pixar cars blog (heavily focused on their humanized versios) - I just show up here and post whatever is in my head
this is mostly a journal for my favorite guys, headcanons, AU stuff, random thoughts, art, and anything else I feel like dumping here. no schedule, no plan, just whatever I'm on at the moment ₊‧
you can call me whatever, I use he/they!
warning: some posts may include suggestive or sensitive content, even nsfw and more along these lines, and tagging may be inconsistent or missing. if that's not your thing, feel free to dip out :)
★ Boost: tries to organize everyone, gets annoyed says "fuck this" and speedruns the game himself
★ Snot: the resource provider- mines, farms, cuts down trees. genuinely finds ts relaxing.
★ DJ: the second he spawns he runs off somewhere, dies like 30 times in the first ten minutes and just fucks around- also names every animal the dumbest shit imaginable and griefs Wingo because it's funny
★ Wingo: designated builder- spends way too much time building and decorating the base. he will absolutely tear something down and rebuild it because "it looked off"
The crowd was roaring while the engines were starting to cool down.
Storm got out of his car and ripped his helmet off in an instant.
He stared at the big screen announcing the winner.
He lost.
"No."
"NO FUCKING WAY."
The crowd is too loud.
He can feel every drop of sweat running down his back, his face, his neck. Every strand of hair sticking to his skin. The smell of tires and exhaust makes him sick to his stomach.
He can't fucking lose.
Not like that.
He was doing so good.
He should've won.
He always wins.
He's Jackson Storm. The first rookie to ever win a Piston Cup.
This isn't supposed to happen.
He slams his helmet into the ground. It bounces. Then he kicks it across the pit lane.
"JACKSON!" his crew chief yells. Storm doesn't react.
"JACKSON!" Still nothing.
"JACKSON!" That's the first time Storm actually looks over.
"What are you doing?!"
"THAT WAS MY DAMN WIN!"
"Calm down, boy! Stop making a scene-"
But it's already too late.
Reporters have been swarming him the second the helmet left his hands.
Camera flashes. Questions. More camera flashes. Microphones shoved in his face. People talking over each other.
Too. Fucking. Much.
"You want something to film?" he spits. "Go tape your- ughh you- Leave me alone!"
His crew is already on it, trying to pull him away. Trying to save face.
"Out of my way!"
Storm shoves a cameraman aside and pushes through the crowd, making a beeline for his trailer.
───────
His firesuit is hanging off his waist as he's trying to cool down. It's itchy and annoying and the weight of it feels all wrong.
He's throwing things left and right, desperately searching for his headphones while muttering to himself.
Not fair. Not fair. Not fair.
The moment he puts them on, they let out a defeated little chime. They're dead. And his vape. Where is his vape?
Fuck.
Fuckfuckfuckfuck-
"FUCK!"
Storm collapses onto the floor.
He's grabbing at his knees, his stomach, his arms. Fingers digging into the fabric of his firesuit like he's trying to rip it apart. He tugs at his hair, rocking back and forth.
Then the trailer door opens. Ray steps inside.
"Jackson." His voice is quieter this time. "What the hell's going on?"
Storm tries to answer. Nothing.
His breath hitches. He hits the floor with his fist.
Once. Twice. The tears come all at once.
Ray crouches down in front of him.
"Talk to me."
"I should've won..." Storm chokes out. "I-I...I win..I..." He drags a shaky breath in through his teeth. "Fuck..."
Ray studies him for a second. "You lost."
Storm just stares.
"It happens."
No. Not to him.
"You'll get the next one."
Storm wants to cuss him out. Tell him that that's not the point. That he was supposed to win THIS ONE. That everything was wrong. That his suit won't stop itching. That his headphones are dead. That he can't think. That the crowd won't shut up even though they're gone. Instead, another sob catches in his throat.
He can't form a single damn word.
Ray gets up. All Storm can hear is rustling. It's way too loud. A tap on his shoulder makes him flinch. His vape. He grabs it instantly. He takes one puff. It burns his throat. He coughs. Then takes another.
The familiar burn grounds him just enough to stop feeling like he's about to crawl out of his own skin.
His eyes are still burning. His head hurts. His firesuit is still uncomfortable as hell.
But at least he can somewhat think.
───────
Ray is saying something. Storm doesn't really catch most of it.
Something about sponsors. Something about damage control. Something about interviews.
Storm takes another drag.
He's gonna have to explain this, isn't he?
To the sponsors, the media...To pretty much everyone.
★ Boost: tries to organize everyone, gets annoyed says "fuck this" and speedruns the game himself
★ Snot: the resource provider- mines, farms, cuts down trees. genuinely finds ts relaxing.
★ DJ: the second he spawns he runs off somewhere, dies like 30 times in the first ten minutes and just fucks around- also names every animal the dumbest shit imaginable and griefs Wingo because it's funny
★ Wingo: designated builder- spends way too much time building and decorating the base. he will absolutely tear something down and rebuild it because "it looked off"
This was one my most ambitious projects tbh. Thrilled with how it turned out!! I'm not usually patient enough to do stuff like this but hell yeah I did it!!
I used textile paint and acrylic markers.
Pro tip tho: study the medium you're gonna work with if it's your first time- TRUST ME it'll save you so much time and so many headaches (I won't be following my own advice but ehh whatever)
This was one my most ambitious projects tbh. Thrilled with how it turned out!! I'm not usually patient enough to do stuff like this but hell yeah I did it!!
I used textile paint and acrylic markers.
Pro tip tho: study the medium you're gonna work with if it's your first time- TRUST ME it'll save you so much time and so many headaches (I won't be following my own advice but ehh whatever)
If something bad happened to Wingo, how would DJ react and act?
I mean, it truly depends on what kind of bad thing happens. But generally-
DJ wouldn't suddenly turn into another person- he's still a jackass. He's also not the best at handling emotions (especially when they're his own)
He'd probably get quieter and more fidgety. Might try to lighten the mood if he can. Knowing Wingo tends to overthink, he'd try to rationalize things and keep him from spiraling. Ironically, he's a bit of a paranoid guy himself.
If Wingo's visibly shaken, I can also see DJ being much more physically reassuring than verbally reassuring. A quick hug, an arm around his shoulders, letting Wingo hold onto him for a bit if he needs it...that's much easier for him than actually talking about feelings.
Once the worst of it is over, he'd probably suggest going for a drive or just doing something together to get Wingo out of his head. His way of comforting people isn't exactly gentle, but it is genuine.
He cares but he's just much better at showing it through what he does than through what he says.
hc: All DRH guys have been arrested before, some more often than others. However, DJ absolutely dreads getting arrested. Not enough to stop breaking the law, but every single time it happens, he genuinely panics.
His mugshots are also the funniest by far. He always looks like he's about to throw up and his life is over.
got inspired by these panels 'cause why not
(not sure about the source but will add it when i find it)
