.”

Keyshia rolled her eyes, not bothering to reply immediately. She wasn’t interested in hearing him lecture her on right and wrong, not now, not after everything that had happened between them. The whole situation felt exhausting, suffocating. She exhaled sharply, her gaze drifting to the backyard outside the window where the party for their daughter, Jovie, was taking place. It was a beautiful scene—a Ballerina and Bows-themed birthday party in full swing, with their youngest daughter smiling and playing with her friends.

“Whatever,” Keyshia muttered, her voice flat. “I have better things to worry about, like our daughter’s birthday party that’s happening downstairs in our backyard.” Her voice trailed off, as if the party—Jovie’s special day—was just another thing to get through. The weight of her words hung in the air as she stared out at the scene.

Joe, trying to keep his calm, responded, his tone clipped but measured. “That doesn’t change the fact that you attacked someone, Keyshia. You have to take responsibility for your actions.”

Keyshia's eyes narrowed, and her lips curled into a bitter smile. “And what about you? You think writing a check is going to fix everything, Joe? You cheated on me, remember? That’s why I’m here, standing in this room, having this conversation.”

Her words were sharp, cutting through the room like a blade. Joe’s expression tightened, and for a moment, the weight of his own guilt seemed to cloud his face. “I told you already, it was a heat-of-the-moment thing. I messed up. I was stupid. It wasn’t supposed to happen.”

Keyshia’s laugh was hollow and full of disbelief. “Heat of the moment,” she repeated, the words coming out like venom. “You think that’s an excuse?”

It was clear that Keyshia’s anger was not just about the attack. The check, the lawsuit, and the court orders were all secondary to the deep, gnawing wound in her chest—the betrayal Joe had inflicted on her and their family. She was so hurt, so angry that the words poured out before she could stop them. Every sentence she spoke felt like a raw, jagged edge.

Joe’s face softened, the guilt and regret now evident in his eyes. “I’m sorry, Keyshia. I know I hurt you. I’ll never be able to undo what I did, but I am sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Keyshia snapped. “You don’t get to be sorry now, Joe. You don’t get to apologize and pretend everything is fine. You cheated on me, and you’ve destroyed everything. I’ve been by your side through thick and thin, and this is how you repay me?”

Her voice cracked slightly on the last words. The emotional weight of the situation was too much to bear. Keyshia had spent years supporting Joe through his chronic myeloid leukemia diagnosis—standing by him during the toughest times of his life. But in return, he had betrayed her in the most intimate way possible, with another woman. It was something she would never be able to reconcile, and the pain was still too fresh.

Joe shifted uncomfortably, his gaze now directed at the floor. He could feel her anger, and he could feel the blame resting squarely on his shoulders. His voice was quieter now, almost pleading. “I didn’t mean to hurt you. I love you, Keyshia. I love our family. I know I messed up, but I’m trying to make it right.”

Keyshia let out a humorless laugh. “Love? That’s rich coming from the guy who took another woman to bed behind my back. You’ve broken everything, Joe. Everything. I don’t even know who you are anymore.” Her voice trembled with the weight of her emotions.

There was a brief silence between them, the tension palpable. Joe’s shoulders slumped, and for a moment, Keyshia saw the man she had once loved—a man who had been broken by his own actions. But the hurt was too deep. She couldn’t see past the betrayal anymore. She had been through so much, not just for Joe but for their children as well. She had sacrificed so much, and now, everything felt like it had been for nothing.

The silence was interrupted by a knock at the door, and before either of them could respond, Joe’s mother, Lisa, poked her head inside. “You two are missing your daughter’s birthday,” Lisa said, her voice a mixture of concern and gentle reprimand.

Keyshia sighed heavily, her anger still simmering beneath the surface. She turned away from Joe and walked toward the door, not wanting to engage any longer. She couldn’t deal with him, not now, not with the weight of everything else on her shoulders. Joe followed her, his eyes still full of remorse as he tried to find some way to reach her.

Downstairs, the party was in full swing. The children were laughing, running around the backyard, playing games and enjoying the festivities. Jovie, their three-year-old, spotted her parents and squealed with joy. “Mommy! Daddy!” she exclaimed, her face lighting up with excitement as she ran toward them.

