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aduckinpain · 6 months

Text

I know.

Tags: Landoscar, Twinklaren, Oscar going through it, especially with that Brazil GP 2023, Hurt/Comfort, Character Analysis, Lando and Oscar end up together, in depth look into the quiet child experience, I know it personally.

Word Count: 1.5k

This work is also on AO3 under user roianamustang (me).

It’s always running, sprinting. It keeps on falling, tripping. It stumbles, gets back up, looks around, it moves. It never stops moving.

For all of his 22 years on this Earth, Oscar’s mind has never been quiet. Not like he is.

He’s heard the remarks, even agreed with some of them.

Since he was a child, he remembers his mother being continuously praised on what a quiet, calm kid she had. He remembers his father being teased for how his son was not rowdy or mischievous. He remembers his sisters’ friends describing him as mysterious and cool, unassuming.

Now with his life on full display at McLaren, he reads on how unemotional, unenthusiastic he seems. He reads and he stays quiet.

He observes, he reflects. Eyes unblinking and the air still around him. Like it always seems to be.

I know.

From an outsider’s point of view, he can understand. He can see why people's opinions of him are what they are. Putting himself in people’s shoes has always come as second nature to Oscar. It was getting out of those shoes that seemed to be the problem.

Sympathizing, empathizing, understanding he can do. Observation has been his strongest skill and it has sharpened over the years.

Yet, it seems, other people can never do it for him. They can never get it right. It doesn’t seem like they’ll start getting it now or any time soon. Sometimes it feels like they won’t ever get it, even in the far future.

Do I know?

Little footsteps echoed in his mother’s shadow around the place. It’s the loudest he’s been. Oscar looks around, wide-eyed, intrigued, curious. Always taking things in. But they never seem to be able to get out.

I learn.

Sleep.

Sleep is a favorite activity of his. It had his mother concerned when he was but a young boy, come up to him about it. Ask him. Ponder. Assume.

Oscar doesn’t think he will ever get over his mothers face looking confused, conflicted when he told her.

His brain jumps, it flies. If it couldn’t catch something, it would find another thing. His brain ran itself thin, it crouched, it needed sleep.

‘That’s not normal.’ his mom had said.

Recommended taking a break. Recommended letting himself breathe. Recommended to stop.

‘It’s not healthy.’ She’d pressed.

I know.

When his hands touched the karting wheel, time didn’t stop. To be fair, it actually only seemed to go slower. He hadn’t done this before. Things he hasn't done or tried yet, aren't perfected. He shouldn’t expect results. Keep your expectations low, so they're either met or pleasantly surpassed.

That’s why it was unexpected, uncalculated. He pressed the pedal, he gripped the wheel, he didn't blink, he passed the first kid. Then the next one. Then the next, and the next and it just kept on going. He felt the wind, he saw the turns, he heard the noise.

He felt. He felt and it stopped. He felt and didn’t bolt from it. Didn’t run it dry, didn’t analyze. Didn’t think.

His heart beat loudly, resounding through his body. Echoing in his ears.

Yet.

It was quiet.

He won, and he kept on winning and he didn’t seem to be able to stop.

Satisfaction thrummed through his veins and entered his head. Lingering, altering.

I know now.

After a while the inevitable happened. He grew, things became more important. They required thinking. They required analyzing, observing, seeing. It was a trained response, Oscar knew what to do. He moved on autopilot. He slept.

But he craved. Craved the silence. It seemed to slip away the higher he went.

He can make sacrifices, he understands.

I know.

Do I?

Alpine was loud. Alpine was deafening and emotional. Alpine made Oscar feel, but not in the way he wanted to.

He felt but his mind raced faster. He felt but it didn’t feel exhilarating. He felt but he didn’t overtake, he didn’t take off.

He froze.

He felt and he couldn’t stop thinking.

The sacrifice would have been in vain. The silence lost, for nothing. What was the point of doing this, if at the very least his hard-earned success didn’t get him where he wanted? If his freshly departed sacrifice, felt like a freshly opened wound?

His F2 Championship was everything he wanted. But what about everything he wished?

I don’t know, not anymore.

Oscar figured out pretty soon that the root of his problem was his yearning. He yearned the quiet, he yearned the success. And for two years now, he longed for revenge. But he didn’t do things blaringly, not like Alpine.

He does them unexpectedly, or so it seems to others anyway.

For the first time in a long time. Oscar Piastri overtakes.

@OscarPiastri

I understand that, without my agreement, Alpine F1 have put out a press release late this afternoon that I am driving for them next year. This is wrong and I have not signed a contract with Alpine for 2023. I will not be driving for Alpine next year.

8:00 PM · Aug 2, 2022

44.2K Reposts 50.7K Quotes 386K Likes 4,282 Bookmarks

I know again.

