Lolycandydolly - Buebito Con Catsun

Sometimes you just gotta assert your authority.

This ship will always have a special place in my heart

i’m convinced that the ice age franchise won’t end until the squirrel that always chases after the nut gets an equally hideous girlfriend with Squirrel Tits™ and eyelashes

The stable guys are getting more and more done with my shit and I’m getting more and more done with theirs too. What kind of weak operation are they running here where they won’t stable my horse just because it’s a god or because it doesn’t have ~skin~ 

could u do a fic abt storm? idc what it's abt but if u cld thatd b great!

Sure thing, anon! Here’s a fic about how Storm spent the off-season timeskip at the beginning of Cars 3! 

Fic: Motherland

They’re in Gemmayzeh, in a restaurant with a dress code to meet an uncle the American side of Storm’s family is elated to see. His mother cries.

Half an hour ago, winding through Beirut, Storm asked why a hauler couldn’t take them. But Storm’s mother wants the entire city to see her. Normally, Storm doesn’t mind being the center of attention, either, but none of these cars know who he is, and no one cares. Not here. Storm doesn’t like being reminded that his reputation doesn’t always speak for itself.

“At the restaurant, don’t speak,” his mother tells him. Whisper, if he must. She says, “Your Arabic is… ” and she means it’s like a baby’s. His family–well, his mother’s family–is very well-known in Lebanon, and there will be listeners.

If Gale were here, she’d laugh about this. She’d laugh about anyone telling Storm to be quiet, and she’d laugh at Storm being mad about it. She’d tell him his mother’s probably doing him a favor–Storm doesn’t want to talk to any of these cars; really, he’s been given permission to be sullen and silent. It’s a win-win.

She’d be right, but Storm’s still angry.

–

“Are we going to have to pray?” Storm asks. A private jet is launching them over the pole, straight from LAX to Lebanon. “Like, five times a day, facing–”

“We’re Maronites,” says his mother, tersely. Like that explains anything. Storm’s pretty sure he isn’t one.

–

“Do you have any plans for the off-season?” asks Shannon Spoke.

He’s never really understood her mannerisms, can’t tell if she likes him or wished he’d rot. She’s too professional. He tells her he’ll be overseas, training with supercars.

“You go where the competition is,” he says. He sounds self-assured and silky, like usual. When he watches the broadcast, he believes it.

In Lebanon, he tries to make his world as much like Los Angeles as possible. He doesn’t need to be worldly and he doesn’t want to “train” with supercars. In Lebanon, the Internet is the same. The fuel is a little better, to be honest. But those mountains could be the Sierras and the water could be the Pacific; they’re just out of reach, just like in Los Angeles. From Storm’s vantage point, Lebanon is just like Los Angeles.

Storm has never been to the mountains. He’s never touched the sea.

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stickerfox 64!