Keyshia forced a smile, her heart aching as she knelt down to hug her daughter. “Hey, baby,” she said softly, her voice full of warmth. “Are you enjoying your party?”

Jovie nodded enthusiastically, her pigtails bouncing as she smiled up at her mother. “Yes! I love my cake!”

Joe stepped forward, scooping Jovie up in his arms. “Let’s cut your birthday cake, little lady,” he said, his voice affectionate as he carried her toward the table where the three-tiered birthday cake sat.

Keyshia followed them, her heart heavy as she watched the interaction between father and daughter. Jovie, oblivious to the tension between her parents, kissed Joe on the cheek and then turned to Keyshia. “Mommy, kiss Daddy!” she said, her little voice insistent.

Keyshia hesitated, her hands fluttering nervously at her sides. Everyone was watching, and the weight of their eyes felt suffocating. She bit her lip, trying to hold back the wave of emotions threatening to crash over her. Her smile was forced, and there was an edge to it that didn’t quite reach her eyes. But Jovie didn’t care—she just wanted her parents to be happy, to be together.

Keyshia hesitated for a moment longer before finally giving in to her daughter’s request. She leaned in and kissed Joe on the cheek, the brief touch feeling like a stark reminder of everything that had gone wrong.

Jovie, delighted, blew out her candles with a dramatic puff, and the room erupted in applause. Everyone gathered around the cake as Lisa began cutting slices. The birthday party continued, and Keyshia did her best to maintain the facade of happiness for the sake of their children. But inside, everything felt broken.

Hours later, the party was over. The house had been cleaned, the decorations taken down, and the children tucked into bed. Keyshia made her way to the guest room—the same room she had been staying in for the past three months since the incident.

As she passed the hallway, she saw Joe standing near the door, blocking her way. His eyes were tired, and his face was drawn with the weight of their unresolved issues.

“I keep trying to hate you,” Keyshia said, her voice strained with emotion. “It’d be so much easier if I did.”

Joe sighed deeply, his expression heavy with regret. “Don’t worry. I hate myself enough for both of us.”

Keyshia felt the words land like a weight on her chest. She didn’t know what was worse—the fact that Joe had cheated, or the fact that now, both of them were lost in their own pain, unable to fix the broken pieces of their once happy family.

For now, all she could do was turn and walk away, seeking solace in the solitude of the guest room, where she could bury her grief and confusion. It was the only place she felt she could truly breathe. But deep down, she knew that their story—her story—was far from over.

Keyshia closed the door behind her with a soft click, the sound echoing in the quiet hallway. The guest room, small and sparsely decorated, felt like a prison. It had been her sanctuary since the night of the incident, a place to retreat when the walls of their home, once full of warmth and laughter, now felt cold and suffocating. The bed, unmade and untouched, seemed to mock her attempts at peace. She dropped her purse onto the chair, removed her shoes, and sat on the edge of the bed, her mind swirling with emotions she couldn’t sort through.

Her hands trembled as she pulled her phone from her bag, but she quickly dropped it back into her lap. What was the point of checking it again? She had already seen the messages—Joe’s constant apologies, his mother’s concerned texts asking if she was okay, and a few messages from family and friends offering sympathy. None of it mattered. None of it could fix what had happened.

For a brief moment, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to feel the weight of everything—the attack, the lawsuit, the broken trust, the children who still didn’t fully understand the gravity of the situation. Her mind replayed the night she had walked into Joe’s penthouse and found him with another woman. The shock had hit her first, followed by a surge of adrenaline that clouded her judgment. She had lashed out, not thinking of the consequences, not considering how much more it would cost her—emotionally, financially, or legally.

How had it come to this?

The thought echoed in her mind as if trying to make sense of the chaos her life had become. They had been through so much together, and yet, here they were—on opposite sides of a divide neither of them seemed to know how to cross. She had loved Joe. Truly loved him. And despite everything, part of her still did. But love wasn’t enough when the trust was shattered. It wasn’t enough when the man you had given everything to betrayed you so completely.

