#i saw the racecar bed and i yelled 'WHAT! NO WAY!'

[babysizedfics]

9!!

9. romans discovers logan has a ticklish back. revenge is sweet

By now you all know the drill. I get a headcanon request. I have no self-control. It becomes another oneshot. Same old, same old.

NOTE: Set the morning after Roman asks Logan to read to him and he gets to spend the night in Mommy’s room!

oOo

Title: Vroom on the Bed 

Summary: Roman discovers his Mommy has a ticklish back. Revenge is sweet.

Word count: 2,500

Content warning: Swearing

Also on AO3!

oOo

The red toy car zoomed off a thick fold in the bedsheets. Roman held it in mid-air, making it do several flips before dropping it back to the mattress with a muffled thump.

‘That was terrible!’ he made his teddy bear, Aladdin, whisper.

‘What?’ he gasped back, offended. ‘My driver did the best he could considering -’

A loud snore cut him off. He hunched his shoulders and sucked his lips in a tight line. Rolling on his tummy a little, he got a glimpse of the figure that lay on the very edge of the mattress, since Roman was starfished out across most of it. Logan was, thankfully, still asleep.

‘Considering our limitations,’ Roman finished under his breath, nodding over to his Mom pointedly then sending a glare to Aladdin.

The teddy looked back with a beady, dead stare.

A quiet groan rumbled in the back of Roman’s throat. ‘I know that look. I know you wanna play in my room, but I wanna stay with Mommy!’ He shook Aladdin slightly to get his point across.

The toy was limp in his hands. A wave of disillusionment swept over Roman, all too aware of how childish he was being. ‘Stop being such a baby,’ he mumbled, unsure whether it was him or Aladdin speaking anymore.

Though he usually had a lot of fun being an independent kid and playing on his own, Roman was struggling to stay in his littlespace without one of his caregivers giving him attention. He really wanted to be extra little this morning - it just felt right after spending the night in Mom’s bed - but he hardly ever acted this young. He was out of practice and it was tricky to stay in character without Daddy calling him nice nicknames and without Mommy asking him lots of questions.

Mom really liked sleeping, though, and Roman knew no-one was allowed to wake him up in the mornings. So he had snuck back to his room for his cars and came straight back, ready to entertain himself! But he had been playing with the toys for what must have been hours now (later he would realise it was more akin to five minutes), and his head was starting to feel noisy and stuffy and his hands were jiggly. He was bored.

Being bored was awful. It hurt his head and made Roman’s legs itch, so he thought maybe Mom wouldn’t mind if he woke him up early just this once. Besides, he really wanted his Mom to play cars too. Or maybe he just wanted his Mom to watch… Actually, he really just wanted his Mom.

‘Mom?’ Roman whispered, sitting up on the mattress criss-cross-applesauce. ‘Mommy,’ he called, bouncing on the mattress slightly, ‘wakey, wakey.’ He had tried not to speak too loud but it came out a bit more booming than he had hoped. Mom shuffled on the bed but didn’t wake up. Roman pouted. ‘Mommyyyy,’ he whined, shaking Logan’s arm with both hands.

A sharp gasp echoed in the space between them. Mom’s face suddenly rose, his cheek flushed with crease marks from being pressed against the pillow all morning. ‘Hmph?’

‘Mommy, mommy, mommy!’ Roman rambled excitedly. Now his Mom could give him attention!

‘Hoosuh?’ Logan mumbled, face pinching and body swaying slightly as he propped himself up on his elbows. ‘Kay s’art?’

Roman giggled, ‘What?’ Mom never made a lot of sense when he first woke up.

‘Who’s hurt?’ Logan tried again, his voice gruff and mumbled, but at least coherent now. ‘Are you ‘kay, sweetheart?’

The nickname already made Roman feel a lot happier and soothed the fizzles in his fingertips a bit. He felt littler again. ‘No, I’m just really, really bored!’

Logan blinked blearily at Roman, his eyes barely open past a tired squint. Then he collapsed straight back onto his front with a sharp sigh. ‘Inabit,’ he mumbled into his pillow.

‘Mommy, no,’ Roman whined, watching as Logan’s body instantly sunk back into the mattress. Within mere seconds his shoulders were rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. A noise of indignance wormed its way from Roman’s lips. Mom was asleep already?!

Roman crossed his arms tightly against his chest and pushed his lip out in a pout that would have definitely gotten Daddy to dote on him (if he was there to see it, that is). Mom was being mean. For a few seconds, he sulked, watching the curves of Logan’s back and shoulders and ribs. Then inspiration struck. Just because Mommy didn’t want to play with Roman, it didn’t necessarily mean Roman couldn’t play with Mommy. Logan’s arms and back were way better ramps than the bedsheets!

He smiled and bit the tip of his tongue as he quickly grabbed his toys. Hugging Aladdin to his chest, he scooched over on the bed, tentatively settling by his Mom’s side. First, he balanced the red car on the back of Logan’s shoulder. As soon as he pulled his hand away, though, Mom took a deep breath in his sleep and it made the car move. Roman’s heart dropped - until he saw that the movement made the car roll all the way down Mom’s arm to his hand. It didn’t even tumble off!

Roman smiled brightly and carefully picked the car up again, placing it in exactly the same spot. The same thing happened again, the car rolling down Logan’s arm without a hitch and landing softly by his hand on the bed. Roman giggled and grabbed the toy again.

‘Ingenius,’ he said in Aladdin’s voice, then hugged the teddy tighter.

‘That’s ‘cause I’m a clever boy,’ Roman bragged quietly, setting the car on a different spot on Mom’s shoulder this time. ‘Mommy always says so!’

‘Yes, I do,’ Mommy rumbled into his pillow.

It startled Roman and he gasped, jumping a bit in his seat. The car wheels squeaked quietly as they rolled again - this time down Logan’s back.

Mom started chuckling and reached behind himself to swipe the toy car off from his hip. ‘What are you doing, little prince?’ he asked, pushing the toy back into Roman’s hand.

‘Sorry,’ Roman said, but he was smiling again. Mommy had laughed and that always meant he was in a good mood and would play with Roman!

Dark blue eyes blinked open and Mom smiled at him softly. It made Roman feel giddy, and he scrunched and unscrunched his toes in the fluffy socks that “Santa” had got him. ‘You don’t need to be sorry, Roman.’ Mom dropped his cheek back to the pillow, but he was still awake and happy. ‘Do you want to tell me what you’re playing?’

‘Yeah!’ Roman immediately yelled, squeezing the car in his hand and bouncing a bit on his butt. ‘There’s a racecar flipping coolness contest and Aladdin is a really bossy judge and he’s really hard to impress!’

‘Oh my, that sounds quite stressful,’ Logan hummed.

‘Yeah, but not for me ‘cause I’m the best racecar driver ever and -’ Mom’s eyes were shut again. Roman glared at him. ‘Mom, are you gonna fall asleep again?’

‘Hmm,’ Logan hummed. ‘Probably.’

Well, Roman supposed he had to hand it to Mom for being honest… Except no, he didn’t!

‘You’re not allowed to sleep, you’re playing too!’

‘Oh, I didn’t realise you were in charge of your Mom now, little prince,’ Mom said. It was kind of like being told off, but also kind of like Mom was sharing a joke with him. Sarcasm! Roman liked when Mom made big kid jokes with him. ‘What is my role in this game, anyway?’

‘You’re the racetrack,’ Roman proclaimed, smiling and setting the car on the back of Mom’s neck this time. His spine looked like a cool ramp to try next. He made Aladdin count down from three.

‘Oh, yes -’ Roman pushed the car down as Logan spoke, ‘- of cour-ha-horse!’ Mom’s mumble turned into a huffy kind of yelp.

‘Did it hurt?!’ Roman snatched the car away from Mom’s back, nervous that he would be in trouble.

‘Don’t worry, little one,’ Mom said calmly. His voice was back to normal. His eyes were a bit wider though. ‘It just itched a little, that’s all.’

That was weird. ‘Oh, okay.’ Roman shrugged and immediately started rolling the car over the ramp again.

Then Mommy’s whole body twitched and he started chuckling into his arm.

‘What?’ Roman asked, frowning a little. Was Mom laughing at him?

‘No, nothing,’ Logan assured, kind of breathless. ‘Maybe you shou-hould use the - the pillows as a racetrack instead.’

‘No, those are the spectators! The supportive friends! The fans!’ At the reminder that the fans were watching, Roman made the car do a cool skid to impress the imaginary onlookers.

There was a deep snort and the racetrack quivered under Roman’s car. Roman’s lips pulled up into a smile. Mommy was laughing! It was hard not to join in. ‘Mom, c’mon!’ he laughed. ‘What’s so funny?’ It was no fun if he wasn’t in on the joke too.

Logan was shaking his head, but his shoulders rocked with silent laughter still. It made the entire atmosphere of the room feel light and happy and it made Roman excited! He giggled and his whole body felt bubbly, especially his hands. Daddy called them happy hands. Roman rolled the car back and forth really fast on Mommy’s back, making the wheels squeak loads. Wait…

‘Ro-Ro-ho-man!’

It was Mom who was squeaking!

Roman looked down at the racecar rolling across Logan’s ribs, then back at the way Mom had buried his head into the pillow. Then he smirked.

‘Hello, is Logan ticklish?’ Roman teased in his usual baritone, completely grown-up all of a sudden. Despite not being little, he continued playing with the toy car.

The wild eyes that fixed on him as Logan snapped his head around were hilarious to behold.

‘No, ge-he-het little again! Little pri-ha-ha-ha!’ Logan broke down into deeper guffaws as Roman’s spare hand joined the car in skittering over his spine.

‘Maybe Karma isn’t such a bitch after all!’ Roman cried triumphantly, throwing his knee on top of Logan’s lower back to stop him from wriggling around so much. Logan may have had the height advantage, but Roman did fifty squats a day. They both knew Logan wouldn’t be able to shake off Roman’s leg.

‘Wa-ha-tch your mouth, li-little -’ Another snort of laughter cut Logan’s threat short.

‘Too bad you didn’t watch your back, huh, Specs?’ Roman laughed, readjusting the angle of his leg so he could reach Logan’s hip to see if that was ticklish too.

Logan literally tittered. This was just perfect.

Sure, Roman might have been a bit overly-enthusiastic, but he thought it was perfectly justified. This was payback! It wasn’t very often that Logan tickled him, but when he did he was utterly merciless. Patton had had to physically stop him a couple of times because Roman was so out of breath from cackling and wheezing!

Roman’s teeth bared in a sadistic grin as he heard Logan gasp for breath between laughter. What goes around comes around, and so on and so forth.

Then within a fraction of a second, long fingers wrapped firmly around his foot. It was at that moment Roman knew he had made a mistake. He threw the toy car across the room as if that would prove his innocence.

‘O-ho-kay, little one, you asked for this,’ Logan breathed, interspersed with distant chuckles. The warmth of Roman’s sock was swiftly pulled off and somehow just the cold air of the room was enough to make his toes tingle.

‘Mommy, I’m hungry,’ Roman hurriedly whined with what he hoped was an adorable pout. It was the most angelically innocent, childish voice he could possibly muster. He threw himself down onto the bed beside Logan.

But there was suddenly a warm, vice-like grip on his ankle and his lips started trembling with the effort not to smile in anticipation. ‘Can we pretty please go have breakfast?’ he asked a bit shakily, looking up to his Mom with wide eyes.

Logan laughed louder than he had all morning. ‘Nope, that face won’t work on me, little prince. I’m not your Dad.’ Surprisingly, his fingers actually loosened around Roman’s ankle.

For all of half a second, Roman thought he was being given the benefit of the doubt. That is until there was a light fluttering on the inside of his ankle and he fell into a stream of constant giggling. He kicked out but it did nothing to dislodge Mom’s hold and suddenly Mom’s free arm was pulling Roman into his chest. The fingers on his foot switched between fluttering over Roman’s ankle and scratching his heel and pinching his toes.

‘Mo-ho-mmy!’ Roman squealed, wriggling in his Mom’s firm embrace.

‘Whatever’s the matter, sweetheart?’ Logan asked very seriously, gently swirling a fingernail over the tip of Roman’s big toe.

Roman bucked off the mattress and positively cackled.

Logan was quick to just hug him tighter and chuckle, ‘I thought you wanted to play with Mommy.’ The arm that was keeping Roman secure in Logan’s hold curved and suddenly there were wiggling fingertips under his arm too. Roman screamed joyously, his cheeks aching so much they felt like they would cramp. ‘Don’t you want to play, Roman?’

It was almost impossible to think through the sounds of his own hysterical laughter, but Roman did his best. He did want to play with Mommy, but this wasn’t exactly what he had had in mind. Then again, if he said no, would Mommy never play with him again? It was a trick question!

‘Da-ha-ha-ddy, help!’ Roman cried out instead, feeling like there were a million butterflies chasing each other through his body. Honestly, he never wanted to stop smiling so much.

‘No, this is Mommy’s time with the little prince,’ Logan insisted, letting up in his ticklish attack enough so that Roman could splutter and gasp in some much-needed oxygen. Though he still giggled and squirmed as Logan’s fingers drew little spirals over the sole of his foot and the very edge of his armpit.

