qsmp francophone cubitos and their dynamic drive me wild, they all know they’re mutually lying and obscuring the truth to one another, they all know they’re keeping each other at arm’s distance, they all know they’re not as open as they once were when it was just them and the aftermath of a plane crash, but the love is still there. the worry and the concern. they pry information out of one another in supposedly subtle ways that really just convey how much they still care about each other. what’s your stance on the federation. how’s your code arm doing. even if in the end you don’t turn to me, please call out to someone. maybe looking out for yourself is looking out for others as well. i don’t know you anymore but i will protect the unknown anyway
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i still think of you when i see your favorite color btw. i still think of you on your birthday. i still think of you when i hear your favorite song. i still think of you when i see a cool rock at the beach. and i still think of you when i watch that show that used to be our show. by the way. if you even care.
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I miss Starscream. I really really miss hyperfixating on transformers. I still can’t believe something that gave me so much comfort and joy for three years was completely ripped away from me. like it’s fucking insane that I see a picture of a character and I get shaky and tense, when I used to feel happy, I used to feel so loved and comforted looking at screenshots of them. Nothing else made me happier than self shipping with Starscream. but now it’s like…… every single character has been ruined for me due to trauma and I feel so hopeless like I’m never gonna get that back. It’s asinine for me to look at a pic of Starscream and to relive flashbacks to my abuse if my anxiety is very bad on certain days. like. what the fuck I hate my brain
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“It…hurts?” They think to themselves, noticing a strange pain that wasn’t there before.
“It…hurts!” They note in solitude, surprised at the magnitude of the pain.
“It hurts…it hurts, it hurts, it hurts.” They mumble incomprehensibly as their team transports them back to their base, their light, soothing touches doing little to quell their pain.
“It hurts,” They beg with tear stricken eyes to their friends, pleading with them to end the pain somehow, anyhow.
“It hurts.” They respond quietly when asked how they’d gone through it so long, avoiding the real question.
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i wish someone would kidnap me and force me to transition
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