Warning: traumatic experiences, being hit by a car, hospitals, ambulances, a concussion, and sad Harry.
I had a seriously cute idea for this….and then this happened. I apologize in advance.
I would’ve thought watching Moana while writing this would’ve helped it be happier….but nope. Oops.
“Harry!” You called, waving at him from across the street. You looked both ways, before starting to cross the road. Harry smiled at you, before he glanced down the road, and his expression changed to one of fear.
“(Y/N)! Watch out!” Harry cried, starting towards you. You looked to the side, and saw a car speeding towards you. You tried to run out of the way of the car, but it’s bumper clipped you, the force knocking you to the ground. Your head came into contact with the ground, your vision blurring from the force of the impact. “Love? (Y/N), love, can you hear me?”
“Harry?” You murmured, trying to focus on his face.
“Oh, God, (Y/N), you’re bleeding,” Harry whispered, quickly pulling out his phone. He dialled 911, and you could hear him talking, before the words faded out, and your vision going dark.
Harry gasped, his phone slipping through his fingers to collide with the ground. One of his hands went to yours, and the other reached for your wrist, checking your pulse. He sighed in relief when he felt it, beating strongly underneath his fingertips. Soon afterwards, he heard the wailing of the sirens approaching, and the area became a flurry of activity. The paramedics loaded you into the ambulance, and Harry hurriedly asked if he could accompany you, climbing into the passenger’s seat, when they said he could. The ambulance raced towards the hospital, the other traffic getting hurriedly out of the way. When they arrived, the paramedics unloaded the stretcher you were on, and rushed you into the hospital. Harry was told to wait outside the room you were in while the doctor examined you, and that he would be informed when they knew something. Harry sat outside your room, his gaze focused on the floor in front of him.
“Mr. Styles?” A voice asked. Harry looked up, and saw a young doctor in front of him. “I’m Dr. Watson. I need to talk to you about Ms. (Y/L/N)?”
“Is….is she okay?” Harry whispered.
“She’s going to be fine. She has a mild concussion, but other than that, she’s going to be perfectly fine. She’s very lucky,” Dr. Watson said. “You can go in and see her, if you want.”
“Thank you, Doctor. Thank you,” Harry quietly said, before standing and walking into your room. He gulped at the sight of you lying there, unmoving. Harry took a seat in the chair next to your bed, before taking your hand in his. After what felt like an eternity, you moved slightly, squinting before opening your eyes.
“(Y/N)?” Harry whispered.
“Harry? Where am I?” You quietly said.
“You’re in the hospital. Do you remember the accident?” Harry quietly asked.
“There was a car….I remember,” You replied.
“The doctor said that you’re going to be perfectly fine,” Harry said, smiling gently at you. He took a deep breath, relieved that you were okay. The doctor came in shortly afterwards, checked you over, and released you. The two of you went home, spending the rest of the day relaxing and watching movies. Harry kept glancing over at you, checking to make sure that you were okay.
“Harry, you keep looking over at me. What’s going on?” You inquired.
“Nothing, love,” Harry replied.
“Harry,” You said, turning towards him.
“Okay,” Harry murmured. “I just….I was so scared this afternoon. You lost consciousness, and I thought I’d lost you. It was the scariest thing I’ve ever experienced.”
Harry looked up at you, his eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Harry,” You whispered. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him close to you. You felt tears sinking into your shirt, wetting the fabric. “It’s okay. I’m okay. You’re not going to lose me,”
“I love you, (Y/N),” Harry quietly said, gently rubbing your back.
“I love you too, Harry,” You replied. The two of you stayed that way until Harry drifted off to sleep, his hand clutching yours. You smiled at the sight, before returning to watching the movie.
“And there goes Weathers and McQueen, rounding turn 3!”
“It looks like Chick got caught up in the pits, that’s gonna leave Weathers with a huge lead!”
The King steadied himself into the lower lane of the track as he rounded the turn, his chassis low to the ground as his body tilted from the momentum. Lightning wasn’t too far off of his tail, his gaze centered on the blue race car before him.
“Alright, wait for him to go the outside, then slip by,” Doc spoke up to Lightning through the headset, watching the two racers exit the turn.
Lightning nodded in confirmation and grit his teeth as he pressed his engine hard enough to get side by side with Strip. The King glanced to the rookie, and though he didn’t smile, it was a look of respectful competitiveness. It wasn’t a smile, but it felt like one, it was the urge to win, the feeling driving both racers, in both the figurative and literal sense.
Chick veered around the second turn of the track now, an angered expression on his face as he saw the racers far ahead.
The two racers shared their stances for a good few minutes, with Lightning waiting for the perfect chance to take the lead. His engine’s powerful roaring only fueled him with more confidence, and it got him into the mindset that he had the assured ability to take the win. He kept his eyes straight on the track, glancing every few moments at The King, tracking his every choice and direction. It was coming up soon…
Lightning hurriedly accelerated, his body lowering to gain lineage as he steadily began to pass Weather’s frame. The red car was on the outside, and it only gave him another advantage to surpass the other racer. McQueen grinned happily as he managed to get far enough, keeping his new speed as he was now in first place.
Far behind them, although they couldn’t hear it, was Chick speeding as far and hard as he could go, the distance between him and the other two cars ahead closing slowly. He would soon reach them to take the win, at least he could try; but either way, he did not look happy about where he stood.
“Here, comes Chick, rounding turn 3 now, he’s catchin’ up to the leaders!” Darrel Cartrip stated over the microphone, and Chick’s fans in the crowds all cheered, though they were few.
The King’s gaze centered on McQueen as the red racer was now in front of him, though he didn’t panic and make any unnecessary and dangerous moves. He could pass the rookie in the next turn, regardless of his actions.
“Strip is right on your tail son, make sure to keep an eye on him, he’s going to try and pass you in the fourth turn.”
“Thanks Doc!” Lightning replied, speeding up further to his top speed as the track straightened out to its full length. Weathers tailed Lightning close, though his gaze flicked back as Chick neared up quickly.
“The legend, the runner up, and the rookie, lining up! With only 10 laps to go, this is gonna be close!” Bob Cutless stated, on the edge of his place in the booth, watching with great interest.
As the fourth turn neared, Strip took the moment and sped by Lightning with an incredible speed, he wasn’t called the King for nothing. Lightning watched with a somewhat look of shock as it had been so sudden, and he cursed under his breath as he hadn’t taken Doc’s advice soon enough.
Lightning sighed, but he wasn’t giving up just yet. All he had to do was earn his place back, that was all. Now he didn’t only hear his engine and Weather’s, as there was a new sound entering his range of hearing. He could sense Chick drawing up from behind, and he only put on a smirk of how it was all playing out for them. It took a minute, but the green car managed to have his front bumper aligned evenly besides McQueen’s back left fender. The Stock car narrowed his eyes, his anger subduing by just a bit since he was finally caught up, but it was still there.
