#Today I saw a yellow beetle car and suddenly I was back here

[roseonhissleeve]

yellow // chapter one

Part ONE

The rain was pouring.

It was the kind of rainfall that you felt in your bones— the kind that made you squint to try to make sense of what's two feet in front of you, and suddenly you’ve forgotten what sunlight looks like and what it feels to be dry.

Ollie loved it.

The streaks of color in her dark brown locks radiated through the mist that formed as droplets hit the ground. She sat on a patch of grass, tugging a blade between her fingertips as the raindrops fell upon her— they dripped down from the top of her head to the back of her neck, all the way down her body. Her eyes closed, and she smiled.

The second the rain started, the families and children that were playing in the park ran to find shelter nearby. But Ollie wasn’t like that— she didn’t run. She relished in it. 

It made her think of home, where it barely rained but when it did...god, it was a downpour.

She used to dance in her grandmother’s front porch whenever the rain would start. And she’d always be able to feel it— the humid air would always warn her and let her know that there was a storm coming. She could practically smell it. As soon as it started pouring she would look at her mother, asking for permission. Her mother would smile with a nod, and Ollie knew that she was free. She would dance in the rain for hours on end, twirling and slipping and falling only to get back up again.

If anyone asked her what her favorite childhood memory was, that would be it.

So there she was, sitting in the field of grass in the warm California downpour. 

She sat with her legs criss-crossed as if she was in Kindergarten again— her bright yellow dress was the exact same color as the Doc Martens on her feet, the ones that were scuffed and stained and almost three years old, but she never took them off.

She waited for the rain to end, and it did eventually, as all things must— it fizzled out with one last breath.

Ollie stood and shook her dress, which was now muddy and soaking wet. She picked her hair up into a loose bun and held it in place with the black hair elastic that had a permanent place on her wrist, and just like that, she was good to go.

As she walked towards where she’d parked her car, people started to stare— whether it was because of the rainbow of colors she had in her hair or the careless mud stains on the dress that covered her dripping wet body, she’d never know, nor did she care. She was used to the inquisitive gazes, she was used to people who claimed to care but really just wanted a good story to tell. She lived her life unapologetically, and that’s the way she liked it.

“Hello, beautiful,” she sighed happily as she approached her car: a bright yellow Volkswagen Beetle named Elle. She grabbed her car keys from the pocket in her dress and popped the trunk of the car where she kept her wardrobe— she grabbed the first thing that she saw: a pair of overalls and a bright purple t-shirt to go with it. Satisfied, she closed the trunk and slid into the driver’s seat, sticking the key into the ignition.

She was welcomed by the sounds of Train’s Drops of Jupiter as she slid on her yellow sunglasses, and singing loudly with the music, she began to drive.

*

The bell chimed above the front entrance to Angel’s diner as Ollie swung it open. Wearing a her fresh pair of overalls, she waltzed into the diner with her guitar slung across her back— her gaze fixated on the usual booth that she occupied when she came to Angel’s, and she immediately nabbed a seat at the table, opening a menu with her guitar right beside her.

“Oliviaaaaaa!”

Ollie glanced up from her menu and laid eyes on one of her closest friends— her bright blue eyes were all the welcome she needed after coming home from such a long trip.

"Lou!” Ollie squealed, leaping out of the booth and nearly knocking over a small pitcher of syrup. She beamed, practically running over and leaping into her best friend’s arms— Lou wrapped her arms around Ollie and gave her a squeeze.

“Hey, ugly,” Lou snickered tenderly, swinging Ollie side to side. Ollie released Lou from her grasp and flicked her long (very wet) hair behind her shoulder. She slid into her signature booth, glancing up at Lou who was standing at the end of the table with an "Angel's" apron worn proudly over her chest.

“Don’t tell me you were hanging around in the rain this morning,” Lou asked, handing Ollie a menu, “You’re going to catch a cold.”

“Guilty as charged,” Ollie grinned, reaching across the table to grab it as she practically bounced up and down out of her seat. “Friend, I’ve missed you! How are you? How have you been? How is school?!”

“I’m fine!” Lou chuckled. “Back at school, but I’ve only been there for like a week so I don’t really know what to make of it yet. I have to give a presentation in one of my classes though, which’ll be brutal because— ”

“Stagefright,” they both said simultaneously, Ollie smiling fondly as she nodded her head in understanding.

“We can’t all be performers. Don’t know how you do it." Lou sighed.

"What should I get today?"

“Doesn’t matter what I say, you’re gonna order the opposite,” Lou snorted, shaking her head.

“You’re not wrong,” Ollie replied cheekily.

“Of course I’m not,” Lou said. “Because I, your bestest, longest friend know everything about you.”

“You’re fucking scary, is what you are." Ollie rolled her eyes playfully.

Lou was quite possibly Ollie's favorite woman. Having gone to school for three university degrees and graduated with honors for all of them, Lou had eventually decided that what made her happy was to work at the diner— it had been three years since Ollie met her one night, when she was downing coffees at two in the morning trying to crank out a song. Lou had been a part-time student ever since.

“Where’ve you been this time? Florida? Washington? New York?” Lou grinned as she poured coffee into the mug on the table. "We missed you. What’ll we have? Scrambled eggs with a stack of pancakes and whole wheat toast?”

“I’m in love with you,” Ollie stated, grinning as she handed over her menu.

