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vasquez-rocks · 1 month

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i know most ppl haven’t seen it yet but wanted to write something abt how annoyed some of the critical discourse abt I Saw the TV Glow is making me. MAJOR SPOILERS below the break, be warned!!

so idk i’ve seen so many reviews of the film positing that it’s about the dangers of obsessive fandom and overidentification with fictional characters, esp vis a vis real life self-actualization/coming out. (like, essentially every review has some of this in it, from what i’ve seen.) and, like: i don’t think that’s wrong, but i also think it’s massively underselling what schoenbrun is doing here. the metaphor of the show’s bleed-over is so smart because works in both directions at once.

like, in one direction: when maddy asks owen to come into the show by burying himself alive, you can read it as her asking him to abandon his real-life responsibilities, and the material facts of his real life body, in favor of a fantasy life where everything is already fixed. she’s inviting him to skip over the hard, messy work of transitioning and to sink even deeper into the analgesic obsessions he uses to numb his dysphoria. in this interpretation, it’s, like, the equivalent of overprioritizing “transition goals” instead of actually medically/legally/socially transitioning if that’s what you want, living forever in the ideal instead of taking difficult steps to change the material. (also, uh, if you don’t think she’s literally correct about the nature of reality, she is in fact asking him to kill himself. there’s that.)

BUT! it also works the other way. when maddy tells owen that the show is real, that their lives are just the buried dreams of dying girls in another life, she terrifies him by confronting him with something he’s always known about himself: he was supposed to be a girl. what she proposes is radical, dangerous, seemingly unhinged, and based on a childish fixation: all the things scared closeted trans people worry transition is, basically. on a more figurative level, too, the feeling she’s telling owen is real – that his real life is just a dream within a dream, that his home is not his home, that he belongs somewhere else, that he is supposed to be SOMEONE else – is something so, so, so many closeted trans people have felt before, myself so much included. when he sobs in the shower, yelling “this isn’t my home!” at his dad, i felt a sense of identification stronger than i’ve almost ever gotten from art before. when maddy finally calls him isabel, it’s the gentlest thing i can imagine.

in this read – which i do love, while thinking the other one is simultaneously true – it’s less “come sink deeper into delusion with me instead of dealing with your own life” and more “it’s going to be terrifying, but that childish dream of being a girl you once held wasn’t childish, and it can be real if you’re courageous enough.” he says he runs away from the football field because he thinks maddy’s not mentally well; it takes very little analysis of subtext to figure out he’s running away because he’s afraid of how much he wants what she’s offering. and, of course, the idea of the visible world being an illusion laid atop the world in which one is one’s truest self is a classic trope of trans cinema going all the way back to the matrix. (also: while i’m pretty death-of-the-author-pilled in most media analysis, it kinda seems like schoenbrun themself has interpreted the film in this way, as they’ve spoken at length in interviews about how, to them, transition felt like asking to be buried alive.)

all of which is to say: i think the film IS commenting on fandom, obsession, overidentification, and the ease with which queer people can sink into art as a way to dissociate from real life. but i think it makes the film so much more cynical and so much less tender to treat it as the ONLY read of the film’s relationship with the pink opaque. art, especially the sort of slow, metaphor-laden art schoenbrun makes, is best when it is complex and productively contradictory. the pink opaque is a problem, and an escape, and a fantasy, and it’s real, and one day isabel is going to wake up.

#i saw the tv glow

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wlntrsldler · 4 months

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bad for business | luke castellan

warnings: loser!luke agenda is strong with this one, insecure!luke because of reader's judgmental siblings but they get over it later on, suggestive content but nothing explicit, luke being happy and in love (we need more of this; i'm pointing the finger at myself, i need to write happy luke fics) aphrodite!reader x luke, in an alternate universe where the betrayal didn't happen

based on bad for business by sabrina carpenter

i. he's good for my heart, but he's bad for business.

"she's probably going to dump him soon, anyway."

"she's just doing it for the tradition, obviously."

"she's too good for him."

sometimes luke just wanted to tell them to shut up, but he's already on thin ice with-- well, everyone at camp. they weren't a fan of the smell of cigarettes that lingered on his clothes, or the ugly scar on his face (this, wasn't his fault though. if anything, they should hate his fucking dad for giving him the quest in the first place), or the fact that he's somehow dating the most popular, gorgeous, and brilliant girl at camp.

you, y/n y/l/n, the favorite daughter of aphrodite. at first luke thought that you'd be just like the rest of the aphrodite girls (he's not one to perpetuate stereotypes, being the victim of it all his life, but the aphrodite kids always turned their noses up at him so he didn't feel too bad dishing it out), but then you smiled at him with your pretty, pink lips and luke knew he was a goner. he didn't stand a chance (not like he fought it too hard anyway)

you made an effort to remember his name, say hello to him when you passed by him, and you even went as far as asking him for his opinion on things.

"what do you think of this strategy, luke?" you asked, staring at him directly. the entire blue team was arguing loudly (luke thought their strategy fucking sucked and was a sure way for the ares cabin to, once again, demolish all of you, but he was going to keep that to himself) before your soft voice broke the noise. everyone stopped in their tracks because why the hell were you talking to him? asking him for his opinion?

he blinked, even looking behind him in case there was some other kid named luke that he didn't know about. when he finally realized that you were talking to him, he managed to stutter out that the plan was fine. you looked at him skeptically, penetrating the persona he put up with everyone, but decided not to push him anymore and simply nodded.

when the red team, led by the ares cabin, of course, handed your asses to you on a silver platter, you found luke at dinner and sat directly in front of him. chris, who was just as starstruck as luke that you were sitting with them, immediately scrambled off his seat and mumbled some half-hearted excuse to leave the two of you alone.

"so, spill," you said, planting your tray of food on the table. "what did you really think of the strategy?"

your conversation went from strategy to your life to his life to everything and anything until you two were the last two people left. he was glad when people finally got tired of gawking at you and him. (many in disbelief, all in jealousy that you decided to sit with him) you didn't seem to mind the stares, though, luke figured it was because you were used to it. it was hard not to stare at you.

luke thought that dinner was just a glitch in the matrix, that it was just some weird anomaly that would never happen again. he was just thankful that it happened; but then the next day, your perfectly manicured hand knocked on the hermes cabin door and you stood in front of luke with a timid smile on your face to ask him to train you in sword fighting.

luke got dressed at record speed. chris woke up after the third time luke hit his head under his bed when he was trying to find a semi-decent shirt to wear to your sparring session (maybe one that didn't smell too much like cigarettes). chris sat up on his bed, eyebrow quirked, with a teasing smile on his face.

as luke was racing out the door, he looked at chris, "don't start.''

chris threw his head back laughing, "i didn't say anything."

luke threw a pillow at chris with an oomph before rushing out to meet you.

the training sessions slowly morphed into sitting next to each other daily during meals, then into hanging out at campfires, until it got to the point when there wouldn't be a second of free time where the two of you wouldn't be together. luke could feel your siblings shooting daggers at him whenever he was alone, like a warning to stay away from you, but it's not like he was the one initiating things.

sure, he would follow you around the ends of the world if you asked (or even if you didn't, let's be honest here) but luke didn't want to test his luck so he just went with the flow. sometimes, he just wanted to talk to your siblings to set the record straight.

"look, i'm just as fucking confused as you are," he would say, "i don't know why she's hanging out with me either."

as much as he enjoyed your moments together, a piece of him still worried that you were just being nice. maybe you were this way with everyone. maybe he just likes you so much that he's making up these scenarios in his head.

he tried to talk to chris about it, but that proved to be the wrong decision because it's not like the boy had any experience either; he was pining over clarisse. the blind leading the blind, truly.

and then one day, while you and luke were sitting beside the water, after a long day of training, you looked over at him with an unreadable expression.

panicked, luke immediately straightened his back and twisted his body to face you. he wanted to reach for your hand to comfort you, but decided against it. he didn't want to make you uncomfortable. he cleared his throat, "what's wrong?"

"why haven't you asked me out?"

you would've thought percy summoned a cold wave to crash into luke with the way he was sitting there frozen. luke was looking at you blankly, like his brain was short-circuiting. it was a habit of his to blink and tilt his head to the side whenever he was shocked.

"huh?"

you were frowning now, "do you not like me? i'm sorry, i guess i was just reading the situation wrong."

"woah, pause," luke leaned in closer, inspecting your face to see if there was a punchline about to drop like it was a gotcha! moment and all of your siblings would come out from behind the trees to laugh at him. he found no sign of such a thing. "do you like me?"