“Hey McQueen!” Chick stated in his usual voice of annoyance. Lightning glanced to the direction of his voice from the side, realizing how close he was gaining up on him.
“Wait until you see me in Dinoco blue! Just a few short laps, prepare to taste the thunder!” he commented, though Lightning rolled his eyes. Just a distraction.
“Yeah, sure Chick, in your dreams. That’s why you’re behind me!” Lightning replied, speeding up to his top speed.
Strip had taken a little more of a lead now, about 20 yards in front of Chick and Lightning. Chick grumbled under his breath and sped up as well, noticing the first turn nearing. He glanced to the television in the center of the stadium, which showed the King’s lead.
“I am not going to be stuck behind you all again!” he called up, nearing Lightning ever so slightly, getting a little too close for comfort to the red racer’s side.
“Watch your distance kid, get out of it in the next turn!” Doc told McQueen, his gaze following the racers as they sped along. Strip was in the turn now, resuming his usual track of going to the inside to get around the turn as fast as possible.
Lightning gave a slight nod to himself, gritting his teeth as he pushed himself ever so harder. He settled his eyes on The King, making a mental note that he’d be able to catch up in no time if he kept his pace consistent. Besides him, Chick made sure to match the red car’s speed, narrowing his eyes. On his list of plans for this race, losing was not one of them. An idea came to his head; but it wasn’t new. It was something that always occurred to him, something that was drilled into his mindset over and over. He glanced at McQueen’s side, seeing that they were still alongside each other, bumper to fender.
“I am not staying behind you again!” he repeated, suddenly ramming at Lightning’s side.
Lightning gasped and suddenly crashed into the wall fender first, golden sparks spraying in all directions as he struck the wall hard. The red car veered to the left in a millisecond, his side just barely clipping Chick’s front bumper. Lightning was sideways now, his tires skidding inwards and leaving dark tire marks on the road.
“McQueen is loose, McQueen is loose!” the announcers were shouting, and Lightning’s gaze flicked sideways, which allowed him to see forward. The smallest bump in the racetrack suddenly made his front wheel buckle inwards and it forced him into the air. The King’s gaze flicked up to the television as he heard the announcer’s calls, and his gaze widened, his speed slowing ever so slightly.
Terror struck through Lightning as his body was now in the air, but all feelings were eliminated as the side of his front bumper struck the ground. His back left side tilted forward, the force beginning to flip his body in a wild spin. Yellow sparks flashed in all directions as he slammed into the ground repeatedly, metallic pieces scattering onto the ground. The crowd gasped, their eyes widening as they watched the scene unfold in front of them. McQueen’s body flipped quickly, it being a blur as gravity shoved him toward the grass in the inner parts of the stadium. His spoiler suddenly ripped off, with scratches and dents embedding themselves deeply into his frame, making for permanent scars. He plummeted face first at times, only causing his back side to be shoved forward all over, landing on his back. Smoke trailed from him, and he began to come to a gradual stop, tilting over onto his back heavily.
The King found himself slowing down for some reason, and Chick sped by him like a blur. The green car rounded the next turn and was off within seconds.
Strip gazed at the television, and knew something wasn’t right. He quickly slammed his brakes, the road now stained with his tire tracks. Once he stopped, he reversed and turned around to rush over to McQueen.
As he neared, he could see the damage was more severe than the televisions were showing it as.
He nudged McQueen and tried to flip him right side up, but flinched at the car’s murmur of pain.
“You’re gonna be alright buddy, let’s just get you on your tires,” he assured, pressing against McQueen again and getting him on his side before flipping him right side up. Chick continued to round the track, cheering himself on, though the crowd was silent in disbelief.
The King blinked, worry filling his gaze as the injuries came into better view.
It was atrocious.
There was smoke steaming up from Lightning’s entire body, from his hood to the underside of him. His tires were bent in an awkward position, only leaving it to fear to form what his axles must’ve looked like. In many places his frame was chipped off, some parts larger than others, and his entire spoiler was nowhere in sight. The dents were extremely deep, marking his body heavily, especially on his hood. McQueen’s eyes were only visible in the slightest, his gaze clouded and tinged with red. Oil was leaking out from underneath him, and there was even liquid oozing out of his exhaust pipes on the sides and his tailpipe. Lightning was taking in struggled, slow breaths, as if he ever dared to stop he’d pass out.
Doc was in complete shock and he sped down off the ramp and headed to the crash sight. He went with a speed he hadn’t used in a while down pit lane, skidding around the turn to get to being in the right direction.
Terror filled his engine with flashbacks of his own crash and worry that this was the end of Lightning’s racing, for good. The same thing that happened to himself would happen to the rookie. He couldn’t let it happen, not to someone who brought him so much joy with the adrenaline of racing.
“Kid–kid!” he stated quickly as he neared, though he found himself slowing as his mouth opened in shock. The damage was worse than his own had been.
The sound of Chick rounding another turn behind them was a dull noise now.
The King’s worried gaze flicked to Doc, and the light blue car backed up so the darker blue car could head up closer.
“Kid…” Doc breathed out, his eyes only widening further at the injuries. This couldn’t be happening…Not when the rookie had so much left in him.
Lightning coughed, though it was barely audible. His dazed vision landed on Doc, his pupils dulling at the slightest as he tried to focus on him.
“…D-D..oc…” he rasped out, his breathing cutting back into its slow momentum again. The Hudson Hornet edged closer, his expression being fearful and full of denial.
“Lightnin’, you’re, you’re gonna be okay. Just hold on…” he breathed out, in reassurance for both Lightning and himself. The sound of sirens in the air met them, and Doc and Weathers turned around, spotting the ambulances speeding up toward them.
As he got a look, Doc turned back around, his gaze full of sorrow and pain.
Lightning’s gaze was slowly clouding over, growing dull. As Doc glanced down, the amount of oil underneath the racer was flowing in sickening amounts.
“He must have torn a main line, get him into the ambulances now!” an emergency vehicle shouted quickly, but Doc remained unmoving as the ambulance pulled up beside Lightning.
He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t fathom it. He was bleeding too badly, and the way his gaze looked was a very, very bad sign.
“C'mon kid, you can’t…l-leave…” Doc’s voice broke, and tears edged at his eyes. It wasn’t like him to cry at all, in fact, he’d only done it a few times in his life. His voice grew hoarse and he inched ever so closer, his breathing shaky.
The ambulance’s back doors opened as the vehicle positioned itself behind the fallen racer.
Lightning shuddered as emergency cars carefully lifted him up, edging him into the back of the ambulance. Even more oil leaked onto the grass, and Doc found himself shedding tears.
“K-Kid…you’ll…be fine…” he breathed, his gaze connecting with Lightning. The rookie didn’t seem to notice this, his eyelids ever so slightly dropping down as if he was going to fall asleep.
The Hudson Hornet jolted as the doors slammed closed, breaking off the view from him.
