#me when Bessie Matthews me when me me when

[river-of-wine]

I think part of what makes the way Hosea talks about Bessie so compelling is because he doesn’t just dwell on the tragedy of her loss. Of course, Bessie’s death has changed him, and of course he still cannot rationalise any sort of fairness in how he has outlived her. He was “drunk for a year” following her death, he worries he will never see her again because she is in heaven and he won’t be following, but there’s more to it than that. It would be easy for Hosea’s mentions of his dead wife to remain fixated on her death, but they don’t. They played dominoes and she taught Arthur, they used to go through here all the time, he remembers her not only for the tragedy of her death, but the joy of her life. It’s what makes Bessie feel real, it’s what shows us how much Hosea still loves his wife, even years after her death. It’s the only avenue we have to learn about her, and even the little things Hosea tells us about her paint such a vivid picture. She is more than her death and he talks about her as such, and it’s the details beyond her death that add another layer to the love we already know they had from how powerfully Hosea expresses his grief. It’s all the little ways Hosea discusses Bessie that add so much to this relationship we never meet half of, and adding in the preservation of who Bessie Matthews was instead of just the sadness surrounding her death adds so much.

[arthursfuckinghat]

So, I was nosing around the gang's tents and I thought that it was honestly so sweet that so many of them have photographs of themselves or of family right?

Little baby Charles with his parents, a young Susan, young Hosea and Bessie, but then I found something interesting in that pile of junk down the cliff just behind Arthur's tent-

Dutch actually writes notes for his famous camp speeches.

And if you've seen the speech that these notes are referring to, Dutch seemed to simplify it a lot when he recited it, almost dumbing it down for the gang entirely?

Writing notes for an important speech isn't the strange part, but the fact he dumbs them down and that these notes are hidden/thrown away out of sight is really strange to me. It makes me think that this is possibly a rough draft or early version of what he wanted the speech to be, sort of implying that Dutch practices and revises his speeches.

Which, if he ultimately dumbs them down for the gang, then what is the point?

The likely answer is that he holds himself to a higher standard because he feels he's above the gang members, in a way. He's the visionary, the leader, the man in charge, the one who reads philosophy books almost exclusively, to say that Dutch didn't think highly of himself would be a lie. And because the gang is 'below' him, he simplifies his speeches for them - despite majority of the gang being well educated and understanding. He doesn't think that the gang is as intellectual as him.

I made a post previously talking about Dutch and his Evelyn Miller philosophies and how he argues with gang members that don't agree or understand. It's especially interesting how Lenny, also an avid reader, disagrees so strongly with Miller's writings when that's what most of Dutch's philosophies are based on.

It solidifies that Dutch was manipulative from the beginning, and probably long before too.

[marstonsboy]

had another evil thought that spiralled out of control. indulge me for a moment:

over the years, people start arriving on a near empty plot of land west of blackwater. it’s uncertain who got there first: bessie matthews, beatrice and lyle morgan, eliza, isaac morgan, etc.— but more and more people show up until it’s something of a community. jenny kirk, mac and davey callander. then soon after, jake adler, sean macguire, kieran duffy, hosea matthews, lenny summers, molly o’shea, eagle flies, susan grimshaw. more and more in such a short amount of time. arthur morgan is the last, and suddenly the deaths stop.

after a sudden stretch of years with little newcomers, a house starts taking shape. soon enough the house is a home, and peculiar things can be found all over: a dog barking where no one can find it. echoes of campfire songs going late into the night. photos of john and abigail’s wedding, attended by what remained of their family. a taxidermy squirrel that appears back on the mantle no matter how many times you throw it out, wearing a very familiar hat. in just a few years a heartbreakingly young girl comes home, bearing a strong resemblance to one abigail marston.

then, gunshots. john marston and uncle are the next to arrive.

in the next few years, the house is eerily quiet. the residents see it falling into disrepair, but they can’t do anything about it. the dog stops barking, the campfire has gone cold and won’t relight. abigail marston is next, and though they’re happy to see her, the arrival brings up a question. what happens to jack now?

the livestock are gone, and the house is dusty, all but stripped of the knickknacks and personality that built up over the years, like someone found it all too painful to look at. john’s hat and guns, once tucked away inside a box beneath the bed, vanish the night after abigail arrives. newspapers come to the door, announcing the death of former government agent edgar ross.

soon after, a wanted poster, bearing the name “john marston jr.” and a sketch resembling the boy’s namesake so much that it has john himself stumbling back. jack was only a boy when he left, and now he’s wanted dead or alive, with a price over his head that could rival some of his uncles and aunts back in the day.

every year that passes without any sign of jack is a relief. the house doesn’t change much, still abandoned, but letters come in. mary-beth gaskill, tilly jackson, simon pearson, sadie adler, charles smith— old friends and family, checking in on him. none of them reach the recipient, as he is not home, but they’re filled to the brim with love, letting him know that he isn’t alone. that he always has a home with them, if he wants it.

one day, john spots a book he doesn’t recognize on the shelf by the piano, and he stops. “Red Dead” by a J. Marston. it doesn’t take much to figure out who that could be. he opens it, flips through, and reads it to abigail. the kinder parts get read to their daughter, ecstatic to learn about how her older brother is doing. their son did become a writer after all, even if everything he’s written speaks volumes of his grief, his anger. the loneliness he’s endured since losing his family, and killing edgar ross.

arthur morgan opens his old journal to find several entries and sketches from john, but also many new ones from jack. his handwriting is just as clumsy as his father’s, but his drawings are more refined. little portraits of the gang members that lived and scribbly sketches of what the world is becoming in their absence decorate the pages. war, cars outnumbering horses, and a very detailed drawing of a revolver none of them have ever seen before.

he’s all grown up, and good lord is he angry. he’s mourning, and hurt, and he’s lost so much, but he’s still undoubtedly jack marston. he draws dogs and writes about missing rufus, slipping strays some food from his bag whenever he sees them. sometimes he’ll write a dry, sarcastic joke that speaks of his father’s influence, or mention missing his momma’s cooking, “even though it was hardly edible,” which makes abigail roll her eyes. he hates fishing and prefers to lose hours of the day with his nose in a book. the best maintained part of beecher’s hope is the graves on that hill, which gain new flowers every week. sometimes, if they listen close, they can hear him talking, telling his ma and pa what he’s been up to, though he saves the grisly details for his book.

and when jack marston finally does walk through that door, much older than when anyone he knew last saw him but far too young to die, he is welcomed home with open arms. because no matter what he’s done, and no matter how much he may hate himself, he will always have a home here with people who love him, and who can’t wait to get to know him all over again.

[thechanelmuse]

My Top Albums/EPS of 2025

It's that time again where I give y'all my end-of-the-year music list and take over your dashboard. Hopefully some of these projects or artists will be new to you.

I would love for y'all to tell me your faves this year.

Here's my list:

JAZZ

Charles McPherson - Reverence

Christian McBride & Edgar Meyer - But Who's Gonna Play the Melody

Christian Sands - Embracing Dawn

Immanuel Wilkins - Blues Blood

Jazzmeia Horn - Messages

Jeremy Pelt - Tomorrow's Another Day

Joel Ross - nublues

Kamasi Washington - Fearless Movement

Keyon Harrold - Foreverland

Lakecia Benjamin - Phoenix Reimagined (Live)

Miles Davis - Miles '54: The Prestige Recordings

Miles Davis Quintet - Miles In France 1963 and 1964 - The Bootleg Series, Vol. 8

New Brass Band featuring Trombone Shorty - Live at the 2024 New Orleans Jazz & Heritage Festival

Nubya Garcia - Odyssey

Samara Joy - Portrait

SOUL/BLUES (ROCK)

Baby Rose with BADBADNOTGOOD - Slow Burn (EP)

Brittany Howard - What Now

Christone “Kingfish” Ingram - Live in London (Expanded Edition)

Jerron Paxton - Things Done Changed

Jovin Webb - Drifter

Lizz Wright - Shadow

GOSPEL

Cory Henry - Church

Karen Clark Sheard - Still Karen

Ricky Dillard - Choirmaster II (Live)

Tamela Mann - Live Breathe Fight

COUNTRY/AMERICANA

Beyoncé - Cowboy Carter

Brittney Spencer - My Stupid Life

Caitlyn Smith - I Think of You (The Heartache Collection)

Elles Bailey - Beneath the Neon Glow

Gabby Barrett - Chapter and Verse

Lainey Wilson - Whirlwind

Luke Combs - Fathers & Sons

Mickey Guyton - House On Fire

Rvshvd - It's Rashad

Tanner Adell - Buckle Bunny (Deluxe) — 2023 album

FOLK

Bessie Jones, John Davis & The Georgia Sea Island Singers - The Complete Friends of Old Time Music Concert

Jessica Pratt - Here In the Pitch

Yasmin Williams - Acadia

ROCK

The Black Keys - Ohio Players (Trophy Edition)

Lenny Kravitz - Blue Electric Light

Linkin Park - From Zero

Olivia Rodrigo - Guts (spilled)

Sum 41 – Heaven :x: Hell

BLENDED GENRES

Amythyst Kiah - Still and Bright

Boney James - Slow Burn

Charlotte Day Wilson - Cyan Blue

Eva Cassidy - Walkin' After Midnight

Gallant - Zinc

Judith Hill - Letters From a Black Widow

Madison Ryann Ward - Purified Love

Marsha Ambrosiuos - CASABLANCO

Matthew Whittaker - On Their Shoulders: An Organ Tribute

Tank and The Bangas - The Heart, The Mind, The Soul

Victoria Monét - Jaguar II: Deluxe

Willow Smith - empathogen

R&B

Andra Day - CASSANDRA (cherith)

Avery*Sunshine - So Glad to Know You

BJ The Chicago Kid - Gravy (Deluxe)

Derand Benarr - En Route

Kenyon Dixon - The R&B You Love: For the '99 and the 2000s

Kyle Dion - If My Jeans Could Talk

Lalah Hathaway - VANTABLACK

Ledisi - Good Life

Lucky Daye - Algorithm

Muni Long - Revenge

NxWorries - Why Lawd?

Ravyn Lenae - Bird's Eye

SiR - HEAVY

Usher - Coming Home

RAP

Big Sean - Better Me Than You

Common & Pete Rock - The Auditorium Vol. 1

Doechii - Alligator Bites Never Heal

Kendrick Lamar - GNX

LL Cool J - The Force

MC Lyte - 1 of 1

Rapsody - Please Don't Cry

ScHoolboy Q - BLUE LIPS

POP

Ariana Grande - Eternal Sunshine

Billie Eilish - HIT ME HARD AND SOFT

Caroline Polachek - Desire, I Want To Turn Into You: Everasking Edition

Chappell Roan - The Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess

Christina Aguilera - The 25th Anniversary of Christina Aguilera

Gavin DeGraw - Chariot 20

James Bay - Changes All the Time

Sabrina Carpenter - Short n' Sweet

Teddy Swims - I've Tried Everything but Therapy (Part 1.5)

Tori Kelly - TORI.

HOUSE/ELECTRONIC

Durand Bernarr & Charlie Vettuno - Charlie Vettuno Presents… Where in the World is Carmen Randiego?