That being said, when your constant variable is overanalyzing, new environments don’t add well to the equation. New environments mean new people, new people mean new expectations.

New expectations mean a higher probability for error.

But he could do this. He worked for it, he fought for it. He sacrificed for it.

He itched for it.

I know.

When you let your mind wander, it creates new pathways, new possibilities. Wandering allows for running and running in a forest means getting lost.

His newest forest, seems to be going by the name of a Lando Norris.

I found out.

Lando was noise. Lando was the unachievable. More years of experience meant more years of achievements. Lando was his closest teammate and his hardest rival.

But, as days passed, comfort became Lando.

Security transformed into Lando.

Silence translated to Lando. Not in Lando himself, no, of course not. To him. To Oscar.

Lando spoke and Oscar listened.

Lando asked and Oscar answered.

Lando touched and Oscar leaned.

Lando moved and Oscar followed.

Lando stopped and Oscar stopped.

I always knew.

The year had started slow, but by God did it pick up the pace. It just needed some time to warm up those soft compound tyres. Just like Lando, who helped Oscar get more comfortable. With the car. With the team. With the new upgrades, the suddenly incessant meetings. With his ability to put in his input and have it be taken into consideration.

With Lando.

The better they got, the more media work they did. While in the past, Oscar may have dreaded it, he’s grown to like it.

The more media work they did, whether they noticed it or not, the closer they got. Bonded.

At the time Oscar hadn't noticed—something that doesn't just happen, that for the first time ever, he was the one being analyzed, looked into. Someone was getting in his shoes, and they seemed dead set on not leaving.

Without realizing it, Lando had become fresh air, first podiums, bright days, calm nights, quiet thoughts, content. Oscar felt content. His brain didn’t run, it walked, it discovered. It felt but it was ok.

I stumbled upon the discovery.

The heat was unbearable, yes, exhausting. But it didn’t matter, because he had done it. He has proved it. He met the expectations, in fact he can confidently say he has surpassed them.

He spilled the water on his head, felt it go through each individual strand of hair, down his back, onto his hands. He felt exhilarated.

Was it the water or the newly discovered heaviness of a gaze?

I know who it was.

He spilled the champagne at Lando on that podium, let it flow down the ridges of his back, the smile on his face, the hands clutching the bottle, the curls shining under the night lights. Grinned at it, laughed with it. Enjoyed it.

Did he say champagne?

He meant his own eyes.

Trailing. Following.

I knew.

The first brush of lips was soft. It was a question, a request for permission.

Just like in his newly rediscovered passion for racing, winning, Oscar didn’t think. He felt. He acted. He nodded.

The first press of lips was gradual, tentative, exploring.

He sighed. He melted. He pulled.

Safety feels warm. Comfort feels free. Being understood feels like losing control, but you’re still holding the reins.

He’d always wanted a weighted blanket. Guess there was no need for that anymore when you have a lap full of Lando.

They laid down. With hands combing through his locks and lips brushing on his forehead, Oscar allowed himself to let go.

His eyes dropped. He felt warmth on the top of his head, around his body, encasing his heart. He felt and it was ok.

Nothing was sacrificed. It was planted, watered over the years. Waited for the seasons to change.

Until it bloomed, blossomed.

And this time Oscar slept and woke up feeling rested.

The view certainly helped.

I’ll know.

-End-

Notes:

I'll analyze all of the 'I know' and their versions:

1) I know, Oscar is well aware of how he seems to people and their opinions of him. He can't do much to change them, cause he can't do much to change himself. This is who he is. Besides they are wrong. He feels so much, it tends to get overwhelming.

2) Do I know?, Being highly empathetic with people allows you to see every aspect and reason for their actions or reactions, however most people don't do this. Their main focus is themselves, other people come second and so on. It feels like putting in the effort but never having any effort being put in you.

3) I learn, children are curious and their minds act like sponges. No matter how small they are they will understand and remember everything.

4) I know, Oscar is self-aware enough to know that thinking so much it physically makes you tired is not the usual. He can't just stop though, it's how he functions. This is directly taken from a personal experience with this same conversation.

5) I know now, he knew right then and there that racing would be his freedom, his life.

6) I know.

Do I?, Is he ready to make these sacrifices? Is he willing to put in the work? Is it worth it? Is racing what he wants for his future? These are all insinuated questions he asks himself.

7) I don't know, not anymore, Alpine was even more doubt and wait. Waiting made the doubt linger and never leave. The future seemed bleaker. The sacrifices worthless.

8) I know again, Oscar found a purpose, a reason to continue.

9) I know, there's no more time for waiting or hesitance. He figured out how these things work now. You push forward. There is no time for second guessing.

10) I found out, something new, unexpected. Lando himself.