“So where was it this time?” Lou grinned.

“New York City,” Ollie announced proudly, tearing open not one, not two, but three packets of sugar and dumping the contents into her cup of coffee. “I spent about five days writing and playing and then headed straight back here. Stopped by a few places on the way, of course— I needed to eat and make some gas money. I’m sorry I didn’t call you, I couldn’t spare the change for the payphone.”

“That’s why I give you change every time you leave, dumbass,” Lou snorted, “So I can know you’re living and breathing.”

“Someone needed it more than I did,” Ollie stated simply, drowning her coffee in a river of cream. By the time she was done with it it looked more like milk than anything else, but she drank it happily.

“You need it, Ollie,” Lou sighed, tucking the menu underneath her arm. “You’re broke, you need it.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Ollie smiled reassuringly. “I promise, I’ve got everything I need.

***

Ollie straightened the straps of her overalls as she stepped out of her car, shoving her keys into the depths of her pocket. She was humming some Ed Sheeran as she reached up, tugging the ponytail out of her hair so that her unruly locks came loose. She opened the back door of the car to grab the pale brown guitar that awaited her, slinging it over her shoulder so that it rested across her back.

She skipped across the parking lot and into the establishment, careful not to slam her guitar against any doors. The bar was dimly lit and had an oddly cozy feel to it, like coming back home at the end of a rainy day. It was already packed even though it was barely eight p.m., proof that it was in fact Saturday night.

“What can I get for you, my friend?” The bartender asked her from behind the bar, inviting her to have a seat. She obliged, setting her guitar down against the seat beside hers as she hopped up onto the barstool.

“Just a Coke for me right now, please,” she smiled brightly, propping her elbows up on the counter as she swung her legs lightly.

“A performer, are you?” He smiled, grabbing a cup from behind the counter and filling it up with ice. His hair was a sandy blond color that reminded her of the way the drinks her coffee. His eyes looked brown under the lights of the bar and he was in that awkward handful of people that could easily be either nineteen or twenty-seven. His smile was uneven, like a small child who’s just eaten too much Halloween candy.

“Yessir,” Ollie replied, lowering her hands onto the countertop and tapping her fingers gently to the tune of the music on the speakers.

“You don’t look like the usual people who come play here,” he continued, setting the drink in front of her and leaning against the counter, now committing to a full-fledged conversation.

“What kind of people usually play here?” She chuckled, taking a sip of her drink and crinkling her nose at the bubbles running down her throat.

“People who look cool.” He smirked. Ollie arched a brow slightly as she set her cup down on the counter, leaning into the conversation as she smiled. She looked into his eyes and paused, realizing that he most definitely thought what he was doing could be classified as flirting. He definitely had to be on the younger side of twenty-one. “You look like a quirky mess, like you just stepped out of a hipster sitcom.”

“Maybe I did,” she concluded, leaning back to take another sip of her drink before hopping off of the barstool. She reached to grab her drink with her free hand, speaking to the bartender one more time. “Stop worrying about being so cool, buddy. It isn’t sexy.”

She picked Luna up and carried her over to the far side of the bar without looking back, taking a seat at a table next to the stage as she began to strum quietly.

This was her happy place.

***

“This is all wrong,” Louis groaned, toppling down onto the seat in front of the recording panel.

Liam sighed as he dragged his palm across his face with irritation, leaning against the wall near the corner of the room. The four of them had been having the same dilemmas for about three weeks now— little things, like how the lyrics weren’t meshing or the music didn’t match what they envisioned. He had to admit that when he had received the email asking if the band would want to get back together, he didn’t think it would be this hard.

Harry huffed softly from the couch he was splayed across, his oversized sweatshirt making him seem a lot smaller than he really is. His arm was draped across his face so that his nose was tucked in the crook of his elbow, and his eyes were closed. Niall had his eyes closed as well, gently plucking a melody on the guitar that the four of them had been trying to work on all evening— Louis was staring at the ground, tapping on his knees, his impatience getting the best of him.

“Listen, lads, s’fine, we just need a break,” Liam said, not completely convinced, but trying to stay positive. “Let’s call it for today, and we’ll come back tomorrrow and regroup.”

“Okay,” said Niall, opening his eyes to flash Liam a small, hopeful smile.

“Sounds good,” Harry said from his spot on the couch, barely moving.

Liam lifted a hand in the air with a quick thumbs up before grabbing his phone and wallet off the table in the middle of the room, spinning on his heels to walk out into the hallway.

They’d been tucked away in this recording studio in California for the past few weeks, trying to come together and figure out what their next steps were. It was a small space with only the single booth and not nearly enough room for more than one group to record at once, but it was perfect for them— private, isolated, and not crazy publicized. It was right next door to a dive bar which they constantly told each other they’d one day visit.

The first day they’d reunited, it had been a blast— they spent all day dancing and fooling around in the booth, playing their old favorites and jamming out to some of their solo stuff. They loved being back together, and you could feel it in the room.

But after the initial excitement wore off and it was time to get down to business, they realized that they weren’t used to this anymore— it had been a handful of years since they had to tailor their musical styles to the tastes of three other people, and they were finding it difficult. Lyrics would come together slowly, and they found themselves writing songs that sounded like copies of the old stuff they’d done. They were musically blocked.