‘Besides,’ Logan said, pausing for dramatic effect. Roman giggled and looked up at his Mommy through tears of laughter. Mom’s cheeks were a bit pink and his lips were pulled into a wide smile and his eyes were sparkling with a mixture of mirth and mischievousness. It was quite possibly the happiest look he had ever directed at Roman. ‘We haven’t even finished our game yet!’

The tickling picked back up threefold. Roman writhed and howled and snorted and squeaked. But not a single protest fell from his lips because maybe this game wasn’t so bad after all. It wasn’t his game, but it was still a lot of fun. As long as Roman was with his Mommy, he was happy!

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated!

#fam ily tickles #little roman #agedre roman #cg logan #ts agere #sanders sides agere #little/big series fics #little/big asides #little/big series #vroom on the bed #lee logan #ler logan #lee roman #ler roman #ts tickle fic #asks #ree-the-switch

[brruisedandcconfusd]

The Dragon

So, I guess a good place to start would be the beginning. I had my first night terror, that I can remember anyway, at the age of 3 or 4. I don't always remember every single one, sometimes the memory fades faster than the fear and panic does once I wake up. But this one I remember very vividly...

From the time I was born until I started attending public school (infant - 5) I would spend my days with my great aunt and uncle (who I refer to as nanny and grampy) with all my cousins, rather than going to kindergarten or preschool. But, just like any other day care, we still did planned activities, snack time, and nap time. I only have five other cousins, so occasionally they wouldn't all come over. sometimes only one or two of them would, and on rare occasions, none of them would. this was one of those rare times.

When it was nap time, the cousin closest to my age and I would usually sleep together in one of the spare bedrooms. As a result of this one dream, it kick started a fear of sleeping alone. This fear quickly turned into insomnia, and separation anxiety from my mother and I slept in the same bed as her up until the age of 13.

I woke up in the same bed I had laid down in, but something was off. everything felt... damp. As if it was a hot, muggy, rainy day in the middle of summer. Knowing something wasn't right, I hopped out of bed to go find my nanny. I looked everywhere, but there was no sight of her.

That's when I passed the basement stairs.

There was steam, and hissing as if someone was pouring cold water onto a hot surface. I very carefully made my way down a few steps and peaked around the corner through the holes in the railing, and there I saw my nanny standing at the very edge of the last step, trying to shoo away this massive red and orange dragon that was breathing fire and growling and roaring and everything. I couldn't believe my eyes. what the hell was happening??

My nan eventually turned around and saw me, as she yelled for me to go upstairs and that she'd be following momentarily. I did as I was told and waited for her at the top. as she came back up the stairs she just shook her head and looked at me and said "damn thing's angry again-" to which she was cut off by the house beginning to shake from the ground up.

We ran outside to see that this Dragon decided to burst through the ground floor, and the ceiling, and break free. screeching and growling and breathing fire, setting everything within arms length of the beast (or perhaps I should say wing span?) on fire. Absolutely mortified, I tugged on my nanny's apron that said "curves!" on it, which to this day I am unsure of what that meant or if it represented something ?? Idk- anyway- I tugged on the apron and said "I think maybe we should leave now..." I then grabbed her hand and spun around to walk away, when the ground from underneath our feet floated off the ground and replaced itself with roller coaster tracks, and a coaster. we got in this coaster and immediately as soon as I sat down I the five point harness seat belt (like you would see in a children's car seat or a racecar) popped up out of no where and strapped me in. along with a strap around my thighs, shins, and ankles. A strap holding each arm in place, and a helmet that plopped very violently onto my head.

I could see that clearly this helmet was made for adults, because it swallowed my entire head and half of my face. this caused me to be unable to see out of one eye, talk properly, or breathe out of my nose for some reason. We went around on that coaster for what felt like hours and hours and hours until eventually it just stopped and I was awake.

For those of you who are familiar with how night terrors work, and some of the possible "side effects" of suffering from such a thing, understand what I mean when I say I was the least bit surprised that I woke up to find myself suffocating myself with my sheets and blankets. I had wiggled underneath of them completely and then held the covers as tightly to my mouth as possible. on top of this, because I was laying flat on my bed and my head was no longer elevated by my pillow, my sinuses were incredibly full. So I could not breathe through my nose whatsoever either. I crawled out of the sheets in a state of shock, panic, and confusion. I looked around the room at the familiar space, and then over at the clock.

For what had felt like hours, Only turned out to be about 20 minutes of my two hour nap. I then spent the rest of my time in the spare bed awake, staring blankly at the ceiling, listening to the rain hit the ground and cars drive by out in front of the house. My grampy and nanny lived right across the road from the ocean, so if you listened real, real carefully and focused real, real hard, you could hear the crash of the waves. Usually that was so calming. There's a reason they offer waves as a white noise alternative. But this time, not even that could overcome the alarming thoughts that flooded my head. what happened? I asked myself. There's no way that was a normal nightmare, way too real.

I tell no one about this incident until I am 19, sitting down to dinner in a restaurant with my family. We were talking on the topic of dreams; the good, the bad, the ugly. I had chimed in that I have been experiencing night terrors since a very young age, and my mother went ahead to tell me that my father struggled with night terrors as well. Unfortunately, I have no idea if this is something that runs in the family on his side or not, because he is adopted and refuses to let me have any access to any legal documentation. Which Is why it is so important to me that I am doing this now, and you're taking the time to read it as well. In case any of my own children end up with the same issues as myself, they will have some sort of proof to be able to say "yes, I struggle with this, and it is hereditary. My mom has it, and so does my grandfather on her side".

until next time -- Abby

#long reads #long stories #good reads #spooky #creepy #nighttime #night thoughts #night terrors #i can't sleep #personal #journaling #sharing #please read #thank you

[harlstark]

Heyheyhey could you please write something angsty af about the "shh potter is only me concept?? Pleeeease

ohhh I’ll give it a try! thank you for the ask! I hope this lives up to your expectations:

There was something almost, soporific, about the nights when Boris—gangly limbs pale as the moonlight and freckled like stardust, would reach out as if he were a sailor tossed overboard, seeking to grasp a life preserver; his cool-to-the-touch skin would drag around my waist, fingers idly dancing along my hip bone. I had grown to be quite accustomed to having an extra dip in the bed, and although I admitted it reluctantly to no one but myself, I more often than not could no longer sleep alone. On the nights where I was strangled awake, choking on the memory of smoke and rubble, his raspy voice was there, breathe warm against the shell of my ear, lips—chapped as per usual, would press lightly against my head, singing his lullabies—sometimes they were Polish, sometimes Swedish, usually Ukrainian—and whisper me back to sleep. “Shh Potter, shh... Is just me.” He would say, at times when I would wake up, startled enough to punch at the faceless man who knocked down the first domino—to punch at nothing in reality except Boris who was unfortunately there, however fortunate it actually was that he was present as I’d’ve punched a hole in the wall perhaps, had he not been. It was one of the many things we didn’t speak a word of when the sun peaked through the window, illuminating every speck of dust as if to say “I can see you now, the moon isn’t the only one who knows the secrets you keep.” If we were too hungover than the blanket would become our solace, shrouding us in darkness once more, covering everything in a way that made us blind to see, and anyone else unable to see the whole story underneath—to see the bruises made either from rough housing or the impractical nights where thigh met thigh and chest met chest and everything was like a racecar: fast enough to see but too fast to remember the details of every move, every twist and bend and times the wheels kissed the dirt instead of staying on the track like it should. On those mornings when our heads ached from the alcohol we so recklessly downed, and we decided instead of moving to stay with our bodies intertwined sleepily—before gaining enough conscienceness to push ourselves away from where my head met the crook of his neck or his hands were inside my shorts just resting on the back side of my thigh, we had some sort of ironically unspoken rule, to not speak at all; to not lose ourselves in the grotesque confrontation of what we had done, so our dynamic—whatever that may be, wasn’t ruined. Somewhere in a parallel universe, I’m sure there’s a Boris and Theo who cracked the mirror; who broke the pattern and with that, tore the sanctuary we built to nothing more than debris made of shattered glass and scraps of fabric. I don’t want us to be that Boris and Theo. I don’t want our haven to become corrupt—although it’s become more of an asylum than anything; made to protect one from danger, but it itself harboring perilous conflicts nonetheless: ones of fists swinging, sand in the eyes, narcotics and fistfuls of my despair. There was one Saturday, where Xandra and my father had been sitting in the kitchen early morning—and it was to my assumption a Friday where they would’ve been at work, and I had decided to walk down the stairs to get some water as my throat had been as dry as the air outside, and came to halt when we met each other’s eyes. I was shirtless, for reasons I can dub to simply being too hot, but I dashed back upstairs anyways, and tossed on a dark t-shirt which was probably Boris’ with how it was down to my mid-thighs. I had shoved him awake, sharply saying his name, until he woke up with a confused expression. “What are you doing? Is weekend, Potter, come back to bed.” He had murmured to me. “I know it’s the weekend dipshit! I just walked downstairs shirtless and Xandra and my Dad saw me!” I retorted. The slavic boy mumbled a “so?” before I began to ramble at him—slowly adjusting to the light and getting out of the bed, about how they might’ve seen the crimson and purple splotches that I couldn’t see without a mirror.

I had put a chip in the glass reflection that day. I didn’t see Boris for two weeks following, though I did meet him in my dreams; ugly dreams of yelling and fist fighting and sometimes just of us lying in the middle of the street at daylight, with him overtop of me—arms caging me in and my hands clutched in his knotted curls, a sense of anxiety and dread overpowering everything else that might’ve been good. Terrible sleep, if any at all, because there was no one there to coax me back to rest when I started up with my eyes wide open. I’d place Popchyk on my chest like Boris had done several times, but it was nowhere near the same. When he showed up at my pool on a Friday afternoon, I sat next to him—but not close enough for our legs to touch, and we watched the sun shimmer on the water, passing a beer bottle between us. “Let’s swim.” Boris decided, and we discarded our shirts and pants—keeping on our boxers, and jumped into the lukewarm water. It was symbolic almost, replacing the regret with chlorine. Slowly but surely we got back to hands splayed across each other’s chests, pushing at each other, and elbows jabbed into our sides in a playful fighting manner—using violence once again as an excuse to touch, and starting the loop of avoidance all over again.

#boreo #the goldfinch #boris pavlikovsky #theo decker #tgf #theodore decker #theo x boris #aneurin barnard #ansel elgort #finn wolfhard #au #boreo au

[chemiste]

She - H.S. soulmate au

blue - the first time you see them

It doesn’t matter how you see them. It could be a photo, a video, the back of their head on a crowded sidewalk. All that matters is that you’ve now seen them, your soulmate.

For most people, one day they may find themselves going about their schedule as planned. Maybe shopping, getting groceries, or going clubbing, and suddenly their world changes. They drop their new Prada purchase on the ground as they gaze up to the bright blue sky, the milk carton in their hand no longer a version of grey but bountiful sapphire, the drunk girl’s sequin dress now sparkling in the disco light a captivating periwinkle.

Hopefully, they’re able to get their bearings in time since sometimes, unfortunately, their soulmate won’t see them as they drive away from the store or leave the bar with other friends. But if they do, and that person looks up from the carton in their hand to the women holding a box of rice down the aisle, its like magic.

For you, it happened at a very young age. You had been at the mall with friends, going through the J-14 magazines in the back section of Claire’s.

“Oh my god! I got Zayn from the quiz!” your friend Maggie exclaimed excitedly. The rest of your gaggling group of 13-year-olds gathered around her as she pointed out the famed ‘which One Direction member will you marry!’ quiz in the magazine. You weren’t a big boyband fan and honestly didn’t know what she was talking about until you went over.

“Who?” You asked, going through big title names like Justin Bieber or Usher and not ringing any bells. She grinned, “It’s a new band that formed from the X-Factor, they are totally gorgeous and now I’m pleased to say I’ll be marrying”— she shoved the glossy paper in your face— “this one!!!”

You pulled the booklet back to take a better look. On the top of the page was a picture of five boys. They seemed to be on a bus of some sort you realized as Maggie pointed to the boy with the beanie in the far left of the photo. “That’s my future husband, isn’t he just dreamy?”

The girls around you giggled like all tweens would while looking at their celebrity crushes. Some exclaimed their love for other members like ‘Niall’ or ‘Louis and Liam’.

“Who’s that one?”

You drew your finger to the last member on the right, “That’s Harry Styles—“ “ The love of my life!” Your friend Bernice shouted—“He’s the youngest member and a total heartthrob as well!” Maggie laughed, throwing her hand out to poke Bernice in a teasing manner.

The photo had just been various shades of grey for you, nothing surprising. Plus, Claire’s was a mainly ‘pink store’ you’ve heard it been called by parents so it wasn’t until your group of friends walked through the food court and past the Dillard’s sign did you realized something major had changed.

You could see blue.

purple - the first time you hear them

A few months after your mall surprise, a school assembly had been called. You and a couple friends from math were walking together to the gymnasium for the pep rally being held to cheer on your band going to competition and briefly update students on what’s new. You had grown to love blue and always wore monotone outfits of various shades of the color but who could blame you? It was your FIRST color! The moment you saw the Dillard’s sign, you flipped.