"luke, i've been so obvious," there was a hint of embarrassment in your voice and luke wanted to kiss it away. your cheeks were dusted with the lightest shade of red as you chewed on your bottom lip. "i thought maybe you liked me too, but i guess it was all in my head. i'm sorry-- forget i even said anything."

"yeah, i don't want to forget it," luke shook his head, now stumbling over his words. his brain was working again, sort of. "i like you, too. like really like you. sorry, you just caught me off guard for a sec."

"you do?"

"gods, i really really do."

you beamed at him and luke was so thankful that he was sitting because his knees would've buckled at your reaction and humiliated himself by falling face-first in the water if he was standing. he was especially thankful that he was sitting when you climbed onto his lap to make out with him until both of your lips were bruised.

ii. i'm mad for you, it's sad but true, and you know it. you're on my mind, you stole my life and it's showing.

word traveled fast after that. when you walked into breakfast with luke's arm around your waist, the whispers started. luke thought the staring before was bad, but this was on a new level. he felt the other aphrodite kids following his every move, poison in their eyes.

when you sat next to luke, impossibly close to him, chris' eyebrows rose in glee. he motioned to the both of you with his spoon, flicking drops of milk with the motion, "what's going on here?"

"i'm luke's girlfriend now."

luke nearly choked on the apple he was eating when he heard the words leave your lips. yes, he knew that you were dating now (his pathetically hoarse voice saying, "will you be my girlfriend?" after the hours-long makeout session the night before haunted his dreams last night; he wanted to keep his cool so bad, but it just wasn't possible when you were sitting on his lap, all pretty with your thighs on either side of his, lips glossy with his saliva instead of your typical lipgloss), but it was the first time he heard you refer to yourself as his girlfriend. his girlfriend.

"nice," chris raised his hand up for a high-five, which luke was about to complete, but chris pulled his hand away, "not for you, dude."

you giggled and high-fived chris, making luke look between the two of you in bewilderment.

"what the fuck was that?" luke asked. when did you and chris get close?

"this is embarrassing," you started, looking down at your plate of food. you were dragging your spoon across the blob of oatmeal, "but i talked to chris about you last week because i was so sad that you haven't made a move yet. i just wanted to hear his opinion on things in case i was just being stupid."

"why didn't you tell me this?"

"i tried!" chris argued, laughing a bit when luke's face turned red, "plus, i didn't want to tell you that me and y/n had a conversation because i had faith that you'd make a move! i obviously bet on the wrong horse, though, because y/n made the move."

"oh my gods, i'm a loser." luke groaned, tossing the apple on his tray. he lost his appetite. "you mean we could've been together this entire time?"

you placed a hand on his thigh, making him turn his attention to you. you gave him a comforting smile that he quickly reciprocated. you gave his thigh a soft squeeze, "it's okay, luke. we can make up for lost time."

luke smirked at you, "tonight?"

"dude, i'm trying to fucking eat."

luke threw up the middle finger to chris' face before connecting your lips.

to luke's surprise, your relationship didn't really change much after putting a label on it. (the changes that did occur were that now he can kiss you freely, which he was thankful for, and that you were even more touchy with him, which he was extremely thankful for because he loved having you next to him at all times. he was so smitten with you.) he realized then how blind he'd been the entire time because you were so very obvious about your feelings for him, he was just too stuck in his own head to notice it.

he started being outwardly affectionate with you, gaining more confidence while he was on your arm. his favorite thing to do was to wrap his arms around your torso and bury his face into the crook of your neck. he loved hearing you erupt in giggles when his curls tickled your skin. he was drunk on you and you didn't mind one bit.

you even said that you were more attached to him than he was to you (he looked at you like you had three heads because it couldn't have been further from the truth.)

he took you on little picnic dates and made you jewelry that you wore proudly, and you wore his clothes (he would be lying if he said that his heart didn't skip a beat when you walked out of the aphrodite cabin sporting his hermes sweater) but above all, luke loved the way he could talk to you about everything. he told you about his mom, his dad, his doubts and his insecurities, and you listened. you would sit there, hands in his hair, while he laid on your chest. he didn't know the last time he felt safe, but with you, he always did.

iii. all of my friends think i've gone crazy, but they don't know me like my baby.

luke tried to ignore the fact that there were running bets from campers about how long you two would last, but it was getting to him. he'd heard it all; a week, two weeks, three months. he fought the urge to roll his eyes when he heard the jingling of drachmas being passed around when you and him were seen together after someone lost their bet.

it's been two months but people still believed that you two were going to break up soon. the idea of it made luke feel sick. he couldn't imagine a life without being yours anymore. truth be told, he was wholly yours the minute he met you, but after every kiss, every hug, every second with you, he was just falling deeper in love with you.

it was a little scary.

"hiya, baby," you greeted him, wrapping your arms around his broad shoulders.

you started calling him the pet name a few days into dating and luke actually whimpered when you did it the first time. you loved getting these reactions from luke and his little sounds (both innocent and not-so-innocent) only spurred you on. when he's with you, luke turned into this mush, always wanting to be held by you or touching you in some way.

"hi," he mumbled, leaning up to place a quick kiss on your lips.

you hummed happily before resting your hands on his back, "baby, you're tense. are you okay?"

"yeah," luke replied, but his furrowed eyebrows said differently.

"no you're not," you walked in front of him, wrapping your arms around his torso, "what's going on?"

luke sighed, "everyone thinks we're gonna break up-- or more specifically, everyone thinks you're gonna break up with me."

"do you believe that i'll break up with you?" you frowned, loosening your hold on him. "did i do something that made you think that?"

"no, no," he said, quickly. he pulled you closer to him, not wanting you to let go of him. "i just-- i dunno. everyone says i'm not good enough for you, and i know i'm not, and it's getting to my head a little bit."

you looked up at him, removing your hands from around him to reach for his face. you brought his face down closer to yours to pepper kisses all over it; his cheeks, his lips, his scar, his jaw. "i think you're perfect."

"you have to say that 'cause you're my girlfriend," he playfully rolled his eyes, but he couldn't stop a goofy smile from forming on his face due to your kisses.

"yeah, i am your girlfriend," you reminded him, placing a longer kiss on his lips now. your lips moved together, making luke's hands wander to your lower back to push you closer to him. you pulled away, breathless, "listen to your girlfriend, baby. i'm not going anywhere so don't worry your pretty little head about it."

there were still moments when the voices of the other campers bounced around in luke's head, but you were always there to quiet them with your reassurance and your love for him.

eventually, people stopped talking about you and luke and accepted that you two weren't breaking up anytime soon (they were about six months too late, in luke's opinion). he even managed to win over your siblings later on (kind of; they still don't talk to him unless they have to but they smile at him now, but luke isn't picky; a win is a win)

luke was happy and in love and it was all thanks to you.

#frances writes #frances song fics #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan x yn #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan x you #percy jackson fanfic #percy jackson #pjo fanfic #pjo series

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lilithgreye · 1 month

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Numerology Notes

— volume two —

• 369 = balance. 3 = child, 6 = family, 9 = completion. 369 is one of the most powerful numbers in the universe as theorized by nikola tesla

• The most physically attractive numerical energy (based on societal beauty/idealization) tends to be 5, 9, and 11 energy. Bonus: 2 days and 8 energy (only 8’s if they have resolved most of their negative karma). Of course there is beauty in every number just like how in astrology there’s beauty in every sign but this speaking about who’s most attractive and idealized the most by society

Examples: Rihanna = 2 day, Angelina Jolie = 5 life path, Tyla = 8 life path, Madison Beer and Megan Fox = 9 life paths, Jennifer Aniston = 11 life path

• 1 and 3 life paths are the youngest souls in this matrix (13 = matrix). They’re new here

• 33 and 32 (5) life paths are soulmates

• 13/4 are the real wealth numbers. 28 can be negative depending on your life path and how much negative karma you’ve collected

Examples: Drake = 4 life path, Beyonce and Jay Z are born on 4 days + their house is in the shape of a 4, Rihanna = talent number 4, Taylor Swift born on the 13th (all billionaires)

• 5, 6, and 11 days are the best ones to start a relationship on in my opinion. The worst would be 7 and 19 as 7 is bad for love and 19 brings negative karmic relationships

• In 2027 you will be more likely to fall in love since it’s an 11 universal year (I don’t recommend beginning a relationship this year if your Vietnamese zodiac is the ox though)

• If your life path + someone else’s life path adds to 19 it’s going to end harshly as this is a negative karmic dynamic