KAYTRANADA - TIMELESS

HOLIDAY

Boney James - Soulful Holiday Sax

Ella Fitzgerald & Louis Armstrong - Ella & Louis Wish You a Swinging Holiday

Jennifer Hudson - The Gift of Love

Kelly Clarkson - When Christmas Comes Around...Again

[verdemoun]

also.. me again. i’ve been digging ur time warp shit so imagine. kieran being like a child who will beg their parents for a horse at any given opportunity. they won’t do chores until their parents promise to get them a pet horse afterwards. he is desperate. he ends up volunteering at a horse centre and the horses there like.. follow him home. but he wants his *own* horse.

kieran thinks it's hilarious to joke about getting a horse. since there's absolutely no way to own a horse at bessie's little patch of land, they usually counter with a trail ride

however, on the rare occasions where bessie matthews is super drunk, one of the first thing she will do is burst into tears hugging kieran and apologize for not being able to get him a pony

kieran always feels a little bad but also thinks it's absolutely hilarious and does love the cuddles

when he needs a horse fix really badly they'll rent a petting zoo and kieran will lay on the dirty straw with ponies and baby goats just laying around him. he's a disney princess with livestock any animal will become his friend

he has had horses follow him home, but the thing that excites him most is when there is a horse that needs constant care and he gets to take it home for a night or two. everyone can see how much his mood improves when he has a horse at home

[renslo161605]

The old Camp Gals

Okay brief headcanon/backstory thing

This obviously isn't probably canon but- whatev I'm having fun leave me.

ELIZA JONAS -

Eliza worked in the bar but she was like a play-gal. She KNEW she was purdy and she used it by robbing drunk perverts and such, sometimes she'd end up killing them depending on how things went. But she did actually love Arthur and would often swap between the camp and the saloon she worked in ( keeping in mind in Arthurs words the gang was much less of a gang and more laid back then) when she had Isaac tho, she became good and honest for him. She always had a grudge against Arthur because she sacrificed everything for Isaac and he couldn't even give up a gun. She never really fell in love with an another man but her and Arthur weren't a thing for long. Mary happened somewhere inbetween Isaacs birth and Elizas death.

BESSIE MATTHEWS -

Okay i know Bessie looks STRIKINGLY like Mary Gillis in this and trust, she wasn't meant to. It just happened.

Anyway her and Hosea were never able to bare children and so basically just adopted everyone. Eliza was an orphan and never really had a female role model, Bessie quickly stepped into that role snd they got close - Bessie would often look after her when she was pregnant and help her with Isaac. When Bessie died Eliza stopped going to see the gang as much and simply waiting for Arthur to come to her. She was like a grandma to Isaac.

SUSAN GRIMSHAW -

idk how canon it is but i saw an old photo of her somewhere? I prob js missed it in the game but the photo was mighty purdy. But rarely do i see people talking about miss Grimshaws scar on her face? Maybe thats why she's so insecure - maybe that 'tainted' her beauty and Dutch quickly replaced her with Annabel, who he deemed 'more pretty' and she forever had a distain toward girls she thought were pretty. I actually love miss Grimshaw she needs more appreciation.

ANNABEL STARK (?) -

Not much to say about her. Her father was a bigger business man but tried to basically sell her, Dutch 'saved' her snd from then on she was 'golden girl'. She never got a chance to experience the loss of love that Miss Grimshaw and Molly O'shea did as she was murdered whilst picking flowers by Colm O'driscoll.

Yeah this is really far from canon but I'm having fun LMAOO

Elizas my fave dunno if you can tell...

<33

[spoonsand]

So I wanted to figure out around how long Hosea and Bessie had been married/a timeline of sorts and here’s what I got and my thinking process:

(Sources are from Wikipage, Reddit, good ol’ safari, and my headcannons)

Their photo is dated 1883, from how close they are sitting, I’d assume they’re already married.

Hosea said “Then I met two people that changed my life. My dear wife Bessie and good old Dutch. And for twenty years now, life has made sense.”

Hosea and Dutch became partners in (about) 1877 (probably before). The photo is dated ‘83, so that leaves a 6 year gap. Because I love Bessie and Hosea, and would want them to have as much time together as possible, I would give them 2 years before they got together.

Aurthor joined the gang in 1879, around 14, maybe at this time it’s when Hosea and Bessie left. Arthur said he doesn’t really remember, this could be because he wasn’t familiar with the Matthews yet.

Assume that they took a year off before Hosea drifted back and Bessie being the top G she is, stayed with him and became kick ass Bessie Matthews.

Sometime during 1883 Bessie and Hosea (maybe even on an anniversary) got the photo taken.

In the epilogue, there’s a photo of the gang with baby Jack, so the year should be between ‘95-‘96. Bessie isn’t seen in the photograph, so she probably already passed. The way Hosea talks makes me think it wasn’t 3 or 4 years, a more significant period. Maybe closer to the 10 year mark.

Again, with 1883 being our minimum year, and 1896 being the maximum year, factoring in the 10 years means that Bessie could have died in the year 1889.

That means Bessie and Hosea very well could have been married for 10 years.

Halfway through this process, I had a thought, what if during their gap year (1883) they got the photo taken? That would definitely shift everything. But I’m not getting into that rn

[phasewashere]

rdr2 character hcs but they are all over the place

the reason hosea and dutch even met was because they were some town on the road to chicago and dutch kept stealing hoseas takes in the town so he went over there to steal all his shit and then. yknow the rest of the story. they hated eachother for a bit tho

dutch was the wildest fucking child to me. lil protestant shepherd boy in a farming community?? no he was horse racing, gambling on horse racing, drinking, smoking etc etc. also he would rather read in like a tree or smth rather than do his chores. also mother and son with bipolar 1 doesn't make the greatest concotion so theres just a lot to unpack there

also dutch's dad got him a dog as not only a working companion but someone to keep him company while he was away at war. guess what. he never came back

also dutch's dad was related to the dutch royal like. line or whatever and with all the economic shit going on he went over to the states to try and get with bankers and instead fell in love with a former english peasant. good for him

when dutch ran away (after his mom hit him with a lantern. my brain feels this is important) he made it to pittsburgh where he met the o'driscoll brothers who were the children of irish immigrants who ran with a ragtag gang of other street children and immigrants. also uncle was there

if it wasn't for dutch uncle would've been mugged, run over by a carriage, and shanked. and the way dutch kept getting him out of it was that uncle was his. well. "uncle" and he was just his concerned "nephew" uncle thought this was hillarious and refused to tell dutch his name because "uncle" was funnier to him

bessie is intersex AND transfemme fuck you. also her husband was abusive and she killed him and eventually ran into the van der linde gang when they were both on the run and then she fell in love with hosea and got to find true love :3 bc she deserves it

susan and the guy she mentions she was married too got married really young because they were sososoososo in love but then he died in a factory accident and she was widowed. she went on to travel out west and become a working woman and eventually a madam. because if fucking nothing that woman can MANAGE. eventually she meets dutch and they fool around and he tries to convince her to come with them. and while most of his points are bullshit she decides that some of them make sense and goes "fuck it"

yknow the rabbit matthews guy mentioned like. once? yeah thats hoseas dad and he came out of canada and a french canadian immigrant (where hosea gets the bit) with his brother (who goes on to get married and have a son). he is called rabbit matthews because of the rate at which this man fucks. it is wild. legend says he fathered 100 children in total. there is only six others beside hosea.

the matthews (hosea and his mother) live in the norhtern most points of the appalachias (new england area. makes it easier for him to get to nyc)

also hosea and his mother are jewish. so hes like. a french canadian jewish man.

hosea is wanted in new york for murder because when he finally got onto the stage his producer had beef with him. and then hosea pushed him down a flight of stairs and killed him. whoopsies

annabel was a working woman that started running with the o'driscolls and was kinda like colm's brothers lover?? sorta. and then when dutch came along again when he started working with them again they got together

colm and dutch were fucking btw. its just as bad as it sounds. so annabel and dutch were basically like. "wow ur bf sucks""yeah""we should get together btw"

young dutch van der linde hated church with a PASSION

also dutch and colm's brother got in the most fucked up fist fight over annabel and when dutch was about to get his fucking skull cracked arthur stepped in. got his ass beat. and THEN dutch got his act together. and unloaded a round into colm's brother. uncommon dutch w

thats,,, all i got that i can think of

[lazyrants]

Pixel TV (prod 212)

Original airdate: February 15, 2007

Story by Magnus Scheving

Written by Noah Zachary, Mani Svavarrson, Magnus Scheving

Directed by Jonathan Judge

Executive producers - Magnus Scheving, Ragnheidur Melsted, Raymond P. Le Gue, Mark Read, Brown Johnson, Kay Wilson Stallings

Starring Magnus Scheving, Stefan Karl Steffanson, Julianna Rose Mauriello

Puppeteers - Gudmondor Thor Karason, Jodi Eichelberger, David Matthew Feldman, Julie Westwood, Sarah Burgess

If someone randomly asked me to name the ninth episode of season two of LazyTown, it'd take me forever to remember what it was. So, Pixel TV is pretty much unknown to me.

The episode begins with Sportacus going to his screen, and Pixel is on his screen, telling him he's live in four seconds. Sportacus tells the camera that LazyTown is always moving and so are we. Then he does a buncha cool moves.

In his house, Pixel is managing his antenna and is talking to the LazyTown people on his TV screens. He's set up a LazyTown TV channel with good moves, good food and go, go, go! Stephanie will be doing Sportscandy, Bessie and Milford will be doing news, Ziggy and Stingy will be doing their cooking show (probably the funniest segment), and Trixie's doing a talk show (that's why she called Loud Girl).

Everyone has LazyTown TV, even Robbie, and for some reason, the LazyTown theme song plays on his television. He changes to Bing Bang, he changes to Sportacus eating, he changes to Pixel. And at the end of it all, he says.. 'they have their own TV show?!' and doesn't he know it.

Robbie decides if they can have their own TV shows, he can too - since he's handsome, talented and smart. If you're so smart, try actually coming up with a plan that works. Anyways, he has a mini TV that fits on his arm, and now it's time for Stephanie's show. He says he needs a disguise and goes to.. an empty purple box. It makes more sense when you see all his disguises being dropped via a chute.

Colours is performed, and that song really annoys me because mid-way through there is a random cut to Sportacus. I am all for Sportacus scenes, but I'm also all for LazyTown songs. During the song, Robbie steals almost all her Sportscandy, leaving one strawberry. LOL.

Due to that, she cannot make her Sportscandy Rainbow Smoothie (for some reason she keeps on breathing during every word. Sportscandy *sigh* rainbow smoothie.) & Pixel is going to switch to the news so he gets into his Rob R. Robley costume.

When Stephanie turns the camera on (she films and and has her own TV show.. remind you of a blue elf?), Milford doesn't talk. Pixel tells him to go. He asks, 'Go where?' 'You're on!' 'On where?' Haha. I love this season. Then Stephanie tells him the camera is on and to start reading the LazyTown Good News - Three butterflies on the sports field, and new flowers. This town would be so peaceful if it wasn't for Robbie. Speaking of Rob, he shows up with a fan, that blows away his wig and notes.

It's even funnier when you think that someone who was helping write this episode (I'm guessing Mani) said 'Let's give Milford a wig purely to blow it off.' XD! Now, Robley takes his place (Bessie is visibly angry, showing that she doesn't like him purely to use him).

So he announces a buncha lies - Sports Candy makes you sick and all sports has been outlawed forever. By Pixel's request, Stephanie switches over to Bessie's weather show. But Rob takes that pole thingy Bessie's holding and grabs it so hard she falls.

Rob says 'let's take a look at the weather' & signals for Stephanie to pan the camera up. Once she does, he says 'let's take a look at the weather' once again. WHY IS THIS FUNNY? WHY IS STEFAN SO FUNNY?? He takes off the birds, suns, clouds & adds a bunch of storm and rain, telling everyone it's too dangerous to go outside so they must stay inside doing nothing. Now Trixie's doing her yap show.