Keyshia pulled her knees up to her chest, resting her chin on them as she stared at the empty space in front of her. The dim light from the hallway crept in through the cracks of the door, casting long shadows across the floor. It felt like the darkness inside her was reflected in the room. She had been angry—furious, in fact. But now, the anger was slowly being replaced by exhaustion. She couldn’t keep fighting like this. She didn’t have the energy anymore.

Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps outside the door. Joe’s voice, muffled but clear, called through the wood. “Keyshia, please,” he said. “I need to talk to you.”

She didn’t answer right away, not because she didn’t hear him, but because she wasn’t sure what there was left to say. Joe had apologized over and over again, but the weight of his betrayal felt too heavy to lift with mere words. She didn’t want to talk to him, not now, not when everything felt so raw and unresolved.

But then, she heard the faint creak of the door. Joe had opened it, even though she hadn’t invited him in.

He stood there, a few feet away, looking at her with a mixture of guilt and pain in his eyes. He had been through so much over the years with his chronic myeloid leukemia diagnosis, and Keyshia had been there, every step of the way, supporting him through the treatments, the hospital visits, the endless rounds of chemotherapy. But in the end, it wasn’t the cancer that had nearly destroyed their family—it was Joe’s choices, his infidelity, his inability to keep his promises.

“I know you don’t want to talk to me,” Joe said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. “I get it. But I’m asking for a chance to fix this. Please, Keyshia.”

She raised her head, her eyes locking with his for the first time in hours. His face was etched with sorrow, but Keyshia couldn’t ignore the sense of self-pity that also lingered there. He was sorry. She could see that, but that didn’t change the fact that his actions had left her broken.

“You want to fix this?” Keyshia asked, her voice steady but cold. “You think writing a check, making promises, and saying you’re sorry is enough to fix this?”

Joe stepped further into the room, his hands slightly raised in a gesture of peace. “I’m not asking for forgiveness right now, Keyshia. I know I don’t deserve it. But I need you to know that I’m going to do whatever it takes to make things right. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Keyshia couldn’t suppress the bitter laugh that escaped her. “How can you possibly make things right, Joe? The damage has been done. You can’t un-cheat. You can’t erase the way I feel right now. Do you really think we can go back to how things were?”

Joe flinched at her words, the truth cutting through him like a knife. “No, I don’t think we can just go back,” he admitted. “But I want to try. For us. For our family. And for our kids.”

The mention of their children made Keyshia pause. It always did. They had seven kids—Josie, Kayleigh, the twins Jonas and Kingston, Jarvis and Kingsley, and little Jovie. Their lives were intertwined, their futures linked in ways that Keyshia couldn’t ignore, no matter how angry or hurt she felt.

“You don’t get it, do you?” she said, standing up from the bed. Her voice had softened now, but there was an underlying desperation. “I can’t just forget this, Joe. I can’t go back to being that woman who believed in us, in you. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to look at you the same way again.”

Joe’s eyes filled with tears. The ache in his chest was palpable as he looked at the woman he had loved for so long, the woman he had betrayed in the worst way possible. “I know. And I hate myself for it. I wish I could change everything. But I can’t. I just need you to know that I’m not giving up on us. I’ll do whatever it takes. I promise.”

Keyshia took a step back, shaking her head. “I don’t know if I can believe you anymore,” she whispered, the weight of her words hitting both of them.

There was a long pause, as if the very air between them had become heavy and thick with everything unspoken. Finally, Joe spoke again, his voice broken. “I understand if you need time. But please know, Keyshia… I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Keyshia’s heart wavered. There was something in his voice that made her believe him—just for a second. But that was all. One second. And then the walls she had built around her heart rushed back into place, pushing out any tenderness, any chance of reconciliation.

She stared at him for a long moment, weighing his words, his promises, his tears. But in the end, she could only nod slowly. “You should go, Joe. We both need time.”

Without another word, Joe turned and left the room, the door clicking softly behind him. Keyshia let out a shaky breath, her legs giving way as she collapsed back onto the bed. The tears she had been holding back for so long finally broke free, flowing freely as her body trembled with the weight of everything she was feeling—anger, pain, betrayal, confusion.