Clicking on its loud sirens, the ambulance accelerated away quickly, driving toward the exit to the nearest hospital.
Doc lowered his gaze onto the ground, seeing the blood puddled in large amounts, which was already seeping into the dirt. The King hesitantly glanced at him, his eyes filled with sorrow.
“I’m so sorry..” Strip breathed, his gaze flicking back to Chick as the car had rounded the final lap and already crossed the finish line. But, he was the only one celebrating.
Strip drew back slightly, letting out a heavy hearted sigh. His gaze fell to the blood again, his eyes flicking over it ever so slightly.
“That..” he swallowed, as if not wanting to say it, “that might be fatal…”
Doc knew this too. Something had broken that definitely shouldn’t have.
Drawing back slowly, Doc’s gaze was filled with a small amount of panic that spoke he wasn’t believing this was all happening.
“No…” he breathed out, the tears finally edging down his hood.
Strip didn’t need to look at Doc to know. He already heard him. He looked away, closing his eyes in denial as well. No one had ever thought this may have been Lightning’s final race. Or even worse…his final day permanently.
Doc reversed back a bit, the other members of the pit crew coming into mind. He couldn’t bear to think what they were feeling. Mater, Sally…
The Hudson Hornet forced himself to look up, noticing that the crowd was much quieter than they were before. It was a moment of confusion for him, but he figured they must’ve been worried too.
Doc’s pain only grew worse. Lightning had been forward to racing today; it was something he loved. And to have it all end so soon…It wasn’t right. It just wasn’t right.
All of McQueen’s pit crew was grieving back inside the pit stop, and it broke Sally’s heart more to see Doc sobbing, actually sobbing.
“Doc–…I…” she breathed out, her voice shaky. “I-I don’t know what to say…” she murmured, glancing at Mater, who was strangely silent.
Two cars came into the pits, the King and his pit crew chief.
“Officials told us–…” the pit crew chief began, but his voice trailed off.
The King spoke up instead, his voice solemn. “McQueen is…they got him to the hospital but…it…” he trailed off as well, but the cars they were speaking to slowly got the message.
Doc’s eyes widened huge and he looked at a loss for words, his gaze shaky.
Sally drove up slightly, her gaze filled with disbelief. “St-Stickers is..?”
The King forced himself to connect gazes with her. “He..they, said he…didn’t make it…” he breathed out, his gaze lowering.
Sally blinked, tears filling her eyes as they trailed down her hood. She backed up, terrible pain wrenching inside her engine as she comprehended what had been said.
The entire thing hit Doc all over again, squeezing his eyes shut hard as he combated the sorrow deep within him.
“I’m, I’m sorry,” Strip choked out, trying to keep himself composed. “He…lost too much blood. There..was nothing they could…do..” he finished off, the words stinging as he said it.
“Yuuri, how are you so good at this?” Victor asked, staring in wonder at the bright expanse of his flat screen TV.
Yuuri’s tongue poked out of the corner of his mouth, just shy of the foam-tipped mic of his headset. His thumbnails dug into the joysticks of his Elite controller, leaving little crescent marks in the rubber—a terrible habit that he’d never been quite able to break, but the pressure was on, and everyone on the opposing team was gunning for him.
“Vitya, my kill count is only like, eleven people.” Yuuri’s eyes flickered to the top right corner of the screen, and—
—no scope headshot.
“Katsudon, you cheating four-eyed bastard!” Yurio snarled into Yuuri’s ear.
“That’s what you get for using a hand cannon as your primary,” Yuuri replied with a smug smirk. “Can’t get close enough to Firefly me now, can you?”
“Have you even dropped your Special Ammo?”
“Kind of hard to lose it if I haven’t died yet, isn’t it?”
“I fuckin’ hate Iron Banner. After this match I’m joining your fireteam.”
“He’s just mad because he’s losing,” Victor said as he scooted across the couch to cuddle up against Yuuri’s side with a smug, proud smirk. “My Yuuri’s so talented.”
“Victor said—” Yuuri started, and caught a glimpse of a bright blue helmet. He took aim.
“I heard—what—he said—fuck!!”
Yuuri grinned to himself as the achievement Strength Of The Wolf popped up on their screen. Alpha team was absolutely crushing Beta team, and Yuuri wasn’t the only one responsible for the ten kill streak without a single allied death. “We have to get you a better scout rifle. We should run the raid later.”
“Does Victor know how long a raid takes?”
Yuuri shot a sidelong glance to his fiancé, who was enraptured by the PVP match. “Um, no. But if we find a good group on the LFG subreddit I don’t think it would be a problem.”
“Whatever, whatever.” Yurio went suspiciously silent.
Yuuri sat up, instantly alarmed—his eyes scanned the screen for enemy players, and then—
His health bar flashed as he was taken down to half by a well-placed hand cannon round, but Yuuri was prepared. He smashed the left and right bumpers and a bolt of lightning struck the ground below his Warlock. He unleashed his Stormcaller super to the tune of one, two, three Guardians—
Synopsis: Emma Swan has arrived in Storybrooke, Maine, to do research for a story about small town political corruption. Her time there gets complicated when she meets the dashing mayor, Killian Jones, and is enticed by the promise of a life she never thought she could have.
Rated: M for language, hot scruffy mayors, and corruption (and not of the political sort).
Author’s Note: This was
a birthday one-off for killihan-jones that spiraled out of control. My deepest
gratitude to amagicalship and kat2609, my betas, and crew on the SS
CaptainSwan to the end of the world or time. This banner was done for me by the amazingly brilliant spartanguard, my
color guard spirit animal, and grateful doesn’t begin to cover it.
Emma Swan stepped out of a
shiny black Audi sedan and into a pool of streetlight on the corner in front of
her seaside hotel.
“Thanks for the ride,” she
mouthed to the man behind the closed window, waving.
Silently, she was grateful
he had stayed in the car; if he were to get out right now, her resolve to keep
her hands off of the man would be shot to hell. It struck her that perhaps hell
is exactly where he came from. She was certain there were no angels that looked
the way he looked tonight: tousled brown hair, stubble, tight black jeans, and
dark grey button down shirt with the collar open more than was decent. It
wasn’t just the clothes. The body beneath seemed as though it had been built
for sin. And he knew it. The way he carried himself, as though he was always
two seconds away from luring you into a dark corner, trapping you against the
wall, and having his way with you. The devil incarnate.
A cool breeze blew up from
the water, breaking her thoughts and making her stand up straighter. She took a
deep breath and lifted her hair off her damp neck. What she needed right now
was to escape the oppressive heat. Escape him, a small
voice whispered. Since the breeze was coming off the water, she thought, in her
half-sober logic, that it might be a good idea to head down to the marina,
maybe dangle her feet from the docks.