Example: 11’s and 8’s

• Random but a lot of 3 life paths/people born on 3 days tend to be fatter when they’re younger then lose weight when they’re older. Unless they have 6 in their birthday also or 8 with unresolved karma sometimes they don’t

• Pay attention to films/shows with numbers and you will see patterns. In Stranger Things for example 11 and 1 (Peter Ballard) are enemies. 11 numerical energy and 1 energy are incompatible in numerology

• 4’s are not attracted to people who don’t have their life together. You must have structure in your life to attract them

• 22 is a great age to manifest for years ahead

• Living in home addresses reduced to 6 are best but 3, 4, and 9 can also be beneficial. 1, 7, 11, and 19 addresses are the worst (especially 11)

• You will get pulled over more often than the average person with 4’s in your license plate (number of law and order)

• 7’s and 9’s flirt the best/have the best game

#numerology #numerology blog #numerology notes #numerology observations #matrix #11 #33

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lets-try-some-writing · 6 months

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Random question, but how good do you think the ‘Bots and ‘Cons would be at cooking? Does the Matrix happen to have any tips or knowledge of the culinary arts? Would the kids be of any assistance to the ‘Bots, or would they also fail at cooking? For some reason I think Miko would be really bad at making anything with more than 5 steps but make a really good grilled cheese sandwich. You think they would fare any better at baking?

Heck yeah this is funny.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙

Cooking on Earth

As a general rule, cooking is not really a thing on Cybertron, at least not as it is on Earth. The process of creating energon based fuels and treats is more of a purification than any real chemical bonding or serious alteration as commonly seen in human culinary works. As such, when the team brought the children under their care and were then hit with the realization that they needed to fuel their small wards, issues arose immediately.

Arcee could hardly process normal energon, much less cook anything to save her life. The only human food she is capable of putting together is boxed macaroni and cheese. Even then, it still isn't all that good. She either adds too much butter or none at all. Her milk additions make dish look more like cereal than anything else and quite frankly she somehow manages to burn the noodles despite that fact that it should be nearly impossible. The children don't like her attempts at cooking, but if pressed, they will consume her noodle dish. She has attempted baking but has only succeeded in burning the wall in an attempt to quote "make sure the cake was fully baked".

She is not allowed in the kitchen alone. Ever.

Bulkhead has been met with limited success in all things gelatin. He can't make much else unless he is putting sauce on pre-ordered food, but gelatin he can do. On Cybertron he was known amongst the Wreckers for his banger jellied energon, even earning minor praise from Ultra Magnus. Thankfully for everyone, the same general concept applies to human jellied treats, and so Bulkhead is able to make gelatin without killing anyone. Of course his flavor profiles are rather... off. He has no clue what actually is constituted as good food for including in gelatin, but he tries his best.

Smokescreen and Bumblebee can make a mean grilled cheese, but only if they are working together. One must have their optics on the food while the other plays music in the background while grating cheese. If either of them get distracted or only one is present, the results are wild and worthy of a fire extinguisher. Bee has attempted soup before, and surprisingly, once in a blue moon he can make a really good potato soup. It is close enough to preparing energon rations that he can manage it occasionally. Smokescreen though? He has been given a lifetime ban from the stove. He somehow manages to make a really good salad despite that. It is largely just him throwing random green things in the fridge into a bowl, but it works generally.

Ratchet does not cook. Optimus has forbidden him to cook despite the Doctor wishing to figure out the strange science. The only time he tried cooking, he made actual poison and almost fed it to the kids thinking it was a nutrient dense supplement. Since then he has been confined to the realms of baking, which thankfully, is not too foreign since he can and has made spectacular energon goodies in the past. He knows how to work heat related tools well enough to make really good cupcakes. He can't do frosting though. Its always chunky or pure liquid sugar. Miko still eats them, even if they are a little burned sometimes.

Ultra Magnus can cook, on both Cybertron AND Earth. He just refuses to do so. Period.

Optimus for his part, despite his knowledge, can cook in theory. He knows how it should work, and so largely depending on the resources given to him and his level of focus, he can make a mean dish on Cybertron and Earth. His specialty on both worlds is a variant of shepherds pie, something he lived and vented back on Cybertron due to how cheap it was at the local restaurant. Of course the names of the dishes and the ingredients differ, but the concept remains the same. And so as long as the dish requires no decorum, Optimus can make it fairly well. However if asked to bake, the Prime physically cannot. The singular time he made the attempt, he came away covered in soot and with a lifetime ban from the baking items.

When it comes to the Decepticons, Megatron does not cook, period. On Cybertron he was a fantastic brewer of high grade, but that skill does not translate over well. On the Nemesis, he has a small personal brewing station where he will occasionally whip something up for himself. But that is a rare treat. He has taken the time to study human brewing methods though, largely out of a desire to mock their efforts. This of course led to some experimentation on his end, which in turn resulted in better high grade than what he was capable of producing before. He will never admit where the jump in skill came from.

Knockout and Breakdown love to make cake specifically. They can't even eat the stuff, but they like seeing how big and how grand they can make it. Hours are spent dutifully baking cakes to perfection, molding them, and then decorating them. Usually its done after Cybertronian sites, but off an on they will make human tourist locations out of cake. Breakdown also experiments with chocolate and has become relatively good at making realistic chocolate molds. These, along with Knockout's cakes, he takes to different places around the globe to donate. He may not be fond of humans, but waste is not acceptable.

Starscream is by far the best chef out of all present Cybertronians, and that is only because he fragging hates that Gordan Ramsey is better than he is at it. Starscream has devoted a ridiculous amount of time to cooking JUST so that he can curse right back at the human chef and prove himself superior. No, he does not know where it stemmed from. No, he cannot even eat what he makes. But frag it all he will get that beef wellington right or he will die trying. However against all expectation considering his considerable cooking ability on Earth, he can't cook on Cybertron to save his life. He never needed to, so he never learned.

Shockwave doesn't cook. He makes purified energon and that is all. He doesn't even bother learning anything else. Why would he? Its not like he can taste or appreciate anything complicated. Arachnid does not cook either, and that is largely because she sees it as beneath her. Soundwave is in a similar boat and does not bother... unless it comes to making cat treats. Those he will go through the pain of working with tiny human tools to manage in order to lure in the furry creatures.

Dreadwing can only make noodles. And only from the box. He has no explanation.

#transformers #maccadam #transformers prime #team prime #optimus prime #ratchet #bumblebee #megatron #soundwave #shockwave #smokescreen #bulkhead #arcee #starscream #knockout #I aint tagging the rest #crack #enjoy yall

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ghostpalmtechnique · 6 months

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Why your criticism of "capitalism" is so tiresome

I usually disagree with criticisms of "capitalism," but there are different reasons for this due to underlying terminological confusion: you can think of this as a 2x2 matrix where the quadrants represent "I agree with your premise {yes/no}" and "the thing you are angry about is actually capitalism {yes/no}".

There is a small class of genuinely radical leftists that object to all private investment, market transactions, etc. (Category: no/mostly yes) I do not believe that the planning problem is solvable even with currently-unavailable tech such as superhuman AI, nor do I think the "people respond to incentives" problem would go away even if you did otherwise solve it. (It's pretty notable that every example that people can point to of societies that ostensibly don't display this behavior are near-subsistence economies .)

There are people who think the welfare state is too weak. "We should be more like Scandinavia." (Category: yes/no) The US is a mixed economy. Denmark and Sweden are mixed economies. We could move the dial on tax-and-transfer a lot and still be capitalist, just like Scandinavia is.

There are people who think "capitalism is the reason poverty exists." (Category: no/no? This thinking is so confused that it's hard to categorize.) The default state of humanity is poverty. Our ability to climb out of that has been dependent on productive investment. The major modernization pushes in Communist USSR and China depended on market-based exports to the rest of the world and would have failed faster and harder as an attempt at centrally-planned autarky. They were free-riding on capitalism.

There are people who think capitalism is bad because it's a impersonal system where people are transactional and don't care about other people. (Category: mostly no/no) First of all, this isn't a distinguishing feature of capitalism. Mercantilist and communist states have been equally suffused with impersonal bureaucracy. Second of all, a system where your ability to get things you need depends on your ability to pay for them and/or fill out the right paperwork is almost always safer and better than a system where your ability to get what you need depends on having the right connections and/or being well-liked (or just likeable). To actually *be* better, of course, requires certain public measures to ensure everyone has the resources and knowledge to access them; however, see previous paragraph.