For the first time in months, Keyshia allowed herself to cry. Not for the woman she had attacked, not for the lawsuit, or the court order—but for the woman she had once been, and for the life she had lost. She didn’t know where they would go from here. But one thing was clear: the road ahead was uncertain, and the road back was blocked by too much hurt to navigate.

As the night wore on and her tears slowly subsided, Keyshia realized that she didn’t have all the answers. But perhaps, in time, she would find a way to heal. The future was a blurry horizon, but she wasn’t about to give up on herself.

[sukibenders]

Hear me out: you can ship JayVik without falling into or using rhetoric that fits the disposable black girlfriend trope. You can ship JayVik without using Mel as some conceived ploy or antagonistic plot device that makes her out of character. You can ship JayVik without falling into misogynistic rhetoric (eg. viewing female characters as disposable or stepping tools, amongst other things). You can ship JayVik without erasing the impact Mel has had on Jayce and their relationship because, whether you shipped it or not or even gave it the time of day, Mel and Jayce did care for each other, and to deny that or say Viktor held more importance/impact than her in Jayce's life to where she's viewed as "unnecessary" just to further your ship is so wrong and, whether you intended for it or not, does carry undertones where black characters, especially black female characters, emotional impact on others is ignored or downplayed even though there's context to support just how important it is/they are. Lastly, you can ship JayVik without using anti-black and misogynoir type rhetoric because the amount that has flooded this fandom, but especially from some fans of this ship, is atrocious. Ship what you like, but be respectful and careful with certain things you say, is all I'm saying.

[silendastral]

Great, I didn't die from my own cooked food and also freeing up on my blog for anything. What does that mean? - Random headcanons!

- In this world, it is necessary to have your own garage, and it is undesirable to sleep on duty like Sheriff. Why? Insects can get under the bottom and start gnawing on car's body, getting all the way to the upholstery and insides. This is a rare phenomenon, since the car periodically shakes itself while sleeping.

- Speaking of Sheriff. He grazes tractors for the soul and has a relatively good relationship with Frank, so as not to fall out of favor with the combine (well, he simply observes safety precautions with this machine).

- Monster trucks participate in different disciplines, of course. But there is a division into those who were an ordinary car and moved to a huge suspension, and there are those who were created as monsters.

The second case is most often for the amusement of the public and destroys old/broken cars. Trucks are trained so that there is no pity in them, and in general they are treated like animals (Ivy is a good girl who was able to stop what she did not like. Ginormous, in my HCs, is the one who was picked up by the circus and trained like an animal, from which he grew up and behaves hot-tempered at times even after rehabilitation).

- Cars float like cars in GTA Vice City by cheats. They feel good afloat, but it is advisable to apply a special coating to prevent the appearance of rust.

- It is not customary in society to open doors, but cars periodically slam them with discontent.

- It's also not worth opening someone's door without permission - it's harassment . Why did you even want to see someone's inner world?

- By the way, because of the door handles, this can be considered a weak zone. Predators know about this, so first of all they try to tear out the door in order to get to organs.

- No matter how cute cars may seem, cannibalism is not a rare phenomenon for them. But this usually happens in poor families, where the financial situation leaves much to be desired. So a newborn driver is always in danger in such conditions. But he can try to escape, the benefit of small tentacles allows.

- An alarm or siren may accidentally turn on if you scare a car. Also, these goodballs get scared when they first discover a radio inside themselves. And at first it may seem to the poor devils that they are going crazy. Therefore, over time, it was necessary to introduce a mini-briefing on the received body into the program so that there would be no silly situations.

[saber-monet]

[praxcrown5]

Cars meme

Stolen from moparmemes on Instagram

[haunted-planes]

The brainrot got him

[strip-weathers]

Cars as cats pt. 2

[lenaplush]

Add smol silly car!

Add your smoll silly car thing on art. (not necessarily a fruit) they can touch each other. indicate your nickname next to the drawing. Characters should not be repeated! You can add both canon and OC characters. no humanization!

[remusawoooo]

I'm all about curating my content and ignoring ships I don't like, BUTTTT

isn't there something so insidious about taking a character that was vehemently against dark magic and supremacy (to the extent of giving his life fighting them) and shipping him with a voldemort fanatic who couldn't wait to become a death eater.