11) I always knew, was it actually new and unexpected or was it exactly what he was waiting for?

12) I stumbled upon the discovery, Oscar's whole thing is the need for quiet, for his brain to just stop for a second. It used to be racing that gave him that feeling and while it is slowly returning, it seems to not be the only thing that has that affect on him. There seems to be something, or someone else too.

13) I know who it was, it was Lando's gaze spilling down his back. Mapping Oscar on that podium.

14) I knew, it was his own gaze, spilling down Lando's. Gazing.

15) I'll know, he doesn't have to think, to analyze. Let the future be unknown. If he wants to, he can make it happen. With Lando there, it is assured, safe

Please note that no matter how much I am writing here, it is all artistic speculation of what Oscar himself has decided to show the world. Do not forget that these drivers are real people.

I wrote this after my own personal experience. I find Oscar incredibly familiar and relatable. It doesn't help that I look enough like him that the merge filter on TikTok refuses to merge me with him specifically.

Thank you so much for the dividers to @cafekitsune and @saradika ! They are so pretty!

Thank you so much for reading! It would mean a lot if I managed to get some comments or reposts!

I have another story with Lestappen (Charles Leclerc x Max Verstappen), called 'Stop, but not forever, that I posted some days ago. If you like this please go and support that as well! It can be found on my Masterlist, at the Formula 1 one.

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erinsintra · 5 months

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The wild world of Brazilian folklore

Been a while since I write anything with more than three lines for the five people who bother reading them. Well, I'm bored and too lazy to start looking a job today, so here you go.

I've seen a lot of people here talking about American folklore, Greek mythology, African mythology (and they always call it "African mythology" as if it's one country - seriously, imagine if we called Irish folklore "European mythology". it makes no sense), but I'm yet to see anyone talking about Brazilian folk myths. So here are some of the ones I like the most.

I encourage you to look for more on your own, because there's a shitton of them and I can't fit everything on a single post.

Saci Pererê

Perhaps the most famous mythological creature throughout the country, the Saci is a mischievous, fae-like being commonly depicted as a short black man with one leg wearing a red cap. He is famous for his pranks, which are usually mostly harmless, such as switching the contents of sugar and salt pots and tying knots on horses' hair. He's also said to control the winds and ride dustdevils, escaping faster than a regular person can run.

In some versions of the legend, the red cap on his head is the source of all his powers, and by stealing it, a person can control the Saci as they please. They can also be trapped inside a bottle with a cross drawn across it, and one can also make a deal with him by offering booze and tobacco.

Boitatá

An immortal eldritch being that roams the forests of the countryside, usually depicted as a giant flaming snake. Merely looking at it is enough to drive a man mad, and the only way to escape it is by standing completely still with one's eyes closed. It is said that once, when the world was plunged into darkness, the Boitatá feasted on the eyes of those who could not see.

Boiúna

Isn't it weird how every pantheon ever has an evil snake on it? The Boiúna is a giant sea serpent with shapeshifting powers that feeds on the vessels that try to approach it by mimicking the shape of a human ship.

In some versions, he's also said to shift into human form and once had an affair with a human woman. More on that later.

Bruxas (Witches)

Brazilian witches tend to be quite different from their European counterparts. For starters, they are not women who made a deal with the devil - a witch is born as a witch, and depending on the version, she's either the seventh child of a family or the offspring of a priest and a pagan (i.e, nonchristian) woman.

Witches don't fly on brooms, they don't need to. Most can turn into a moth at will, and they're also said to be able to pass through small spaces by stretching their bodies like a cartoon character. Have you ever seen a Brazilian moth? They're bigger than some birds.

Witches are also said to drink the blood of pagan children by landing on their bellybuttons while they sleep and drinking it up while in moth form. A big-ass moth inside your house is usually a bad omen, and you better not touch it with your bare hands. But witches also really love their booze, and you can make a deal with one by offering her some alcohol.

There's also the Cumacanga, a little known variation of witch with a detachable head and hair made of flames that scares of people during the night. In order to figure out her identity, one must gift her a needle, and she'll soon arrive at your doorstep in human form to return it to you when morning comes. I don't know why, but some of those creatures are very polite.

Mula sem Cabeça (Headless Mule)

If there's anything those myths have taught me, is that you shouldn't fuck a priest. At all.

The headless mule is - rather obviously - a large equine with a flaming bonfire for a head that roams around destroying everyone it sees. If a priest breaks his vows and marries a woman, she'll become a headless mule the next Friday night (the legend is very specific about the day for some reason). In order to protect yourself from one, you must lie down and cover your teeth and nails, for they're attracted by shiny things. You can turn a mule back into a human by stabbing it with an iron knife.

