#dusty kelpie

[sparky-1113]

I know it's been a hot minute since I've posted, but I want to change that (hopefully). Anyway, I love these two kelpies and would go feral if anything happened to them

[wulfums]

Ah yes, the Kelpie siblings... Dusty, Rusty and Crusty

[uncaaj]

Fanfic: Diesel's Petrols (Bluey)

READ NOW ON AO3!

The door to his dimly lit office opened, and Dr. Bernard, the Australian Army counselor, looked up. “Thanks for coming, Sergeant Kelpie,” he greeted.

Diesel Kelpie took a seat in the cushy leather seat opposite him and held out his hand. “No worries, Dr. Bernard.”

After shaking his hand, Dr. Bernard grabbed his tablet and pushed his glasses up. “So let’s get right into it. How have you been since discharge?”

“Well, it was great to see my family again, let’s say that first. Everything I do, I do for them. It was all I could think about on the flight home.” Diesel leaned back and recalled the whirlwind of a month he’d had.

+++

Fresh from a 12-hour flight, I felt light as a feather despite the jet lag fuzzing the edges of my sight. It never fails, I try to catch up on sleep on the flight and somehow stay up the whole time, idling the time away with the same crummy puzzle games and the same five movies.  Even still when I landed, I couldn’t help but jog from the gate straight to border control, hopping like, well, an excited dog in the queue.

Once I finally made it to the luggage claim, there they were, big smiles all over. My pack, my troop. My family. I probably looked like hell with my stained fatigues and baggy eyes, but I knew it didn’t matter one bit to them.

“Dad!” Rusty shouted, bolting over and jumping into my arms. I could hear the others catching up to him as I gave my little recruit a good squeeze before setting him down and letting them all in. 

“Aw, missed me, eh?” I joked.

“Yeah,” said Digger, the oldest.

“Missed you lots!” said Rusty.

“Thiiiiis much!” said me youngest Dusty, stretching her little arms as far as they’d go.

Then it was Pepper’s turn. “Welcome home, honey.”

I felt all my worries vanish with my sigh as I kissed my loving wife. “Good to be home.”

“How long are you staying for?” Rusty asked.

Dusty bounced up and down. “Will you be here for my birthday?”

I gave Pepper a quick smooch then turned to the kids. “Oh yeah, I didn’t mention that, did I?”

“Tell ‘em, babe,” said Pepper.

I knelt down to meet my kids’ eyes as they all bunched together. “Well, I have a little surprise for you all. I’m here this time…for good.”

“You mean…your service is done?” Rusty asked, almost pleading for it to be true.

“Yup,” I confirmed. “Done and dusted.”

We all met in a big hug in the middle of the baggage claim, and for the first time since hearing the news I was headed home at last, I felt like transitioning back to civilian life wouldn’t be so bad.

+++

DIESEL: This episode of Bandit is called “Diesel’s Petrols.”

+++

“How have you been filling your time over the past month?” asked Dr. Bernard.

“Well, that army schedule’s a part of me, so I’m still up bright and early every day. The kids keep me active with cricket, footie, the works.” He chuckled and slung a leg over the other. “But that’s not what you’re asking, is it?”

Dr. Bernard laughed. “No, it isn’t.”

“For my career after service, it was a no-brainer for me. All that time fixing Jeeps, I knew I was gonna open my own garage when I got home. And bless Pepper, she was gracious enough to come on as my business partner. Signing the lease on that space was the fulfillment of a dream, so I was psyched.”

“Fantastic,” said Dr. Bernard. “How about friendships?”

“Oh, I’ve kept in touch with my troop online. Couldn’t do that when I was a tyke. But I promised myself something on the way home. I see Rusty talk so highly of his schoolmates on the ride home from school, so I really wanted to get to know their parents. Thought they could be my new troop. And in a way, my garage helped me do that. It started while I was out promoting the venture…”

+++

I was taking my new shop truck on her maiden voyage with Rusty by my side. Figured it’d get the word out and drum up some customers since we were gonna open any day. We’re puttering along in Paddington and suddenly, Rusty points out the window and says, “Dad, look! It’s Mackenzie!”

I saw a couple o’ border collies standing by the side of the road, their ute smoking. “Looks like they’re broken down, kiddo,” I said.

“Can we help them, Dad?” Rusty asked.

“Well, if he’s your friend, let’s see what’s up.” We parked nearby and got out. Rusty greeted Mackenzie happily while I went over to his dad.