The second he walked out onto the street, he was practically drenched. The rain was pouring down onto the sidewalk without remorse, and he shoved his items into the pocket of his sweater as he ran into the first place he saw— the bar above the studio, a bright neon sign flashing on and off.

He walked in and took a seat immediately at a free table near the back of the establishment, a “please seat yourself” sing hanging proudly by the door. He slid up the hood of his sweater and pulled out his phone, glancing around every now and then. The bar was filled with mostly middle-aged adults who had stopped there on their way home from work and errands, no doubt, with the exception of one table near the front of the stage that was occupied by a handful of teenagers.

It smelled of beer and dust and fifty year old cologne, and it all somehow worked— the dim lights had the sole purpose of hiding the slight cracks in the walls, and the brown paint reminded him of a campfire. The place was the manifestation of a shot of whiskey running down your throat— warm, lingering, and unapologetic.

Liam cleared his throat as he settled into his seat, scrolling through his Twitter feed and occasionally liking or replying to a cheeky tweet that he enjoyed. Within twenty minutes he was halfway through his beer, and he was already feeling more optimistic.

She was onstage when he first saw her.

The first thing that caught his attention were the five colors in her hair: pastel purple, blue, pink, orange and green had all been colored into her locks, and he immediately knew she wasn’t afraid of attention. They shone brightly under the stage lights, like fireflies in a pitch black cave.

When Liam saw Ollie, he knew that he had found the missing puzzle piece that he so desperately needed. He didn’t know how to describe it— the moment she got up on that stage and started singing, all that he could watch was her.

She was sitting onstage, guitar in her hand as she plucked the melody. It was effortlessly simple and breathtakingly complex at the same time, and it made all of the tunes that had been running through his head that day seem absolutely amateurish.

And then she sang.

Her voice was different, unlike any of the other voices that were out there— there was a tone to it that reminded him of shooting stars and volcanoes, along with the crackling of a dying ember at the end of a blazing fire. It was quiet and loud, fierce and serendipitous, shy and unapologetic— it was every single melody that he’d ever heard wrapped into one single note that shook him to the core and made him remember why he fell in love with music in the first place.

And she was here, in a dive bar in LA, singing Bob Dylan as effortlessly as a breath of air.

Liam watched her as she performed the rest of her setlist— it was a collection of what he could only assume were her favorite songs as well as a few originals she threw in here and there, every song bringing something different to the table. He had completely forgotten that he was supposed to have gone back home an hour ago.

“Thank you,” her voice resonated through the half-hearted applause of the crowd. It seemed like Liam was the only one who saw the untameable stage presence that there was to this girl— everybody else was more than content to return to their dates (or their drinks) and live their lives.

She flashed one last smile before standing up off of her stool, her guitar still slung across her neck. Liam watched as she knelt down to unhook her guitar from the speaker and walked offstage, straight in the direction of the bar.

He had to speak with her.

When he approached her he noticed a few things about her— she was drinking a glass of water, even though she could get free drinks for performing. She kept her guitar by her side at all times, as if it was a safety net. Her hair was a lot longer offstage than it seemed like when she was onstage, almost reaching her hips and curling at the bottom. It was a bit frizzy from the humidity, but if it bothered her she certainly didn’t show it. She was bent over a notepad, staring at the page and making occasional scribbles in the margins.

When he sat down beside her, she didn’t bother looking up at him at all. And Liam Payne wasn’t a narcissist by any means, but he wasn’t used to not being noticed when he wanted to be. He noticed that there was a necklace dangling from her neck with something that seemed to be engraved upon it, and he leaned forward slightly and squinted to get a closer look.

“You know, if you wanted to get a look at my tits you could at least offer to buy me a drink.”

Liam almost fell out of his chair.

“I, um— sorry, I— it’s not what it…I was trying to get a look at your necklace,” he explained, face bright red with embarrassment.

“I was joking,” she snickered, setting her purple pen down on the notebook and turning to look at him properly.

She looked different up close— her tan skin wasn’t reflected under the harsh stage lights anymore, and it was now a shade of brown, like the color of coffee after you’ve added three creams and three sugars. Her eyes were a dark brown as well, but moreso a shade of dark chocolate, and there was a light scar that sat on her top lip and went about three centimeters upwards.

“Hey, Romeo,” she interrupted his thoughts, waving a hand in his face. “Are you gonna introduce yourself, because you’re getting closer to a level ten stalker by the second.”

“I’m Liam,” he choked out, wondering if he should offer her his hand to shake. Before he could she took it, giving it a soft squeeze as they shook hands.

“I know who you are, I’m just messing with ya. Keeping you down to Earth and all,” she grinned, releasing his hand while simultaneously tucking her pen behind one of her earlobes. “I’m Ollie. Olivia. You wrote a song about me and all— although I think it was Harold who wrote that one, no? It’s a total bop though, I should thank you for that, there was a severe shortage of cool Olivia songs before you guys came along. Iloveyouiloveyouiloveiloveiloveolivia.”

“I’m glad you like it,” he laughed, relaxing a tad once he established that she didn’t think he was there to jump her.

“Love it,” she grinned, her fingers drumming against the countertop. “What brings you to this shithole, Liam?”

“Writer’s block,” he admitted, leaning back in his chair with a sigh. “Songwriter’s block, I guess. I’m stuck. You ever get that?”