Lobisomem (Werewolf)

Brazilian werewolves, like witches, are very different from the Hollywood version. While it is common for a human to become a werewolf by being bitten by another one, most werewolves are born that way - either the seventh male child of a family or the offspring of a priest and a pagan woman, pretty much the boy version of a witch - and awake their powers during puberty. Moreover, they are rarely true wolves: most are a combination of various farm animals and a few do not resemble canines at all. As with the Hollywood variant, werewolves are weak against silver and holy water, and they can also be cured of their condition by - and I have to quote this - "being impaled by a thorn from an orange tree planted on a cemetery during a Friday". No idea how the fuck they figured that out.

It's oftentimes said that, in order to prevent a seventh son from becoming a werewolf, he must be given a female name - and the opposite is true for witches.

Labatut

The Labatut is a beastial figure with a boar-like face, prominent tusks and a single large eye that roams through the Northeastern countryside. He was apparently based on Pedro Labatut, a French mercenary who fought for the Empire during the independence war and gained a reputation for being quite ruthless against his opponents.

Corpo Seco (Dried Corpse or Dried Body)

The Corpo Seco was born as a human boy. Though his name varies from tale to tale, every version agree that he was an absolute asshole - if he were alive today, he would most likely be a moderator for an incel forum. He once tied his mother to a chair and beat her up after she yelled at him, and friends and family alike were terrified of him. It is said that, when he died, not a single person wept for him, and no one attended his funeral. More than that, the Earth itself spat out his corpse after they'd buried him, and neither Heaven nor Hell claimed his wretched soul. He still wanders the country, neither alive nor dead, occasionally weeping in the distance. Some versions also claim that, since he's technically not dead, his hair and nails never stopped growing, giving him a rather gruesome look.

Loira do Banheiro (Blonde girl of the bathroom)

Oh, that one used to scare me shitless as a kid. The blonde girl of the bathroom is a Hanako-esque ghost that haunts schools and public bathrooms alike. Most versions differ when talking about her past, but she was either a victim of bullying who committed suicide in her school's bathroom or a girl obsessed with her own appearance that got sucked inside the mirror whilst gazing at her own reflection. Either way, she's a spirit that can be summoned in a public bathroom.

Again, every version has a different way of summoning her - yelling curse words at the mirror, flushing all the toilets at once, turning on all the faucets, etc. Where I grew up in, they used to say you had to yell her birth name three times whilst looking at the mirror. If you managed to successfully summon her, she would either kill you, grant you a wish, or just scare your ass.

Apparently, her story was based on the life of Maria Augusta de Oliveira Borges, a real woman who died under mysterious circumstances back in imperial times. So, uh, if you want to summon her or something, there's her full name.

Cobra Norato and Maria Caninana

Remember when I said that the Boiúna once had an affair with a human mortal? These two are their kids.

Abandoned by their mother on the side of a river, the two giant snakes soon learned how to talk by mimicking human fishermen. Norato was a kind soul who helped those who came near the river, but Maria was a greedy bitch who saw humans as little more than food. At some point, they fought each other over their disagreements, and Norato ended up killing his sister.

Norato desperately wanted to be a human, but lifting his curse was no easy task: in order to turn him into a man, one would have to feed him three drops of breast milk and pat him with an iron stick while he slept. No, I am not making this up. Luckily, he found a hunter willing to do the job.

Boto Cor de Rosa (Pink Dolphin)

In case you didn't know, pink dolphins are real. They can be found in the Amazonas river and its surroundings, though they're in risk of extinction due to overhunting.

But this guy is no mere dolphin, he is THE pink dolphin. He can talk, he can shapeshift, and he wants to bone a hot lady.

The boto will often turn into an attractive man with a bald head and a fancy hat, which hides the breathing hole thing dolphins have. I personally like to imagine him as a tan-skinned Walter White. Any woman who meets him will soon be charmed by his looks, and he'll frequently involve himself romantically with the locals for quite some time. It never lasts for long, though: he will sudden disappear without a trace, presumably back to the water where he belongs, always right after the woman he's involved with finds out that she's pregnant. Sadly, none of the versions of the legend ever mention what happens to his child. Imagine if your dad was a talking dolphin.

So, uh, that's it. There's probably more creatures I forgot, so I again recommend you to search for more stuff on your own.

Also, if you want to use any of these in a fantasy setting or anything, feel free to do it! I am so fucking tired of works whose mythology is just a one-to-one ripoff of Greek or Norse myths. If anyone starts bitching at you about cultural appropriation or whatever, show them this post and tell them I gave you my permission. Now, back to our usual shitposting.

#mythology #myths #folklore #brazil #brasil #fantasy #story ideas #character idea #fyp #fypツ #memes #tumblr fyp #explorepage #explore #fypage #foryou #dumb shit #werewolves #werewolf #Tumblr

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