She's supposed to have a guest, but doesn't then she starts yelling at Pixel about how she needs a guest. Considering the fact he set up an entire TV channel, I think his brain can comprehend it, Loud Girl. Robbie disguises himself as her guest - some apparently famous dude called Purple Legend. Trixie yells at Pixel as he told her they were gonna have interesting guests (PL got steamrolled!), and PL says he eats ice-cream, cookies and candy all day, sleeps till noon, and Trixie says those are both boring. So, PL jumps on the chair out of anger! LOL!!

Trixie says if he's so interesting, he should do something like sing or juggle or DANCE, and he decides to do some weird Irish leg dance or something. Trixie is laughing. LITERALLY.

PL purposefully bumps into the camera, ending the show since the camera broke. And they switch over to Ziggy & Stingy's cooking show, but for some reason, Stingy can't say anything. He tells Ziggy to introduce the show, which he does. They are going to make a castle with apples, and Stingy tells us the ingredients are apples (WOWZA!), 50 of them. Ziggy corrects him by saying fourty-nine since he's eaten one. But they're interrupted by Chef Robert, who cancels them both.

And he is making the most delicious food in history of food - the sugar candy chocolate candy ice-cream gooey-ooey yummy cake. The ingredients - 2 bars of chocolate, a ridiculously excessive amount of sugar, and the candy. The worst part is that he doesn't even take the wrappers off the chocolate bar, or the lollipops off their sticks. Ziggy says it looks delicious but unhealthy.

Robert asks if he's a chef who went to cooking school wearing a big white hat. The answer is of course, no, and he yells at him to go away. The next step is to put the mix in the fridge, but he steps on an apple he threw on the ground, slips and falls, and now the mix is on his head. Slapstick moment.

Anyways, Steph and Trixie managed to get the camera up and running, and now comes the best of all - Bessie's puppet show. I'm being sarcastic, this sucks.

(During it, Pixel complains since this is being broadcast worldwide.) Robbie sees the puppet show, and he says 'Puppets, now they've gone too far!' LOL. He decides now he has to stop the TV station once and for all, and he does that.. with a gorilla outfit. And the way he does it? Instead of scaring him into stopping it, he CLIMBS UP PIXEL'S ANTENNA AND SHAKES IT.

The TV's now all glitchy and stuff, but he shakes too hard and almost falls down. Luckily, Sportacus appears (where ya been dude?) to save the gorilla. Milford is going live with LazyTown Good News. This is sure to make headlines! Milford asks the gorilla what he's doing up there, and he RESPONDS with 'I'm breaking this antenna forever!' But when he falls, Sportacus attaches a hook to Pixel's roof, causing it to open so the gorilla lands in his house. Once he does, the head falls off, and it's revealed that Robbie was doing all this nonsense instead of .. just.. not watching TV.

It turns out well in the end as Milford tells everyone it's just Robbie, Sportacus goes back, & Stingy films Steph doing the Bing Bang. No Sportacus power jump unfortunately. In the lair, Robbie is attempting to forget about the day with ice-cream, but a news report about the day is played on the channel.

And he yells. THE END!

8/10 - Great plot, funny dialogue!

[river-of-wine]

In sickness and in health

[maleficore]

I really don't think I'll ever get to actually writing it this decade because I have just That Many other wips and this story is Long, but my god I keep rolling that RDR2 Modern AU of mine in my head like a pretty pebble and I have Many Thoughts. Looong ramble under the cut.

The general gist of it that it's supposed to be a "happy ending" to a true crime story, but it isn't. Not for a long while, at least. Like imagine watching a 45 minute documentary on a missing person's case, the credits roll and you're like "Wow so happy that they turned up in the end" but on the other side of the country that person has been having the worst fucking time for the past year and would've probably been better off missing.

Let me explain.

Up until May 1999 the story plays out like your run of the mill Modern AU that is kept as close to canon as I can make it. Of course some things are different in the way that comes from throwing everything a 100 years into the future like how Eliza and Isaac died in a car accident, not a home robbery. People have jobs that are different, some backstories needed to be adjusted. Arthur's last name is Matthews and not Morgan, having been adopted by Hosea and Bessie when he was around 8 or so. Him and Mary have actually been married, but it still didn't work out. Small divergences, seemingly inconsequential.

Then on May 18th Arthur Matthews goes missing. Leaves no clues as to what might've caused him to leave and where, had showed no signs anything could be wrong before he disappeared. A proper mystery. Of course it's a big thing for a while, Hosea being a pretty well known crook defence lawyer makes it interesting for the news, but after 6 months of nothing even the nastiest vultures get bored and everyone pretty much assumes Arthur to have died. Especially since he's well known to be a recovering alcoholic with multiple relapses under his belt. Probably fell off the wagon again, tripped into a ditch, hit his head. Dead.

That's when Arthur Morgan shows up.

It's up to the reader to decide if this is some universe warping time travel shenanigans or if he's the same person that went missing, just having an episode of some sorts. To everyone in the story Arthur "I'm telling you, I jumped off a sinking boat in 1899 and then showed up here" Morgan comes off as Mentally Unwell, so it doesn't really matter since it is not told from his perspective anyway and there's no way of really knowing.

(It's John's POV by the way. Forgot to mention that, whoopsie.)

And the entire story is basically a whumpy hate letter to all time travel AUs where Arthur gets yeeted into our times and pretty much shrugs it off with minor discomfort (/lh I don't actually hate those, they're silly fun, but they're not realistic?? And I am a realism nerd). Here, he gets majorly fucked up by it. Because how could he not be? First off, Hosea, who he just watched die maybe days prior, is alive and well. So is Sean and so is Lenny. He may be happy, but all that only makes everything feel even less real, pushes him further into believing that the reality he's in is some sort of a mirage or a dream. People talk about all these things that have not happened to him, there are pictures of a stranger with his face in places he's never been to. It's distressing and Arthur might be a guy that handles pressure well, but I doubt there's a single person on earth that wouldn't break under the weight of that. He's no different.

He keeps getting really distressed whenever that kind of stuff gets brought up too often. Starts having regular panic attacks, gets put on medication, sent to therapy. The "gang" are there to help him through it, but the situation takes a lot out John in particular once he realises that whatever has happened to Arthur seems unlikely to be reversed. Just as much as the person in every single family picture is a stranger to Arthur, this Arthur is a stranger to John. It's like he really died in a way. So the plot is just as much Arthur learning to cope and maybe eventually accepting that all of this is real and he's just "crazy", as John watching him go through it while simultaneously grieving the person he no longer is.

Basically an essay pondering the question "What makes us who we are, our memories or personality?" disguised as a fanfic because I like getting philosophical sometimes lol And I genuinely love it. This AU is my baby and really want to work on it, but it would have to straight up be a novel-length story. I don't have that in me 😭😭

[fancysilverfox]

I’ve written a post about her before I think? I’ve written a very short fic introducing her and I absolutely intend to write more. But I yearn to talk about Martha again. 

Hosea, being a theater hoe, loves costumes, loves his elaborate cons and loves to play characters, as we know. So Miss Martha Matthews is my idea of his feminine alter ego who he brings out to charm and swindle men in saloons some evenings. 

I and a dear friend of mine have cooked up quite a tale for her, of which I will write about I promise,

B U T

I now bring Bessie into the equation >:)

Martha existed long before Hosea met Bessie, hence my mental fact that Dutch fell for Martha so hard and fast and never found out it was Hosea until literal years later. But when Bessie and Hosea became <3 Bessie and Hosea <3 she had to find out about Martha and was indeed told.  And she joined in the fun of it all. 

Hence, her forming a masculine alter ego named Shay >:) The name Shay being born from her reductions of her nicknames of Hosea, beginning as ‘Sea, then turning into ‘Sea [pronounced Zay] then becoming Shay!

The two would prank Dutch, obviously, and would just generally have fun with their other selves (yes, that kind of fun too, I know what you’re thinking) because they’re BOTH theater hoes and just because I and my dear friend say so >:)

Goodnight y’all

p.s I wanna draw them both eventually but bear with me bc I! get distracted easily :)

[grymmnox]

weekly fic recs #37

meant to post this yesterday, completely forgot. anyways, same stuff as usual; & for platonic, / for romantic, all that.

yes, we are pretending everything between june last year and now does not exist because im too lazy to post them. (might make a big masterpost of all of the bookmarks, but i doubt it.)

fandom(s): rdr

ship(s): canon relationships (bessie/hosea, abigail/john, cal/charlotte)

keep in mind these like.. almost all have major spoilers. the ending broke me and i was coping.

Oneshots

a way from here to the sea; werewolfsquad - red dead redemption

teen and up | 4.5k words | arthur & john, arthur & dutch | READ TAGS summary: When a thirteen-year-old John manages to get himself tossed in a river, it is, as always, Arthur’s job to prevent him from getting himself killed.

If Your Well Is Empty; pipdepop - red dead redemption

teen and up | 6.3k words | arthur & copper (the dog), arthur & van der linde gang | READ TAGS summary: Arthur’s hurting bad, and Dutch doesn’t know how to fix it. Luckily, Hosea might have a solution. It’s small, wriggly, and likes to eat boots.

You're The Anchor I'm Holding Tight Onto; pipdepop - red dead redemption

teen and up | 5.7k words | arthur & van der linde gang, hosea & van der linde gang, arthur & john | READ TAGS summary: As they recuperate after another botched job, Arthur struggles with keeping the gang afloat. Sometimes literally. Or: Copper catches a legendary fish. He absolutely does not mean to.

We Are Definitely Not Getting A Dog (and that's final); pipdepop - red dead redemption

teen and up | 12.4k words | arthur & hosea, dutch & hosea, arthur & dutch & hosea | READ TAGS summary: “You won’t believe our luck! I found something wonderful in town!” Hosea eyes the boy shuffling beside Dutch’s horse, staring down at his boots. Then he slowly turns back to Dutch. Takes in the bright grin, the eyes gleaming with excitement – the expression he usually gets when he comes up with one of his grand schemes. “...behind��the dirty urchin?” - Against his will and better judgement, Hosea Matthews acquires a son.

Complete Fics

what wastes and deserts of the soul; magistrate - red dead redemption

teen and up | 33 chapters, 339.7k words | arthur & john, jack & john, abigail/john, arthur & jack, arthur & dutch, dutch & john | READ TAGS summary: Eight years have passed since Blackwater, Saint Denis, and the fall of the van der Linde gang. The survivors are trying to make a life for themselves – some moving on to nobler pursuits, some circling back like carrion birds to the scores they left behind. And outside a town called Purgatory, West Elizabeth, a man wakes up without a scrap of memory or a name, haunted by a black wolf and a golden stag.

Birdshot & Bone; magistrate - red dead redemption

teen and up | 2 chapters, 12.7k words | arthur & van der linde gang, arthur & john | READ TAGS summary: "Got a tip," Sean said. "Good one. Some of O'Driscoll's boys are fixing a move on some sort of hidden treasure, old Plantation savings stashed in a manor, something like that. Something to do with those Lemoyne Raiders pissing all over Scarlett Meadows. Just the sort of Confederate gold we're out here looking for, isn't it?" (John and Arthur go robbing O'Driscolls. It does not go well.)

in my body i fight fire; novoki - red dead redemption

teen and up | 3 chapters, 37.6k words | arthur & hamish, arthur & charlotte, charlotte & hamish, cal/charlotte | READ TAGS summary: Hamish places a hand on Arthur’s wrist, expecting a stone-cold touch, a missing pulse. There’s a beating beneath the skin. Slow but there. Arthur is alive. --- OR: --- Hamish, hearing errant gunshots by his cabin, checks the nearby mountain for any dying men he can comfort in death. He finds a familiar face.