“You’re Rusty’s dad, right? Don’t see you around much,” he said.

“Yeah, discharged recently. Diesel.”

“Sorry, Josh,” a guy shouted, “my mechanic’s booked solid today.” A blue heeler and his pup walked toward us from a couple houses down.

“Biscuits,” Josh muttered. “Thanks for trying, Bandit.”

The Heeler pup waved at us. “Hi, Rusty!”

“Bluey!” said Rusty. “Me and Dad are spreading the word about his new garage.” He pointed at the logo on my truck that Pepper designed. 

“Diesel’s Petrols,” read Bluey. “Hee-hee! I like that name!”

“You work on cars, eh?” said Josh.

“Yeah, cars, Jeeps, copters, you name it, it’s my toast and jam. I could take a look if you don’t mind.”

Josh shrugged and led me to the wide-open bonnet. I felt the heat on my fur immediately and recoiled back. “Poor thing’s overheated,” I said, waving some smoke away. Now time to sniff out the problem. The army taught me that well. Let everything fall away and focus on what needs to be done. 

I took a deep whiff through my nose and exhaled sickly sweet aromas, like burnt caramel. It was coolant, alright, almost like the radiator blew or a hose had popped loose and covered the engine in it. For Josh’s sake, luckily it was the latter I spied immediately.

“I don’t understand it. It was all right yesterday,” said Josh once I regained my awareness.

“A hose popped off your rad here,” I said, pointing to the dangling pipe near the main gears. “Reckon you’ve lost all your coolant, mate.”

“Wow,” said Josh. “That’ll do it.”

“You know, I think I have a proper clamp and some coolant in me Ute. I can have you right as rain in a tick.”

Josh looked shocked. “Really? R-right now?”

I smiled. “I always like to come prepared for anything.”

Josh pumped his fist, his bummed expression washing out to giddiness. “Well, thanks a bunch!”

“No worries.”

It was simple to refit the hose and tighten it down properly. Then once his engine came back down to as normal a temperature as could be on the eve of summer, I topped up the coolant and gave him the go to start up. The engine tumbled for a second as the coolant recirculated but then kicked right into life. “Gotta love a rock-solid Toyota,” I smirked. Hardy and excitable, just like he was.

I waited a moment to see if the hose would pop off, but it held. I shut the bonnet and gave Josh the thumbs up. He called his son over and they loaded up.

“Thanks a bunch, mate!” said Josh as I approached the cab. “What do I owe ya?”

I glanced quickly at the temperature meter. A-OK. “Ah, twernt nothin’, mate,” I scoffed. “All in a day’s work.” 

I felt a tug on my arm, and I crouched down. “Yeah, mate?” I said to Rusty.

“Dad, remember what mum said? ‘If you fix some stranger’s car like I know you will, make sure you’re paid.’”

I gulped and stood up again. Both Mackenzie and Josh were laughing. I grinned embarrassingly.

“Your mum’s a smart cookie,” Bandit said with a wink.

“Thanks, Mr. Heeler!” said Rusty.

I shook my head and fished a business card out of my wallet. “Okay, how’s $30 sound? And you gimme a ring if your Ute ever packs in again?

“Done deal!” said Josh, quickly exchanging it for a banknote from his.

“Much obliged,” I said, shaking his paw. With a wave, he was off down the road with his pup.

+++

Not long after, I’d just finished installing the new ramp in the garage when in wheels this sturdy little Subaru. My first real walk-in. I head over and a Jack Russel steps out of it. 

“G’day, mate,” I said, “thanks for droppin’ by. what can I do ya for?”

“Do you do suspension work here?” he asked.

“Whatever’s ailing your car, I can put it right.”

“Oh, great!” he said, relieved. 

I wondered what brought that on, but I didn’t have to wonder long. The Jack Russel pushed down on his wheel arch and it didn’t budge an inch. “The ride’s been really rough,” he continued. “My tail aches every time I drive it longer than a grocery run.”

“That ain’t fair dinkum. Let’s put ‘er on my new ramp and I’ll take a look.”

I helped him position the car and once it was safely in the air, I could see straight away what the problem was. “Great day in the morning, your shocks are toast! Covered in oil and stiff as stone. What on earth did you do to ‘em?”