“Honey, my entire life is one big shitstorm of a block. But can I tell you something?” Her eyes twinkled.

“What?”

“Writer’s block is just the way that your brain tells you you’ve been doing the same damn thing for way too long,” she confesses, taking a sip of her water afterwards. Liam nodded his head in understanding— yeah, that makes sense he thought to himself, wondering how this woman he met on a whim somehow seemed like she knew the secrets to the universe.

“I like your guitar,” he said.

Ollie had saved up for exactly three years to buy her guitar.

Three years of waiting tables and babysitting up to five kids at a time, three years of tallying up her tips and obsessively checking her banking account to see if she had enough. It was the second guitar she’d ever owned, the first guitar she’d ever bought herself, and the absolute love of her life. It had a bright purple strap that matched the streaks in her hair, and there were stickers on the back of it that Liam couldn’t make out from where he was sitting.

“Thanks,” she grinned. “Her name’s Luna.”

“As in the moon?” He asked, smiling.

“Bingo! Look at you, all cultured with your knowledge of Spanish,” she nodded with approval, playing with the necklace that hung across her chest.

“I don’t know a lot, don’t expect too much of me,” he chuckled, and just like that, they were best friends.

They sat and talked for quite some time— mostly about music, and the performance that she had given that night. Liam praised her endlessly and she accepted gracefully, admitting that it wasn’t her first time on a stage, but he would soon find out all about that.

When last call at the bar rolled around Ollie decided to tap out for the night, and Liam offered to walk her out. She accepted, slinging her guitar in front of her and playing a simple riff as they walked out the front door.

She drove a big yellow punch buggy. It had a few dents in it here and there and one of the handles only opened when you jiggled it first, but it was hers and otherwise in perfect condition.

“Thanks for the talk, and for not trying to get a sneak peek of my boobs again,” she teased, grinning as she opened the back door and slid her guitar inside. Liam caught sight of a few bags in the backseat and several pillows, although he didn’t think much of it at the time.

“Thanks for not pummelling me into the ground like I thought you were going to at first,” he admitted, grinning as he looked down at her. She was only about five foot three, about seven inches shorter than he was.

“Anytime, buggaboo,” she patted his arm, opening her driver door and shutting it behind her immediately. Liam walked up to the window and leaned in to talk to her again, smiling.

“You have any plans for tomorrow?” He asked, hope building up in his chest.

“I could make some time for you,” she grinned. She plucked her purple pen from behind her earlobe and handed it to him, reaching her arm out of the car and turning it upwards. “Gimme your number.”

He almost laughed at how middle school it all was, but he obliged and scribbled his cell number on her arm in her pen, checking it three times to make sure it was the right one before handing it back to her.

“There…talk to you soon, Ollie,” he said, taking a step away from the car.

“See you around, Payno,” she gave him a quick salute before shifting her car into drive, and before he knew it she was speeding off down the road, playing a particularly loud McFly sound at top volume.

She never would have guessed what would become of that night.

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#listen #y'all #this SURPRISE DROP better get you excited #and pls give me feedback #bc it will motivate me to write more #and i need it #i have three more chapters of this baby and they're all 10/10 #but i need to write more #so send me love #pls #yellow #chapter one #one direction #one direction fanfiction #one direction ff #one direction oneshot #1dff #one direction drabble #one direction blurb #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles ff #harry styles writing #harry styles oneshot #harry styles drabble #harry styles blurb #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #liam payne #liam payne fanfiction

[evalynnmesserli]

A Bit Different Chapter One: The Meeting

Fandom: Sonic the Hedgehog

Summary: Sometimes, who you think you are isn’t you. Sometimes, the easiest answer isn’t always the right one. Sometimes, the truth you believe is a lie.

A/N: Two chapters posted so close together? Don’t get used to it. I’m sick and stuck at home and somehow managed to write this through the medication. Sonic’s in this chapter! Whoo! Also depending on if I manage to not pass out in the next ten minutes, there might be another chapter posted today. I was inspired to write this by @squigglydigglydoo, @spiritsonic, @monpian , and @whatisthisnonsense’s “Sonic is an alien” theory. So yeah.

Extra Notes: I spelt Robotnik as Robootnid the entire time I was writing this due to meds but I think I caught them all. If you see that I didn’t then now you know why.

————————

Doctor Robotnik was, in his (delusional) opinion, the greatest genius the world had ever known, in both his own world and in this one that he’d found himself trapped in over twelve years ago after wandering onto that blasted floating island that had disappeared into thin air and was nowhere to be found even though he had searched everywhere and--!

He really needed to learn to stay on track.

Ignoring disappearing floating islands (that leave him stranded as the only human on the entire planet--!), Dr. Robotnik felt that he could solve any problem that came his way. Any question or oddity, he could easily figure it out. Except for this. Except for the fact that on his screen showed him someone that should be dead being perfectly alive and healthy.

Sure, he looked older, it had been six years after all and he’d just been a small child when the incident had happened, but that didn’t matter because he still should be dead. Dr. Robotnik had seen his body himself. There was no way.

Yet there he was, on the cover of South Island’s newspaper. “Local Hero Sonic the Hedgehog Saves the Day Yet Again” the headline read. Dr. Robotnik thought for a moment then turned to the egg-robo at his side.

“This might actually be him,” he said to the robot. “All the facial recognition scans match up perfectly, but I know I saw him dead.”