She heard the swish of the
window rolling down on the car behind her, and felt the air conditioning spill
out onto her arms. She turned to face the open window, tugging the back of her
tight red dress down as she bent down to speak. Act
casual, Swan. “I’m fine, now, Mr. Mayor. You’ve done the chivalrous thing
and delivered me to my hotel. You can go now.”
He started to say
something, but she stood up and started to walk away, bypassing the path to her
building and heading towards the water.
Behind her, she heard the
tires slowly crunching on the gravel, and then they were silent. A car door
opened and shut. Shit. She could hear his shoes pounding the pavement at a quick
clip and then he came to a halt. When she turned around, she found him staring
at her with a look of concern knitting his brows. He ran his hand through his
hair and exhaled, and she tried to ignore how damn sexy he looked when he was
“The inn was that way,
Swan. So unless you have taken up residence in someone’s houseboat, you’re
walking in the wrong direction.”
“Where I walk is none of
“I beg to differ. The water
down there is at least twenty feet deep. The last thing I need to wake up to on
Sunday is a lawsuit because a bloody tourist decided to take a drunken stroll
off the end of my docks.”
This piece that didn’t make the final cut for Out Here Hope Remains, and is loosely influenced by C.S. Lewis’ The Great Divorce, has been sitting in a file for months and I’m just like what the heck, here, have a sad thing.
And Over Kansas the Whole Universe Was Stilled
Jason is outside the church leaning against the trunk of the car, smoking and flicking ash off the end of the cigarette with trembling hands, when Martha Kent finds him.
“I’m sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. Just needed some air.”
“I see that,” she says, giving the cigarette in his hand a sharp look. But then she leans against the car next to him and says, “I’m not upset with you. Just wanted to check on you out here all by yourself.”
Jason fights a lump in his throat and shrugs.
“Did Father Marcus say something to upset you?” she asks.
Jason takes another long draw on the cigarette, flicks it again.
“Well, you can stay out here or–”
“I think I was in purgatory. Or limbo, I dunno,” Jason says quietly.
“Oh,” Martha says.
“Everything was gray,” he says. “And it went on forever.”
He can feel how wide his eyes must be, as he stares at the blacktop of the parking lot without really seeing it. He thinks of slate gray rows of houses with slate gray shingled roofs, going on out of sight into the smoky gray distance.
And every road he walked brought more of the same and not a single soul for miles. When he had found people, they had always seemed to forget they were talking to him, or anyone, halfway through their second sentence. He remembers being angry and terrified and pleading with them, only to find he, too, was trailing off and forgetting what he was doing until the other person inevitably wandered away, or he did.
So he had walked and walked and walked through empty gray houses and empty gray streets under a cloudy sky that seemed to have no sun or moon or stars or day or night, perpetually half-lit in an ashy glow. He had found he didn’t need sleep or food or drink, though he’d find tables set with feasts of washed out color. Sometimes he slept anyway, even though he had nightmares about crowbars and the color red, just to see something that wasn’t gray, just to do something that wasn’t walking.
And then one day it ended; he was sucked out of the timeless fog of it like it had never happened, like he hadn’t forgotten what a day was with the endless lack of days to count. And he’s tried not to think about it too much, about what it means.
When Zsasz had attacked, only a month ago now, he had known he had died again even though it surprised him when he was told. As stupid as it was, he’d never really put the two together before; the gray place always felt like some weird dream he couldn’t shake, something he’d had as a child that lingered in his brain until it was part of his own internal history.
But he had known it wasn’t a dream then, when his entire self was blinking in and out of existence in the gray again. One second he was sitting on a chair, the next he was swallowed in a darkness full of hurt, and again and again and again until the darkness stayed and turned into a warehouse and a cigarette and pain all over.
He wishes sometimes he could have just gone back to walking.
Then again, other days he recalls sharply the frustration and loneliness of impossible conversations and finds beauty in a line of poetry, a paragraph of prose; he finds himself lost in laughter or the grounding warmth of a hug; the timbre of Bruce’s voice like a homing beacon or the weight of Damian on his shoulders; the sugary crunch of a bowl of cereal quietly shared in Dick’s apartment. Those times, the gray place in memory feels not like the in-between he is certain it is, but like it’s own kind of hell and it scares the shit out of him, the idea of dying again.
For a third time.
And that is when he realizes he’s dropped his cigarette, he’s slumped down to the ground with his back against the bumper of the car, and he’s crying again because he’s always crying these days it seems, and Martha Kent’s arm is around his shoulders. He leans against her because he has to lean somewhere and his arms hurt and it’s cold, it’s fucking freezing on the ground, but she’s sitting with him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, hiccuping, like he’s some shit kid instead of a grown-ass twenty-year-old man bawling in the parking lot of a small-town Kansas Catholic Church because a chorus of people sang, “who mourns in lonely exile here.”
“Shh, honey, you’ve been through hell,” she says, and he knows she’s not being flippant.
Here is the story I promised! It was an rp between @nightfuryshadows and I. Hope you enjoy!
Lightning watched his old mentor drive up to the starting line. One of his favorite things of all times, if not only, was about to happen a third time this week. None of them ever got tired of it, for it was a connection that was unbreakable between the two.
Lightning drove up to Doc’s side, offering him a slick grin.
“You ready?” he questioned, tilting his tires against the rubble and pebbles underneath him. “I’m not getting beat this time, not today.”
The Hornet snorted, glancing to the side with a smile.
"The last time you said that it never happened,” he replied, to which McQueen scoffed.
“This time I’ll make sure it happens. Don’t worry, don’t think too much on it.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t even be worried about it.” Doc replied, lowing slightly as he started his engine up and gave it a rev. “It’s already slipped my mind like every other time you’ve said it,” he continued with a chuckle. “You ready hotshot?”
“Ohhh yeah, I was born ready, get ready old man because here comes the lightning..!”
Seconds after, both cars were full speed ahead. Their tires skid in the dirt as they sped off into the distance along Willy’s Butte.
Lightning’s usual competitive smile drew up on his face, his eyes focused straight ahead. The two vehicles went down the small, steep ‘hill’ before reaching flat ground again, the huge curve coming up in the far distance. Lightning glanced to the side, noting that he was bumper to bumper with the Hornet, and he sped up by just a bit. Now, he was out of view, but after a few moments he reappeared into his vision. Amusement settling in, Lightning prepared himself as they grew ever so close to the curve, the sounds of their engines rattling strongly into the air.
The both of them seemed to be flying around the curve, going completely horizontal with their speed.
But, on the way back down, something must have happened. A hiccup in his engine, a malfunction, a mistake, something didn’t click right.
As they came back down the curve, Doc’s engine made a sudden, jarring sound. Lightning’s gaze flicked over in time to see the old car’s expression turn to that of fear. Before he could react, Doc’s wheels shook underneath him and his back end suddenly took a sharp turn forwards as the dirt lost traction.