The Cold Hand; Aenlu - red dead redemption

mature | 7 chapters, 24.1k words | READ TAGS summary: Dutch ain't come for him, and Arthur tells himself he is glad for it. It has been almost four full days since Dutch's meeting with Colm, and Dutch cannot shake the itch beneath his skin. ---- Arthur does not liberate himself from the cellar at Lone Mule Stead.

the door gets opened to ghosts; the_ocean_weekender - red dead redemption

teen and up | 3 chapters, 3.1k words | abigail/john, abigail & arthur, arthur & john, jack & john, arthur & jack, arthur & uncle summary: Abigail is home alone with only a shotgun when a ghost visits the ranch.

Tied Up By The Past You Hold; pipdepop - red dead redemption

teen and up | 2 chapters, 11.2k words | arthur & dutch, arthur & hosea, bessie/hosea | READ TAGS summary: In a spur of the moment decision, Dutch and Hosea rescue a young boy from a beating in some backwater town. Trouble is, now they’re not entirely sure what to do with him, and this whole ‘parenting’ thing is a lot more difficult than Dutch thought it would be.

[dear-indies]

Hi Cat! I hope you had a nice weekend. Could you please help me with faceclaims I’ve been struggling with? I’m trying to think of actors and actresses that could fit both the screwball comedy and the noir aesthetic of movies from the 30s/40s. Thank you so much!

Non-binary:

Sara Ramirez (1975) Mexican, some Irish - is non-binary (they/them) - Madam Secretary.

Janelle Monáe (1985) African-American - is non-binary (she/they) and is pansexual - Glass Onion, Hidden Figures.

Women:

Anna Chancellor (1965) - The Hour.

Miranda Otto (1967) - Chilling Adventures of Sabrina.

Queen Latifah (1970) African-American - is openly dating a woman but hasn't publicly labelled her sexuality - Bessie.

Luisa Ranieri (1973) - 7 Women and a Murder.

Christina Hendricks (1975) - Mad Men.

Ruby Lin (1976) Chinese - Phantom of the Theatre.

Ginnifer Goodwin (1978) Ashkenazi Jewish / English, some Welsh, distant German - Why Women Kill.

Kelly Macdonald (1976) - Swallows and Amazons.

Juliet Rylance (1979) - Perry Mason.

April Bowlby (1980) - Doom Patrol.

Zhang Jing Chu (1980) Taiwanese - For a Few Bullets.

Allison Tolman (1981) - Why Women Kill.

Kate Siegel (1982) Russian Jewish, Moldovan Jewish, Polish Jewish, German Jewish - is bisexual.

Ruth Wilson (1982) - His Dark Materials.

Natalie Dormer (1982) - Penny Dreadful.

Emily Blunt (1983) - Mary Poppins.

Kerry Bishé (1984) - Penny Dreadful.

Andra Day (1984) African-American - The United States vs. Billie Holiday.

Nathalie Kelley (1985) Argentinian, Peruvian [Quechua, possibly other]

Chasten Harmon (1985) African-American - Damnation.

May Calamawy (1986) Jordanian, Palestinian / Egyptian.

Janet Montgomery (1986) - Dancing on the Edge.

Natasha O'Keeffe (1986) - Peaky Blinders.

Rachel Shenton (1987) - All Creatures Great and Small.

Evan Rachel Wood (1987) - is bisexual.

B.K. Cannon (1990) - Why Women Kill.

Julia Garner (1994) Ashkenazi Jewish / English, Cornish, Scottish, Irish, German, Scots-Irish/Northern Irish.

Anya Taylor-Joy (1996) - Peaky Blinders.

Sadie Calvano (1997) - Why Women Kill.

Benedetta Porcaroli (1998) - 7 Women and a Murder.

Men:

Burn Gorman (1974)

Chiwetel Ejiofor (1977) Igbo Nigerian - Dancing on the Edge.

Matthew Goode (1978) - Dancing on the Edge.

Oscar Isaac (1979) Cuban-Guatemalan-Spanish - W.E.

Vinny Chhibber (1980) Indian.

Ben Barnes (1981)

Fawad Khan (1981) Pakistani.

Utkarsh Ambudkar (1983) Marathi / Tamil.

Oliver Jackson-Cohen (1986) Egyptian Jewish / English - The Haunting of Bly Manor.

Nikesh Patel (1986) Indian - Indian Summers.

Hale Appleman (1986) Ashkenazi Jewish / Irish, English - is queer.

Ludi Lin (1987) Chinese.

Nicholas Ralph (1990) - All Creatures Great and Small.

Dominic Sherwood (1990) - Penny Dreadful.

Jacob Anderson (1990) Afro-Caribbean, English - Interview with the Vampire.

Daniel Zovatto (1991) Costa Rican - Penny Dreadful.

Freddy Carter (1992) - Shadow and Bone.

Jeremy Pope (1992) African-American - is gay - Hollywood.

David Corenswet (1993) Ashkenazi Jewish / English, Irish - Hollywood.

Anirudh Pisharody (1994) Indian.

Eli Goree (1994) Black Canadian.

Jonah Hauer-King (1995) Ashkenazi Jewish / English.

Hey! I'm not that helpful when it comes to time era asks but I hope you find some suggestions useful!

[verdemoun]

imagine if Colm timewarped too

poor Kieran cant catch a break 😭

y’all love making my boy suffer it’s okay me too

The 1899 gang pre-Arthur wouldn’t have thought to check about Colm. You know, following the gang was far more important. Last run in they’d had with Colm was shooting dozens, near hundreds of his men at the battle of shady belle.

Arthur gets there, catching them up on things that have happened. Offhandedly mentions going to Colm’s execution, only to the 1899 gang’s groaning. ‘We know.’

Kieran immediately paled. Hosea put a hand on his shoulder and squeezed gently, assuring him he was okay.

It wasn't just Colm who timewarped. It was Colm - and all the O'Driscolls that Sadie, Dutch and Arthur shot during the execution. Most still armed. All still loyal to Colm.

Completely normal day for the 1899 gang. Still learning modern era, still exploring modern Blackwater. Strolling through a park, Hosea, Lenny and Kieran enjoying a bit of sun and air. Kieran's arm still in a cast after his run-in with a car but trying to build up something akin to confidence so he can handle going to the hospital to get it removed (note: he doesn't. they end up taking it off at home). And then seemingly sucking the sound, life and air out of the world, the tut of 'Kieran, Kieran'.

There's Colm O'Driscoll, with a dozen of his boys, still dressed in 1890s black leather coats with holsters and guns . And there's just Hosea, Lenny and Kieran, unarmed, in clumsy modern clothes still a mix-match of clothes Bessie bought before they timewarped. And Kieran looks ready to die. Hosea instinctively steps in front of his boys while Lenny grabs Kieran both to stop him running away or collapsing.

The usual interaction, vague threats masked as politeness. What a charming surprise it was to see them again, considering they were all dead. A subtle inquiry as to whether they understood what was happening. Maybe it was hell, considering Duffy was there.

Hosea was mentally preparing to experience the pain of a bullet again when they heard a gun cock behind him.

Jesus, their savior, the owner of the taco truck Kieran had already become a regular at, is hanging out the window with a trusty shotgun at hand. The O'Driscolls, seemingly aware enough of modern era to know that a gunfight in the middle of the park would not end well for them, turn around and back away.

They cut a few laps to make sure they're not being followed home, most of the time having to support Kieran because he is about to collapse. Lenny does not let Kieran out of his sight the entire day, even falling asleep sitting up against the bed because no one is ever leaving Kieran Duffy feel alone and unsafe again.

After a long and serious conversation spoken in hissed whispers, Bessie agrees to give Hosea his guns back.

All they know is at 4am, Hosea Matthews walked in the house, returned his guns to the lockbox in the back of Bessie's wardrobe, and collapsed into bed still in his shoes. The next day the news brushed over a story about 12 unidentified bodies being found in a warehouse fire. No dental matches, no missing persons reports filed, no match in the ballistics when it was discovered most had been shot - some only enough to stop them escaping while the building burned to its foundations around them.

Hosea showed Kieran something on his phone, and Kieran visibly relaxed. It was definitely not incriminating evidence of Colm O'Driscoll shot point-blank in the dead center of his forehead.

[cruzzramirez]

Day 4 - Crack!ship AU

Pit Stop Cars (2006)

Montgomery ‘Lightning’ McQueen/Bessie Ramirez, Emily Ramirez, Other Swynlake Town Residents, Fix-It, Alternate Universe, Hate at First Sight, Small Town Setting, Forced to Work Together, No Beta We Die Like Me, Basically A Cars (2006) Rewrite

“Aw man! You’re letting him work with Bessie?” said the local mechanic and tow truck driver. Accent thick, smile crooked as he glanced between the lawyer and defendant. “I’d give my left leg to do that.” 

“Bessie?” scoffed the defendant, handcuffs clanging against the table. “Who’s Bessie?” 

“Bessie Ramirez meet uhh…now what was your name again?” asked the mechanic. 

“Lightning McQueen,” came the grumbled reply from the man slumped over in the seat next to him. Bessie sat behind her desk opposite the pair of them. She blinked at the American accent. It wasn’t something completely unheard of in this town, but it was interesting to her. 

“Oh right! Knew it was something fancy like that. Okay! Bessie meet Mr. McQueen here, Mr. McQueen meet Bessie. She’ll be supervising you as you fix Main Street as your community service for tearing it up in the first place.” 

Bessie smiled at Matthew and then to Mr. McQueen. “Hello, it’s-” 

“How long is this going to take?” McQueen said. Bessie’s smile dropped in an instant. 

Ah. So this was going to be one of those jobs. Alright then. She gave herself a moment to mentally prepare herself. 

“Well, seeing as you pretty much carved a canyon down the whole stretch, it’ll probably take us about….five days.”

“Five days!” McQueen exclaimed, body straightening up in his seat, no longer bunched up in the corner trying to push himself as far away as possible. He was leaning forward, eyes wide,  “No! No, I need to be in London right now! You can’t keep me here! I need to get on a plane so I can get back to California-”

“Well if you want to get to London so bad, then quit complaining and start working,” Bessie said, eyebrows raised, waiting for him to start arguing. When he didn’t she nodded, satisfied with this, and then stood and turned to Matthew. “Alright, I’ve got it from here.”

“Good luck, Bessie,” he smiled and winked at her as he stood, too.  She wrinkled her nose at him. 

“You coming over for tea tomorrow?” she asked as she escorted him to the door. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world!” he said and then left her alone with this…Lightning McQueen character. He had gone back to sitting in his chair like he was a secondary student in the headmaster’s office. Bessie turned to assess him again with his bad first impression under her belt. He was wearing what she assumed used to be a bright red track suit. It was dirty now, the white stripes that ran up the side of his legs and down the sides of his arms were tinted brown. The cuffs of the sleeves were fraying, the right one torn pretty bad as his hand was bandaged up. His face seemed to know nothing but the glare he had been wearing since he was escorted into her office, and it had dirt on it, too. And his shoes looked like he’d been running for miles in them. 

“So,” she started, leaning back against her desk, “all that racquet last night that had the whole town waking up, I take it that was you?” 

He shrugged, not looking at her. 