You and your friends screamed and jumped around you in the middle of the mall which may have looked a bit funny to any bystanders, but then you suddenly all stopped and had the same realization— your soulmate must be somewhere in the mall!

Y’all searched for hours until coming to the conclusion that they must have left some time ago, but it still gave you hope that they must live in the area! You lived in Austin, Texas, and sure there was a slim chance that your soulmate could have been a tourist, but right in the middle of March? Not likely.

Unless they were here for SXSW, well then you were screwed.

“I see a couple of open bleachers over there.” One of your friends pointed out and you started to weave your way through the loud and crazy mess that was your school. A song started over the speakers and screams erupted from your fellow classmates.

You’re insecure

Don’t know what for

“What’s up with everyone?” You yelled to Anika as people belted out the lyrics to the specific song with more enthusiasm than you’d ever seen from the student body. “It’s a new song that just got released by that band from the UK! South Direct or something like that?”

Being the way that you are is enough

Your eyes lit up with recognition, “Oh, One Direction?”

Everyone else in the room can see it

Everyone else but you

Anika nodded and opened her mouth to say something more but the school somehow managed to get louder as they screamed the chorus to the song.

Baby you light up my world like nobody else

The way that you flip your hair gets me overwhelmed

But when you smile at the ground it ain’t hard to tell

You don’t know

Oh, oh

You don’t know you’re beautiful

You laughed at the scene before you and bobbed your head along with the song. As it came to a close you chatted with your friends while waiting for the principle to come out and give her introduction speech for the student and faculty. What you didn’t expect was to see her in an entirely different color than grey or blue.

It was purple.

Your eyes bulged out of your head as you whipped you head back up the bleachers on each side of you, desperate to see someone that had the same reaction as you to her dress.

You had heard your soulmate, and they had to be in this room.

yellow - the first time you hear them laugh

Yellow is an odd one for sure, any type of laugh, giggle, chuckle, snicker, or guffaw could spark this shade to life for you.

You were a junior in high school, studying in the library during you break period. You had kind of given up on the whole soulmate thing when your extensive research in middle school bore no results.

The minute the fateful assembly had been over, you raced home and looked through the yearbook for hours, trying to see if fate would show you your soulmate again. At school the next day you made sure you laughed, made eye-contact, brushed up against or touched in some way with EVERYONE you came in contact with.

You thought maybe they had missed picture day and so that should make it easier to pick them out, right? Wrong.

After the school year ended, you sort of stopped caring about the whole ordeal and had a strange resentment for the retched boyband that had given you another color to haunt you every day. As the group blew up, you avoided them at every turn, declining invitations to see their concert when they came to Dallas, instead choosing to listen to original movie scores and orchestra recordings, and Disney.

LOT’S of Disney.

You watched your friend bump into their soulmate at ACL, or heard them while tanning at Barton Springs, but never anything for you. You guessed that your soulmate must have moved right after the assembly or changed schools and that these were going to be the only colors you saw for the rest of your life.

I mean, sure, you could try one of the ‘soulmate finder’ apps, but in all honestly, they creeped you out and didn’t seem 100% certified. Who wants to record themselves laughing at a camera while wearing as much yellow as possible somewhere with blue and purple all around them?

When Etude No. 5 started to die out as the battery life in your headphones dropped to zero, you mumbled a quiet “fuck” and started digging through your backpack for the travel charge box you kept with you. That’s when you heard it.

Through the quiet brushes of flipped pages keyboard tunes, and scribbled lead, you heard a little laugh and some chatter come from the computer section that was only divided from you by a long bookshelf. You strained your ears to listen to what sounded like, an interview? From a computer? You shook your head, whatever it is it’s not like it matters, the librarian should come to force whoever it is to turn the volume down, and it probably won’t distract you from finishing your essay.

Roughly an hour later, you’ve completed your lovely paper on how things would have been different if women had been given more positions of power long ago (coughsexismcough) and slip on your aviator shades.

Your parents had given them to you as a birthday present freshman year, they were tinted blue so everything you looked at was, well, blue. You loved them and wore them all the time. It’s silly but they made you feel cool. You packed up and left the library as the school bell rang to end that day of class.

Only when you got home did you practically choke on the goldfish you’d not-so-graciously shoved in your mouth when you saw that your mother’s flower vase was filled with sunflowers.

Very yellow sunflowers.

“Fuck.” Was all you could say as you grabbed the whole carton of goldfish and went to your room.

green - the first time you dream of them

This color comes to many within the first few months they learn about the concept of having a soulmate. Little kids restless in their tiny racecar beds, thinking about the person that is meant for them. Often times, said children wake up to see the vibrant green leaves on the tree outside their bedroom window waving hello to them as the race off of to tell their parents about the dream they just had. The Dream.

Your friends all were able to see green by the time junior high was ending. It was a little disappointing to be the odd one out when they would make green friendship bracelets that of course you had but couldn’t see the happy color it produced, only the shade of grey over it.

You yourself were surprised when you didn’t have a dream of them the night after you saw blue, you guessed that maybe your mind had been so caught up on finding the person that it didn’t take a moment to actually think about what they would be like.

How they might react to one of your dad jokes that you take the liberty to present in a dramatic way, if they snore or not after a long day of work, or how they make their tea.

This is why it was a surprise you woke up one lovely summer day before your senior year to see that your journal was actually a lovely lime green with tiny lemons scattered on the cover, not red like you originally had guessed.

Your dream wasn’t anything defining of the person. In rare cases, people were able to see fragments of their soulmates while in dreams, but that was only one in a million, and no, yours didn’t magically let you see the person or where they lived but just connected the pieces of your first color moments.

The blue Dillard’s logo standing out to you in the mall.

Your school jamming out to music and the surprising appearance of the purple dress.

And— the laugh at the library.

Wait, hold on, the laugh from the computer at the library?! You fell back on your navy sheet cover pillow grasping your hair. How on earth was that the defining laugh? You had always assumed afterward that you must have heard it on your way out through the crowded foyer at school or when you had the windows down and you drove through your neighborhood.

“Well isn’t this perfect.” You mumbled to yourself as you climbed out of bed, noticing every piece of green that was spotted in your room. Your favorite sweater was jade, the mismatched sock you had put on last night with a blue one an emerald green. The family picture frame on the wall in the hallway a simple Olive.

Maybe the biggest surprise to you was that your old and ‘most comfortable recliner in all the world’ was a horrendous Feldgrau. Your parents found out you had finally achieved earth’s pigmentation when you came into the living room exclaiming, “Oh my god, how have we not gotten rid of this thing yet?! That color is disgusting!”

red - the first time you make eye-contact

This shade could sometimes be the first color a person sees or maybe the last, or not at all for those with blind partners. All your friends said it was an out of body experience, it’s not just seeing the shade of red but the connection between you and your soulmate just feels like electricity is shot into your veins and it’s hard to control your breathing in the moment because it’s so powerful.

Today was a lovely October day in the great Lone Star State and you were visiting a friend who was studying biophysics at UT.

“Y/N girl it’s been ages since I saw you! How’s the semester treating you?”

Danica asked you as you both sat on her sofa in her small apartment next to campus. She was a junior this year and used to live in your neighborhood, you had been friends for what seemed an eternity. She was smart as a whip and made everything seem brighter, she had short red hair and two freckles underneath her left eye that you had always admired.

“Everything’s well, I graduated early so now I’m taking college classes through community college until next year. Economics is kicking my butt though.” You state with a smile, taking the cup of Earl Grey that had been cooling in front of you.

Dan twiddled with her thumbs and mumbled something to you when you put down the teacup. You rolled your eyes, “Come on Danny, spit it out!” The girl next to you took a few moments as it seemed like she was having a debate with herself.

“Will you come to a concert with me?!” She finally blurted out. “I know it’s last-minute but everyone else seems to be only studying and I need my part wing woman!”

You laughed, Danica had always been a spontaneous chick, ready to do anything right in a second. You loved her for it and it took you to some very interesting places and events, plus lot’s of concerts.

Eyeing the crazy red-head who now had her head in your lap, you asked, “Who’s playing at the concert?”

She smiled sheepishly up at you, “Harry Styles…”

You dropped your head back on the couch behind you and groaned, looking up at her stuccoed ceiling. Dan jumped up from her position and propped up over you. “Please! I know you’ve got some weird vengeance against the band he used to be in but can you give him a chance to redeem just himself?” You blew a raspberry as she looked down from over you with sad puppy eyes.

“Fine!” You whine, admitting defeat where it was needed. She squealed and dropped down to straddle you for a hug, knocking the air out of your lungs at the same time she squeezed the life out of you while shouting, “Thank you, thank you, thank you!!!”

Danica popped off you and raced to her room, you stood up and followed the ecstatic girl to her sleeping quarters. A shirt flew out of the doorway that you managed to snatch from the air as you entered the doorway. “What on earth are you doing Dan?” You questioned with a smirk, leaning up against the wooden frame.

She threw a dazzling smile at you, “WE need to look our best for this concert and that means dressing up! Our soulmate could be there for all we know and this is the defining moment to show off if we’ll be just platonic soulmates or romantic soulmates.”

The two of you ended up going through her whole closet but eventually came down to the perfect outfits. Danica decided to go for a set of black skinny jeans, blue blowy tank top and some wedges that she swore were “the most comfortable heel in all creation”.

After a bit of debate, you decided to go for a pink skater dress, with black velvet strap ankle heels that you most definitely put gel pads into (lmao they are literally life savors). You couldn’t see the pink but you both always loved the specific shade of grey pink usually was so you went with it.

You both did your favorite makeup and took a bunch of photos in the wall mirror Danica had out in the living room before eating and grabbing a Lyft to the Moody Theater. On the ride there Dan talked about how she had won the tickets in a raffle that she had called drunk a few months ago and forgot about till she received the tickets in the mail a few days ago. You both walked arm in arm into the theatre, showing your tickets to the scanner.

“Excuse me! ‘scuse me, sorry about that!” Danica chirped as she practically dragged you to the front of the standing crowd, you couldn’t believe how close the stage was, and surprising how low it was too. Usually, when you would go to a concert with her, the stage was almost five feet high, but the ACL Live one was only about three, making it seem cozier or more connected with the audience and performer.

When the lights went down in the audience and the stage lights shined back up at you, it was amazing.

The overhead lights cast down on the first few rows of people crammed around the stage and it was so surreal. Save for those few dozen people, you couldn’t really see anything behind them except for a couple of phone lights and the silhouettes of bodies anxiously awaiting the arrival of Mr. Harry Styles.

“I love his new album, Fine Line, it makes me cry every time I get to the end of the track!” Dan said to you while bouncing up and down ready to jam.

You smiled and gave her a big hug, “Well here you are up and in person with the man that sings to you every night.” She sighed, “I wish he could just be my soulmate, I mean we’re practically made for each other!”

You both laughed but were overtaken by screams as a man walked out wearing a different shade of grey, white pants, and black boots. On his hands were the signature rings of his initials as well as blue and yellow-painted nails.

He struck a pose that slightly confused you but when Dan lost her mind with the rest of the crowd, you went along with it and clapped too.

What do you mean?

I’m sorry by the way

Never coming back down

Your eyes widened a bit as you actually knew the song, “I’ve heard this on the radio countless times!” you shout to Dan who gives you a thumbs up.

Can’t you see?

I could, but wouldn’t stay

Wouldn’t put it like that

What do you mean?

I’m sorry by the way

Never coming around

Be so sweet if things just stayed the same

(La-da-da-da-da)

It was strange really, it seemed like the blue you once knew as a lightly mellow pastel turned very bright and sharp, the backset lights flickering between shades of blue you’d never noticed before.

Huh? You scanned the crowd that was lit in front a bit, seeing if there could be a slim chance that the missing piece of your life puzzle could be here.

All the lights couldn’t put out the dark

Runnin’ through my heart

Lights up and they know who you are

Know who you are

Do you know who you are?

Shine, step into the light

Shine, so bright sometimes

Shine, I’m not ever going back

You closed your eyes and shook your head, looking back up at the man with suspenders before you. The song comes to a close and the audience erupts in applause and cheers.

“Hello Austin! ’s wonderful to meet ‘ye here, ‘m Harry.”

Purple lights flood the crowd and you cheer with the crowd, throwing a ‘hello!’ into your welcome cry.

Strangely, the musician seems to catch something in the crowd as his eyes get big and glance over the whole auditorium. Harry seems to snap out of it and you think nothing of it as he finishes the introduction and goes through a couple more songs.

He sings Watermelon Sugar, (which gets a few moans out of Danica) Canyon Moon, and then Adore You. After the final verses from the song, he takes a swig of water and a moment to chat with the crowd.

“Texas is somthin’ id’n’t ?” Well, that got the crowd going. Telling a bunch of Texans that their state is pretty cool? That will get them riled up. He continues, “It’s such a big state! My whole birth country could fit in ‘ere with room to spare!”

He grabs his guitar and starts to strum a bit on it. He looks down and says into the mic, almost like he was bashful to tell a certain secret.