There are people who wouldn't actually be able to articulate a general criticism of capitalism because their actual complaint is "the status quo gives me personally less wealth and status than I think I should have." You can probably guess what quadrant this is in.

#poking hornets' nests

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that-blue-vault-dweller · 3 months

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Companions favorite Disney movie?

A/N: Howdy, howdy, folks! I know it's been a while, but I hope y'all enjoy these! 🥰💙💛 I've been extremely busy and have sort of lost motivation for this fandom, but I'm going to try to play Fo4 soon and see if I can muster up some more motivation 😊 I still have some fanfic to write and some reactions to do and I've got to get my butt in gear!

Cait - Brave. It might seem like the obvious choice because, well... ginger twinsies.... But she loves it because of the constant action and the fact that Merida wields a sword and a bow while also riding a horse often at the same time. She also secretly sort of finds herself vicariously living through Merida and wishing she would have had a family like hers with parents that actually loved her.

Curie - Inside Out. It's sciency and presents a fun, creative way of examining the brain's functions. She would prefer that Disney be more realistic, but despite her slight disappointment, she also understands that it has to be presented in a child-friendly way that would keep a kid's attention. A close second for her would be Big Hero 6. Honey Lemon is her hero.

Piper - Zootopia. She finds herself very much relating to Judy Hopps most days. Just a girl in a big city and a big world with the chips stacked against her and hardly anyone on her side as she fights the good fight. She also enjoys Judy's optimistic, sarcastic, energetic spirit that she upkeeps in the face of adversity. It's something that Piper herself has done her best to maintain.

MacCready - Finding Nemo. As a concerned dad with a struggling young son of his own, he can relate to this movie greatly. Plus, a bonus is that he likes to mess with F!Sole about being Dory, which she never seems to appreciate nearly as much as he does most days.

Deacon - The Emperor's New Groove. All of the jokes and the lightheartedness of the overall movie is totally Deacon's style. He always quotes the movie afterward and drives everyone at HQ crazy with his rather awful impression of Yzma.

Codsworth - Flubber. He sort of is crushing on Weebo the robot assistant. Granted, he says he has no sort of manner in which to facilitate such feelings since he is not programmed to feel things like that, but he raves over her enough that everyone can see he clearly has some manner of feelings.

Hancock - A Bug's Life. He doesn't really know why, but it cracks him up every time he turns it on. Of course, he's usually high when he's watched it, but that's not the important part. The important thing is that it's anti-grasshoppers and after the stuff he saw at Nuka-World, that suits him just fine.

Danse - Toy Story. He would rather die than admit it, but he likes the movie for the odd reason that he heavily relates to the spaceman. His perspective on life and his soldier-like dedication to his mission is truly outstanding. He also strangely relates to him in many ways, but he's not quite sure why.

Preston - Brother Bear. He enjoys the deep feelings and meaning behind the film. It's such an underrated yet good film and it has a really great sound track as well. He also has a strange affinity for Toy Story because of Woody and his steady dependability.

Valentine - Old Yeller. It's traditional and it has that sense of old-timey living that Nick can appreciate. He also enjoys the deep emotional quality of the film and the fact that it's about a good, loyal, brave dog. Kind of like Dogmeat.

X6-88 - Maleficent. He enjoys her sense of humor and her sense of taking care of business and revenge when people do her wrong. However, his favorite non-Disney movie is The Matrix. He firmly believes the coursers' design is based on Morpheus and he secretly thinks he looks like him most out of the courser models.

Dogmeat - The Fox and the Hound. He loves nothing more than to howl along with the dog on there. Finally a movie that actually has a character that speaks his language! The dog also actually successfully befriends other animals in a way that Dogmeat never seems to do too well since they're always trying to stomp on him or kill him. He also is a fan of Bolt.

Strong - Monster's Inc. Firstly, Strong doesn't like movies. They're confusing and make no sense because what do you mean those things are not really there? They're standing right in front of him! But he likes Monster's Inc more than most because Mike Wazowski looks like a super-mutant. An ugly, one-eyed freak super-mutant, but nevertheless one of his kind.

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glazemedaka · 6 months

Text

the study of motion.

welt / reader (1.3k) sfw. GN reader. implied age gap (reader is vaguely implied to be younger than welt)

Welt has a hard time capturing your likeness in his sketchbook.

It’s how your hands move, he thinks.

They’re precise, but not delicate. When you grab things, you hold them. You don’t do anything in half measures, and certainly not that. When you flex your fingers, rolling your knuckles, ready for the next strike of a fragmentum blade, he knows it won’t move you. Unyielding.

But they’re gentle, too. How you hold a coffee cup; two fingers hooked through the handle, your little finger curled under the base. Or cradled in both hands, palms folded around it as steam rises to warm your face.

It’s hard to capture them, your hands. Too many lines, too messy. He wastes pages on them, dissatisfied with the outcomes. He was making them too classically pretty; neatly formed nails, perfect lines and perfect shapes. Scratch that; it doesn’t suit you, not at all.

You’re not perfect, and neither are your hands, and that, that, is what he wants to catch. Your little fingers are shorter than they should be; stumpy, you call them, wiggling them in your gloves, where the standard-sized material sags around them. The faded scar on your middle finger that always comes with a different story.

Oh this? I punched some idiot once. This one? I think it was a can opener. Ah, this little thing? Not big deal, it happened a long time ago.

Scars are tricky things; proof that something left its mark in you. Someday maybe you’ll wind back around to the truth. He can wait. He can take his time.

Ah, that’s how your palm folded, two lines bending toward the center. A lifeline? A heartline? He wasn’t overly familiar with that form of divination. A fantasy— in another life. Maybe in this one it was real, another prescient matrix to chart fate. He didn’t need precognition to know your hands were destined for something great, something wonderful; he knew just from watching you in motion that your trajectory will arc higher than the stars.

He realizes he’s getting lost in details; it’s the shapes that matter. The movement. How the ball of your thumb rolls as you tuck it under. It’s been a long time since he was in the studio, and it’s easy to forget when all he has time for these days are studies. It’s not about capturing the perfect single frame; your hands— like you— are never at rest, so there’s no way to capture them in stillness. Animation is the study of motion, after all.

Like when you hook them under his arm, and drag him whole-body toward the magazine stand. Or when you rest your palm to his shoulder, looking out over the Luofu’s projected skyscape. Or when you tap two fingers on his sketchbook, head on your other hand, smiling. Ever gonna show me what you’re always so focused on in there?

Someday, he says, tucking it away. When I’ve got it right.

Don’t make me wait forever! you laugh.

Sometimes, he can barely wait through now. His studies devolve when you’re on a mission elsewhere. Of course. There’s no model to work from, after all. No one to puzzle over their tablet, fingers flicking past pages. No one to lean against the parlor table, hands hooked around the edge.

Well. That isn’t quite precisely true. There are several someones, but they aren’t you.

But it doesn’t stop him from drawing from memory, all the same. Holding a pencil. Steepled in thought. Balled up in anger, frustration in the firm line of your wrist. Careful, petting something soft.

Fingers intertwined with another hand, one he knows far better, one he can study whenever he likes. He wonders if you’d tuck your little finger under the edge of his palm, like you do with your coffee cup, curled close.

Scratch that, scratch all of it. He’s not ready to think about that. Or, no— he is, unfortunately, thinking, but he shouldn’t be. You’re too bright, still burning. He’s going to gutter long before you fade. And you think of him as a friend, a mentor, maybe, if he’s lucky. Someone trusted, familiar, safe. You’ve got other hands to hold, more suitable, less worn, less creased, with no ugly bump from years spent holding a drafting pen too tight.

Better to keep things ideal. Distant. Lines on paper. Sketches on the page.

“Welt, can I ask you something?”

You’ve been loitering in the parlor car with him between missions. You’ve been restless all day, unable to settle on something, picking at loose threads on your coat and removing them with your trademark precision. He has a handful of rapid studies of it, the way your index finger and thumb form an oval, but he’s had some trouble with conveying the tension as you tug the thread free.

“Certainly,” he says, paging through his tablet absently, sketchbook set aside for the moment.

“What’s the bump on your middle finger? Is that a scar?”

“Ah. Something like that. It happens over years of work with traditional pens. Writer’s callus, though artists get them, too. A bit unsightly— ”

Before he can stop you, you’re leaning across the table, taking his hands in yours. Firm and direct. Sturdy. Warm.

“Not at all,” you disagree, thumb smoothing over his palm, running over those unfathomable lines. “It’s like with a good tool. You work with it every day, and eventually you wear it down and leave a mark. I think you’ve used your hands well, Welt.”