The robot was silent.

“I know! It’s impossible, but here he is! Perfectly fine and healthy!”

The robot beeped quietly.

“Don’t use that kind of tone with me!”

The robot went silent again.

“The question is how? How did he survive? And why is he using a stupid name like Sonic? Seriously? What kind of a name is that? Does he think he can hide from me?”

The robot remained silent.

“You’re right. It might not actually be him. Hmmmmm, how about this, I put my Life Data plan into action. If he’s the real deal then I can capture him and harness the Chaos Emeralds to power Robotnikland. I’ve improved since the last time so it will succeed.”

The robot beeped.

“I was getting to that! If he’s not who I think he is then it’s simple: he’ll die and I’ll have already started my conquest so there would be no point in stopping then. If I really need to I’ll just find some Chao to use.”

The robot beeped twice.

“Good talk! Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time I had a bit of a reunion.”

---------------

“Thank you so much, Sonic!” the cat said, taking her books from the young hedgehog. “I really need to watch where I’m going huh?” She laughed loudly.

Sonic nodded, internally wishing she would actually follow through on her comment. This was the third time today that Garnet had tripped over something and nearly gotten one of her books trampled or destroyed. One more time and he was just going to leave it.

“--not thank you enough,” Garnet continued even as Sonic grew impatient. She finally seemed to get the hint though because she smiled and said, “Anyhow, I’ll let you get back to whatever it was you were doing. Bye!” With that she ran off...and bumped into at least six people on her way to round the corner. Sonic shook his head in exasperation. When would she learn? He decided not to dwell on it and leave before she called for his help again. He had no problem with occasionally helping the villagers, but he really didn’t want the them to start depending on him too much.

So, he turned around and ran.

A normal Mobian can run rather quickly when needed or even just casually a with a lot of training, but Sonic was no normal Mobian. He didn’t know how and he didn’t know why, but he could run much faster than anything else on the island. Trains, cars, planes, whatever it was, he easily beat it. Some found it strange but it was normal for him. He’d been able to do it as long as he could remember and even before that. He never questioned it.

As such, he ran and ran and ran. Out of the village and all the way to a small shack that he called a home. Most wouldn’t be alright with a random twelve-year-old living on his own in a worn down hunk of wood that looked like it would collapse under its own weight with the slightest disturbance, but those who lived on the island had grown used to it. Sonic was strange and they had learned to live with it.

When he made it to the shack, Sonic immediately went around back to the banged up red plane which sat, rusty and unoperational, just a few feet away from the hunk of wood Sonic called home, where it had been for six years.

Sonic put his backpack down as he walked around it. He’d named it the Tornado when he first learned that most people named their planes. It had no special meaning to him, he’d just thought it sounded cool. The words written on the plane however, meant something.

Sonic ran his hand along the blocky white letters on the side of the plane. His name sat there, startling against the red and gray. Noticeable. Demanding attention. Sonic had taken it as his name when it was discovered that he couldn’t remember his. In fact, he couldn’t remember anything before waking up in the village infirmary years ago.

There had been an explosion on the opposite side of the island and when a search group had gone to investigate, they found Sonic lying unconscious surrounded by rubble from a house that no one had even known was there. They tried to question him when he woke up, but found that he could neither speak nor remember anything. Not even his own name. Nothing from the rubble was salvageable enough to figure out who Sonic was, but they had found an old plane that had managed to survive somehow, though it was completely broken and useless. Still, Sonic took it and the name painted on as his own.

Six years later and he was trying to get the Tornado working again so he could leave the island. Don’t get him wrong, Sonic liked the island and the villagers well enough, but he wanted to explore the world. He wanted to find what else was out there and go on adventures and face off against dangerous foes like Fang the Sniper or even find someone who could keep up with him to race. He didn’t want to be stuck on this island where he was already an outsider his whole life. He was going to get out. He was going to fix the Tornado and find somewhere new. Even if he had no idea how to fix a plane. He’d figure it out. It was only a matter of time.

Sonic was so deep in his thoughts (at least for him anyway) that he didn’t see the flicky flying straight towards him until it landed smack in his face, surprising him to the point where he fell backwards onto his butt.

The flicky flapped desperately around Sonic’s head, panicked chirps escaping its beak. Sonic stared at it a moment after he stood up, trying to figure out what was wrong when suddenly a robotic blue wasp came flying at them and snatched up the little creature. It looked at Sonic for a moment before quickly flying off back in the direction where it had come from.

For a moment Sonic just stood there, unable to process what exactly had just happened. Then he realized that whatever that robot was must have been what the flicky had been afraid of. Without a second thought, Sonic raced after the robot and flicky, easily closing the distance between them. He was about to jump up and grab the helpless animal when he was thrown into a tree by a beetle-like robot.

Sonic groaned silently as he stood up only to come face to face with a strange creature he had never seen before. It was almost egg shaped and had a pale and shiny peach head and giant orange mustache. It also wore a bright red shirt, black pants that looked like they were also its shoes, and a tiny yellow cape. The creature grinned at him before turning to the robot that still held the flicky.

“Do it,” the Egg Thing commanded and the robot shoved the flicky into another beetle looking robot. Sonic watched in shock as the robot trembled for a moment before opening its eyes and rolling away, the flicky still trapped inside. The Egg Thing turned back to Sonic and grinned wider.