“This next song I’m gonna play for you I wrote… about a certain someone.”

Shouts were thrown at the stage faster than bras during Kiwi, most of them consisting of ‘Soulmate!’ The British man definitely heard them as a small smile graced his face.

He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose before throwing his arms out and stating, “I’ve never told the story behind this song so why don’t I do it deep in the heart of Texas?”

Crowds. Loud. (You get the point.) Dan basically was squeezing the life out of your arm she was so excited him he said that.

“This song is about, a person that is constantly on my mind, for those of you that don’t know through the deep dark web—” a couple chuckles fill the air “— I am one of the lucky people that can dream sort of ‘bout their soulmate.” This got some gasps in the audience, but surprisingly stayed quiet, hanging off his every word. “I see them, in flashes, and there’s such a strong connection it’s sometimes hard to get out of bed in the morning.” He cleared his throat as though taking a moment before stepping off a cliff.

“I wrote this song, so hopefully I find her. Here’s She.”

The audience ate it up as the intro started, all excited to hear his song now with the new knowledge.

Nine in the morning

The man drops his kids off at school

And he’s thinking of you

Like all of us do

Sends his assistant for coffee in the afternoon

Around 1:32

Like he knows what to do

The crowd is enraptured with the performance, swaying and singing along. But you just stand there as you try and decipher the emotions running through you. It’s unlike anything you’ve felt before. Maybe the gravity of his song weighs on you more than you realize.

She (she)

She lives in daydreams with me (she)

She’s the first one that I see

And I don’t know why

I don’t know who she is (she, she)

He scans the crowd, just the tops of heads. It’s hard to make eye-contact when singing the song cause it evokes so much emotion. But as he turns around to glance at his bandmates during a small pause between verses, he’s blown away at the sight of blue lighting the wall behind him.

You watch as he turns back around frantically scanning on the opposite side of the crowd you’re on before closing his eyes and singing a few more verses of the song.

Lives for the memory

A woman who’s just in his head (just in his head)

And she sleeps in his bed (his bed)

While he plays pretend (pretend)

So pretend (pretend)

You decide to copy him and just move your body to the rhythm of the song, letting it flow through you like you’ve never let a melody do before.

She (she)

She lives in daydreams with me (she)

She’s the first one that I see

And I don’t know why

I don’t know who she is (she, she)

She (she)

She’s the first one that I see (she)

She lives in daydreams with me

And I don’t know why

I don’t know where she is (she, she)

As he finishes the last verse, he walks while playing around the stage and dances with the other guitar solo that plays on. He dancewalks the edge of the stage looking at all the people in the audience, some reach out to him, others have cell phones pointed up, and some just smile.

Then he starts coming closer to where you and Danica are standing. You look over to see her buzzing like a hummingbird and laugh. The lights in the crowd flood yellow as a strong chord is hit on the guitar and Harry is immediately looking over to your area. His behavior piques your interest but nevertheless you focus back on Dan who looks like he’s made eye-contact with.

Harry knees down to her as she almost faints from the closeness in proximity to her.

“Wha’s your name love?” She squeaks and says, “Danica!” You chuckle at her response and turn to look at the man who’s still crouched down by you.

That’s when you make eye-contact.

You’d been told stories and secondhand experiences about the moment you finally see your soulmate fully and your wonders never amounted to this moment. It was as though everyone else had disappeared and the only people that existed were you two. You felt like a bolt of lightning had struck you in your spot. Your lungs were heavy to breathe with and only when you both snapped out of your small trance did you take a deep breath.

You faintly smile and let out a sigh. Finally. You glanced down to his shirt when your peripheral vision caught sight of something new.

“Nice shirt ya got there. I love the suspenders too.” His eyes crinkled from his smile at your comment.

“Quiet a lov’ly dress I see you wearing.” You look down to see that ironically, you both are matching in fuchsia attire.

You look back up at the man who has now stood and is realizing the song has ended but really REALLY doesn’t want to leave the spot he’s in.

You nod toward the microphone that was waiting for him in the mic stand. He smiles and with a bit of spring in his step, he walks back over and turns to his bandmates to chat for a second.

“What the fuck.”

Oh right, Dan is here. Along with lots of people around them. You look quickly to your left and right and breathe thankfully as it seemed the people around you were too drunk to care and luckily didn’t seem to be recording.

But Danica was there, and she was gobsmacked.

You grin at her and shrug your shoulders. It takes a moment of just staring at you dumbfoundedly before she socks you on the arm and shouts, “I can’t believe you had a vendetta against your soulmate’s band!”

orange - the first time you touch time

The concert ends, very well and happily. His encore was fantastic and you definitely noticed as few hip moves thrown your way when he sang Kiwi at the end. You honestly don’t know what to do when a bright white light washes over the room to let people trickle out and go home.

You walk with Dan to the side of the stage where a security guard was stationed by a small door that most likely led to the stage. You turned to Dan right before you went up to the beefy guy with a taser, “What in the world am I supposed to say?! I can’t outright say, ‘hey I’m Harry’s soulmate, he just met at the concert and I wanted to get backstage’ now can I?!”

The security guard seems to have noticed both of you now since you’re dressed in a bright pink dress you now realize and are kinda failing around. Basically a giant pink target. You know you’re done for when he opens the gate and is walking to the crowd arena you’re in but then, a flash was pink and white flies through the stage door and past the guard. You hear several people shouting from whatever corridor the door is connected to as you’re picked up and swung around.

You cling to the person holding you as you take a deep breath of their cologne, it’s warm vanilla. You open your eyes and gasp as you see the Longhorn’s banner standing out in bright burnt orange block letters. You’re finally set down and you’re able to see him clearly for the first time without stage lights and 3 feet of space between you.

“My name is Y/N.”

Harry smiles and laughs, “ello’ soulmate, I’m so happy to find you.”

You tuck your face into his chest, not caring that he was pretty sweaty after a full concert, hell you probably are too. “Thank you for the song,” you say when you look back up at him, “it’s wonderful.”

“Oh, I’ve got plenty more for you love.”

<3

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles one shot #harry styles x reader soulmate au #soulmate au #fine line #harry styles fine line #one direction #harry styles concert #marvel

[the-fiction-witch]

Survivors

MOVIE: MAZE RUNNER AU COUPLE: NEWT X THOMAS + NEWT X Y/N RATING: FLIRTY ;)

Emptyness. The only true constant. Everything fades, and everything dies.

I remember the day this all began, it a seemed so normal. I remember waking up in my bed, it was a red racecar my bed. With clown sheets and my favourite bear to hold me close. I remember waking up to the sweet salty smell of my mother's cooking, I jumped from the bed and ran to the kitchen to find my mother had burnt the toast and bacon as she had been busy dealing with my baby sister. My father just laughed it off and went out for breakfast donuts. It all seemed so normal, so peaceful. But not long after that the news came through, my mouth packed a bag with everything she could fit for me and another for my sister taking us by the hand up to the hill a man said something about places that I later leant was places in the shelter, safe from the bombs that where imminate to fall. And like all good parents did, they made the men take the children all of us the eldest just ten from my town all of us saved from the horror of that war.

Now we have emerged from our shelters, and hiding places. To scout this empty world for survivors and supplies to keep ourselves Alive. I miss my parents everyday, what little I remember of them. And I miss my sister, I don't know what happened to her the shelter men took her from me not long after we got settled her only being a baby... I never saw her again.

I walked along the dusty windy planes for days I was almost out of water and days out of food, I felt like I was ready to drop dead.

""ey mate! You alive?" A voice asked from the dusty cloud to the north "Yeah!" I yelled and within seconds a boy came from the dust,

His leather pants tight to his skinny body, his chest bare covered in what looked like years of dust and sand, a brown moth eaten jacket over him with some protective sections on his back and shoulders, a red and white tie around his mouth and nose with old welders goggles over his eyes, his hair slightly tied back with a similar tie this one blue and white his perhaps once blonde hair caked in dirt, mud and sand. He saw me and pulled the tie from his mouth and nose as he came closer

"'iya, what are you doing out 'ere?" He asked "Looking" I answered "Your a stalker aren't you?" He asked "one of them who wonder's around maping survivers and what not?" "Kinda" I answered "Alright, do you need a ride? I can take you to The Glade?" He suggested "What's that?" I asked "A survivor town not to far from 'ere I came out looking for scrap metal" he explained putting the goggles up onto his headband I could see his face more clearly now, he looked much longer then I assumed he was, his brown eyes wide with a almost laughable clean line from where the goggles had protected the skin below them from the dust, a small excuse for facial hair above his lip "so you want taking?" "Sure, thanks" I smiled "Great" he laughs putting an arm around me and walking me towards the way he came "names Newt by the way" he says "Newt?" I ask "Don't ask" he sighed as we got to a half destroyed car only the frame, wheels and engine still the the rest gutter with two broken seats and a wheel inside the welded frame "it's a long and complicated story" he says climbing into the car and moving some metal around "'op in" he says so I climbed in and we drove off though the sand and dust for a little while it didn't take long before we arrived at this little town it all looked like it was made of tin and wood but it looked abandoned I got prepared to jump and run as this happens alot out here, people go nuts and build little world's for themselves "guys! Storms over get to work you lazy cocks!" Newt yelled and just like that doors and windows opened canopy's opened up and people came out all going about there business "come on, ohh I didn't catch your name?" He says as he climbed out "Thomas" I said "Right Thomas come on, let's get some food in ya" he laughs helping me along "How many people live here?" I asked "Ugh about sixty to eighty at any one time, people move around alot" he explained as he got some food and handed it to me having a seat on some old cinder block "How long have you been here?' I asked "About four years" he shrugs "came 'ere from my shelter so" he shrugs "And you've been here ever since?" I ask "Pretty much, I go out on the junk raids but that's about it" he explained eating his food I gave it a try and it was nice "what about you?" "Been wondering since I got out... Don't really know what I'm doing" I explain "Fair enough, you could always stay if you want" he shrugs "Really?" "Sure, stay as long as you like, 'ell you might find a sexy freind who will keep you forever" he winked "I don't know about that, but sure I'll stay a while" I smiled "Great, you can bunk with me for a bit if you want I have a 'ammock I never use so you can stay there till you get sorted" he offered "Thanks Newt" I smiled "Newt your home!" A voice smiled I looked too see a rather plump girl she looked a little younger then me, y/h/c hair tied up in a complex braid, a little purple dress with some tight strong pants below it, a little sleaveless red leather jacket on her body a few odd tools on a little waist belt "Ohhh 'iya Y/n" he blushed standing up "You didn't get bitten again did you?" She asks checking him over "No Y/n I'm fine" he told her "Well alright, nothing serious to report?" She asks "Nothing" he told her "Alright, in pretty swamped today, come see me tomorrow and I'll give you your checks" she smiled before rushing back off "Who's?" I began as he sat down again "Y/n, she's the nurse. A little overprotective but she means well" he smiled blushing a little fixing his hair as he watched her walking back to where she came from "Are you to?" I ask "What! Me and Y/n? You must be joking" he laughs "I mean she's saved my arse more times then I even remember but..." He blushed "Ohh are you uhh?" I asked "Am I what?" He asked "You know, other side of the swing?" "Ohh! Well... Depends who's asking" he smirked "I'm just asking" I shrug "Let's just say... I use the swing every way it physically can." He smiled "So your fine with that here?" "Absolutely! Why wouldn't we be?" "You'd be surprised some places still..." "Really? Well don't worry about it. You can be and do whatever you want 'ere" he smiled "put your dick whenever makes you 'appy" "Thanks" I blushed "I go just the one way" "Cool, come on I'll show you around" he smiled helping me up, he showed me a few places, the food, the Amory, the clothes maker, the showers and of course Y/n nurse place which Newt did get a little blushy over before atlast we got to a little shack "ta da! 'ome sweet 'ome" he smiled opening the half broken door revealing honestly a tin shed, random junk everywhere a bed tucked in the corner with a duvet that looked as old as Newt, and a old dusty hammock hung on the other side, no windows and a couple candles here and there "Its nice" I said trying not to be rude, 

[snowqueen1974]

Broken Part 1

Hello Everyone! As promised I have another story for you guys! This one is a bit longer than the last and will be done in parts! It is humanized again! Warning there will most likely be pretty graphic descriptions of injuries in this story so please be prepared for that! A lot of this story is based on an event that actually happened to someone close to me. So without further ado- Enjoy! 

Darkness. That’s all Lightning could see at the moment. Did I blackout? What happened? As Lightning started to come back to reality he began to hear the sirens, people were yelling and there was movement all around him. He cracked open his eyes and blinked rapidly at the blinding light; as his eyes adjusted he became acutely aware of just where he was at. He was in a car, but not his racecar. It looked familiar but he couldn’t quite place it at the moment. His whole body felt heavy and almost numb, he slowly moved his hands and then his arms but stopped when a sudden pain coursed through his left arm “Son of a-” Lightning started but froze when he saw the blood. He began to panic until he heard a strangled sound to his left; slowly turning his head, Lightning’s eyes widened in horror as he took in the sight before him. His wife, Sally, was unconscious and bleeding heavily from several injuries that she had sustained. Lightning suddenly remembered what had happened.