“Thank you,” he says, and tries to pretend it doesn’t go straight through him. He knows that now’s his moment to pull back, his moment to let go, before he makes you stand still for a beat too long, but he’s dreamed of this for so long, surely a single moment can’t be too much— ? But no. Bodies in motion should stay in motion. He loosens his grip, so you can move away.

“Heh. Sorry for being so forward,” you say, before he can fill the silence. “I’ll let you get back to what you were doing, then…”

But you don’t move away. Instead, you stay there, as you are, hands in his hands, long after he let go.

Oh.

“… actually,” he says, thumbs rubbing over the backs of your hands, feeling the fine bones just beneath the surface. Sturdy. Gentle. “Perhaps you might stay.”

Your grip goes tighter, and you side around the table, closer to him— close enough to feel your breath, close enough to smell your shampoo, close enough that he can hear it when you breathe it out.

“Finally. It only took forever for you to notice.”

“Sorry,” he mumbles. It’s not enough, but you’re so close, so real, so present, hand in hand, he can’t quite form the words he’d like to use. It seems untethered from reality, some kind of fiction. But no; he would know your hands anywhere, and they are firmly in his, exactly where you seem to want them to be.

“Well,” you say, still there, still real. “I’m glad I finally caught your attention.”

“You’ve always had it,” he says, softly. “I just… didn’t think you were looking back.”

You pull back, only slightly, giving him a half-lidded look. “Really? All these months? And you never once noticed how much I was hanging around bothering you? Watching you draw?”

“It seems I was looking in the wrong direction.”

“Yeah? And what had you so transfixed, Mr. Yang?” you say, playful, gentle, an invitation, as your fingers slide between his.

“Perhaps,” he says, as your bodies press close, as he lowers his mouth to yours, as you pull him gently into your orbit, “I should show you my sketchbook, sometime.”

#welt x reader #welt yang x reader #honkai star rail #x reader #me fics #this is probably bad but i woke up with a brain disease and the only treatment was this

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in1-nutshell · 2 months

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Nutshell summary on What if Maxima got the matrix and became a prime herself? :3

Oooohhhh!

This is good.

In a nutshell...

Most likely would depend on the scenario when she gets it. One more willing than the other, both drives by duty.

Scenario A: After Optimus gets amnesia and has to take on the mantle

At this point in time Maxima is sure that Optimus may or may not have made the ultimate sacrifice. She has to face the possibility while trying to keep the team a float.

Since the Matrix kind of has a mind of its own, I see it start floating around Maxima wanting to get in when it charges back up.

Of course Maxima isn't dumb and knows what will happen to her if she does take on the Matrix. She would practically be throwing away herself and be created into somebody else against her will.

... But her team, her family, needs a leader now in their darkest hour...

To add salt to the wound, she would say goodbye to everyone before opening her chassis and taking on the Matrix.

The Matrix does change her both physically and mentally, now more suited to be leader material. And adopting a new name.

Maximum Prime.

Maximum would take a lot from her father in leadership but there would be times when the old self would appear.

Scenario B: The base collapse

It would take place when the original base gets compromised and Optimus stays behind.

Instead of Smokescreen staying behind, it was Maxima.

Absolutely trying not to cry her optics out see him on the verge of offline.

Stunned when he does present her with the Matrix, borderline disgust.

Optimus was giving her the very thing that robbed her of the one bot that truly cared for and was giving it to her?!?!?

She was tempted to use the hammer and smash it.

...but her family and the fate of the world said otherwise, so she takes on the Matrix.

While the transformation begins, she would hug Optimus... No, now Orion's frame one last time sobbing her little spark out into the night. When she becomes a Prime, she'll use the hammer to bring him back.

#transformers x reader #maccadam #bot buddy #tfp #tfp x reader #Maxima needs a hug #nutshell summary #maxima

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97keanu · 10 months

Text

"ⁱ ᵈᵒⁿ'ᵗ ʷᵃⁿᵗ ᵃⁿʸᵇᵒᵈʸ ᵉˡˢᵉ

ʷʰᵉⁿ ⁱ ᵗʰⁱⁿᵏ ᵃᵇᵒᵘᵗ ʸᵒᵘ

ⁱ ᵗᵒᵘᶜʰ ᵐʸˢᵉˡᶠ"

**read the revised edition here!

Neo x Goth!Reader (prematrix AU)

Premise: In chapter three, you are dealing with Neo's inability to admit his feelings toward you, and how he's resorted to cyber stalking you by hacking your webcam. Neo realizes he cannot escape your allure, and the heatwave of '99 comes to a breaking point in Chicago.

Tags/CW: slow burn, smut, p in v referenced, longing, themes of loneliness, themes of depression, themes of anxiety, angst, drama, neo ghosts you, neo tries to keep things professional, loser!neo, pathetic!neo, hacker boyfriend!neo, takes place before the events of the matrix, stalking, watching through webcam, age difference, panty thief strikes again, mutual self pleasure, whiny neo, more slightly subby neo, angel/siren coded reader, neo cannot resist you.

Authors Note: a shorter chapter, mainly smutty fun with a dash of both characters inner feelings. I'm glad to feel inspired to write these two again. Read the first chapter here.

Words: 2.4k

A hot breeze flows in through your apartment window, and for a moment you wonder if this heatwave will ever break. August is droning on, not ready just yet to give out a final death rattle. Instead, it grips Chicago tightly in a humid warmth that has been suffocating, clouds threatening to rain but never delivering. You lie almost naked amongst your black bedding, a plushie here and there, staring up at the ceiling fan and wishing it brought you any salvation in your time of need.

It doesn't help that you are also thinking about Neo. More specifically, the last time you really saw each other. You thought maybe something more than an alliance between two hackers could have been budding when he fell asleep on your couch, but in the morning you awoke to only the scattered couch pillows.

He didn't even contact you for a week. Eventually, you heard that awaited notification noise, but it was disappointing to say the least. Neo had messaged you, but it was simply to ask if you could help with making sure he was good to hack into this or that, you really hardly cared for what the details were. The anger and hurt inside of you from being asked to be his digital guardian angel after how he treated you could rival the August heat outside.

Still, you complied. You had thought about telling him to go fuck himself, that you no longer wished to interact ever again, but what good would that do? It's not like either of you ever agreed to something more than a work based relationship. And what makes it worse is that deep down, you know how lonely the world has begun to feel. Even now, as you roll over in sweat drenched sheets, looking out to the skyline that stretches ever farther and farther, you know that despite all the inhabitants of this city, you have never felt more alone.

That fact alone was enough for you to do what Neo had asked, wanting to still be in contact with someone who may understand. Although he had ran from you, hidden away and obviously too frightened to ask to meet up again, you think the reason for all of that may be that Neo is lonely too. You have no evidence for this of course, but you could almost sense it from him. That something that burns low, almost burning out, inside both of you, seemed to speak without words when you met. And now all you can do is try to get your mind off it.

Tired of the thoughts running through your head, you huff, sitting up quickly and disgruntled with how much you've been laying about lately. You make the great task of getting out of bed and find yourself before your floor length mirror in your bedroom. What you see makes you frown.

Your hair is a mess, after having not showered, your makeup is still on from last night. The black eye shadow and mascara have moved, now cascading down your cheeks in smudges. You look at your usually well kept nails, now riddled with chipped black nail polish from you don't remember when. You can't let it get to you like this any longer. You head for the shower, hoping to both cool off the summer heat, and the heat that this Neo situation has gotten you into.

✧

The small fan at Neo's desk moves side to shuttering side, attempting in vain to keep the small room and its only occupant cooled. Neo sits at his desk, head in one hand, eyes fatigued and tired, trying to fix the script for one of his latest codes.

He's been throwing himself into his work to forget about you. He hates that he got so worked up over you, that he was such a loser to even steal a pair of your panties upon his first time at your apartment. There was no way you deserved someone like him. Not to mention, that you should probably find someone around your own age, not someone like Neo, who at best is a shut-in who can't socialize, and at worst, well, to keep the depression at bay he might as well not say.

To keep this relationship between the two of you professional, he has spent the last two weeks since you two met attempting only to contact you for jobs. It was what was right, the older, more adult thing to do, instead of pursuing a young 20-something goth girl like you because he has a kink for black lipstick.