Doc’s eyes widened, and before he knew it his body turned over in less than a second. It was a blur to Lightning, whom of which breaked harshly, though it did not stop him from watching his mentor’s body flip continuously away from him across the rough ground. Dirt and ash sputtered in all directions, a haze of blue and black blending in together to represent Doc’s crumbling form. The Hornet’s face slashed across the ground, his sides smashing violently against the dirt and sand below him. Pieces of metallic parts snapped off from his body, as to which could be seen, but it was difficult to see what exactly it was. To Lightning, he was mortified – he didn’t know what to do. But his instincts finally kicked in, fear blasting through him as he screamed out Doc’s name in devastation.
His brakes finally took action and his body came to a stop as Doc’s did. The old racer was cloaked in dirt in several places, and oil leaked out from under him and stained the ground. His back bumper was completely ripped clean, laying in the dirt feet away. His spoiler was gone, and his hood was crumpled up in a similar manner to his first crash. His front wheels were turned inwards and his expression was that of true pain. His engine also sounded very abnormal, a very bad sign in itself.
“DOC!” Lightning screamed, his engine roaring as he sped up to him, abruptly stopping a mere few inches away. He panted hard, his eyes wide as he took in the sight of the blue car’s state.
“Doc, oh God– Doc!” he breathed, tears stinging at his eyes. He didn’t know what to say. “T-Talk to me, c-can you talk?!” he questioned quickly, and his mentor spared him a dull glance. He was in too much pain to even breathe. But they both knew that help was needed; it wasn’t something to be asked for.
McQueen edged back a bit, his frame inches above the ground than usual, much to his panicked behavior. “Doc, just hold on – hang in there, I’m, I’m gonna get help! D-Don’t move, please – it’s gonna be okay…!” he cried, glancing back in the direction of the small town.
Lightning’s back tires disappeared in the dirt as he sped off as fast as his engine would take him. His breathing was rapid and tears brimmed at his hood. His skid around the turn to the town, quickly glancing around for anyone. He noticed Mater first, and slammed his brakes in front of the tow truck. “Mater–Mater oh god you have to help! Doc’s crashed…he’s crashed bad! Where’s everyone else?!”
Mater’s expression turned to that of fear and he quickly glanced around. “Dad gum…I’ll get right there! Ya go back to him and make sure he’s a'lright!”
“Well'a where is he?” Mater quickly asked, glancing down the path they would take to race at Willy’s Butte.
“He’s, j-just at the end of the big curve!” Lightning said, his rear tires spinning wildly as he took off in that direction, Mater pursuing as fast as he could from behind. McQueen was able to get to where Doc was first, with the tow truck reaching them a few seconds later, panting for breath. Mater blinked in shock, his mouth falling open once he spotted Doc’s appearance.
“Dad-gum! Is he alright?!” he questioned, but it was obvious he wasn’t. The truck quickly went behind Doc, looping his cable down and latching it onto the blue car’s undercarriage.
Doc groaned out at the movement and Lightning’s eyes widened.
“No–no Mater stop!” he broke out, quickly gazing back to Doc with a broken hearted look. “You’re just…” his gaze turned to where Doc’s wheels were crumpled underneath him, laying flat on the ground, and his body was touching it as well. “He..can’t move…” Lightning breathed.
Mater turned back around. “Doc…Doc you’re gon’ be okay!” he reassured, turning to look at Lightning, who didn’t seem to be thinking the same way. Doc’s gaze was clouded and pained, and Lightning noticed the amount of oil under him had increased greatly.
“Doc…Doc, hang on, it’s okay, just…” McQueen breathed out, hesitatingly reaching forward. Somewhere in his mind, he had the slightest thought to try and shift him into a better position, in one that he could be rolled away by Mater to safety. But he feared if he touched his wheels with his own, it wouldn’t end well.
“How we 'gon bring him back ta town?” Mater asked, worry filled in his voice and eyes as he turned to McQueen for reassurance. “He’s the only doctor we have! He IS the doctor and, it’s far!” he said, to which the red car looked at him in disbelief. But he didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure of himself. Lighting glanced back at Doc, who seemed to grow quiet, small groans coming from him every few seconds.
“Doc..Doc hold on..!” Lightning breathed out, noticing something was off. He could tell from the smoke coming out of his engine that something was going wrong on the inside. He then noticed the life fading from Doc’s vision, how his gaze was half lidded and clouded heavily.
The life was dying from it.
“No..! No Doc!” Lightning suddenly gasped out, realizing what was happening then and there. “Mater–get someone! Get someone NOW! He’s…he’s dying!”
Mater felt nothing but fear as he whipped around, speeding off as fast as possible toward the town.
Lightning edged closer to Doc’s front, pressing a tire against his corner.
“Doc, Doc, please– please, don’t die on me…don’t leave me, not now, not now…” he begged, tears beginning to trail down the sides of his hood. The blue Hornet moved his gaze to McQueen, his glossy eyes glinting as they made eye contact. Lightning struggled to remain calm, his voice waving over as he spoke and his lips quivering. “Doc…you’re going…to be fine, don’t..it’s okay, please…”
Doc finally managed to speak, his body shuddering slightly as the life was leaving from it.
“S–sorry…kid…this..is the e-end of the road…f-for me..” he choked out, his voice pained and hoarse, as if he was having a very hard time saying it.
The lump in Lightning’s throat only grew worse and the tears streamed down his face further. He could hear voices in the distance, but still gave Doc a slight nudge. “No…no you can make it–you…you made it last time Doc…! You have to..!”
Doc let out a small, harsh cough, his eyes squeezing shut and his body tensing. He reopened them, settling his gaze on Lightning once more. He gave the slightest of a shake of denial, that if McQueen wasn’t paying attention hard enough he wouldn’t have noticed it.
“It’s…a-alright, h-hotshot…I’ll…s-still be…with..y-you…” he said in a subtle whisper, his breathing beginning to slow down.
Lightning refused to take his eyes off his mentor, more tears falling from his eyes. “D-Doc…Doc, no…n-no, don’t go! P-Please…?” he cried gently, tightening his grip from where he held Doc.
“W-win…win some more…ra-races for me rookie…” Doc stated silently, his voice broken as he drew in and let out a slow breath.
Lightning drew back slightly, his body shaking with a sob as he managed to get one last look at Doc’s living gaze. The old car gazed back at him before closing his eyes, his body going ever so gently limp.
Lightning could see the life fade out of his body, and he broke out into rough sobbing. “N-no..! No no no…Doc! Doc…!”
He didn’t hear the sounds of tires clashing against dirt near up from the path. Mater was there, leading Sally to the other two.
A distraught expression formed on Mater as his gaze flicked from Doc to Lightning, his tow cable and body lowering heavily as he came to a stop. Sally drove up from the side, her eyes wide as she saw the scene for herself.
“Oh no, Doc–…” she breathed out, realizing he wasn’t breathing anymore. Her attention was caught by Lightning,, whose eyes were glazed over with tears, sobs coming from him as he reversed back.