Today was the weirdest day in Sonic’s life.

“Hello, ‘Sonic’” the Egg Thing said. “Long time no see, huh?”

Yup. Weirdest day ever.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog fanfic #fic #fanfic #sonic fic #dr eggman #dr robotnik #classic sonic #classic robotnik #classic eggman #oc #the tornado #badniks #squigglydigglydoo #spiritsonic #whatisthisnonsense #monpian

[crownless-kings-and-broken-wings]

Car Heaven 1: The Land of Rebuilding

No sooner did I land on the other side of the door than I found myself smelling something absolutely horrifying.

The closest thing I could think of was the crash site, but ten times worse. My natural instinct was to hold my breath, but of course my brain wanted to fight me on that. I wouldn’t be able to hold my breath the whole time, no matter what. But there was a good chance whatever I was breathing wasn’t exactly good for me. Maybe, though, it wouldn’t really matter.

I slowly got to my feet, being mindful of sharp objects and my own back. Judging from the spot I’d landed at, I wasn’t the first person to enter Car Heaven, as most of the dangerous debris had been swept away. I brushed off my hands and looked around for a hint of where Blue Boy might be.

The place looked like a junkyard, if junkyards had strange reddish skies and piles upon piles upon piles of car parts scattered everywhere. The smell matched, at least. The trash piles, I noted, had clear cut paths through them. They were big enough for a few cars to drive through, or maybe a monster truck. All of the paths seemed to lead to one specific road, which was wide enough for at least two monster trucks.

The wide road seemed like a good place to start.

As I walked down the road, I began to notice a few things. For one, the stench was getting worse, which meant I was probably getting closer to the source. The second was that the view was rather plain- wide open spaces with no real points of interest and scrubby vegetation for miles around. The third was that cars would pass me, going in the same direction I was going. None of them had drivers. Most had their windows down. Some even passed in pairs. They all appeared to be in pristine condition, as if they’d been taken from the factory.

Also, they could move much faster than me. In fact, they seemed to speed up when they got close.

After hours of walking, I began to see bushes and tall grasses springing up along the road. I could also see some kind of endpoint, an enormous gray structure in the distance.

The gray structure was a ferry, guarded by an ancient black car. I’d only ever been on a ferry once, but that was a small one. This one was absolutely enormous, and made of a substance I couldn’t quite place. Actually, a lot of things down here felt like their makeup was a little off. I couldn’t explain why, but somehow I guessed it had to do with the cars.

What wasn’t okay was that the ferry was floating in a river of sludge. This was the source of what I was smelling- it looked like it was made up of gas, oil, and any other liquid that went into an engine. I severely hoped that this river didn’t have a real-world outlet. That would be no good for climate change.

I approached the ferry. The cars were driving themselves onto it, so it stood to reason I should get on, too.

The black car suddenly sputtered and revved it’s engine. Two old motorcycles immediately jumped to block me. “OY YOU!” The car roared in a wheezy, raspy voice.

I stopped in my tracks. “Huh?” Despite being able to talk, the car didn’t seem to have a mouth.

The old car rolled toward me, his headlights flashing. “I MAY BE BLIND, BUT I’M NOT DUMB! I KNOW WHAT A DAMN CAR LOOKS LIKE, AND YOU ARE NO CAR!” He paused to shake dust off of his roof. “THIS FERRY ISN’T BRINGING YOU ANYWHERE!”

I frowned. “How do I get across then?”

“SWIM!” The car shouted. “YOU HUMANS SURVIVE EVERYTHING, SURELY SOME GAS WONT HURT!” He completed a full circle around me, then returned to his post. “NOW GET LOST!”

The motorcycles started advancing, and I ran back to the tall grasses along the side of the road.

I stood for a minute, debating how best to get past the guard. I wondered if a bush of grasses would escape his notice, but the motorcycles were still an issue.

“I don’t like Caron either, kid.” A smooth voice said behind me. “I’ve been trying to find a way past him myself. Were you planning on trying the bush method, too?”

I whirled around. There was no one there except a pastel yellow Volkswagen Beetle. “Hello?” I asked, having expected to see a human. “Where are you?”

“Right here. I saw that guy yell at you, can’t say I blame you for backing down.”

I started to turn again. “Wha-?”

“Nope, back.” I turned back toward the Beetle again. “Back back back back- perfect.”

I frowned. “All I see is a car.”

“What? You never saw a talking car before?”

I jumped slightly. “That’s you?”

The Volkswagen’s motor sputtered and started up. “The name’s Bug.” He responded.

I slowly calmed down. “Oooh- okay. Well, uh... you sounded like a person!”

Bug sounded like he was smiling. “It’s okay, kid. You’re out of your element, I bet. I won’t lie, I am too.”

I squinted. “You’re a car. This is Car Heaven.”

Bug’s front half went up, then down. It was like a car shrug. “Ain’t Heaven kind of a one-time thing for you humans?”

I continued squinting. “....... you have a point. So uh, you called that guy Caron-“

Bug shrugged again; or maybe it was a nod this time. “He’s an old myth to us cars. First steam engine car ever made- hates anything after and especially hates humans. But he controls the ferry between the Land of Rebuilding and Car Heaven.” He smacked the ground with a front tire. “We’re in the Land of Rebuilding, in case you were wondering.”