Still, he had a hard time keeping himself from you. He can hardly even admit it to himself, but he's been hacking your webcam. He starts by telling himself that he just needs to check up on you, especially when you leave his messages on read for hours, although he knows he deserves that after how he disappeared. It's innocent really, he will tell himself, that you need to be checked up on, that it's only to turn on the camera for a second to make sure nothing happened. It is, after all, dangerous work you two do.

Then, it somehow turns to leaving the camera on, letting your image sit beside him on one of the many computers at his desk. It's nice, having you there, so close to your computer. You're probably working on the codes he sends you, or perhaps messaging friends, he hears a voice somewhere deep inside tell him to check out those messages as well, but he hasn't brought himself to that quite yet. No, you're simply a video on his screen, almost like watching a movie, or having someone in a cafe sitting next to him, quietly working on their own thing.

He even finds that he likes the music you play, he can't help but be interested to find out more about you in this way. He wishes he could ask you which Siouxie and The Banshee's songs are your favorite off the album, or if you had to choose, would you pick The Smiths or The Cure. It's these little questions about you that plague his mind all day when he watches you. Sure, he could simply ask you these things, but that would be both suspicious as well as violating the self appointed rule of making this a work only relationship.

Neo sighs out, the heat and these thoughts getting to his head. His fist curls in his short black hair for a moment before he stands from his desk and stalks away quickly. He told himself he wouldn't watch you today, he would lay off that sort of thing, but the need to know is eating at him, and you make it so easy for him, having nothing to block his attempts to hack your webcam. If he were the adult he seems to think himself into being, then he would simply stop, or better yet tell you to up your cyber security.

But no, deep down, Neo knows. He knows he's weak for you. He knows he's looked through all the photos you've taken of yourself on your computer to post to this or that goth forum. He's looked at them, entranced by how bold you are, wearing only a black lacy bra in some photos, a Vivienne Westwood orb hanging between your breasts. In other's you show off your big platform Demonia's, and Neo wishes he could have you here, stepping on him with those chunky boots and telling him how pathetic he is that he has stooped so low as to cyber stalk you.

As his mind continues down it's own rabbit hole with you in tow, he finds himself sitting back down at his desk. He's been a good boy today, not watching you at all yet, and it's late. So he deserves a little taste, right? Just a peek to make sure you're okay, to see what you're up to.

Before any sort of morality can plague him, his long, thin fingers are typing away, pausing only briefly to take a sip of black coffee. He keeps the drink on hand always, his desk littered with a few spare mugs, the insides of which are dry and have brown stains from where coffee used to inhabit. He continues to work around your security, until finally the screen blazes to life, showing the image of your room.

He doesn't see you in there, and for a moment a twinge of panic sets in. Are you out somewhere? You hardly left the house. Where would you even be? Probably somewhere old losers like him don't frequent. His mind burned at the idea that you could, very possibly, be out with someone else. There was no real reason for Neo assuming this, no. But the worry filled his gut right next to the luke warm coffee, and he felt his hand tighten around the mouse.

His eyes scanned the screen for what felt like ages, before finally, your bathroom door opens, and he sees you step out in a black towel. Your long black hair is wet, leaving droplets on your shoulders. Your face is bare of your usual make up, and that, for some reason, feels more invasive for a moment to Neo than even the possibility of seeing you naked soon. In fact, his face heats up as the thought finally crosses his mind that there is no scenario in which to continue watching right now would be good, or morally right, in any such way.

There is also no world in which Neo does take his eyes away. He is glued to your pixels on the screen, and he even leans in to see better as you drop your towel on to your bedroom floor. He can see every inch of your body, so much more than what he saw in your private pictures or when he caught a glance of you through the bathroom door. No, this was enough that his cock was now struggling against his pants, which feel much too tight right now.

He is so immersed in watching your after shower routine that his hand moves on its own, opening his desk drawer and finding his current most prized possession. He finds the panties he had stolen from you when last you met, and can't help but press them against his clean shaven face, inhaling your scent while he watches you.

Soon enough, you're laying on your bed, air drying from the heat, your naked form exciting Neo through the screen. What he doesn't expect is that your own hand would snake up to your breast, your other beginning to play between your legs. Good God…Neo had never caught you playing with yourself in such a way since he started watching you. If he thought he was addicted before, it has nothing on what this does for him.

As if feeling commanded by your own touching, Neo quickly undoes his belt with a frantic and needy hand, stumbling as he does from how filled with want he is. He keeps your panties pressed firmly against his face, taking that sweet scent in while he watches you open your legs wider. He lets out a whiny breath as he finally releases his cock, his hand giving no foreplay to what he wants. He hates how much power you have over him, even if it's through a screen and that vast distance of ever flowing information. Somehow, Neo has managed to find himself entranced by your, as if you were some digital siren, beckoning him to keep watching as you dip your fingers into your cunt.

Neo's breath hitches as he continues to watch you feel yourself, and he can only imagine what it would be like to actually fill you up with his cock. If he was there, would your mouth part, opening to moan out his name? He wonders how warm you would feel around his cock, and the thought of being able to actually fuck you sends him closer to the edge.

Neo watches as you continue, your moans now loud enough that your computer microphone catches it. Neo can hear your soft, whiny moans in his headphones as you get closer, not knowing at all that he's watching you through your webcam. He has no idea that you're thinking of him as much as he is you. Not yet at least.

As you get closer, Neo's name falls from your lips in a soft whimper. Neo can hardly believe his ears, did you really just moan out his name?

It's confirmed once more as your pleading gets more frantic, as if moaning his name in such a way could will him through the computer screen and there to fuck you into your bed. You have no idea that that's what Neo wants more than anything. He stuffs his face with your stolen panties and continues to imagine parting your legs even further, his cock thrusting in and out of you instead of his own hand.

It's not until your legs shake, moving and tightening together as his name shudders from your desperate voice that Neo let's himself cum. No, he had to see that you in that moment, that ecstasy. That's what he wanted to give to you, what he imagined he had done, to make you such a mess on your own bedsheets. That's what was driving him wild right now as he finally finds his peak of pleasure.

As Neo finishes, he leans back in his chair, the little fan on his desk not doing much to cool the sweat on his skin. Neo has to find a way to catch his breath, his eyes droopy and unable to focus on much. He can still see your shape, vaguely, as you also seem exhausted in your bed so far away.

Fuck. He really was fucked, huh? There was no way he was going to be able to keep this relationship professional. Not with him stalking you, and how badly he wants you.

He can't even think of the implications right now, instead he crawls into bed, shutting off almost all of his computer screens. He leaves yours own, the green light cascading on his face. He watches you curl up on your dark bed sheets, naked and too hot for covers.

Neo falls asleep tonight to you and the sound of rain beginning to tap against his window.

#neo x goth!reader #neo x reader #neo x hacker!reader #thomas anderson x reader #neo fanfic #the matrix fanfic #matrix fanfic #the matrix 1999 #my writing #goth!reader #keanu reeves x reader #keanu reeves x you

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cyberrose2001 · 1 year

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OMG, you did an amazing job. Here is another one for you if you want: The matrix is pounding in Prime's chest constantly reminding him that he needed to mate and breed. When a certain scent reaches him, he realizes that his mate, a F!human reader, is also ready especially when she looks at him with a certain look. However, she has no idea that what he wants is for her to filled and sparked.

TFP Optimus x human!fem!reader

here are some short headcanons for you! thank you medli for your requests 💕

also apologies if the paragraphs are too close together, i cant seem to fix it heh

Warnings: Breeding kink

Word count: 647

When Prime was first introduced to you, he found you endearing and quickly took a liking to you, assigning himself as guardian to you. You would accompany him on small non-life-threatening missions and in turn you would guide him to your favourite places on Earth and show him the different wonders your planet had to offer. Over time, Optimus developed more feelings for you and you of course reciprocated his feelings for you, and you both have been inseparable since.

One day while at the base, Optimus Prime’s olfactory sensors picked up an unusual scent and he was having trouble deciphering where it was coming from. It smelt nothing like the other aromas of Earth he was familiar with. He turned his attention to you and that’s when the overwhelming scent of pheromones flooded his senses, making his Matrix hum and tug at his spark.

It was you. Your body’s scent was so strong he wondered why none of the other bots recognised the increasing amount of pheromones in the air. It was intoxicating, energon rushing to his interfacing array and he was sure that you could hear how loud his spark was humming. He was weak in the knees, he had to get you alone somehow.

He picks you up and transforms with you in his alt mode, driving to primus knows where. The feeling of you resting inside his alt mode flooding his cab with your wonderful scent was driving him up the wall and making his engines run hot. The Matrix constant pulsing and jerks makes him nearly swerve of the road as finds a secluded spot nestled in the cliffs of Jasper.