 The two of them had been driving home from one of Lightning’s races when they had been hit by another driver on Sally’s side. The sound of the impact was deafening, the scrapping of metal on pavement is a sound that one does not easily forget. “SALLY!!! SAL! Can you hear me?!” Lightning pleaded as he began to try to free himself from the restraint of the seat belt. “Sir?! Are you alright?” a voice came from outside the car. Lightning whipped his head around and peered through what was left of the Porsche’s window to see an emergency response officer. “I’m okay, a bit beat up but please I need you to help my wife first!! She isn’t responding!”  He yelled out. The emergency responder nodded his head and hurried around to Sally’s side of the car and tried the handle first, with no success he called out to his fellow team mates and asked for the jaws of life. While they were working to free Sally, Lightning managed to unbuckle himself and move to a position to where he could see his wife more clearly. Glass shards fell to the floor board as he moved his body around in the tight space that had once been Sally’s beautiful car. He moved as close to her as physically possible and raised one of his hands to rest on her cheek. “Sal? Babe please… come back to me…” Lightning whispered. 

The emergency crew finally removed the crushed door and quickly yet carefully worked to move Sally out from the car and onto a stretcher. Lightning crawled out of the car after them and made his way over to the ambulance that they were loading Sally into and hopped in next to her. The doors closed and the ambulance shot off towards the nearest hospital with the sirens blazing. The two medical personnel were quickly working to get Sally’s heart rate and breathing stable. The ride to the hospital seemed to last forever but in reality, it only took them 4 minutes and before long they were removing Sally from the ambulance and rushing her into the emergency room. Lightning jogged to keep up with them but one of the doctors stopped him and he watched as Sally was taken further into the hospital. “Let me go I need to be with her!!” Lightning yelled at the doctor. “She needs immediate medical attention sir and you look like you could use some yourself, take a deep breath for me.” The doctor said calmly. Lightning did as he was told and breathed in and then breathed out. His whole body was trembling and he felt as if all of the energy in his body had been sucked out of him. “Let us get you to a room.” The doctor lead him to one of the empty rooms and sat him down on the bed. A few nurses entered the room and began to help clean Lightning up. He was covered with scratches mainly on his left side from the shattered glass, his left arm being the worst along with a fairly good-sized gash on his torso. After being bandaged up he looked at the doctor. “Can I go see her? Please… I need to know that she is okay…” Lightning pleaded. The doctor nodded and motioned for Lightning to follow him. He led him down the hallway and to an area labeled “trauma bay” and finally to the room where Sally was. Lightning entered the room and immediately began to tear up upon seeing his wife. She was barely conscious and mumbling “hurts” over and over again. The nurses where rushing around her writing on charts and getting IVs set up. “Oh god Sal...” Lightning whispered as he stumbled over to her and carefully took her hand in his. “s-s-s…. s-sorry….” Sally mumbled through the pain. “Shh. Don’t b-b-be sorry Sal… it wasn’t y-your fault.” Lightning said between shaky breaths, “It’ll be alright…” He gently stroked the side of her face and kissed her forehead.  

#cars #salqueen #sally carrera #lightning mcqueen #fanfic #doc hudson

[the-kings-tail-fin]

A humanized fanfic where Cruz and Jackson have a one night stand, then Cruz finds out she's pregnant and she tells Jackson

Did someone say ‘drama’? This sounds like the start of a race track soap opera.

Also, since I’ve already done a set of fairly descriptive headcanons about a one night stand between these two, I’ll pick up this fic a little while after that (ignore the last bullet point if you go back to read those hcs. It’s irrelevant in this context).

Oh, Chrysler, no. Please, no.

The two years flashed before her eyes. Her entrance into the racing scene was nothing short of fabulous, and she’d kept up the hard work ever since. She had the most sought after sponsorship, the greatest team, and the best mentor she could ask for. But now it all suddenly felt very fragile.

She sat huddled up in a blanket on her couch, staring at the calendar on the wall next to her. She recounted the number of days for the seventh or eighth time, and again, it was too many. In fact, it was nearly double what it should have been. Life had just gotten too hectic for her to have noticed sooner.

What am I going to do? I can’t race carrying a kid. My career is over. You done screwed up, Cruz. All that hard work, your life’s dream, gone, just like that. One stupid, effing mistake and it’s gone.

The season was about to end, with only one more race left to go. As much as she loved racing, she’d been looking forward to the off season ever since the paparazzi snapped that picture of her running from Storm’s trailer and started making up stories. Neither her or Storm ever told anyone outside their personal confidants that they had in fact done the deed, but the papers and tabloids acted like it was fact. Things had only recently just started to calm down from the incident. 

There was a knock at the door, and Cruz jumped. 

“Cruz! You ready to hit the road?”

It was Mack. She scrambled to her feet and peeked through the blinds to see her car already loaded in the trailer with the crew ready to go. How had all that time slipped by her so quickly? She looked down at her Dinoco branded pajamas and realized she’d wasted the entire morning crying on the sofa.

“Uh, give me just a minute!” she yelled back.

She dashed into the bathroom and washed her face, thinking it was going to wash away the redness in her eyes as well. When it didn’t, it at least made her feel a little better. She brushed all the rats out of her hair real quick, threw on some clothes that had been sitting in the dryer for a few days, and ran out the door, stopping to return only for her keys, purse, and a bottle of water.

‘Okay!” she announced with fake excitement. “Ready to go!”

Her voice was gravely, and anyone who looked her in the face saw all too clearly that she’d been crying. She didn’t look anyone in the eye before climbing into the trailer for the short trip to Los Angeles, but it was so out of character for her to not directly talk to anyone, Lightning automatically wondered what was wrong. He followed her.

“Cruz, you okay?” he climbed in the trailer behind her and took a seat on the edge of the cot she used as a bed while on the road. “You sound upset.”

She whipped around from hanging her firesuit up on the opposing wall, and felt him stare straight through her.

It’s okay, he doesn’t have a clue. Just because you think he might know, doesn’t mean he knows. You haven’t told anyone. You don’t intend to until after the race. Just make it through the day after tomorrow. Be strong, Cruz.

“Uh, oh hey. I, uh-” she stuttered, trying to think of a good excuse. “I’m just- just having one of those days, you know. It’s a woman thing. We have weepy days.”

“Ah.” he’d seen Sally have such days before. He didn’t understand it completely, but he knew it had to be a real thing. “Okay. Well I hope you feel better before the race.”

“Oh, I’ll be fine. Promise.”

The race was alright. She didn’t win, but neither did Jackson, so that was satisfying enough. Turns out Bubba had shown them all up, completely out of the blue. She was happy for him and thought he deserved the championship after the season he’d had, and was right there in Victory Lane celebrating with him and several of the other next gens.

They were playing recaps of the race on the big screens as she walked back to her trailer, and she cringed a little. It was glaringly obvious to her that every time she’d gotten near Storm, she faltered. She just couldn’t look at him and not think about the fact that within the next several months, she was going to have his kid. It’d cost her the race, but she couldn’t be mad at herself, not with everything else going on.

As she passed the garages, she saw Storm and his team getting ready to leave. She knew she had to tell him before she told anyone else. He had the right to know. Feeling braver than she had all week, she marched right up to his empty trailer and crawled up into the same space where this whole show had started, and waited.

Luckily she didn’t have to wait long enough to start second guessing herself. She heard him talking outside as the crew loaded up the racecar, and then the door opened. He nearly tripped into the small room as he caught side of her, and swore a string of expletives.

“What the- What are you doing here? You need to leave.” he was threatening, clearly angry. The harassment from the media had drained him as much, if not more, than it did her.

“Good evening to you, too.” she sat up from her relaxed position and placed her elbows on her knees, her chin resting on her hands. “So tell me, how’re your parenting skills?”

The anger on face face gave way to pure horror after a moment of hesitation. He stared at her with wide eyes and gaping mouth, suddenly scared. Did he hear her right? Was she really asking this question?

“Oh, no. No, no, no.” he shook his head, denying it, and went like he was going to walk away.

“Oh, yes, Storm.” Cruz corrected him. “It’s too late. We done effed up. So I’ll ask again- you ready to be a parent?”

“No!” he exclaimed, running his hands through his hair in exasperation. He wanted to scream, shout, punch something. He was angry, but surprisingly more at himself than at her. His mind started racing.

He’d gone and accidentally knocked up another racer. At most any other time in the history of racing, that never would have been possible. There’d been what, two female racers before Cruz? She was one of three to ever, in the history of Piston Cup racing, set tire on these tracks, and he’d gone and slept with her and got her pregnant. He didn’t even consider himself promiscuous. It was one time!

But wait. He realized a few other implications. She can’t race if she’s pregnant. They’d never allow it, and she’s not stupid enough to try. This. This was her last race!

Huh. Okay, so it wasn’t all bad. He’d get his run of the place back. And kids weren’t that terrible. Not if they’re raised right. He thought back on his own childhood and thought maybe he could give something better to his own offspring. No kid deserved a deadbeat dad, and he was going to make sure he never had that label attached to his name. It was daunting to think about, but he had the motivation to make it a reality.

“Okay, okay.” he sighed loudly and shook his head before speaking in a slightly calmer voice. “Listen. We both know we don’t get along. We never did. I’m not going to be there for you in this, but at the same time, I’m not going to abandon my own kid. I’ll be there for them. We can switch custody or something later on, I don’t know, but I’m going to give it the life it deserves.”

“That’s all I needed to know.” Cruz said, standing up and hopping out of the trailer. “I’ll keep you updated if anything comes up. In the meantime, you know how to contact me.”

Jackson grunted, watching as she confidently walked back toward her own trailer. The type to always have the last word, he shouted a farewell at her.

“Have fun explaining this to your sponsor! You had a good run. All two years of it!”

#jackson storm #Cruz Ramirez #humanized

[number42inblue]

Can you do a fic about the Weathers family dealt with Strip brothers death

OF COURSE, I CAN! Humanized though because cars probably find it difficult to snuggle… if that’s alright with you! If not I’ll fix it just let me know, I’d be more than happy to change it! It’s not my best work, but I’m happy with how it turned out.

Strip watched the young child burrow deeper into his left side, baby blue blanket clutched in one hand. He slowly moved his left arm gingerly placed a hand on his nephew’s small back. The racer lifted his gaze up to his wife, who sat on the other side of the sniffling five-year-old, and gave her a tired and obviously faux smile. She smiled back and the two turned their gaze back to the television that played an animated children’s movie that Strip didn’t care to know the name of. Eventually, Cal had fallen asleep on Strip’s side, so he carefully picked up his bloodshot-eyed nephew and positioned him with the boy’s head on his shoulder. Slowly making his way to the boy’s room down the hall from their own, the couple tucked the blanket around him. They lingered in the room for a moment before Strip tore his gaze away and exited the pale blue room. Lynda followed and leaned on the frame of the doorway, watching her husband pace the hallway a few times. In the end, the pair was seated on their bed, Lynda rubbing Strip’s back comfortingly as he exhaled shaky breaths.

After the first few days of Cal staying with them, Lynda noticed a few things that gradually started to upset her. Most days, Lynda would go into her office to continue working on whatever Tex needed her to do whether it was making a call or scheduling a meeting. And because an office was no place to keep a child all day, especially a child like Cal, it was decided that Strip would take Cal with him and show him around Dinoco’s workshops and their private race track. Strip was less than thrilled to be taking care of the almost six-year-old, but the racecar driver didn’t protest. It was during her break on Wednesday that she finally snapped. Lynda was making her way to the shop, looking for her husband and nephew, when she stumbled upon a slightly confusing sight.

“Hey, Cal!” Lynda flashed a smile, crouching down to the young boy. “Who is this?” She asked, pointing to the car mechanic he was with. It appeared her nephew had been listening intently to the man, who had gladly explained how some of the mechanics work on the race car in front of the two with the engine out in the open.

“This is John!” He exclaimed with a grin. “He showin’ me one of Uncle Strip’s cars!”

“Where’s Uncle Strip?” The boy shrugged and Lynda looked up at the mechanic, who nodded his head in the direction of the track. “How long…?” She trailed off, a look of confusion and concern flashed in her eyes.

“Every day since Cal here started coming here, a few of us started to take turns watching him and showing him stuff,” John smiled. “He seems to enjoy his time here, and we’re all happy to have him. He knows when to stay out of the way and picks up the information quickly. A good assistant this one makes!” He exclaimed, ruffling the boy’s sandy blonde hair. Lynda was slightly taken aback, but she remained composed and took Cal by the hand, the pair leaving after saying goodbye to John.

When Strip got home, no more than 2 hours later, Cal was in his room playing. Lynda sat him down and told him straight. She didn’t yell, but her tone of voice definitely got heated as she demanded to know why he was avoiding his nephew so much.

“I just can’t look at ‘im, Lyn,” he shook his head and cupped his face with his hands. Her expression softened as she took a seat next to the race car driver. “He jus’ looks far too much alike.” It was then that Lynda took his hands in hers and forced him to look into her eyes. She explained to him in a stern tone that it should be a good thing, and she went on to explain to him to think of Cal, and how he was handling everything; how a child would view everything that happened and what he would feel about how his Uncle was acting towards him. At the end of her rant, he felt guilty. Strip made a promise that night to Cal, a vow swearing he wouldn’t leave him. And so the next day, Strip took Cal all around the shops himself and introduced him to more people; he even took Cal for a ride in one of the cars, though at considerably lower speeds and in a modified car for two.