“Oh Sally…he’s gone..h-he’s really gone..!” the red car sobbed out, and Mater remained near motionless, his gaze locked on Doc.
The blue car was completely limp and lifeless, his body torn and wrecked horribly, the smoke beginning to flow ever less slightly. Sally didn’t know what to say, and the lump drew up in her throat as well.
“Doc..” she whispered, quickly going to McQueen’s aid now. She brushed up against his side, closing her eyes. “Shh..it’s okay it’ll be okay..”
Lightning squeezed his eyes closed, failing to keep in his cries of dismay. His head pounded in pain, overwhelming sensations leaking into his body. It was too fast, it happened too, too fast…It was supposed to be a normal, fun race at Willy’s Butte, as it always had been. McQueen felt the shock settling deep inside himself, throbbing and pulsing sensations scratching at the insides of his engine. The whole world was crumbling around him, his mind refusing to believe that Doc was really gone.
“D-Doc..D-Doc…oc……n-no no.., why…,” Lightning whimpered, digging his tires in harshly into the ground, to the point where it felt uncomfortable.
That was the day when Radiator Springs lost a beloved.
And it was the day when Lightning McQueen changed forever.
Could you write more of the "Clint as Steve's biological son" AU? I really love it!
ME TOO, ANON. Whoever you are that submitted the original
prompt, thank you. This is my
new favorite thing to write. The original
(here) and follow up (here). As long as you keep requesting more of these two, I will keep writing them because I love them and I sense a prompt full of terrible puns in the future.
For Father’s Day, Clint
took Steve mini golfing. Because Steve’d
never done it before and it was hilarious
to see him hunched over the tiny club.
At the first hole, (par
3), it was a simple L-shaped green and they both walked away with a hole-in-one
and a bet that whoever lost would be buying ice cream after (and if it was a
tie, it was bumper cars to break it).
By hole 4, (par 4), there
was a river and a windmill and Clint had the revelation that maybe his aim was
the tiniest bit genetic. They’d both
glanced their golf balls off the roof (or in Clint’s case, a blade) of the
windmill, bounced off a rock and onto the green for another pair of
At hole eleven, (par 5),
it was an uphill, through a tube, over a bump and between two rock pits for two
more holes-in-one, though management had come by at that point to remind them
that bouncing their golf balls off of fence posts was frowned upon as golf
balls should remain on their respective greens at all times for visitor safety.
At hole fifteen, (par 3),
they were asked to leave. In Clint’s
defense, he had rebounded his golf ball off the side of the club-and-ball
rental hut for (surprise) another hole-in-one.
It was Steve that dented the
grill of a car in pursuit (and acquisition) of a hole-in-one.
“I thought you were
supposed to be the role model.” Clint
Steve shrugged. “I might be Captain America, but I was raised
in Brooklyn in the 20s as a scrawny nobody.
If you think I lasted long enough in that part of town to meet Erskine
because I had good manners, I have some stories you should hear.”
“After I kick your ass on
the bumper cars; we’re still tied and free Rocky Road sounds delicious.”
They went for pizza instead,
after getting kicked off the bumper cars (and the grounds) for “unnecessary
would you write a “I hit you with my car and was the only one to visit you in the hospital” cs au?
Emma sat just one light shy of making the last left-hand turn on her morning route, tapping her fingers impatiently against the steering wheel. It was one thing to be stuck in morning traffic, but to be trapped at a standstill less than half a mile from work? It was torture.
Another two commercials came and went on her radio, and she still hadn’t moved. She’d switched from tapping to quiet grumbling, wishing the guy on the motorcycle in front of her had just run the yellow like he was supposed to. All her life, people had told her to watch out for men on the two-wheeled death traps (their words, not hers) and now, as much as she hated to begrudge her former foster families anything, she could see the living proof. Emma found herself directing all her focus onto the light hanging up above the intersection as her engine idled, brow furrowing further as she willed it to turn green. She breathed a sigh of relief as it finally, finally turned, and pressed on the gas as patiently as she could.
Looking back on it now, Emma thinks, she probably should have checked to see if he was out of her way first.
Hi!! I love your HCs!! How RFA+Searan would react if MC hit her car? (slight accident) Thanks already!
- You call him from where you’re perched in an ambulance - “I was in an accident” You, admittedly, made it sound much worse than it actually was, and he’s immediately screaming to whoever is in his vicinity to get him to your location now - Gives up relying on the people he works with and steals a company car to drive himself there (Jumin why do you put yourself in danger like this) - He probably causes a few accidents himself but he finally arrives at the scene, where you’re standing next to one of your very expensive cars that had it’s bumper laying next to it on the ground. - He still thinks you’re dying when he approaches you and pulls you into a protective hug - “Why are you not at a hospital you were just in an accident?” - “Jumin I just bumped the car into a pole I don’t even have a scratch–” - He probably makes you see a doctor anyway because he’s a silly rich man who worries for the one he loves too much
- Boyfriend Panic Mode Activated™ - Tbh in his mind dinging your car door = 30-car pile up with all-out casualties - When you call in the middle of his post-workout shower (he takes his phone in the shower we know this what a freak) he leaves the house with a pair of gym shorts hanging off his still-dripping body - He’s red-faced and soaked and worried sick when he gets to you - You die oh my god what’s wrong with my bf it’s just a little dent Zen please - “Zen I just needed you here to sign for the insurance it could’ve waited until after your shower Jesus Christ.” - “I had to make sure my princess was safe~” What a loser good boyfriend - Pictures of you with a dent in your car (and more importantly Zen wearing only a pair of shorts and sopping wet) make the tabloids the following day
- You’re pissed when some asshole fender bend’s your brand new car - You practically explode when the same asshole speeds away before you can take their license plate down - You go to call Yoosung, your own eyes watering with angry tears when Yoosung calls you first - “MC PLEASE HELP I JUST HIT SOMEONE’S CAR AND DROVE AWAY WE NEED TO LEAVE THE COUNTRY I’M GOING TO JAIL PACK YOUR STUFF OH MY GOD” - Wait a goddamn second. - “Yoosung. Go back to the car you hit.” - “WHY I’LL GET MURDERED–” - “Do it.” - Yoosung’s tiny car comes around the corner, and you can see tears in his eyes even from a distance. You lock gazes and suddenly he’s bright red. - “MC…I…” His voice cracks through the receiver, and despite your new car having an ugly new scar, you couldn’t be too mad. - He cries for a week and tries to give you the money to repair it (which, despite you wanting to fix it, you couldn’t accept it. It was a nice gesture, though)
- You’re in tears when you call Jaehee from behind the wheel of a smoking C&R company car. - “Jaehee I’m so sorry I think I got the wrong type of gas tell Jumin it’s my fault oh my god–” - “MC, relax, it’s all right.” BOOM. “MC????” - You’re screeching as something in the engine goes out and suddenly the front of the car is on fire. You were just trying to get lunch for Jaehee, and now you had a surely expensive car bill on your hands. - “I’m fine!!” - She leaves her work and takes another company car, not trusting that you were totally okay she heard an explosion who would be totally content leaving you alone? - When all is said and done, Jumin actually says not to worry about it; the company cars were in need of being replaced anyway (or, more likely, he let you off easy because Jaehee had had a word with her boss)
- He’s in the car with you when someone slams into the back of one of his precious babe cars - Seven’s in tears immediately, while you’re just trying to catch your breath and push the airbag out of your face - “MY BABY–” - You look in the rear-view mirror and stop dead - Jumin. - Seven notices about two seconds after you do and f l i p s - All you can do is stare in horror as Seven leaves the car, stalks over to Jumin, throws his driver side door and begins screaming - You don’t know what exactly is being said, but the words “BABY,” “COULD’VE DIED,” and “INSURANCE FEES” catch your ears - Seven comes back to the car several minutes later, face red and pockets stuffed to the brim with green
Original Imagine: Imagine Dean sitting you down on the impala and making you cum from the vibrations of the engine. Author: yupokaythatsit Reader gender: female Word count: 3156 Warnings: Dirty talk, scandalous activities on Baby
Dean slams his beer down on the card table and leans toward you. “You just call Baby old?” His eyes squint challengingly, his brows high.