“Right. Okay then,” she stood. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Bessie went home after her day from hell and fell face first onto the sofa, the cushions bouncing her slightly. She groaned into the pillow she pushed her face into. At the feeling of being able to let her real emotions out, she reached up to grip the pillow tightly with one hand and then start slamming her first into it with the other. 

“Bessie?” came the sound of her mother’s voice making her jerk her head up. The woman was looking at her with amusement. “What are you doing?” 

Bessie sighed, pushing herself up to sit properly against the back of the couch. 

“Bad day?” her mother asked, coming to sit down next to her. 

“The worst!” Bessie exploded, having to stand up and pace with all the frustration that was inside of her. “I got stuck with this-this-! This complete narcissist of a man. He’s the one that made Main Street look like it does right now, and for his punishment the Board decided they were going to make him fix it. Instead, all they’re doing is making me suffer for it by babysitting this arsehole.” 

She made another noise of frustration, fingers curling tight against her palms. 

“Oh, dear. I’m so sorry,” said her mother. “How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Forever!” she cried, arms gesturing wildly. “Because he’s an idiot! I could have told him everything we needed to do today and he could have gotten the first stretch done, but noooo! No, he wanted to try to escape. As if he wouldn’t have gotten arrested anyway for using magic outside of the town limits. It took, like, three hours for him to go get lost in Enchantra and the police to go fish him out before he got himself killed. Ugh, if only.” 

“Bessie!” 

She winced at that tone and stopped her pacing to sigh heavily, rubbing a hand at her forehead. Bessie walked back over to the sofa to sit back down. “Sorry. I didn’t actually mean that. I’m just…he’s just so annoying! All he’s concerned about is getting to America for some stupid race.”

“Race?” 

“Yeah. You know about the Magick Grand Prix?” 

Her mother frowned for a moment before a minute amount of recognition passed over her face. “Isn’t that what you used to watch in university?” 

“Yes. George had tried out and made it, remember?” 

“Ah! Yes! That’s right, that’s right.” 

“Anyway,” Bessie sighed, pulling that pillow she’d been abusing before into her lap to hug for comfort. It formed against her perfectly, the soft fabric soothing as her fingers ran across the back of it. “I guess this last race he’s done was a tie between him and two other blokes, so they’re having a final race in London next week.”

“How did he wind up here, then?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” Bessie shook her head and then leaned back. “I just want him gone.” 

Her mother chuckled at her before pulling her into her arms. Bessie rested her head against her mother’s shoulder, letting her soothe a hand over her hair. She may have been a fully grown woman at this point, but this was still one of the greatest comforts she’d ever known. Slowly, she felt her anger and frustration melt out of her. 

“It’ll be alright, dear,” said her mum. “You’ll get through this. Once he’s done his time, he’ll be on his way and you’ll never have to see him again.” 

Bessie snorted, looking up at her mum. “I sure hope so.” 

The second day was worse than the first actually, because she had to spend the whole time around Lightning McQueen whereas yesterday, at least he’d given her that grace period for the three hours he’d disappeared into Enchantra. Today the imbecile decided that he didn’t need to listen to any of Bessie’s instructions! No! Because she hadn’t been doing this for years now! All the roads in Swynlake didn’t look as nice as they did because of her! The sidewalks weren’t smooth and well put in because of her! Not! At! All! 

Instead he’d taken matters into his own stupid hands and decided to do the whole road using his magic to get it done. Bessie had almost, almost, thought to be impressed when he’d come running to tell her that he had finished already. He’d been sweating and panting, looking like he had actually put in effort. But, after only the slim time she’d had to know him, she hadn’t let her hopes get up too high. 

And what a good thing, too. She stared, horrified at the road he presented her with. 

“No need to thank me,” he grinned, still breathing a little heavy. “Just have to let the people in charge know and I’ll be on my way.” 

The road was, if anything, worse than it was before. Now instead of a giant cavern of zig-zag seperating the concrete, the asphalt on top was creating the opposite effect. It was bumpy and rough, uneven in every way imaginable. Even some of the original damage was still visible, barely filled in. 

“It looks awful!” she said. 

“Well,” he shrugged. “It just matches the rest of the town.” 

Bessie snapped. 

She was known around town for being a very composed individual. Nice and lovely, someone that people could come to for a level headed answer. She was a very reasonable person. After all, she was the daughter of Emily Ramirez, who had been wise from a young age and had only gotten that much more as she had grown older. 

On that day, her reputation may have taken a beating from everyone hearing her go off on this man in the middle of town. But she couldn’t help it. He’d insulted her hometown, the place that had raised her and so many others, that offered protection for those that were othered by the whole country. 

After she had finished yelling at him and had him cowering under her glare, she finished with, “You are going to tear this up and you are going to start all over!” 

“What!” 

“Did I stutter?” she asked and he had the good grace to not try to start an argument. “I’ll bring you the tools you need. And because you decided to waste the whole day, I guess we’ll have to go into the night with this.” 

She heard him groan as she turned on her heel. 

Into the night they did go, as it had taken him all afternoon and evening to tear up the heinous shit he had thought would be his ticket out of town. She had to set up the lights while he was doing that, listening to him cry and complain to himself as he went. And if she’d thought that was bad, having to hear him just plain go mental that night had…well, actually it had been pretty entertaining. As much as she had wanted to go home, watching him take his anger out like this was like some sort of weird vindication for her. Knowing that he was suffering as much as she was, if not that much more. 

At one point she had called his name and he turned too fast and slipped, falling on his ass into a leftover puddle from the rain that had briefly fallen the day before, and she couldn’t help but to laugh. 

“Oh, you think this is funny, Bessie?” he had yelled, the sound of it echoing off the shoppe fronts. 

Bessie had smiled in the face of his glare and shrugged. “Yeah, actually. It’s pretty funny.” 

At around 11 o’clock, when his yelling had settled down, his movements got more sluggish, and they’d run out of asphalt, she’d told him it was time to call it quits. The stretch of road he had managed to get done, and done properly, had turned out…incredibly well. It was smooth and sleek, she knew just by looking at it that it would dry to near perfection. 

They’d locked up all the equipment and turned off the lights. She was supposed to walk him back to the hotel, where he was staying while being here, when she heard his stomach growl. 

He frowned at her, because she’d been staring, and self consciously went to defend himself, “I haven’t eaten in-!”

“No, I- I know, I know. That’s my fault,” she said and really did feel bad. She hadn’t even thought about it, too pissed off about the whole thing to remember that he was still a person. Despite believing himself to be a god, he did need all the basic things that everyone else did. Like food. She hadn’t eaten either. “Come on.” 

“...but the hotel is that way,” Lightning said, pointing. 

“I know,” she rolled her eyes, not stopping. “I’ve lived here my whole life.” 

She felt a woosh of air hit against her back and then he was suddenly walking right beside her. “Then where are you going?”

“You’re hungry, right?” she asked. He nodded. “Well I am, too. So, unless you want to go back and live off of the complimentary chocolate they leave on your pillow, then you can come with me to get something to eat.” 

He allowed them to walk in silence the rest of the way to Chippamunka’s, which was always the answer to any late night cravings. She ushered him inside, telling him to have a seat in one of the booths while she went to go greet the waitress that was on shift up at the counter. 

“Bessie!” 

“Hi Helen,” she smiled, leaning her elbows onto the counter’s surface. “How’re you tonight?” 

“By the looks of it, better than you,” said the waitress. She was an older woman, older than Bessie’s mum, even. The rumors went that she worked the night shift at Chippamunka’s just because she wanted to. She was supposed to be retired but got bored of that and picked up a job simply because she could, not because she needed to. She had been there ever since Bessie had been a kid, always a comforting presence to find in the dead of the night when she had been in need of a pick me up. Especially when she’d still been going to university, which had only been last year. 

The older woman’s eyes shifted to the other party in the diner. Bessie turned to look, too. 

Lightning McQueen had a menu between his hands, reading over it with interest. He was still in that same red track suit, which looked very worse for wear now. Below, his leg was jostling rapidly. The two woman turned back to look at one another.

“I heard you really gave it to him earlier today,” Helen said, raising an eyebrow and Bessie hid her face in her hands. 

“I don’t even remember,” she said, dragging her fingers down until they were pressing into her cheeks. “I blacked out, I was just so angry.” 

“He a handful?”

“More than,” Bessie sighed. 

“Well,” Helen said, leaning forward to peer around Bessie again. She assessed the man again, then tilted her head a little, eyes softening, “at least he’s nice to look at.” 

That made Bessie bark out a laugh. She reached forward, patting Helen’s arm. 

She returned to the table with two waters, sliding one across to McQueen. He caught it and picked it up, downing it all until the ice was pushing toward him and hitting him in the nose. McQueen slammed the cup down, wiping this mouth with the back of his grimy sleeve. 

“Thanks,” he said, leaning back. Bessie merely nodded, reaching for a straw to unwrap and stab into her water. She took a few sips before thinking to ask, “Do you know what you want?” 

When Helen came around, McQueen had pretty much ordered half the menu. Bessie had thought he was just being dramatic, but had been baffled to watch as he cleaned every plate that was brought out to him. 

“Wow,” she blinked when he had finished off a stack of pancakes. “You were really hungry.” 

“High metabolism,” he said. “From the magic.” 

“Right,” she nodded.

The walk across town to the hotel felt…awkward. At least to Bessie. Glancing over at McQueen, he seemed perfectly content. Or maybe he was just very tired. But that was why she felt awkward about this whole thing, because now she had seen this. Seen him get tired and be hungry and smile at Helen and thank her every time she brought him something and be polite. She had seen him be quiet. Be...a person, not just the hot shot persona he put forward all the time or the angry, slighted victim that demanded he be listened to. 

Now she felt guilty for everything she had said today and for making him work all that time without a break. And, now, for not apologizing for any of it. 

She didn’t want to, was the main thing, too scared that if she did admit fault to anything that he would use it like ammunition when he was himself again. Because she didn’t know which one was the actual Lightning McQueen. 

“Alright,” she said, as they approached the hotel. “See you tomorrow.” 

Bessie turned to leave. 

“Wait!” he said, making her stop and turn to look at him. His eyes were moving to look around them. She frowned. “You’re…you’re going to walk home alone?”

“Yes.” 

“In the dark?”

“I mean…yeah,” she said, wondering why he was pointing out the obvious but acting like it was all very- oh. Oh. Bessie pressed a smile to her face. “I’ll be fine.” 

“Are you sure?” 

She turned around and started walking again, “I’ve lived here my whole life, I’m pretty sure!” 

Her mother was sitting in the kitchen, a pair of steaming mugs sitting on the table. Bessie joined her without saying anything, just sinking into the seat and kicking off her shoes before reaching for the mug her mum was pushing toward her. 

“How’d it go today?” 

“Terrible,” Bessie sighed. She took a sip of tea. “But the last few hours…were better.” 

“Oh?” 

Bessie nodded. Then shrugged, “We’ll see how tomorrow goes.” 

And tomorrow went about as well as the last few hours of the previous night. At least now McQueen seemed to understand there was no work around to the situation he had gotten himself into. No one was going to help him, he had to help himself, and to do that he was going to have to fix the road that he broke, and do it correctly. 

Bessie helped when she was needed, leveling and bringing more asphalt when it was necessary. She moved the cones to block off the road the more he moved down it, and opened up the part that had finished settling. She had been right, it turned out beautifully, almost too much, since it made the portion right next to it, that wasn’t bad at all and didn’t really need fixing, look like it did. 