Overall, Strip had a difficult time dealing with his brother’s death, and he saw too much of his brother in Cal. He was scared to think he had to take care of a child, but Lynda helped him realize he wouldn’t be alone. Cal didn’t fully understand what his parent’s deaths meant, but he had an amazing Aunt and Uncle to distract him. As the years pass, I’m sure they will all have moments of grief, but they have each other to support them; not to mention Tex, the entire Dinoco crew, and countless others supporting and cheering the family on.

#cal weathers #strip weathers #cars #cars 3 movie #cars fandom #cars 3 #cars 3 stuff #cal #dinoco

[takemetotheriotofthestars]

No Survivors (Phantom Traveler S1, Ep4, Pt1)

Supernatural Season 1, Episode 4, Part 1 Warnings: Swearing Words: 1,706

Masterlist

“Morning, sunshine’s.” Sam’s voice stirred you from your sleep, you buried your face deeper into the couch cushions after you got a whiff of coffee. You heard footsteps approach you before the sound of something being set down on the table a few feet away from you. “What time is it?” Dean asked, the bed creaked as he moved. You slowly turn over, giving up sleep for a bit. “Uh, it's about five forty-five.” Sam replied after he checked his watch, you raise an eyebrow as you look at him with tired eyes. “In the morning?” You ask, he nods. You sigh and sat up, rubbing at your eyes as a yawn escapes you. The bed creaked more as Dean sat up. “Where does the day go?” Dean said, sarcasm lacing his tone. Sam handed you a coffee and a pastry, you took it and sipped your hot drink. “Did you get any sleep last night?” Dean asked, you already knew the answer to that since you were up until three due to not being able to sleep on the stiff couch. You took another sip of the caffeinated beverage as Sam answered. “Yeah, I grabbed a couple hours.” You rolled your eyes and scoffed. “Bullshit, you were up at three watching a George Foreman infomercial.” You say, you stared at him, he looks away. “Hey, what can I say? It's riveting TV.” He replied, Dean looked at his brother with concern. “When was the last time you got a good night's sleep?” Dean asked, Sam shrugged as he sat on the table. “I don't know, a little while, I guess. It's not a big deal.” He said, you shook your head. “Sam-” You start but he cuts you off. “Look, I appreciate your concern—” Sam says but Dean cuts him off. “Oh, I'm not concerned about you. It's your job to keep my ass alive, so I need you sharp.” Dean looked at you and tilted his head to the side. “Did you get any sleep?” You yawned and nodded your head. “Less than two hours.” You replied, you looked at Sam “Nightmares about Jess still?” Sam crosses the room with a coffee in hand and holds it out to his brother before sitting down on the bed he was suppose to sleep in after Dean took the drink. You stood up and sat on Dean’s bed. “Yeah. But it's not just her. It's everything. I just forgot, you know? This job. Man, it gets to you.” Sam shakes his head gently, you nod. When you were on a couple of your very first hunting trips, you had nightmares for days on end until, eventually, you became use to the sights of the horrors. “You can't let it. You can't bring it home like that.” Dean said. “So, what? All this it...never keeps you up at night?” Sam asked, he looked a bit confused at how his brother and best friend would achieve this. You and Dean shook your heads. “Not any more.” You say. “Never? You're never afraid?” Sam scrunches his eyebrows. “No, not really.” Dean says, you rolled your head. “Liar.” You say before you reached underneath his pillow and pulled out a hunting knife. Dean snatches it from your hands. “That's not fear. That is precaution.” He said, you laugh a bit at his excuse. “All right, whatever. I'm too tired to argue.” Sam says, raising his hands in the air as Dean’s phone rang. He reached over to the nightstand and answered it. “Hello?” He said, you stood up and walked over to the table, setting the drink down before grabbing your bag besides the couch. “....Oh, right, yeah. Up in Kittanning, Pennsylvania, the poltergeist thing. It's not back, is it?” You raise an eyebrow at the older brother as you walked to the bathroom. “...What is it?” Dean asked, he scrunched his brows together as he heard whatever the other person said. His eyes land on you before he looked at his brother and hung up. “Case?” You asked. “Jerry from the poltergeist case wants to chat in person.” He replied, you nodded. “Right after my shower.” You say before closing the door behind you. *** “Thanks for making the trip so quick. I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Y/n, Dean, and your dad really helped me out.” Jerry said, he straightened out his red tie as he turned around to talk to the three of you face to face. You smiled at the bald man as an airplane flew overhead. “Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked as a man walking by put in his opinion. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.” “Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking.” Jerry said before he continued after the man was out of earshot “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart. Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” Jerry said, he stared at Sam. “Yeah, I was. I'm—taking some time off.” “Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.” Jerry smiled at Sam, a grin spread across your face as Sam glanced at you for reassurance about this claim. “He did?” He asked, Jerry nodded. “Yeah, you bet he did.” Jerry’s smile didn’t disappear off of his face “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?” “He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now.” Dean said, you looked out of the windows and watched the grey clouds. “Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam. Even trade, huh?” Jerry says, you and Dean laugh. You loved Sam like a best friend but it was not even close to even. “No, not by a long shot.” Sam said. “I got something I want you guys to hear.” Jerry said, he glanced between the three of you before he nodded to the side for you guys to follow him. *** You and the boys stood in Jerry’s office, watching him put a CD into a computer. “I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley.” He said, looking at you and Dean. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.” He pressed play. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britania 2485—immediate instruction help! United Britanis 2485, I copy your message—May be experiencing some mechanical failure...“ The pilot sounded frantic and scared until there was a loud whooshing sound. After that the recording ended. “Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south. Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh...well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.” “You don't think it was?” Sam asked, you had a feeling it wasn’t his fault but instead of some monster. “No, I don't.” Jerry replied, he stared at Sam directly into his eyes. “Jerry, we’re going to need a list of survivors, please.” You say “All right.” He replies with a nod of his head. “And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean asks “The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage…” Jerry sighs “fellas, the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” You and Dean frown. “Okay..” You sigh “We’ll figure it out.” *** You and Sam leaned against the Impala as you waited for Dean to come out of a copy store. Sam’s eyes were trained on the store as you looked around at the people passing by. If they knew about the things the lurk in the dark, chaos would be released. The world would be a safer place, but nobody would be happy. Children would have the childhood that you had, they would worry about the things in the darkness. Instead of playing with dolls and racecars, they’ll be learning how to shoot a gun and not missing a target. Dean exits the store and walks down the steps, he held up three ID’s. “You've been in there forever.” Sam said, as his brother handed you and him an ID. “You can't rush perfection.” Dean replied, you stared at the card in your hands. “Homeland Security?” You raise an eyebrow at Dean. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.” “Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times.” Dean says. You and the brothers get in the car. “All right, so, what do you got?” “Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder.” Sam says, you nod. “Listen to this.” You say, pressing play on the tape. “No survivors!” A scratchy voice yells before the tape ends. “"No survivors"? What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.” Dean glances at you and his brother with confusion. You shrug. “So, what are you thinking? A haunted flight?” “Well, there's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers.” You say “Remember flight 401?” “Right.” Dean says “The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.” “Maybe we got something similar to that.” You say, Dean nods in thought. “All right, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?” He asks, you look down at the list you held before handing it to Sam. “Max Jaffey.” You say. “Why him?” Dean scans down the list. “Well, for one, he's from around here. And two, if anyone saw anything weird, he did.” Sam says before you can say your own reasons. “What makes you say that?” You and Dean ask in sync. You give Sam a questioning look. “Well, I spoke to his mother.”

People Tags- (Tags are open!)

@haelyn @trilloku-blog @wickidlady

#spn fanfic #spn fanfiction #Supernatural #Supernatural fanfic #Supernatural fanfiction #Episode 4 #part 1 #Dean Winchester #dean x reader #dean x y/n #sam winchester #sam x reader #sam x y/n #x reader #reader insert #y/n

[rabbitpietale-blog]

King Mettaton: the fic

Read on AO3

Wordcount: ~2k Rated G

From a prompt from @drundertalescum / @readerrose

King Mettaton from the POV of someone who doesn't like the show

I twisted the prompt a bit, but I think you’ll like the result. :D

Of all the flat, two-dimensional characters The Underground had to offer, Mettaton was the flattest of the lot. He was as flat as his own face, and no, his other form wasn’t any better, although it did have the amusing property of smoking if Mettaton wore it too long. Mettaton lampshaded his depthless personality every second of the day. His caring was so fake it made Toriel and Asgore look like loving parents.

They were all flat, boring, lifeless. A person was the product of their history, after all, and for all that Flowey could give them all new (oh so exciting!) futures, he was stuck when it came to their pasts. There were weeks he’d spent in Alphys’s labs, laughing and making up stories, but with each load, her stories became more familiar, until it became blindingly obvious that every story she could make up could be watched on that wall of human ‘history’ films behind her. She was as flat as that stupid anime looked. But. There was one character who could consistently break through the fourth wall. Papyrus. With just a few words, "Hey, remember that time Undyne was Empress of the Underground?", Papyrus would squint, shake his head, and look at Flowey with new eyes. "Flowey?" He'd say. (Flowey, not Flowery, Flowey.) - - - - PAPYRUS "Aww geez friend, I thought you'd forgotten me!" Flowey beamed, and slipped between Papyrus' arms as he tried to hug his friend. Papyrus went toppling over. "That's because you didn't remind me!" Papyrus answered into a face full of dirt and grass. He got up onto his elbows. "You should have reminded me earlier!" "Aw Papyrus! I'm sorry, I guess I forgot!" Papyrus let it slide, he was happy to see his friend again, although it was a bit tricky trying to straighten out all the new memories in his head. He did remember Undyne as Empress of the Underground, although he wasn't quite sure how she had become Empress and a small logical part of his brain that he really didn't want to talk to was asking how... He shook his head and that part decided to shush. "Well then Flowey, what have you been doing today?" he asked. Flowey giggled. "Oh, well I was just vising the Nice Cream Guy. Did you know that he's making pink bisicles now? only they're called Mettcicles, and they're in the shape of Mettaton's fingers." Well, that sounded a little bit horrible. Flowey was watching him very carefully. "How do you heat them without breaking King Mettaton's fingers?" "I guess you can't. Wanna break the king's fingers with me?" Flowey asked, and held out a Mettcicle. The thing was. The thing was that there was a corner of Papyrus' mind that hadn't existed until Flowey asked that exact question that did want to break Mettaton's fingers. The real Mettaton, not the Mettcicle that Flowey was holding in his leaves. "I think I'll pass," Papyrus stuttered out, horrified and shaking his head, hoping that that part would fall out like the part that had been wondering exactly how Asgore had di-- "On second thought can I please have that?" Papyrus asked, and when Flowey handed over the entire Mettcicle he ate it so fast that it gave him a brain freeze. There. That was better. No intrusive thoughts. He pressed his hands to his head as the pain pressed into his skull. It. Was. Ouch. "Careful there, friend," Flowey chided. "What about yourself?" "Well I've been speaking with Alphys today. The King has her inventing some really cool stuff! She does seem a little bit stressed though. I hope she's not overworking herself. Maybe I should get her a Mettcicle..." He looked down at the two Mettcicle sticks, stained slightly pink by the icey treat he'd scoffed. "Oh no, I'm sorry! Flowey!" He scrambled to his feet and was about to run off to find the Nice Cream Guy when Flowey caught him around the ankle and almost made him plant face-first into the concrete path that bordered the small palace courtyard that they hand been chatting in. "Don't worry about that! I don't mind. I'm just... I'm glad to see you again." The words came out in a squeak, and Flowey squeaked louder as Papyrus scooped his stem into a hug. He muttered and grumbled against Papyrus' clothes but he didn't seem to be particularly honest about it. Papyrus had given him room to escape, after all. - - - - -- - - - - - PAP He and Flowey said their goodbyes, and Papyrus' soul felt lighter. It was nice to have his friend back. He hadn't even known he was missing! And Flowey was trying so hard to be good this time. He hadn't even got mad when Papyrus had eaten all the Mettcicle! His phone bleeped with an Undernet alert, and Papyrus jumped. He fished his phone out of his pocket and flipped the screen up with a fancy flick of his thumb. It was Alphys! But her icon was looking rather upset. "I don't mean to bother you--" she was awfully worried about that, far more so that she needed to be! "But... I'm worried about Undyne." "YOU DON'T NEED TO BE WORRIED ABOUT UNDYNE!" Papyrus ducked into one of the palace alcoves, out of the way of the busy (and sparkly) monsters going to and fro in their royal uniforms. He almost said it was Undyne's job to worry about everyone, since she was the head of the royal guard, but then he remembered that she... wasn't, anymore. King Mettaton said they didn't need a royal guard now that he was King, because everyone would just watch him and be happy. That really made Papyrus rather upset. It had been his dream to be in the royal guard. He tried not to be upset with Mettaton about it, he was the King after all, and King Asgore had done all sorts of things in the past -- another past -- like unmandate deadly spikes and precarious bridges, and put in handrails!