You try to ignore how the sleeves of his washed-soft t-shirt stretch around his biceps. “Well …” You give him a sweet smile. “She is.”
words crackle through his left ear, sending sparks down his spine.
Panic seeps into his brain as a thin layer of sweat cools on his
skin, exposed to the cold night air. Slowly but surely he returns to
consciousness, feeling the damp ground beneath him as it soils the
clothes on his back. It wasn’t raining today,
he remembers. The pavement is stained red.
For #25daysofKlaroline Day 2. @livingdeadblondequeen kindly sent me the prompt (thanks, Miranda!) but Tumblr ate it somewhere between my inbox and my drafts. It was something along the lines of “first interaction after Klaus is back in his body.”
Tell Me About Myself
was the first person out of the locker room – she was irritable, and overdue
for a snack of the blood variety, and she thought it was best for her squad’s
safety (and her chances at snagging the big trophy at the meet the day after
tomorrow) if she removed herself from the situation.
starting to get dark, and cars are scattered throughout the parking lot. She
rounds the corner of a ginormous gas guzzling SUV (and seriously, was that necessary?
Talk about overcompensating). She jumps, when a figure straightens from where
it had been slouched against the back bumper, letting her bag fall to the
ground as her fangs drop and her hands curl, in anticipation of a threat.
sharpened vision recognizes Klaus immediately and she steps back, dropping her
head and cursing her high ponytail, willing her vampire features away. Klaus
steps forward, his head tipped curiously to the side, interested eyes on the
slowly receding veins.
always see too much.
bends to pick up her bag, making sure her face is back to normal before she
faces him. She lifts her head defiantly, crossing her arms over her midriff.
should have changed out of her workout clothes.
out in high school parking lots?” she asks, sickly sweet. “Try to act less like a dirty old man, Klaus.”
completely unoffended, and Caroline makes to stomp past him, “Have you seen my
darling sister?” he calls after her, and Caroline pauses.
she hasn’t, not since fifth period. But she does
know where Rebekah is, knows she’s at the grill, drilling Matt on Trig between
customers. And since Caroline wants Matt
to graduate, and she’d rather he not
end up dead, solely because Klaus is a whole other level of psychotic control
freak with family hoarding issues.
grudgingly answering, “Not since this afternoon. She left with April Young.”
winces internally, at the lie, keeping her face perfectly neutral. But, she
rationalizes, April’s the blandest, least offensive human in existence. Surely
such a mouse would be beneath Klaus’ notice?
out a hum, the very definition of non-committal, and Caroline has no idea if he’d
bought her fabrication. He’s moving forward to encroach upon her space again.
Caroline shifts back warily, “If that’s all, I need a shower and a blood bag
and I’ve got an essay to finish, so…”
Caroline,” Klaus says, “how long will you play at this? At being an ordinary
So not what
she’d expected, and a little personal, considering she was still super pissed
it, every so often. Finds a nice boy to dote on her, girls who’ll jump when she
snaps her fingers. They’re like toys, and she usually breaks them, when she’d
bored, or frustrated or angry.”
lets out a sigh, “Is there a point here, Klaus?”
suit you, Caroline. This town, this life.”
snaps, “so you’ve said. Excuse me if I don’t take your word for it.”
miffed, then?” Klaus inquires mildly.
my teeth fourteen times,” Caroline informs him.
be good for them,” Klaus remarks, sounding amused. “And it’s somewhat
pointless, is it not? Considering the relationship between you, and my hybrid.”
you,” Caroline spits out. “You saw me…” she makes a jerky gesture, down her
body. Klaus eyes stay on her face. Smart, since she’s not entirely sure she
could have resisted the urge to punch him, if he got smarmy with her right now.
sobers, “While I regret the circumstances, Caroline, I did save you from The Council.
While I was in a far more vulnerable form, mind.”
want a cookie?” Caroline shoots back.
that she wanted to be tortured again, far from it. But she’d thrown herself at
him. At Klaus. Would it have killed him to have spoken up, before she’d humiliated
herself, and started getting naked? Her bra hadn’t even been cute.
frustrated, look crosses Klaus’ face, “I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth.
But I wouldn’t say no to a little gratitude.”
have said no when I kissed you!” Caroline exclaims, throwing her hands up.
“I did,” he
grits out. “I tried. You were insistent, love.”
“A ‘oh, by
the way, I’m actually Klaus’ probably would have worked wonders, just so you
supposed to be alive,” Klaus explains calmly. “You can’t expect me to trust
you, Caroline. Not when you’re always game to help in your friends’ tedious
little plots to take me out. And I did tell you, in the end.”
late,” Caroline insists tightly.
than I could have,” Klaus counters, an edge in his tone revealing his less than
even temper. “Do you think about that, Caroline? I could have pretended to be
Tyler, could have had you pressed against a tree and moaning for me. I daresay
I’d have done a better job than that fumbling boy you’re so devoted to. You’d
have been none the wiser, for days.”
takes a step back, swallows hard against the acidic lump in her throat. She
asks the question that’s been plaguing her, without really meaning to, “Why
her retreat, hands locked behind his back, “You know why,” he tells her,
softly, eyes intent on hers.