You were concerned with your lovers behaviour, asking if he was ok and if he needed to pull over. He couldn’t answer you without his vocaliser turning into static. So, you drummed your fingers on the console in this cab in thought, wondering what got the Prime so worked up.

He transforms back into his robot mode with you in his servo, wasting no time to rip the clothes of your body. You were shocked to say the least, who knew that Optimus Prime could detect when you were ovulating. You moan out when Optimus starts to lavish your body with kisses and licks with his glossa, crying out when he would lick and suck the sensitive mound of flesh between your thighs.

Optimus was trying not to be too rough, but his urges had increased ten-fold when his olfactory sensors are absolutely drowning in your sickeningly sweet scent. He licks his dermas clean when he finished ravishing your folds.

And with you lying down on your clothes to protect your back from the rough dirt, Optimus pushed his throbbing spike into your heat. He grips onto your hips to protect where you both connected as he thrusts into you, sighing in relief as the Matrix eases its torment. He will breed you until night broke into day, he will not stop until your womb is a mess and you’re filled to the brim. You beg for him to breed you as you stare into his optics with half-lidded and pleasure filled eyes, drool running down your chin as he fucks you into the next life. He takes in all your moans and cries for him, and he loves it.

He will manage to fill you with several loads of his hot transfluids. Your tight hole dripping and quivering at the full feeling. Optimus’s spark is filled with love for you, admiring your stretched out tummy and rubbing a servo across it. He gives you gentle kisses to your soft lips afterwards, telling you praises and telling you how excited he is to be a sire to your future sparkling’s. He would have to breed you multiple times to be sure though.

#transformers #transformers prime #tfp #tfp optimus x reader #tfp optimus x human reader #valveplug headcanons #valveplug

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decepti-thots · 1 year

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my general take on IDW1 rodimus is that he is way more interesting if he's just not "special" in the long run. he's not a prime, unlike the G1 version of him- he owes his life to the matrix but it didn't really mean much more than that. i don't like the "rodimus is an outlier" interpretation of his ability to set himself on fire for this very reason- him installing extremely flashy and dangerous mods to light himself on fire whenever he wants is way more fun to me. of course he would do that! of course it's a ridiculous idea and of course he did it anyway! rodimus' insecurities in IDW1 aren't those of someone who has a Destiny and thinks he's failed in some way to measure up, and he gets no reassurance of any inherent value or worth to the world that is intrinsic to who he is; he's absolutely right that if he fucks up again and again, people will stop giving him any credit, unlike optimus. they're not going to sigh and go Well He's The Prime and keep giving him their ear regardless; rodimus doesn't have access to unconditional respect, and he hasn't managed to gain people's conditional respect following everything that went down towards the end of the war. so when the war ends he does have to keep doing something to stop people deciding they're done with him and his bullshit. and that's why he's obsessed with the Knights. i think that's a very different thing if rodimus' self-worth issues are based on the idea he's under pressure and not that nobody expects better of him, personally.

#it's the big difference between g1 and idw1 i think!

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lets-try-some-writing · 3 months

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Heavy is the Head that Wears the Crown

Based off this post. Enjoy this short little thing.

Many times the Matrix was given, and many times its bearers writhed in agony at its touch. The priests told them they were worthy.

But Optimus knows he is not.

━━━━━━ ⊙ ❖ ⊙ ━━━━━━━━━━━━

The priests always said that he was worthy. Like every Prime before him, Optimus's frame forever ached with the weight of the holy relic he bore. Fire leapt in his fuel lines. His hydraulics burned with exertion that he had done nothing to earn. Every waking moment was a form of torture as the relic within him made its opinion quite clear.

He was not worthy.

━━━━━━

"Your station is the most holy on all of Cybertron. Bear this weight with pride." The priests smiled as he passed, gilded in gold and draped in fine cloths. The people cheered as they saw him step out of the Citadel. He despised it.

They did not know the pain that came from carrying the relic within him. They did not know that just like every single Prime who came before him, he was not intended for this station.

"Rise, Optimus Prime." The head priest blessed him as he stood before the masses. The Matrix burned within his spark chamber, reminding him that he did not belong.

"Glory to the Empire!" The people shouted in joy. Optimus remained still, his battlemask ever present as he watched the celebration. Whispers spoke in the back of his mind, murmurs offering wisdom even as his spark flared in quiet agony.

The price he paid for divine knowledge was high. Such was the consequence of imposing on Primus's most holy.

━━━━━━

"You make an excellent Prime." Ratchet smiled as Optimus passed by. The doctor affixed his brooch to his cape, and while the act was tender, the Matrix thrummed in warning. If his corrupted form was to taint the divinity of the Primes, he was to have no joy.

"Now we can make some real change!" Ironhide exclaimed with glee as he patted Optimus on the back. Optimus nodded, but he did not smile. He was not allowed to smile. The Matrix was clear.

Every decision he made was done with agony clouding his thoughts. He learned to stop twitching when the Matrix caused his nerves to shoot with pain. He quickly silenced his instinctual cries when his plating felt so tight around him that he might suffocate.

"You alright Prime?" Jazz asked after one long cycle of legislation discussion. Optimus said nothing. Voicing his pain would bring only suffering to those around him.

"Of course." He answered simply. Jazz didn't believe him. No one did.

━━━━━━

"The Decepticons have turned Kaon into a fortress. It won't be long until they march on Tarn too." Prowl frowned as he hunched over a map. Optimus stood still, his vision hazy as ghostly forms surrounded him. Their glares were so intense that he couldn't help the way his plating flared.

"You are not worthy." They whispered as Optimus pointed out a location on the map, the knowledge of his unworthy predecessors guiding his thoughts.

The forms of the old gods pressed up against him, their ghostly frames burning everywhere they touched. The only ones who did not harm him where those who shared his fate. Countless presences wrapping around him and shielding him from the wrath of the ancient horrors that denied him the holy rank he had been forced to bear.

"Send our forces to the northern border and prepare for war. Cybertron will not fall." The ghostly optics never left him as he made his declaration. They held no love for him.

━━━━━━

"Sir, we need you." Ultra Magnus reached out, touching Optimus's shoulder as he looked out over the remains of the burning city of Rodion. It had all happened so fast. The flames of war engulfed their world before he had the chance to react.

"Please Prime, guide us." His Council begged, pleading with what they saw as the most holy for salvation. Optimus had nothing to give. The Matrix denied him. He could give no blessings or assurances.

"Optimus, what are we going to do?" One by one his companions came to him for comfort. Optimus's spark burned with righteous fury every time he offered another battle plan instead of some sort of prophecy, a promise of peace.

His frame forever burned. The Matrix cursed him, but the people needed him.

He would make himself worthy, if only to give his people something to cling to.

━━━━━━

"Energon shortages are increasing. This war is devastating the planet." Perceptor noted clinically. The rest of the war council grew grim. They knew how far their people had fallen. Centuries of war were killing their world and they all knew it.

"If a true Prime had been chosen, this would have never come to pass." The old gods whispered, their digits digging under his plating and setting his circuits alight with agony. Optimus did not react. He had long learned to remain silent when the Matrix saw fit to punish him for his hubris.

How a mortal could have ever dreamed of carrying the Matrix was beyond him. And yet, he had to be worthy. Whatever the Matrix said, his people needed him. Perhaps he was not a proper Prime, but he was all that remained.

He would tear himself apart to be worthy of the mantle he bore.

━━━━━━

"Optimus, your frame is falling to pieces! You need to rest!" Ratchet demanded as Optimus stood watch. His digits were shaky, as was now his regular state of being. His plating was cracked, his hydraulics were weakened, his optics strained more with every passing cycle. Already he had been forced to permanently wear his mask just to hide his eternal frown. It hurt too much to pretend anymore. Such was the curse of his station.

The longer he stood in the place of a divine, the more he deteriorated. All those who came before him fell this way. Optimus merely endured because he had to.

"Pride shall be your downfall oh foolish mortal." Their whispers forever haunted his audials. He could hardly recharge anymore. And yet, while Megatron still reigned, he could not falter.

"Orion, please, this has got to stop." Jazz pleaded with him as they prepared to leave Cybertron. He wasn't sure if Jazz meant the war or his increasing distance from his troops. Optimus wasn't sure he wanted to know.

He had to be worthy... there was no other choice.

━━━━━━

"Prime." Megatron met his gaze, and Optimus returned it. What was the use in fighting anymore? After so very long, they had new concerns. Cybertron needed to be restored. Their war was irrelevant.