Unmandating of the royal guard though… it really pissed him off!

He jumped as he realised that Alphys hadn’t responded. He looked down to check he hadn’t accidentally turned it off. It was still on. Alphys hadn’t even started typing.

“ALPHYS?” he texted.

Alphys started typing and the phone bleeped as he received the message. “I’ve been trying to contact her for days. I can’t find her.”

“Have you tried using a bone?”

“A bone? Like a gift? Papyrus-- I don’t think--”

“DON’T WORRY ALPHYS I AM A MASTER FISHERMAN! I SHALL CATCH HER IN NO TIME!”

He just needed the right bait...

Papyrus strode home, pushing the door open so hard it slammed against the wall and waking Sans from his sprawl on the couch. His brother grunted and pushed himself to his feet, stumbling into Papyrus’ way and rubbing at the ever-present bags under his sockets.

“Bro? Watcha doing?”

Papyrus very nearly crashed into him. He stopped himself from doing that – and also managed to stop himself from screetching in frustration. His whole body was writhing with nervous energy but… maybe he did need to slow down a bit.

He took in a deep breath and let it out.

“I’m going to find a present for Undyne. Do you think she’d prefer a green ribbon or a red one?”

Sans stopped rubbing at his eyes. “Uh, bro? Don’t you remember?”

“Remember what?”

“She’s on vacation,” Sans said, bewildered. “Maybe you should have a nap if you’re forgetting things like that.”

Papyrus paused in riffling through his box of ribbons. “R-REALLY?”

Sans grinned tiredly. “Yeah.”

“Oh. Yes. Perhaps I should have a nap...”

After all, if he was hallucinating Alphys calling him maybe he did need one.

Papyrus was staring at his new sparkly racecar bed when he blinked, and realised that Undyne didn’t have a job, and you needed a job to be on vacation!

“SANS!” he yelled.

He ran downstairs, but his brother was nowhere to be found. He snatched red ribbon from the box and wrapped it around one of his bone attacks. The last few had gone missing – Papyrus suspected that annoying dog was stealing them from Undyne’s drawer – and she didn’t have many red ones left.

Present in hand, he set out for waterfall.

“Is Undyne on vacation?” he texted Alphys.

“No?” Alphys answered. “She doesn’t have a job.”

Sans was the sort of person who could take a vacation without even having a job. Maybe he’d thought Undyne was the same. She’d been a brilliant Empress! Very scary!

Even when she was Empress, he didn’t think she ever took a vacation.

Did Empresses get vacations? It sounded like a full-time job. Her time was full of it!

Vacation.

Vacation.

The word rung through his head with an echo that suggested that if Flowey had been the one to say it, it might plant a horrible thought in his mind. Flowey could be a difficult friend to have, but that was alright! It was difficult for Flowey to be friends.

They had to work on being friends together!

He walked through the echo flowers, with their creepy whispering, and caught the ghost of a deathly screetch. It (would have, if he had any) made Papyrus’ hairs stand on end. He gulped, and came to a stop.

“What’re you doing out here?”

“Flowey!” Papyrus jumped. “I. EEP!”

Flowey laughed. “Careful!”

“You did that on purpose,” Papyrus huffed, and crossed his arms. He shook his head dramatically. “You’re just shocking.”

“Aw, but I can’t help but shoot out of the ground,” Flowey answered.

“Shocking,” Papyrus reiterated. “Have you seen Undyne anywhere? Alphys and I are looking for her.”

Flowey uprooted himself and wheedled his roots into Papyrus’ bootlaces. “I haven’t seen her at all. Promise!”

It was nice to have a friend that was honest with him. Sans… tried. Did he? Papyrus would like to think he tried but mostly it seemed like Sans lied a lot. Flowey though, sometimes he talked around questions and he never told Papyrus everything, but everything he said was the truth!

… well, the truth as he saw it, anyway.

Together, they walked through the eerie echoflowers with their little deathcries. They spoke loudly to drown out the noise. They got louder the closer they walked to Undyne’s house… and Papyrus tried to ignore that.

He tried really, really hard.

“Shut up!” Flowey hissed to one of the echoflowers.

“Shut up, shut up!” it taunted.

Undyne’s door was blown open, the door left on its side in the mud and pebbles. The area around it was scoured with familiar signs of battle. It looked like he and Undyne had had a sparring match, and they’d both fought really, really hard!

The echoflowers were screaming. Flowey’s roots tightened around his ankle; he felt them through the fabric of his boot.

Papyrus went around the back. There, he spotted his brother, squatting in the dirt and piling dust into a jar. He didn’t notice Papyrus’ approach. He didn’t notice as Papyrus walked up behind him and tapped him on the shoulder.

Sans spun around. His left eye lit up with magic and his left arm shot out in an attack that didn’t take form. His eyes blackened out, and he vanished with a pop.

Papyrus looked down at the jar of dust he’d left behind, and realised he was shaking.

Sans had--

Sans couldn’t--

Papyrus pressed his hands to his eyes. Flowey murmured inquiringly at him.

Words tumbled into his mind and out of his mouth, as feeling he had never, in any lifetime, rose in him. His mind crowded with ideas he didn’t want to think and facts he couldn’t help but know. And the knowledge could leave him at any moment.

“I could… reset?” Flowey suggested. “If… if you don’t want--”

“I… I hate him!” Papyrus interrupted. “And I hate Mettaton too! And don’t you ever let me forget it!”

Flowey flattened himself onto the ground. “Are you… sure?”

Papyrus wasn’t sure! There were too many hectic thoughts in his head for him to be sure of anything, and there was a soul-crushing black hole feeling of… disappointment. He was so, so, so disappointed in his brother.

How could he have done that. How could the King have asked him to?

Flowey collected up the dust. “C’mon, let’s take this to Alphys.”

A trio of guards in sparkly regalia met them as they left the royal scientist’s labs.

- - - - - - - - - FLOWEY

Of all the flat, two-dimensional characters the Underground had to offer, Mettaton was the flattest of the lot. He was an infection, his facade of pink, sparkly inspidness oozing into every single member of the underground, turning them into vapid automatons.

“Look what I bought!” Papyrus said, and squatted down to Flowey’s level. He opened his fist to reveal a Mettaton figurine.

“He’s so cool!”

Flowey snorted. “Right. Remember that time he became king of the underground and ordered your brother to kill Undyne?”

Papyrus stilled. The vapid character trembled as his backstory was rewritten into something engaging, and Flowey waited eagerly as he began to truly move under its own power and join him past the fourth wall.

Papyrus’ head shook side-to-side, slowly.

Like something was blocking his true past.

“I’m sure… I’m sure he must have had a reason… he’s so cool...”

#my fic #king mettaton

[immortalave-blog]

When do Spiders scream (a seven page story)

               When do Spiders Scream

               He knocked my phone out of my hand for the third time this year. He laughed as the screen smashed into the hard concrete. After the impact, white lightning spread across the cool black ice of the screen. The lights flickered for a moment and then it went dark. Forever.

               “Ass hat” Spike said as she picked up the remnants of my phone. She stuck her tongue out at Nick, who in turned, flipped her off with a chuckle. They stayed like this for a moment, and then Nick gave in and went to stand next to his groupies. Nick was greeted with smiles and chuckles, and it was beyond mind-blowing. I took inventory in my head.

He had slept with her, fucked her, hooked up at a party with her, had a threesome with her and him…

               “…hello?”

               While I had been thinking about the colony of people and how their lives were all entangled together Spike had been speaking. She held out my phone to me. I accepted it graciously.

               “You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

               “Ohh shut-up cuz I won’t ever let those nut sacks mess with my family.”                              

               She gave me a “Noogie” and she walked with me to class.

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

               “Mom?” I inquired one night at dinner.

               “Mmhmm,” she replied not peeling her eyes away from her book.

               “Never mind. May I be excused?”

               “Mmmhmm,” she said, and I scuttled up the stairs.

When I got to my room, everything was pleasantly familiar. The natural light coming from the open window illuminated it, and the cool autumn breeze that filled my lungs screamed peace. The walls were the color of Dusk with glow-in-the-dark stars scattered on the celling. On the left side of the room was a twin sized bed with an odd assortment of sheets, pillows, and blankets. They ranged in both sizes and colors, but I loved them all. The most noticeable object on the bed was a comforter with red racecars on it. (They had once been my brother’s, but I had decided I had grown out of princess blankets so I took his sheets when he went to college). There were videogames and an Xbox next the TV that was adjacent to my bed that I could entertain myself with, but I did not. Instead, I went and sat in front of my mirror. I stared at the edges of my jaw, the freckles on my nose, and I counted the pimples that plagued my forehead. I stood up locked the door, closed the window and took off all of my clothes. The pale glow of the stars on my celling cast a dull glow across my bare skin. Spike had once told me that when a person was naked, all their secrets were exposed, but all I saw, staring back at me, was a monster.

               “I’m going to change my name,” I said through a mouth full of French fries.

               “Ohh yeah? To what?” Spike replied as she took a sip of her soda pop. “Like Izzie or Bella?”

               “No those are lame, and they don’t seem to suite me, I need a cooler name. Like Brendon”

               “That’s stupid, how does the name Brendon come from the name Isabel?”

               “It doesn’t, never mind. It was a stupid idea.”

               “Well you know what I think” Spike put her hand on the table to indicate the importance of her next couple words. “I think that a name should represent a person. It’s kinda like how I look like a Rachel, and Nick looks like a chad. I, personally, think that you look like an Isabel.  But if you don’t think you look like an Izzie Isabel, or Bella, than you should change it.”

“Pshhh” I replied, “My mom would kill me.”

               Overhearing our conversation, from a table near us Nick stood up. He walked towards us and the room grew silent. He made eye contact with Spike, and she returned it. They seemed to be having a battle of stubbornness. Everyone was watching now. They collectively held their breath as Nick spoke.

               “Did you say I look like a chad?”

               “Yes I did” Spike replied, she refused to break eye contact. “What’s your point?”

               “Well” Nick replied. “I personally want to know what it means to look like a Chad”

The collective population all nodded in agreement. I hadn’t noticed it until now, but they all seemed to be inching closer. Their eyes looking in every direction, waiting to see if the fly would fall into the web.

“A ‘Chad’,” she said, as she stood so that she was meeting his gaze at an equal level. “Is someone who is gorgeous. Someone who gets all the ladies. Women want him, and men want to be him. That kind of thing.”

“Well that’s very nice of you…”

She cut him off, “But he is bone headed, and dumb.” She continued, “He’s the dumbest person in the whole school, but he’s so popular that no one seems to be able to tell him to his face.”

The room was silent for a long time. Too long in my opinion. I wish someone had breathed to break the silence.

“Well,” Chad said. “At least we know that name logic isn’t true”

Like a predator to his prey, he turned to me.

“You said she looks like an Isabel, but all the Isabel’s I know are sexy, and she is obviously not.” He started to stage whisper, but everyone heard him. “Every Isabel that I know has been able to deep throat.” He paused. All eyes were on me, I turned my gaze to Spike who looked just as shocked as I did. She wasn’t expecting the battle to be turned to me. She was surprised, and flustered, she was stuttering. Before she had time to recover Nick’s goons picked me up from my armpits and put me on the table. Nick turned to speak to the entire school.

“Do you all think Isabel looks like an Isabel?”

Their faces shook, the shadows elongated.

“Because if she does, she should prove it right now.”

He grabbed my hand and I snagged it away.

“Are you admitting you don’t look like an Isabel? We can come up with a new name for you….” I bolted, pushing my way through the people whose abdomens were vibrating furiously. So much so that the room shook. My head didn’t clear until I had ran the 5 miles to get home.

I sat cross-legged in front of the mirror. The glow of the stars brought light to the tear trails that remained on my face. I stood up grabbed a razor blade from my bathroom, and returned to where I had once been. I grabbed a fistful of my hair and sawed it off. Relieving me of my mask. When I was done, I had short, spikey, uneven hair. It was beautiful.

My mom didn’t think so, and she didn’t understand why I did it. I tried to explain what happened and how I didn’t want to look like an Isabel.

“What’s wrong with your name?” she said.

“Nothing it’s just not me”

“That’s ridiculous.” She said as she looked through my bathroom drawers. “Where’s all the make-up I got you for Christmas?”

“I gave it to Spike,” I said.

“Why on earth would you do that?”

“I wasn’t using it”

               During the next week, school was hell. Everyone was whispering about me, and my new hair. They all started to spin stories about why I had cut it. In addition to this change, I had taken some of my brother’s old clothes from his room, and started to wear them every day. They were big flannels, old blue jeans, and sneakers. Nothing too flashy, but I didn’t want people looking at me and thinking about me in the compromised state that nick had implied. So I decided that baggy clothes was perfect for me. I thought I looked great. My Mom? Did not.

               “Bella, people are starting to talk about you. They are saying you are one of those LGTBQ people.”

               “What’s wrong with that?” I snapped.