At the height of the day, when the sun was peering down from right above and the slight breeze of the morning had died down, she’d come down to see that McQueen’d taken off the track suit jacket, down to the no longer pristine white color that it used to be. He looked gross, quite frankly. 

And at the end of the day, when he had finished the next stretch and she wasn’t going to stay another full night out there, she watched as he went to pick up the jacket only to find it covered in dust and grime. His head tilted back to look at the sky, letting out a loud sigh that was more of a groan. 

“They have washing machines at the hotel, you know,” she said as she was talking him back to the Tipton.

“I know,” he replied, looking very sadly down at the ball of fabric between his hands. “I don’t have any quarters for them.” 

Oh. Right. She had watched him pay with a card yesterday at the diner. Bessie paused, looking down at her watch to check the time. It was only 6:00pm. She could spare an hour. 

“Come on,” she said. 

This time he didn’t question where they were going, just followed beside her as she walked him into one of the clothing shoppes. 

“Hey, Bessie!” smiled one of her best friends, Jerome Cassidy. He’d been working in the shoppe since he’d been old enough to apply and had never wanted to do anything else. He eye’d Lightning McQueen, having gotten the 411 on everything about him from Bessie’s point of view over a few phone calls. 

Feeling the scrutiny, McQueen lifted his head to smile and wave. 

“Hey, Jerome,” she replied back. “You have anything in his size?” 

Jerome hummed, stepping closer to McQueen to circle around him. McQueen’s eyes followed him, shoulders lifting slightly. It made Bessie have to bite back a smile. Jerome stopped in front of McQueen, resting his index finger against his cheek, the rest falling under his chin. “I think I have something that could work.” 

“Perfect.” 

McQueen stepped out of the dressing room in a new pair of boots, jeans with a belt, and a dark green flannel shirt, still buttoning the last few before looking up at Bessie and Jerome. He frowned, letting his arms fall flippantly at his sides. “I look like a lumberjack.” 

“You wish,” Bessie scoffed. “We’ll take it.” 

She smiled as she watched McQueen reluctantly pay for the clothes, and then pout as she forced him to throw out his tattered tennis shoes. As they stepped out of the shoppe she started off in the opposite direction of the hotel. Now, he felt the need to ask where they were going. 

“My house,” she said, attempting nonchalance. Like this wasn’t a big deal. Because it wasn’t. Except it was, because she didn’t want him to know where she lived or for him to meet her mum or to look at anything in her place of refuge and comfort from the world. “So you can clean your clothes.” 

“Mum!” she called as they stepped inside. Bessie went through putting her things in their place, muscle memory. Her jacket hung on the rack by the door, her shoes kicked off just underneath it. Her keys went on the little table against the wall on the other side of the entryway and next to them her purse. 

“In the kitchen,” came her mother’s reply before the woman herself appeared in the doorway. She had an apron on over her skirt, flour dusting her skin. “I was just making- oh. Hello.” 

Her eyes had shifted from her daughter to the man standing behind her, still by the door. 

“Mum, this is Lightning McQueen,” Bessie said, keeping her voice pleasant but widening her eyes at her mother so that she would know. Her mum caught on and smiled, wiping her hand off on her apron, and approached McQueen.

“How do you do, Mr. McQueen?” she greeted, holding out her hand to him. He fumbled for a moment, tucking the ball of dirty clothes he’d been carrying under his arm so he could take her hand and nod. 

“Good. And you?” 

“Just fine, thank you,” she replied. “I’m Emily.”

“It’s very nice to meet you…Emily.” 

Yeah. Bessie regretted everything about this. 

“We’re just here so he can wash his clothes,” Bessie explained. 

“Is that what those are?” her mum asked, looking at the bundle he’d tried to hide. “My goodness! No wonder. Well come on in, we’ll get you all sorted out. Lightning was it?”

He nodded. 

Bessie led him into the kitchen, opening the door to the washing machine for him to chuck his things in. It didn’t occur to her until after she was pouring the detergent into the cap of the bottle why he was acting so squirrely about the clothes, trying to keep them out of sight and like a forgotten piece of the situation despite them being the whole point. She caught a glimpse of one of his socks and realized his underwear was in there somewhere. 

Back in the shoppe Jerome had asked, very loudly since McQueen was in the dressing room, “Do you want boxers or briefs?” 

Bessie smiled to herself, shaking her head as she leaned down to pour the detergent across the clothes. That’s where she caught a glimpse of a different fabric among the dirty red track suit and white undershirt. It was a red, too, but with a print of the number 95 in an orange-y yellow ombre duplicated across it. Bessie rolled her eyes and stood back up to shut the door and turn it on. 

She turned around to find her mum was putting McQueen to work. He was standing at the kitchen counter, a potato in one hand and a peeler in the other, getting the skin off. 

“When you’re done with those, the carrots are right here,” her mum said. 

When she looked over to Bessie they shared a silent conversation behind the man’s back. 

Bessie opened her hands in distress, shaking her head. 

Emily waved a hand at her daughter. 

Bessie moved her hand in a sharp line in front of her neck, over and over, shaking her head more fervently. 

“You’re staying for dinner, aren’t you?” asked Emily. McQueen turned around, making Bessie drop her hands quickly and stand up straight. 

“Oh. Um,” he glanced between the two of them. Bessie was trying communicate with her face that he needed to say no. This seemed to make him smile, turning on whatever he thought was charm as he smiled at her mother, “If you don’t mind.” 

“Well-” started Bessie,

“Of course we don’t mind!” Emily said. 

And that’s how Bessie was, once again, sharing dinner with Lightning McQueen. His clothes were hanging up in the back room on the clothing line to dry. He’d been insistent on doing it himself. 

It was a simple meal of meat and potatoes, but it was wonderful all the same. Bessie wished she could have enjoyed it more, if not for her mum grilling McQueen after every bite. 

It’s where she learned that McQueen was from California, which probably explained his complexion. And attitude. Or maybe that just had everything to do with his upbringing. 

It was where she learned about how he got into the sport, how he trained, why he liked to compete, and of course, all about the race that he was trying to get home to. Which led him into the story of how he accidentally came to Swynlake and ruined the street. 

It was actually…scary. A biker gang had run his driver off the road, dragged him out the car, and were trying to hold him up. He’d gotten away, using his speed. But anywhere in the middle of nowhere was scary when you didn’t know the land and it was night, no light to be found. Bessie hated that she felt sympathetic to the story, frowning as she moved her potatoes around on her plate instead of eating them. 

“Is that why your arm’s all wrapped up?” asked Emily. 

He nodded, looking down at it. “Yeah. I…kinda made a mess when I got here.” 

“No kidding,” Bessie snorted, looking up when she felt her mum swipe at her. “What? He did!” 

“And he’s cleaning it up now. Aren’t you, Lightning?” 

“Trying to,” he agreed. Then he nodded toward a flyer that was sitting on top of the stack of mail in the middle of the kitchen table. “I’ve seen those all over town. What’re they for?” 

“Oh! That’s for a little event the Town Hall is putting on. It’s a fundraiser for a local youth sports league. They’re trying to go to nationals this year,” Emily explained. “They do these things often in town. They’ll have food and music. Everyone comes out to support one another. It’ll be fun! You should go!” 

“I don’t think he’ll be here that long,” Bessie cut in for him, already reading the reluctance on his face. 

“That’s right. You have that big race. What was it for again?” her mum asked, sending McQueen off onto another tangent about something called a Piston Cup and someone named Dinerco. 

Bessie was putting on her coat and shoes at the door, listening to her mum insist that McQueen take a box of food back with him in the kitchen. She’d gotten him a bag to put his freshly cleaned clothes into, along with the food and a few cookies for desert. 

He came out into the entryway alone and stopped when they made eye contact. McQueen took a few steps closer, nodding to the door, “You don’t have to walk me back.”

“It’s my job,” she replied, pulling her hair free from under the collar. 

“It’s late. You’re already home,” he continued to argue. “I can walk myself back. It’ll take me all of ten seconds.” 

She narrowed her eyes at him, obviously suspicious. McQueen raised his hands in mock surrender, the bag her mother had given to him hanging off one of his thumbs. “I’m not going to run away again. I’m almost done with the road, anyway. I’m just saying, there’s no need for you to get out again.” 

Bessie continued to stare at him, trying to find any indication that he was lying to her and plotting his escape plan. When she seemed to find only sincerity, she nodded slowly. “Okay…okay, but only if you call as soon as you get there.” 

“Deal,” he said. Bessie stepped over to her purse and handed him one of her business cards. He saluted her with it, smiling, and then walked out the door. 

She hadn’t even got her coat hung back on the hook before the phone was ringing. 

The next morning Bessie was getting McQueen set up to start working on the road when Deliah came running from up the road, looking all in a tizzy. 

“Bessie! Bessie!” 

“Hey, what-?” Bessie had to catch Deliah by her shoulders before she crashed into her. “What’s wrong?” 

“We just-!” Delilah took a second to breathe. “We just got a call in the office. The forest path by the river is under water. We need someone to go out there and put the precautions up before someone goes walking down it.”

“Oh. Well is Trevor-?”

“He’s out by the farmlands today, remember? The cows-” 

“Ah, I totally forgot. Um, okay! Well, then, can you watch him while I head out there?” 

“Sorry, Bess, I’ve got to-“

“The secondary parking lot. Right,” Bessie finished. She made it her mission to know what everyone in the office was doing, never wanting anyone to feel like they were forgotten or like their projects were unimportant. She pressed her lips together and looked over at McQueen. 

He returned her gaze for a few seconds, and she was waiting for him to protest and argue and throw a hissy fit about how he needed to finish the road and that this wasn’t fair to him. And it would be true, it wasn’t fair. But his shoulder drooped a little and he sighed.

“I’ll go with you,” he said. “The quicker we get it done, the quicker we can get back.”

“Thank you,” Bessie said, earnest. He just nodded and gestured at her to lead.

They had to go back to the office for her to get the supplies she needed to block off the footpath. Or at least to the point where if anyone did go around the warnings and gates, they couldn’t come back to sue the town for negligence or whatever else. McQueen helped her put it all in the little buggy before he plopped down in the passenger seat. 

Bessie always liked going out on the Enchantra trails. For the job or just for the fun of it. On days like today, when the sun was manageable in the shade and the made breeze from the ride was cooling her skin, it was one of the best things to do. Getting to see the lush greens of the leaves in their summer bloom alongside all the vibrant flowers was something she would never tire of, no matter how many times she made this trip. 

She’d glanced over at McQueen as they got closer to the river, the water clearer than usual and sparkling against the sun’s light. Expecting to see him with his arms crossed over his chest, sitting like he had that first day in her office, closed off and reluctant to be there. 

Instead, he was sitting up and looking out at the scenery. One hand was holding the top of the buggy as he leaned closer to the edge of it, the other laying flat on the seat to hold himself up a little bit. His eyes were wide, mouth slightly agape as the corners were curled upward. He seemed to be enjoying himself. 

Huh. So, even someone like him could be softened by the wonders of nature. 

She didn’t know why, but she felt the need to keep looking over at him. 

One time, she found that he was looking over at her, too. 

She stopped looking after that. 

Once they got to the point on the path that diverged, one leading down closer to the river that was going to be under water, she parked the buggy and hopped out. 

“How can I help?” McQueen asked. 

“Stay here for now,” she said, pulling out her bigger boots. “I’m going to go look at the water for a second. Just to see what sort of clean up we’ll have to do.” 

“Maybe I could-“

“No,” she shook her head. “If you got hurt before your big race, you’d never forgive yourself.” 