I nodded. I’d already hit my weirdness limit today, so this information was relatively easy to process. “And we need to get past that ferry.”

Bug opened his driver door. “Hop in. Caron’s old and blind, he won’t notice I have an extra passenger. Just hide in the backseat.”

I took a step forward. “Okay. I’m trusting you here, barely.”

Bug chuckled. “Eh, sounds about right.”

I climbed into Bug’s driver seat, then crawled over into the back, touching the heat patch on my shoulders when I landed. “Now what?”

Bug started rolling forward. “Now I get on the ferry and we get across the river.”

I hunkered down into the floorboards. I did not want to deal with Caron or his motorcycles again.

“YOU!” Caron roared. “WHAT ARE YOU, A LADYBUG? GET YOUR TAILPIPE ON THE DAMN BOAT!”

“I’m trying, sir.” Bug mumbled. I felt his wheels roll over the threshold to the ferry.

“GARAGES ARE ON THE LOWER DECK, WE LEAVE IN... TWO MINUTES!” Caron shouted.

“Noted.” Bug drove down several ramps, before finally coming to a stop in a garage-like room. He did something to put the door down, and a light flickered on. His door opened up again. “Hop on out, kid. There’s a toolbox you can sit on over there.” The door shook slightly.

I climbed out of the backseat, going over to the box and sitting on top of it. “Thank you. I would have had to jump in the back of a pickup if it wasn’t for you.”

Bug turned his engine off. “No problem. But hey, can I ask why I smuggled a human onto Caron’s ferry?”

#From The Desk Of The King #original writing #Car Heaven!Verse #character: Bug #Character: Caron #Character: Unnamed Protagonist Who Is Also Me #something a little different #which is possibly also a coping mechanism for being in a bad car crash #like it says: im fine #but im all sore

[pagevingthuit]

imagine (pt. 2)

Delphine took out a vase from a cupboard and carefully placed the flowers inside. She tried to remember when it was the last time she received flowers from anyone and she couldn’t come up with a specific date. She put the vase on the table and headed towards the shower.

It had been a long day for her. After spending 10 hours at the clinic, completely focusing her attention on her patients’ needs, she was glad to finally be able to focus on herself.

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That’s what her days consisted of lately. Working late at the clinic, making wedding plans, going home and waiting for Hector to cook dinner. However, Hector had recently gotten a promotion at work, which meant that he was working longer hours and as a result they barely even saw each other. Apart from when she could feel him slipping into bed.

“Mmm, I’m so tired.” Hector said as he pulled Delphine into him and breathed in her scent.

“Hey.” She smiled.

“How was work?” Hector continued as he pushed a few strands of gold away from Delphine’s neck to kiss her.

“Good. Busy,” she replied and shifted in his arms to look into his eyes.

How did they get here, she wondered? They’d just gotten engaged when his career got catapulted. And she was happy for him, she really was, but she missed him too, missed their dinner dates and cuddle sessions in front of the TV.

“Did you buy those flowers on the table?” Hector asked, pulling her out of her thoughts and back to reality.

“Oui. I found someone to do the flower arrangements,” she said and smiled at the thought of Cosima.

“I thought our mothers were doing the,” he yawned while pulling the covers over them both, “wedding arrangements.”

“Hec, you know I don’t like them doing everything. It’s our wedding, don’t you want to be involved?” she asked.

“Oh I’m definitely going to be involved,” he said and let his hand hover over Delphine’s exposed thigh. “On our wedding night!” he exclaimed and pulled Delphine towards him, giggling.

“Arête! Mon Dieu,” Delphine sighed and pulled the covers over her once again. “I’m tired,” she whispered.

“Come on Del,” he protested. “We haven’t had sex in weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m just too tired,” she sighed as she caressed his cheek. “Maybe tomorrow,” she said and kissed him softly on the lips. His protest silenced with it.

--

The next morning, she woke up in an empty bed to the deafening sound of her beeper. It was barely seven o’clock. She grumbled at the face she met in the bathroom mirror, quickly changed into her work clothes and white coat and headed towards the clinic. Her belly reminding her that she skipped breakfast, again.

She saw a yellow beetle parked in front of the clinic so she quickly unlocked the door and started preparing the patients’ room. A soft knock on the door made her turn around, and when she noticed the woman standing there with a child in her arms, her breath caught in her throat.

“Cosima,” she whispered. “What happened?”

“Delphine?” Cosima looked startled. “You’re Dr. Cormier?” she shifted the girl in her arms.

“Yeah,” Delphine replied. “What’s wrong with her?”

“This is Charlotte, my niece. Her mom passed away last year and I’ve become her legal guardian. This clinic was on her emergency numbers list,” Cosima hurriedly explained as she sat down to try and wake the sleeping eight-year-old.

“Charlotte, monkey, can you wake up for me?” she whispered softly as she brushed a few strands of hair from her nieces’ face.

She looked up to Delphine and said “She fell asleep in the car ride over. She hadn’t slept all night though.”

Delphine walked towards the pair and looked into Cosima’s eyes, as if trying to express how sorry she was for the little girl’s mother, a smile from Cosima confirming they were okay now.

“Let me,” she said softly and kneeled in front of her. “Charlotte? Can you take a deep breath for me please? You don’t even have to open your eyes.”