"Let us get this over with." Optimus murmured as the words of the Matrix drowned out all else. He wished it could all end.

His frame was battered and he had not recharged properly in millennia. His life was one of pain. The Matrix never allowed him a moment's rest, not while he defiled it with his very existence. Over and over it murmured-

"You are not worthy."

He knew it, and he believed it.

━━━━━━

"Sup OP!" Hot Rod held out his first, an Earth custom that he had picked up from Primus knows where. Optimus stalled as the eternal whispers quieted. Hot Rod tilted his helm in confusion as Optimus reached up with shaky digits to wipe at his face.

It didn't hurt anymore.

"You are worthy." His voice was breathless as his knees felt weak. Megatron came to support him as Optimus struggled to stand upright. The pain had begun to fade. The Matrix sang with joy as he set his gaze upon the warrior before him.

"Prime, you alright?" Hot Rod nervously came forward, unsure how to act. Optimus retracted his mask. Those gathered gasped as Optimus dropped to a knee, a smile on his face.

"You are worthy." He repeated, echoing the words of the gods within him.

"What? I don't get it? What's going on?" Optimus continued to smile as the Matrix pulsed within him. He knew what it desired and he had no interest in denying it. Soon, very soon.

Soon he would not need to be worthy.

━━━━━━

Vorns came and went. Optimus endured the pain. Hot Rod needed more time. He was not prepared for his station, not yet. The Matrix flared every time he approached the warrior, prodding but not demanding, not yet.

But finally, after what felt like an eternity, the time had come.

"Hot Rod, will you accept this station?" Optimus asked, and the warrior before him paused. The mecha gathered around paused in their steps, dropping whatever they were doing to stare. Optimus had come from nowhere. He could see why they were concerned.

However, he could not wait any longer. Not when salvation stood before him.

"I don't understand." Hot Rod stared in confusion. Optimus smiled.

"You will. For unlike me... you are worthy." His chest plating parted, the Matrix shone. For one in his functioning, Optimus felt its approval. This was the correct choice.

The relic tore away from him, and Optimus fell to a knee as he caught it and held it out to the mech before him. The Matrix burned his servos as he touched it, but the holy fire merely served to have him shake. His freedom stood before him.

Hot Rod reached out, his hesitation obvious up until he touched the relic. A smile spread across his face. He looked as though he had found a piece of himself long lost. Optimus smiled alongside him as the Matrix finally found its Prime.

"Rise, Rodimus Prime." A new Prime stood before him, holy flame his to command. Optimus relished in the flames that whipped across his plating. They burned, but not as the Matrix had tormented him for so long.

He was free.

He was not worthy.

But he did not need to be.

#transformers #maccadam #optimus prime #hot rod #rodimus prime #the matrix of leadership #transformers fanfic #the matrix is an absolute glitch #religious symbolism #transformers idw

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lilyrizzy · 6 months

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12 for the spotify game!

What if I told you, I feel like I know you? But we never met

based on this fic by my talented bestie!

All morning at the track, Max has looked for him. For a glimpse of the dark curly hair and warm brown eyes he has known since he was only nine years old. In the sea of hopeful competitors, everybody is too short, too blonde, too eager.

The Daniel that Max knows is all teasing confidence, shoulders rolled back as he helps Max with his homework, or tells him about their races that will happen in the future. It's because of Daniel that Max knows one day he will make it, no matter what Papa says.

"Max!" Somebody yells for him, and for a moment his heart leaps into his throat.

Excitement has his stomach fluttering, and nerves have his palms sweating, but when he turns he sees it's just Stefen, one of the boys he was teamed up with earlier. Max must not do a good enough job of hiding the disappointment on his face if the hurt look he gets back is anything to go by.

He turns away again to keep looking, kicking himself because he should have known. The accent was all wrong.

Daniel, of course, isn't supposed to tell him specifics of their future together. We could cause a glitch in the matrix, Maxy, he always says, with a flick of Max's ear, like he still sees him as the child Max is trying so hard not to be anymore, if it means he gets Daniel the way he is supposed to.

It works in his favour sometimes though, he supposes, because it was his constant, babyish whining that got the details out of Daniel, in the end.

That is how he knows that today, the fourteenth of August, 2011, is the day they finally meet in Daniel's real time, too.

Except, it is almost the end of the day, and Max cannot find him anywhere. Furious tears threaten to begin spilling down his cheek as he considers that maybe Daniel got it wrong, or worse, lied to him. That idea is too painful when Max has had this day marked with a tiny heart all year, on the calendar his mum gave him last Christmas.

It is already five PM, and soon Papa will want to begin the long car ride home. Max is considering how best to plead with him to stay a little while longer, when-

"Max, right?" A familiar voice comes from behind him, at the same time as a hand on his shoulder. "I've heard a lot about you, your sick karting skills."

This time, when Max turns, his Daniel is there. Except-

"Oh," he says, the word tripping to the tip of his tongue before he can stop it. The rest of the sentence he manages to bite back. Your hair is longer, now.

Daniel shoots him a questioning look, but like always, he is still grinning.

"You alright, mate?" He asks, tilting his head a little to the side.

Both 31 year old and 26 year old Daniel have told Max that he grows up to be just as tall as them, but now with this Daniel looking down at him, it is harder to believe.

"Yes," he says quickly, feeling his cheeks burn. "Sorry, I just-"

But what is Max supposed to say?

It is okay, I know your secret. Or worse, it's okay though because older version of you have time traveled to tell me that we are boyfriends in the future.

"I am a big fan," he says instead, and it's not quite a lie.

He's a fan of the way Daniel makes him feel. Even if this Daniel doesn't know him yet.

#read the OG fic #it's wayyyy better than this lol #anyway time travelers wife au!#fic #max/daniel

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gallifreyinstituteforlearning · 2 months

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I was wondering if you could explain how the Matrix actually... works? Is it more like a Time Lord artificial afterlife, or just a collection of knowledge? Do you ask your dead housekeeper for her cookie recipe, or do you just access it like Google?

Absolutely!

What is the Matrix?

Think about Wikipedia.

Now, imagine if Wikipedia had detailed profile pages of every single member of the human race that had lived since its inception in 2001 (around 7.5~ billion individual, heavily detailed profiles).

Then, imagine each profile page had a little downloadable file that was that person's consciousness.

Next, think about how every person's knowledge gained in their life is spread throughout that Wikipedia on every single subject.

Now, think, 'What if Wikipedia had a plugin that could tell you future events based on all the information it has from all these people's experiences?'

Finally, put all this into a cool little weird video game that uses virtual reality.

If you can imagine that, you're pretty close.

Functions of the Matrix

Knowledge Repository: The Matrix acts as an archive, containing the lived histories and profiles of every Time Lord that's lived, and all the knowledge they gained in their life.

Quick Updates: Living Time Lords are biologically connected to the Matrix, able to access the information at will (except if you've been a bad Time Lord, of course). When they die the Matrix automatically creates their profile page when they die, so their entire life goes to the Time Lord Wiki for the benefit of all.

Simulated Reality: If entered, the environment is a simulated reality where the personalities of deceased Time Lords can continue to exist. This can make it seem like a kind of artificial afterlife where you could potentially interact with past or future incarnations of Time Lords.

Predictive Tool: The Matrix generates prophecies and foresees potential futures, guiding Time Lords in making informed decisions about potential timelines.

Physical and Astral Projection: Time Lords can also use the Matrix to project their images across spacetime or within the confines of a TARDIS, communicating across vast distances or even between different temporal phases. Isn't that handy?

Security and Integrity

Despite its advanced capabilities, the Matrix isn't infallible. It can be tampered with, and its data can be manipulated or stolen, which is considered a helluva crime on Gallifrey. The Matrix also uses various safeguards, like Cloister Wraiths and living fibre optic cables that act like firewalls to protect its most critical data.

Access and Interaction

Access to the Matrix varies; it can be through physical terminals, via direct neural connections, or by using artefacts. Once inside, users can navigate a realm where physical laws are malleable and where their thoughts can shape reality because anything is possible.

In practical terms, if you're deadset on finding that cookie recipe, the Matrix could definitely provide access to that knowledge, either by allowing you to interact with the housekeeper's stored personality or by just retrieving the information like a search engine. Alternatively, you could shirk your holiday in Disneyland and jump right into the Matrix to spend a day being attacked by virtual blancmanges and Victoria sponges until you find what you need.

Hope that helped! 😃

→🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (WIP) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP)

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