Bessie could feel his eyes on her as she walked off down the path and had to force herself to keep looking forward instead of checking over her shoulder. It didn’t take her very long to get down there, only venturing far enough to see it, not going anywhere near the edge of the water. She didn’t have anything like a career altering moment to get to in the next week, but she wasn’t going to get swept up in the water for being an idiot. It was pretty, though. Seeing the water rushing over itself. 

“Wow,” came a voice beside her, making her jump and turn, ready to attack. 

“You-!” she yelled as soon as her brain recognized McQueen standing there next to her. Bessie turned to look up the path, where she had left him, and then back to where he was standing. “I told you to stay put!” 

“I got bored.” 

“Ugh,” she rolled her eyes. 

“And this isn’t even that dangerous. It’s just…beautiful.” 

Bessie, reluctant to have this kind of moment with him, snorted. “What? They don’t have things like this in California? I thought you traveled around all over, anyway.” 

“Well sure. We’ve got mountains and waterfalls and all of that but I…” he frowned, his hands finding the pockets of his jeans to shove themselves into. “I don’t really have time to go do this sort of thing.” 

“What do you mean?” she asked, feeling the snottiness of her tone falling away. Bessie glanced out at the river, “You can’t even go for a walk?” 

“No. I have to train and travel, and when I’m not doing that I’m filming things for my sponsor or going to events for them. Or I’m meeting fans and doing interviews so I keep my PR up and even have fans to support me. Or I’m meeting with my team to go over strategy, or marketing, or whatever else. It’s always go-go-go. I never get to just…slow down.” 

“Sounds awful.” 

“It’s not. I mean, it can be, but, I love racing.” 

“You didn’t even say racing in that whole terrible description,” she pointed out. 

“Well, that’s just the stuff I have to do to be able to race and even have a chance at winning the Piston Cup.” 

“Are you sure about that?” she asked. “Seems kinda pointless if all you have at the end of the day is just a trophy.” 

When he didn’t answer she turned, heading back up the path to get started on blocking off the path. 

“What about you?” he asked when he caught back up. “You ever think about leaving the small town life? Trying a city on for size?” 

“No,” Bessie smiled. “I mean, I’ve thought about it, of course. I think everyone that grows up here has their moments of thinking about a life away from it. Some go do that, some return, and some of us stay here.” 

“You don’t want to leave? Just to see what’s out there?” 

“I’ll travel when I have the money, sure. But this place is my home,” she told him. “I know the people here. I like my job, keeping the foundations of it in place for everyone to come and go as they please. It’s where I belong.” 

He hummed at this but didn’t try to argue anymore. They walked in a comfortable silence the rest of the way back. 

It didn’t take them too long to get everything set up, but she sort of side tracked them when she accidentally kicked dirt up onto his chest as he was leaning down to hold a stake steady as she hammered it into the ground. 

It made her giggle. 

He frowned, looking up at her. “Why is it that whenever I get something on me, it’s always your fault?” 

This had then turned into a little dirt throwing war that ended with her winning when he called, “Uncle! Uncle!” after getting a handful of dirt down the collar of his shirt. 

They packed back up and rode back to town. He worked for a few hours that afternoon until the sun began to set. She offered to turn the lights on and move them further down so he could continue into the night but he shook his head. 

“That’s alright,” he told her. She shrugged, and started to gather the tools to go put them away. “Hey, I can put this stuff away. You can go ahead.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah,” McQueen smiled. Bessie found herself smiling back, pleasantly surprised. Hey, maybe all it took was showing someone a slice of nature. “Thanks for letting me tag along today.” 

“You were doing me the favor,” she said. “Alright well…I’ll see you tomorrow, then.” 

“Yes you will,” he nodded. “You have a good night.” 

Bessie went home and found it weird to realize today had actually been okay. 

The next morning she walked out to Main Street to find that it was finished. The whole thing. From top to bottom, it was covered in a nice, clean, smooth layer of asphalt. She walked down it until she reached the end of the road, a little past the Tipton’s entrance. She couldn’t believe it. Bessie looked to the sides, finding the lights sitting on the sides of the road. 

He must have worked all night to finish it. 

Which meant…

Bessie jogged over to the hotel and asked the front desk if they had seen him.

“The sheriff checked him out earlier,” Sharon, the concierge, said. She gave Bessie a sympathetic smile. “Sorry, Bess.” 

“That’s okay,” she said. It’s not like she cared. 

She walked back outside, taking a breath for herself in an attempt to convince herself that she was fine. Who needed a goodbye from some idiot anyway? It totally fit who he was as a person. Running away from everything. She was stupid to think-

“Bessie! Hey!” 

She blinked, turning her head to watch Lightning McQueen come jogging across the street. He was back in his, still tattered but mostly clean, track suit and with a sheen of sweat on his forehead and neck. Which she was not looking at. At all. 

“Uh, hi,” she said, her confusion in her tone and all over her face. “What’re you still doing here? You should be getting a plane back to California right about now, shouldn’t you?”

There was only two days left before the race, and as far as she was aware, a trip back to America wasn’t exactly the fastest thing in the world. It wouldn’t take him the whole two days, but she didn’t think stepping off a plane right onto the track would be advisable. 

“Well, I wanted to take a few laps around the paths this morning,” he said, which would explain why he was so sweaty and breathing hard. “And I also wanted to say goodbye.” 

“Oh,” she said. “Well…bye.” 

“No! No, I mean, you know, properly. And I wanted to thank your mom, too. Her cookies? So good.” 

Bessie had no idea what to say to this, so all she did was stare in reply. 

“I have a few things to do today. People to see, places to go,” he said. “So, I’ll meet you at your office when you’re off. Sound good?” 

She found herself nodding. 

“Alright, see you!” he waved.  

“But you don’t…” she started, watching him dart off to enter the hotel, “...have a room anymore- okay. Sure.” 

Bessie made it back to the office, sending a few people that were in to go pick up the lights, and then got started on the paperwork for the finished road. She and Trevor headed out to the forest path to see how the river was treating it and decided that they better keep the signs up for another day because while the water had gone down, it was still pretty slippery. She kept herself busy until Lightning was knocking on her door at the end of her day. 

He was back in the clothes he’d bought in town, smiling brightly, “Hi.”

“Hi,” she echoed. 

They stared at one another for a long moment before she cleared her throat, “So, uh, you said you wanted to say goodbye?” 

“Yeah, I figured, you’ve taken me to eat twice. It’s about time I returned the favor,” he said. “Can I take you somewhere? I passed by that Chinese place by the university earlier?” 

“Imperial City? Uh, yeah, sure, we can go there,” she agreed. 

“Great.”

The walk across down was weird to say the least. People passed them by, saying hello to both of them. By name. Like they knew him or something. And weirder, he called them by name! As if he knew them, too! 

“Bessie! McQueen!” the mechanic called as they passed him getting into his truck. 

“Hey, Matt,” Lightning replied. “You going tonight?”

“Of course. Bessie, save me a dance!” 

“Uh…okay?” Bessie agreed, watching Matthew wave out the open window of his truck and drive off. “Save him a dance?” 

“The fundraiser?” Lightning filled in for her. 

“That’s tonight? Wow,” she shook her head at herself. “I feel like this week as been-”

“A total blur? Yeah, I know what you mean.”

To her surprise, the meal wasn’t as painful as she thought it was going to be. Their conversation was pleasant and nice. She found herself answering the questions he asked without her usual snark. She was honest, like she wanted him to know since it seemed like he was actually interested in hearing what she had to say. 

He made her laugh. She made him laugh. They got into a bit of an argument over grass and terf, which had somehow come up in conversation, and then left. 

Bessie felt like she was buzzing as she walked beside him toward her neighborhood. Then, it suddenly hit her, that the night was coming to a close. This was it. This was a goodbye, after all, and after he had dropped her off at home and had a conversation with her mum about who knew what, he would leave. And he would never come back. 

She hated how disappointed she felt about that. 

They approached the corner that Town Hall sat on, the music from inside carrying out into the street where the large doors were propped open. People were all walking toward it, like moths to a flame. She was getting ready to step off the curb to cross the street when she felt his hand grab onto hers. Bessie followed the line of his arm up to his face. 

He looked nervous, the crease of his brow anything but the confidence he liked to wear everyday. She furrowed her brow at him, head moving to one side in a silent question as to why he was delaying them. 

“...want to dance?” he asked, turning slightly toward Town Hall. Bessie glanced over at the entrance, then back to him. She smiled and then nodded. 

Lightning led her inside until they were on the dance floor. She expected it to be awkward, but it wasn’t. Maybe because he didn’t seem all that concerned with the people around them, or with anyone but her, so it made her feel comfortable enough to let go. For one song, and then another, and another, until the transition from one to the next didn’t even register until the rhythm slowed down and he was pulling her by the hand closer until he had a hand on her waist and hers was resting on his shoulder. 

She sighed, gathering up the courage to look up at him and found he was already looking at her, eyes soft and smile even softer. It had her blushing. 

“Lightning-” she started.

“Monty,” he said.

“What?” 

“My name,” he said, “It’s- well, it’s Montgomery, but, you can call me Monty.”

“Oh,” she smiled and laughed, airy. “So your parents didn’t actually set you up for this god complex? You got that all on your own?” 

“They’re not completely innocent,” he replied, falling into rhythm with her teasing almost as easily as they were stepping in time together to the music. 

“Sure,” Bessie said, then swallowed. Her fingers tightening in the fabric of the flannel on his shoulder, “Monty.” 

“Lightning McQueen!” someone called and Bessie rolled her eyes, leaning forward to bury her head into his chest because she thought it was just Matthew or something, rolling up just in time to ruin the moment. 

But then the music was drowned out by the sound of people calling his name, and Bessie looked up only to be blinded by flashing lights. There were suddenly so many people talking at one time she couldn’t even make out one word from the next. The crowd of people, cameras and microphones, pushed toward them. She felt his grip on her hand tighten. Then someone grabbed her other hand, a shoulder pressing passed her. 

“Hey!” she protested, trying to keep her hold on his hand. “Monty!” 

“Bessie!” he replied. She watched as he flinched under the blinding lights of the cameras. One of them knocked against her temple, making her lose her grip on him, and suddenly he was in the middle of the pool as she was pushed to the edge. 

She didn’t see him leave, didn’t get to say what she wanted to. Didn’t even get to say goodbye. He was just gone. Everyone had come out onto the Main Street, the asphalt he had poured and smoothed over under their feet, as they watched a barrage of cars leaving the town. The night colored in the red of their tail lights. 

Bessie went home. 

“Hey,” her mum greeted her. “How was your day?” 

“It was…good,” she smiled. 

“Mr. McQueen leave?” 

“Yes,” she nodded. “He wanted me to tell you he said thank you. For dinner. He liked your cookies.”

“Oh, how sweet,” her mum said, pressing a hand to her chest. “We’ll have to watch his race this weekend.” 

“Yeah,” Bessie agreed. “We should.” 

Everyone else seemed to have the same idea about the race, basically bullying the owners at the Deer to put the Magick Grand Prix race on all their televisions. A good crowd had gathered, ordered their drinks and food, and settled in to watch as the three finalists took to the track. Bessie held her breath as she watched the cameras get a close up on Lightning McQueen, the announcers talking about how he had been missing for a week and that everyone had been happy to find him again. Rescued from some no-where town in England. 

“Hey! That’s us!” Matthew grinned from where he was sitting beside her in the booth she and her mum had claimed. Bessie shook her head, picking up her pint and hiding her smile behind it. The race felt long and torturous, every lap around the changing course felt like an hour when it only took a few minutes. 