Charlotte peeked open her eyes, looked over Delphine once and shut them again calmly. She breathed in and Delphine quickly put the stethoscope against the girl’s back. She asked her to repeat a few more times so she could check in the front too and when she was convinced that it was probably a cold, left her to cuddle up in her aunts’ arms.

“It’s nothing to worry about, kids get sick all the time,” she smiled.

“I’m sorry,” Cosima said. “I panicked. I’ve never had to deal with...”

“Hey, hey, don’t worry,” Delphine reassured her. “Give her some coughing syrup and she will be fine in a few days, I promise.”

Cosima smiled at the woman hovering over them, and then pressed a kiss against her nieces’ temple. “Hear that monkey? I overreacted again,” she whispered. “I’m sorry for bringing you in this early, Delphine.”

Delphine stared at the two of them lovingly. How could Cosima could cope, suddenly finding herself with a child? Hec and her had talked about children so many times she’d lost count. He was always pushing, she was always resenting. But seeing Cosima, seeing the look on her face as she hushed the little girl and whispered silent It’s okay’s to her, made her heart ache.

“I know how you can repay me,” she smiled. “Be the florist for my wedding?”

Cosima’s expression suddenly turned serious.

“Hmm, I don’t know,” She stood up with the girl still in her arms and walked towards the door. When she reached it, she turned around and looked at a shell-shocked Delphine. “I’m kidding Delphine, of course I’ll be your florist.”

Delphine’s shoulders visibly relaxed as she let out a small breath. “You’re such a brat,” she smiled and walked towards the door too.

“I’d tell you to come by the shop today but I don’t think I’m going to leave her alone,” she said, softly rubbing Charlotte’s back. “You wanna come over to our place? She’ll be out most of the day anyway I’m guessing.”

Delphine thought of her empty apartment, and her empty dinner table and her empty bed. Ever since she moved to America, she hadn’t been able to maintain any friendships due to her work schedule, so the thought of spending an afternoon with Cosima thrilled her. Perhaps she’d finally make a friend in this brave new world.

“I’d like that,” she smiled and Cosima smiled back, with that wonderful smile and grabbed the pen Delphine was holding out for her to write down her address.

--

When Delphine finished with her last patient of the day it was already past six. She hadn't eaten all day save a snack she'd found in her desk's drawer, but the little noises her belly made weren't enough to distract her eyes from falling on the piece of paper in her hand. She grabbed her bag and headed towards the address Cosima had written down on it.

Cosima had gotten home that morning and put a sleepy Charlotte in bed, neatly tucked in with her favorite blanket. She woke up coughing at least twice.

She'd loved Charlotte from the day she was born but ever since she moved in with her, that fierce love walked hand in hand with fear. Fear of hurting her, losing her, not doing right by her. And seeing her little face grimaces when she felt a coughing fit coming up, made her wish she could take all the child's pain and carry it herself.

She started picking up scattered toys from the floor and empty milk containers from the living room table. Cosima hadn’t had anyone over at her place since she took in Charlotte. She wanted the place to feel safe, somewhere Charlotte could feel home. This resulted in a slowdown of both her love and sex life but she didn’t mind it too much, she always got her heart broken anyway.

A soft knock on the door pulled her out of her thoughts and as she walked towards it she felt a million butterflies in her lower abdomen.

She put a hand in front of her mouth to cover her giddy smile and opened the door with the other.

"Bonjour, Cosima," Delphine said and shifted her weight.

"Hey, hi, come in Delphine," she said as she moved away. “It’s a bit of a mess in here, I haven’t had time to…”

Delphine looked around and took in the space. It’s vibrant colors and the brightness of the place reminding her of the small woman. It was appropriately a little messy, but she guessed that was part of being a full-time aunt.

“It’s you,” she said and focused her eyes on the short woman getting a pan and eggs out of a cupboard. “What are you doing?” she asked.

“I can hear your belly rumbling where I’m standing, when was the last time you ate?” Cosima countered as she cracked two eggs and started whisking.

“I ate a snack this morning,” she protested. “How’s Charlotte?”

“Delphine! You’re a doctor, you should know better. Sit down, make yourself comfortable, I’ll be right there.” She said as she scrapped the omelet out of the pan and onto a plate. “Charlotte’s still couching but she’s sleeping through most of it thankfully.” She grabbed the folder with flower arrangements from the kitchen table and brought everything over to the small table in the living room.

“Cosima, you didn’t have to,” Delphine started to protest but Cosima wouldn’t hear any of it.

“Hey, I’m not going to let a gorgeous, French doctor starve to death on my watch,” she poked her tongue out playfully and Delphine chuckled while taking her first bite.

“It’s good,” she said, her mouth full.

“Del, everything’s good when you haven’t eaten all day.” Cosima said as she sat down on the floor, pulling open her folder.

The familiarity of it all, the easiness with which Cosima spoke to her, it made her heart flutter. They settled comfortably on the couch, flipping through hundreds of pictures, trying to decide which flowers worked best with her wedding dress and the rest of the décor.

When a blonde strand of hair fell into Delphine’s face, Cosima ached to reach out and tuck it behind her ear but she reminded herself, for the hundredth time that day that Delphine was getting married, she was there to do business and maybe become friends but that was it.

Delphine was straight and Delphine was getting married, and God was she falling for her nevertheless.

#cophine #cophine fic #cophine fanfic #cosima niehaus #delphine cormier #orphan black #my fics