“No I don’t,”
Caroline denies, shaking her head. “Whatever this thing you have for me is, I’m
not an idiot, Klaus. You don’t want to hold my hand and buy me milkshakes. You
could have gotten what you’d wanted from me and been done with it.”
her tongue, hard enough to draw blood, before ‘and you wouldn’t have been the
first’ comes flying out of her mouth. That’s not something Klaus needs to know
about. Not something she should be
for her to focus back on him, his eyes flicking over her face, before he speaks
again. “Don’t play dim. You know that
my interests are not purely sexual. I’d have given up, long ago, were that the
case. It’s hardly a struggle, to find that sort of company. I’ll not claim to
be a saint. Or that I don’t desire to know you, intimately. But when it happens
I’ll be in my body, and you’ll know
so sure. Sure of her. Caroline has no idea how she’s supposed to reply to that.
makes a derisive noise and she mumbles out a, “Whatever. My history homework
awaits. It’s been fun, Klaus.”
seeing you, Caroline.”
tossing a half-hearted wave over her shoulder, walking quickly away before Klaus
decided he wanted to chat some more.
her phone out, shooting a quick text to Matt, telling him to get out of Rebekah’s
orbit, since Klaus was looking for her. She hopes he takes her advice, but she
can’t be sure that he will.
over her shoulder, sees Klaus’ taillights leaving the lot, and allows herself
to relax slightly.
Synopsis: Emma Swan has arrived in Storybrooke, Maine, to do research for a story about small town political corruption. Her time there gets complicated when she meets the dashing mayor, Killian Jones, and is enticed by the promise of a life she never thought she could have.
Rated: M for language, hot scruffy mayors (and their talented mouths), and corruption (and not of the political sort).
Author’s Note: I hear it was cat-sophia ‘s birthday. I sure wish I had been around to see that, but would like to dedicate this chapter to you as a birthday present from me. Happy birthday! All thanks to my magnificent betas on this chapter amagicalship and kat2609, and also lenfaz, who give me such great feedback and advice - it means so much to me. The banner was done for me by the amazing spartanguard and I love it - as always. And to all my readers who have ever read Welcome to Temptation…you will find some strands of the infamous dock scene in here. This … this was all I was going to write for killihan-jones for her birthday. But alas…it became so much more. Lena, this is also dedicated to you, my Crusie fangirl buddy.
“I’m not drunk. Just a little buzzed.”
“Four tumblers of rum in an hour, lass? If you aren’t drunk I’d be
“Well, prepare to be impressed.” She pivoted on her heel and began
to stride away, but damn it if she didn’t pick that moment to trip on some rope
and nearly fall to the ground, grabbing the bumper of a parked car on the way
down. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“Whoa. Here, let me help you.” He reached out to help her stand
again, but rather than putting her on solid footing, his firm grip around her
waist made her feel even more unsteady.
It wasn’t the liquor. This man had the uncanny ability of always
being able to set her off balance. Ever since the moment she laid eyes on him.
“It’s okay. I don’t need your help anymore.” She tried to sound
like she meant it, even though his hands had felt so good on her body. That
thought set her to walking again. Quickly. Towards the docks. Away from him.
And his hands.
“I hear you saying you don’t need help, Emma, but-” he said, as
she felt herself slip on some pebbles, “Bloody fucking hell! -you certainly
Killian needed to lighten up a bit. What had gotten into him? He
was usually far more laid back. Maybe if she put his mind at ease a little,
he’d calm down. Stepping onto a dock, she bent over to take off her high
heels…and lost her balance again in the process. She put her hand down on the
wooden decking to keep from tipping over.
He gasped, half-reaching for her, his voice an octave higher than
usual, “Stars above! My heart can’t take this.”
She stood up, shoes in hand, and waggled them at him. “Scary shoes
are off. Better?”
“Great. But standing still would make me even happier. Better yet,
what say you turn around and chart a course in the direction of that delightful
inn you’re staying at?”
Levi falls in love with Eren, a car mechanic, and purposefully damages his car in silly ways just to go see him. Levi insults Eren because he’s filthy (as cover so Eren doesn’t find out his true intentions). However, Eren already knows what’s really going on. - prompt by KITSU-PON
words: 1.9k rating: cute
i apologize again because i couldn’t do your previous idea. all i have been doing lately is failing people lmao. (i cry)
Fresh doors for friends to mark up. Fresh bumper to mark up on walls. New lip to drag across the ground. New tires (nitto neogens) to rub on fenders. That purp skirp up on my floor and late model coupe door cards with the suede inserts to touch up the interior a little. Stuff. Things. I dunno. I just want paint and vinyl and skids.
Airbus A380 Tail Strike Testing also known as VMU testing.
Almost all pilots and aircraft geeks have seen astonishing pictures of a test aircraft taking off with the tail scraping the runway with a lot of sparks coming from the rear fuselage during the testing for development and certification. The truth is that a specific tail bumper is added to protect the tail from any damage.
This test allows to determine speeds which are called VMU (Velocity Minimum Unstick). Airbus needs to know the VMU because the computed take off speeds incorporate some margin above VMU, just as they also do for VS (Stall speed), VMCG (Minimum control speed on the ground) and VMCA (Minimum control speed in the air). These “V” speeds therefore form the basic building blocks of take-off performance.
The optimization of take-off performance is complex. Firstly, the aircraft must be able to get airborne safely, even in the case of failure of one engine. It may also have to overfly obstacles, close or far from the runway end, with sufficient margin, still with an engine failed. The optimization has to be performed for all weights, altitudes and temperatures and obviously some compromises have to be made, as no aircraft can be perfect for all conditions.
Among all development and certification tests, VMU are probably the most spectacular for observers, with the small “firework” below the tail just before lift-off. For crew members, they are also one of the most stressful, as the risk of damage to the aircraft is rather high. Few pilots can say that they have performed VMU tests on several programs without damaging anything !
The VMU tests are difficult to carry out, mainly because it has to perform a soft touch down of the tail bumper, as the structure is not designed for a strong impact.
Perfect weather conditions are needed, with no turbulence and wind less than 5kts, to insure the precision of the measurements. For these tests, all the audio warnings are “killed” by the crew prior to the test, otherwise the crew receive a stream of continuous warnings: “Thrust not set”, then “Stall, stall” and possibly some others.
On A380, a total of 22 VMU tests were executed including both development and certification.
A teamwork of 5 in the cabin:
The left hand seat pilot is responsible for flying the pitch. His seat is in the lowest position as he does not need to see the runway. He adjusts the attitude using the horizon of the PFD, performing a smooth touch-down of the tail bumper, keeping the tail on the ground until lift-off and maintaining the pitch attitude after take-off until out of the ground effect (one wing span) or 400 ft.
The right hand seat pilot has his seat in the upper position to be able to see the runway even with a high pitch attitude. On the ground, he maintains the aircraft on the runway. When in flight, he keeps the roll close to zero using very small inputs on the rudder (induced roll), and not with ailerons and spoilers to avoid a drag increase. Finally, he is responsible for safety, which means that he can take over anytime, typically if the aircraft is not climbing in ground effect.The Test Flight Engineer on the flight deck is in charge of setting very precisely the thrust, which is important when they are performing tests at very low ratio thrust over weight.In the cabin, in front of all their screens, 2 Flight Test Engineers are monitoring the test, and thanks to the traces, they validate it (or not).