At one point, the Chick Hicks character had ankle tapped McQueen, sending him plunging off the side of a high up obstacle. Everyone in the pub gasped, their breaths kept hostage in their lungs until the camera showed a hand reaching up over the edge. Then McQueen’s face, and other hand, until he pulled himself back up. Then everyone was cheering. 

Bessie wasn’t, though, because he wasn’t getting back up. He was just laying there. He looked okay, but from just a camera view, who the hell even knew? She bit down on her lip, waiting. 

McQueen rolled over onto his stomach, getting up onto his hands and knees. He reached up to swipe a hand over his face, then pulled away to look at his palm. She couldn’t tell what he was looking at. A scratch? Was something stuck in here?

The camera cut over to the other two racers, who had slowed down as they tried to figure out how to jump over some big cavern in the middle of the course, and then it was back on McQueen. He was picking up a handful of dirt for some reason and standing. Then he proceeded to rub it between his hands, and off on his uniform, until it was dirtied. 

“What the hell is he doin’?” Matthew asked, leaning closer to her. Bessie shrugged, but smiled. 

McQueen started running again, and when he got to where the other racers were, he didn’t slow down. Instead he sped up, and decided that he was just going to go over the giant gap in the course. 

By some miracle, he made it across, and continued on. He was a lap down, though, so he had a lot to make up for. 

“Look at him go!” Matthew said then whistled through his teeth. “Oh man, looks like he’s back in it!” 

The race continued. One lap after another, until the final one was up. All three were beside one another, neck and neck and neck at this point. They all looked tired, but it seemed like McQueen had the edge of youth on his side. Or maybe it was something else that made him look so determined. 

 Again, though, it seemed Chick Hicks wanted to play dirty because as soon as he was right behind the other racer, the one in the turquoise uniform, everyone was stumbling. McQueen was off screen as the man in turquoise fell forward, hands out in front of him. But he just kept tumbling over himself, as the part of the course was a large down hill. Down, down, down, he rolled until everything flattened out again. But by the time he’d stopped, he looked awful. Beat up, face bloody. There was no telling what state his limbs were in. 

Chick Hicks kept running. 

McQueen, who had apparently managed to keep his feet, and had pulled out in a very large lead, had stopped. Right at the finish line and turned around. Chick Hicks crossed the finish line, being deemed the winner. 

But no one was paying him any attention. Even the cameras were all focused on McQueen as he was picking up the racer in turquoise, which Bessie was hearing to be named The King. And she had thought Lightning McQueen was a showboat of a name. 

He slung the man over the back of his shoulders, and carried him toward the finish line. He walked backwards across it, so that The King crossed it first, and then was able to hand him off to the paramedics that had finally made it onto the course. 

Everyone in the pub erupted into cheers and applause. The night continued on with celebrating the little celebrity that they had all come to know over the course of a few short days, and who had left his mark right in the center of town. 

Bessie went to sleep concluding that the day had gone better than she expected. It was tomorrow she was worried about. 

Nothing happened. She went to work, got a call about a pothole that would need to be repaired, and continued on. As always. That’s just what the people of Swynlake did. They continued on. 

It wasn’t until the day after that did she get a phone call from someone with an American accent. 

“Hey! Is this Bessie Ramirez?” 

“Yes, how can I help you?” 

“I’m Gerri Peterson with the California Gazet, we were wondering if you could do an interview with your time with Lightning McQueen and-!” 

Bessie hung up. She got a few more phone calls like this. The tenth one she answered it by saying, “Piss off, you vultures!” and hung up. 

She wanted to stop answering her phone altogether. She would have to look into getting a new number later. 

“Hello. Yes, this is Bessie Ramirez. No, I am not going to be interviewed,” she answered her phone as she was walking home that afternoon, tired and annoyed now.  

“That’s good to know,” said a familiar voice. She blinked, pulling the phone away from her ear for a moment to look at it, as if that would help her brain decipher if this was real or not. 

“Uh, hello?” she asked. 

“Hi, Bessie,” and yes. It was Monty. 

“Hi,” she replied. “Um, not to be rude or anything but…why are you calling me?” 

“My agent told me that everyone’s been contacting people in Swynlake. You especially since my community service was apparently a public record and since you were the one overlooking it, your name was on the document. I wanted to say sorry,” he said. “Those people are vultures.” 

She huffed a laugh, “Yeah. I know. I could barely deal with them for a day. Can’t imagine how you’re holding up after what you pulled the other day.” 

“You watched?” 

“Of course,” she said. “The whole town did. Well, most of us, anyway. At least that’s what it felt like.” 

“What did you think?” 

“I thought it was very boring,” she smiled and it grew when she heard him laugh over the line. “But it sure did pick up in the end.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah,” she agreed. “I’m proud of you.” 

“Thank you.” 

“Matthew loved it.”

“How’s he doing? I was going to call him after you.” 

“He’s good. Same as ever. He’s started a petition to rename Main Street after you.” 

“Really? You know, I always said he was the smartest person in that town.” 

“He has his moments.” 

She walked a few more steps, stopping on the corner of her street in Tortuga. They simply sat in the silence for a few more moments before Bessie knew she had to say something. 

“Well. I guess this is goodbye.” 

“It doesn’t have to be,” he said in an instant. 

“Yes. It does,” she said. “You have your busy life and I have my quiet one. I wouldn’t make it a day in your world, and you’d get bored here. We both know it.” 

“But-” 

“No buts. We had a good couple of days. That’s all. You can call me whenever, alright? So, I’ll talk to you sometime. Sound good?” 

“No.”

She smiled. “Very well. Goodbye, Monty.” 

“I’m not saying it,” he said and she felt her heart squeeze. “Not yet.” 

“Whatever you say,” she said. Bessie hung up, phone clipping shut between her fingers. 

It wasn’t until a month later that the office got a very peculiar phone call about a new resident needing their sidewalk repaved. 

“What? But that’s in the Tortuga Neighborhood. No one there needs anything repaired.”

“I don’t know. It’s just what the caller asked for. You want me to go take a look?” 

Bessie side, letting her head fall forward on her desk. She knew what sort of person was probably moving in and hated the idea of them already. She picked her head up, “No, Trevor. I’ve got it.” 

She walked there, taking the brisk winter air in to settle the annoyed heat that had been blooming in her chest at the thought of his call. What kind of uppity person was this? Needing their sidewalk repaved when it was, no doubt, perfectly fine! Bessie knew these things! She would have been the first one to ask the new resident if they wanted something filled in! 

She stepped up to the house, eyes glued to the pavement. And wouldn’t you know it, it looked perfectly fine. 

Oooo, she was in for one with whoever was inside that house. 

Bessie marched up the walkway, and knocked. 

And wouldn’t you know who opened the door but Lightning McQueen. She took a step back, her anger melting at such a surprise. 

“Wha-? What the-? “

“Let me explain,” he said, following her as she kept walking backwards down the front lawn. “Bessie, wait! Where are you going?” 

“I don’t know!” she said. “I can’t-! Why are you here?” 

“I bought a house!” he said. She whipped around, eyes looking from him up to the house and then back again. 

“No you didn’t.” 

“Yes, I did.” 

“No, you didn’t!” 

“Yes I did! I can show you the paperwork!” 

“No, you didn’t. You can’t just buy a house. Not here.”

“Why not?” 

“Because!” she blurted, all the emotions she’d been keeping inside of her for the past few months spilling out now that he was here and he was saying he bought a house. “You’re not someone who settles down! You’re someone who travels around and who doesn’t have any down time! And because if you bought a house that means you think something is going to happen and it can’t because you’re- you have races to go to. And you train all the time, and you have people who follow you around like a pack of rabid wolves trying to get the lowdown on what kind of coffee you drink in the morning so they can write some weird article about it. Because you’ll get bored here. You’ll get bored of me. And I’m not going to be the reason you miss out on things and opportunities because you love racing and you’ll resent me, and then you’ll leave and I can’t- I can’t do that again! We knew one another for a few days. You can’t just- you can’t do this!” 

Monty closed his mouth that had become ajar over the course of her big fat rant, wanting to interrupt her but having no way in until she had finished. But by then he needed to regroup, so his mouth shut and he breathed in deeply. She shrank as he came forward, watching as he tentatively reached out to take her hands. 

“Okay, um,” he said. “Look, I get it. I do. And I’ve thought about this. It’s all I’ve been thinking about actually, since you hung up on me. Which, ow, by the way.” 

She winced, “Sorry.” 

“I know it’s a lot. Believe me, buying property in another country was a big headache, but I couldn’t not do it. I don’t know what happened to me here. You’re right, it was only a few days, but I met my best friend here, some really great people, and you,” he said. “I’m not going to stop racing, but I don’t want to burn out while I’m still in my rookie days. So, I bought this house to have a place to call home. Somewhere I can come back to and have some peace and quiet. You do know there’s such a thing as an off season, right?” 

Bessie made a face, sheepish, before ducking her head. Monty chuckled. He released a hold of one of her hands to touch her chin, gently lifting her head up to meet his gaze. 

“You’re serious about this?” she asked. 

“I am,” he replied. “So, now that that’s settled. Would you wanna go on a date with me?” 

Bessie groaned and squeezed her eyes shut against her embarrassment for how brazen he was, pulling away from him, but only far enough away that both of their arms were stretched, hands holding one another, and then she reeled herself back in. Bessie peaked one eye open, “Yeah, alright.” 

“Good,” he said, grinning something beautiful. She sighed, taking another step toward him. “And for the record, Bess, I’d never get bored of you.” 

Epilogue: 

“Bessie,” came Monty’s voice from the other room. She hummed in response, standing in front of the stove, watching the soup simmer. “Bessie! Bessie get in here!” 

She dropped the spoon she’d been holding and ran, panic immediately filling her up to the brim at the sound of his insistence. She stopped herself on the back of the couch, “What? What-?” 

“Look!” he said, arms opened and eyes trained in front of him. Bessie turned her attention that way, watching as Cruz was stood with her little hands bracing herself against the couch. Her eyes were focused on her dad, mouth in a determined line. He flapped his fingers, “Come on, Cruz, I know you want to. Come over here.” 

Bessie didn’t move or say anything, not wanting to break the moment with it. 

Cruz turned herself, movements clumsy. She had one hand against the sofa seat now, fingers digging in to the fabric. One of her feet stuck out in front of her. Then the other one. She let got of the sofa and tilted a little to far forward, but she caught herself. Her arms were held out from her, reaching out toward Monty. He didn’t say anything, just watched as she crossed the short distance, basically carried by the momentum of her weight, until he caught her in his hands before she could face plant into the carpet. 

He hoisted her above his head, laughing, and then lowered her until their noses were touching. Cruz giggled with delight. “I knew you could do it!” 

Bessie rounded the couch to join. Monty let Cruz down to sit on the floor between them so Bessie could dote on her, too. 

“What a chip off the block, eh?” he said, rubbing the little girl’s back. “I’ll have her ready to get on the track in no time.” 

“Okay, calm down,” Bessie shook her head. “She’s not even a year yet!” 

“Gotta start early, babe!” 

She rolled her eyes, putting her palm against his cheek and gently pushing him away from her. Bessie stood, going back to make sure the soup wasn’t boiling over. From in the kitchen she could hear him talking to their daughter in a hushed tone, “Don’t listen to her, kiddo. You’ll be the best one out there. Cruz Ramirez-McQueen has won the Piston Cup! And the crowd goes wild, aahhh! Aaahh!” 

Bessie laughed quietly to herself.