I noticed myself being more confident. Stronger. More assertive. My mom didn’t like it. She started making me pray with her every day. She said she would “Pray the Gay away,” and that I would find salvation through God. While I was at school, she took apart my room. She replaced my bedsheets with pink ones from when she was in college, took my brother’s clothes out of my room, and covered my dresser in tester make-up with a sign that said, “Try me”.

               Try what? I thought. Try to change back to old me? Hell no.

               This continued, until all that was in my closet were floral dresses and really nice shoes.

“That Bitch.” I said.

“She’s your Mom Iz” Spike replied.

“Yeah but those are my things. I’m comfortable with that. She told me to me more decisive, and be more confident…”

“Yes but she didn’t ask you to be queer.”

I stood there in silence.

“My mom won’t let me hang out with you anymore. She thinks you’ll turn me gay. I don’t want to be gay. So change your attitude, or you lose me.”

Spike then pushed past me. She brushed tears from her cheeks. She pulled her skirt up, it was so short now that you could notice how long her legs were. They were thin, and fragile looking, delicate, but strong. She walked straight over to Nick and his friends. She seemed to start conversation with them, and all of their abdomens shook together. Nick made eye contact with me and winked. I flipped him off.

I am alone, I thought

               I stared at the dim reflection of myself. The person I had once seen as beautiful and confident now looked like a parasite. Broken and twisted. It was not an image of a female, or a Male, but an it.

               Was I wrong? I thought

               Is this not who I am?

               She’s gone.  

“Hey Fag,” Nick said. “I hear you want to trade your pussy for a dick.”

               I shut my locker, and turned to see Nick. His groupies surrounded him. I decided to just walk away. They followed me, they yelled names, and threw pudding cups erasers… anything. The people I walked past joined in, so I started to run. I was being chased by a mob of spiders their legs tangling with each other’s. Their mouths dripping saliva. So I ran. I went to the place I felt least associated with, but I knew I could be momentarily safe there. The girl’s restroom. The sign on the door kept him from me. So I was safe, but I was trapped. He banged on the door.

               “You don’t belong in there Fag.”

               Where did he get that notion? I thought

               “LEAVE ME ALONE!” I shouted. They stopped.

               I breathed in the hairspray coated oxygen molecules, and took in my surroundings. The stalls were metal, and all the locks were broken. The toilets were clogged, and the trashcan overflowing. The florescent bulbs surrounding the mirror dimly lit the faded pink paint that was peeling off the walls. The mirror. I walked over to it, my eyes looking at the ground. I didn’t know if I wanted to see myself.

               I took a breath, and looked. I saw me. Isabel starred back at me. Her freckled nose, her neutral smile, her sad eyes, and her long flowing hair. She hid behind it. Then school was over.

               No one came in the bathroom, and I hadn’t been able to leave. They had bolted the door closed, and there were no windows. The room was cold and dark. Spiders love cold and dark.

               He opened the doors. I was done crying. I stood and faced him.

               “If you wanted a Dick so bad you could have just asked”

He entered the room a wolf spider and a daddy long leg followed him. A black widow stood at the door. Her face was turned so you could see half her face. Her red lipstick split revealing pearly white fangs as she smiled. She looked familiar, but I didn’t recognize her. As she closed the door I saw her hand the janitor a couple $20s, he nodded and seemed to say, “Fix her.”

The spiders were holding me now. Their webs tightening the more I struggled. Their fangs glistening with intense hunger. Their eyes looked in all different directions. The black widow turned, and I froze.

How did she become this? I thought.

“Spike?”

Then the spiders attacked.

It had been a week since I had stepped foot in that school, and to be completely honest I still wasn’t ready. I had gotten a new phone, and I was still wearing my brothers clothing. Because of what happened my brother came home from college and stood up to my mom, and in turn my mom stood up to the entire rest of the family. She changed my sheets back, and bought me gender neutral clothing. It didn’t make up for it, but she was trying.

The school still had the same musty halls and the same rusty lockers and….

By the time my phone hit the floor, my claw had sliced open his flesh. His abdomen vibrated with the force of his pain, and his legs curled in on themselves. It was paralyzed. Its limbs were so brittle that the slightest touch would shatter them into dust. Seeing how weak their leader was becoming his followers scattered. Their legs pinging the tile floor with each impact, their eight eyes stretched open to the breaking point with fear.

It hissed, loudly. It attempted to move, but it was trapped. I reached into its pocket, grabbed its wallet, and pulled out $40. I stood up and turned to walk away. Its followers still starring, it still hissing, what I can only assume to be insults. I walked to the black widow it was the only follower that remained. It was as paralyzed with fear as its leader. Scared of what I might do next. She whimpered as I handed it the $40, and said. “Fix it.”

  ڌ�c3L

[the-kings-tail-fin]

I'm screaming...Short fic on how the heck Cal got on top of Willy’s Butte and how he got down?? 😂😂 please?

I SHOULDA KNOWN THIS ASK WAS INEVITABLE. I SHOULDA KNOWN. YOU ARE ABOUT TO HEAR A STORY NO ONE REMEMBERS EVER HAPPENING.

“Let go. In the dark. No lights.” Bobby slurred excitedly. “It’ll be great, I promise.”

“But I’ve never been on a dirt track, man.” Brick countered, slightly crossfaded. “What if there’s, like, monsters out there?”

“That don’t even make sense.” Cal laughed. “Come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Aw, alright.” Brick pouted, following the two out of town and towards the track around Willy’s Butte.

Mater saw them leaving, and despite his intoxicated state, wanted to make sure they didn’t get into any trouble (or cacti). Any friends of McQueen were friends of his, so he followed them out there.

The three racers were swerving all over the road, over-correcting every time they veered off the side and into the dirt. Somehow they all made it to the start line on the track.

“Alright, y’all.” Cal said, hunkering down and revving his engine. “Just one lap. That’s all. First one back here wins.”

“You’re on!” Bobby revved his engine too, with Brick firing up and following suit.

“Oh, boy, this is gunna be good.” Mater chuckled, hiding behind a bush and watching.

The boys took off and rocketed around the bank on turns one and two. In the dark, turn three appeared out of nowhere and took them all by surprise. Brick was so scared he forgot to turn and went straight down over the bank. Bobby yelled in surprise, braking and veering off to the right. Cal thought back to his training. His uncle had prepared him for something like this. He drifted around the corner, only getting wobbly once, and then gunned it to the finish line.

“Yes!” he shouted, doing a donut right there in the middle of the track. “I won!”

“Good lap, Cal!” Mater came out of hiding to congratulate him. “Even McQueen didn’t do that good his first time.”

“Really?” Cal asked, shocked.

“Yeah, the first time - “ Mater was cut off by loud moaning in the distance.

“A little help? Someone?” Brick yelled from the bottom of the ditch he was in. 

“Tow Mater to the rescue!” the tow truck yelled, speeding over to the edge of the bank. 

Bobby shook the dirt off himself and went to look over the bank at Brick. Cal joined him, and together they started laughing as Mater pulled him back up.

“Why are cacti so pointy?” Brick frowned, looking at all the scratches and plant shrapnel on him.

“Heh, it’s an incentive to keep ya from crashin’!” Mater joked. “I coulda made that there turn, you know.”

“Oh really.” Brick wasn’t convinced. “At what, thirty miles an hour?”

“Naw, I can do 200.” Mater boasted.

“This is just another story. Come on guys.” Bobby said, starting to head back to town.

“I c’n prove it to ya!” Mater insisted, suddenly feeling the need to show off. “Watch this.”

Mater turned around and got on the track. The three racecars followed him, snickering. Whatever was about to happen was gonna be priceless. Mater lowered himself and wagged his tow hook around in preparation.

“Don’t hurt yourself, now.” Bobby mocked him. “You’re the only tow truck in town.”

“Don’t you worry ‘bout a thing.” Mater said, and then exclaimed, “Rockets!”

The racers jumped back in surprise, as Mater fired up the jet engines that emerged from either side of his truck bed. Mater took off, but not before accidentally letting some slack loose in his tow cable. Cal felt the clink of cold metal hitch around his front axle. Then they were both gone.

Cal screamed unlike he’d ever screamed before. He didn’t know he was capable producing such a sound. 

“Mater, STOP!” he yelled, but Mater was too preoccupied to hear him, or notice the extra weight. “MATER!”

Bobby and Brick couldn’t comprehend what they were seeing. They sat on the track, mouths open in awe.

Mater couldn’t keep himself straight. He was going too fast for his mind to calculate trajectory. He didn’t make the first turn. He and Cal went flying almost vertically through the air coming off the embankment that provided turns one and two for the track.

“Shoot!” Mater yelled, starting to scream in fear. Luckily, Finn and Holley had also left him the parachute as a parting gift along with the thrusters. It deployed immediately and gave Mater something to work with.

Cal was screaming so loudly he wasn’t even making noise. He hadn’t planned on dying that night.

Mater in all his desperation got himself turned back around and headed for the finish line at the track. He’d done forgot he was trying to prove anything to anyone. As they came back across the track, Mater flew right towards the butte. Cal, still dangling from his tow hook, clipped the side of the rock. The hit was hard enough to knock him out, but not hard enough to really damage him. As Cal’s body relaxed, the tow hook slipped off, dropping him onto the top of the rock formation as Mater passed over it. 

Mater landed near the finished line, and struck a pose for the two gaping race cars.

“That. Was. Awesome!” Bobby yelled. 

“I will never doubt you again, Sir Tow Mater.” Brick bowed out of respect. 

“Aw, that wasn’t anythin’. Come on!” Mater insisted. “Let’s go back to town and I’ll tell ya all about the time I worked for a British spy agency.”

“Really?” Brick was astounded.

“This night can’t get any better.” Bobby said, following Mater in awe and excitement.

~ the next morning ~

Cal woke to the sun shining directly in his face. He squinted and went to turn away from it, finding that his whole body ached. He moaned a little, yawned, and looked around him.

He blinked a few times to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. There was nothing but desert around him. And… wait. Why was he so high up?

He looked down and felt ice cold panic shoot through him. He started to breath rapidly, and his mind momentarily ceased to function.

Meanwhile, back in town, everyone else was waking up. Lightning opened his eyes to find everyone still around him, sitting at Flo’s. Ah nice, they all stayed and had a good time. Then he looked around a bit more. The place was trashed. Firework wrappers were strewn across the road, and empty oil cans rolled around the pavement in the morning breeze. Brick was sitting across from him looking like a pin cushion with two flat tires. Bobby suddenly went streaking by on the road in panic, leaving a trail of dust - and were those scorpions flying off of him? McQueen blinked and tried to remember what had happened.

“Uh, hey Mr. McQueen.” Cruz hesitantly drove up, carefully dodging rolling oil cans. “Are, uh, you feeling alright?”

“Oh, hey Cruz. Yeah, I’m fine.” Lightning answered her, looking around, confused. “I think, anyway. What happened?”

“You guys partied it up, that’s what happened.” she said, still looking concerned.

She paused and continued, “So, I spent most of last night keeping tabs on y’all, but I kind of lost track of Cal and no one knows where he is. I’m starting to worry. Everyone else is accounted for.”

“You lost Cal.” McQueen repeated, just to make sure he’d heard her correctly.

“Maybe.” she looked guilty.

They sat there in silence for a moment and listened to the groaning throughout the town. The town’s people were almost as trashed as it was. 

Suddenly, an unnatural howling sound came from off in the distance. Mater immediately gasped and ducked for cover, fearing the Screaming Banshee. It stopped briefly, but started up again. Lightning and Cruz glanced at each other and bolted off towards the sound.

Cal took another deep breath, yelled, and looked towards the town. He thought he saw a cloud of dust coming his way. Thank the manufacturer they’d heard him.

Lightning and Cruz approached the race track, but didn’t see anything. “Hey guys! Guys!” That was definitely Cal’s voice. But where was he? 

“Up here!” Cal yelled, driving as close as he dare to the edge of the rock. “Oh, am I so happy to see you both.”

They looked up. Cruz started to laugh uncontrollably. Lightning was genuinely shocked. Several others rolled up behind them to stare at the marvelous sight. 

“What on earth?” Sally said, coming up beside Lightning. “How did we manage to miss that?”

“Uh, Cal?” Lightning yelled up at him. “How exactly did you get up there?”

Cal stopped and thought about it. It scared him a little that he had zero recollection of the latter half of the night. “I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“Ooooh, this is too good.” Cruz snapped a picture.

“Hey!” Cal yelled at her. “I saw that! Don’t be sending that to anyone!”

“Even your family?” she asked.

“Especially them!” Cal pleaded. “Come on, guys, how do I get down?”

“Heck if we know, kid.” Sheriff showed up. “We don’t have a ladder that long, and no one here can fly. Looks like you’re stuck to me.”

“Wait… that’s it!” Cal had an idea. “Cruz! Call up Tex and get him to send a helicopter out here.”

“Really? That’s your best idea?” she asked.

“I don’t see anyone else with anything better.” Cal defended himself.

Cruz shrugged and dialed up her sponsor on her phone.

“He did WHAT?” Tex asked loud enough for everyone on the ground to hear.

#cal weathers #lightning mcqueen #tex #cruz ramirez #brick yardley #bobby swift #mater