The terrier rubbed his arm, looking guilty with himself. “It’s a funny story, I suppose. I took a shortcut picking my son Jack up from school-“

“Wait, you’re Jack’s dad?” I exclaimed. “My son Rusty talks about a Russel named Jack all the time.”

“Ha! Likewise! Good to meet you, er…”

“Diesel.” I held out my hand and he shook it.

“Blake.”

“So what happened exactly?” I said, motioning him toward my tool bench.

“So my battery died leaving me without SatNav. This bloke called Maynard showed me a shortcut through the bush, but a sign just before said it was for 4-wheel-drive cars.”

“Hmm…” I suddenly had an inkling. I went back to the car and shone my torch around the wheels. I grimaced even more. “Yeah, this is an all-wheel-drive car.”

Blake raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t they the same thing? It’s got four wheels.”

I almost laughed but I didn’t want to do that to the poor guy. “Rookie mistake, mate. See, all-wheel-drive shifts power to all the wheels to help with traction on muddy or wet road. 4-wheel-drive is for serious off-roading like what you did on that shortcut, it looks like.”

Blake sighed. “Yeah, I…had an adventurous moment. But when I came home from the markets the other day with busted eggs, my wife said I’d better bring it in. She heard about you from Josh Border-Collie.”

“Issat so?” Small world. “Well, tell ya what- I have the parts here that I need. I can have you back up and running by day’s end for…how’s $400 and a promise to not take your car where it’s not meant to go?”

Blake perked up. “Really? That’d be fantastic!”

I nodded. “All in a day’s work, mate.”

+++

“Two new civilian friends, that’s a good start,” said Dr. Bernard.

“Thanks,” said Diesel. “But it’s funny.” He scratched his chin and tried to gather his thoughts. “I…didn’t think I was making friends at first.”

“How so?”

“I guess it felt like just doing what I had to do and sending ‘em on their way, nothing more, like in the army. The troop and I would bond for hours on end every day because we were together for that long. We slept on smelly cots together. I could know everything about them. I barely got to know Josh and Blake before their cars were fixed and they were off.”

Diesel paused, wondering if he should even say what he was about to.

“Do you need to confide about something, Sergeant Kelpie?” Dr. Bernard asked gently, without judgment.

“Sometimes I feel…like an outsider, ya know? It used to be I was barely home before I was back overseas. The army was my world more than here and suddenly, this is my world now. I wasn’t sure if Josh and Blake would remember me with how little we were able to talk. I wasn’t sure I could make my place here.”

“It doesn’t make your interactions any less meaningful,” Dr Bernard reassured. “It takes time and effort but it’s very possible.”

Diesel nodded. “Oh, I’m realizing that now. And what helped me change my view was that Heeler Bandit I mentioned earlier…”

+++

As it happens, it was the day after I expressed this to Pepper and we were discussing my rates in the garage.

“The prices I’m giving aren’t too low, are they, Pepper?” I said, my head hurting seeing her spreadsheets.

Pepper shook her head. “Don’t worry, love, you’re covering all our expenses. I just want to make sure you’re charging what you’re worth.”

“It’s never a big deal. I’m just glad I get to do this at all.”

Pepper took my hand and squeezed it. “Okay, well, I think you’re worth more.”

“Yeah, and I know you always will.”

How did I find someone so perfect, in partnership and…well, partnership? We moved in closer for a kiss until we heard someone nearby clearing their throat.

We turned to see that Heeler Bandit from the other day with his daughters, Bluey and an orange one whose name I didn’t recall. “Sooooo does Rusty run off screaming when he sees smoochy-kisses?” asked Bandit.

“Dad, you were kissing Mum’s stinky fish breath!” laughed Bluey. 

I stood up straight and saluted. “Sir!”

Pepper rolled her eyes and pushed me away. “Welcome to Diesel’s Petrols. How can we help?”

“I was just passing by and I wondered if you’d give my Jeep a once-over. I’m taking the family dune racing next month and I figure you’re the Jeep expert.”

I chuckled. “It’s a stereotype for a reason. I’ll make sure you can handle everything out there. Pepper’ll show you to the waiting room.”

“We’ve got toys!” she said to the Heeler kids, and they cheered and dashed off toward the lobby, their dad following.

The hum of the lift had become music to my ears by this point and I could operate it in my sleep. Wrangler, a good rugged vehicle, could literally take you anywhere. That once-over was probably the quickest one I’d ever done, even on an army vehicle. Bandit maintained it really well.

I wiped my brow with a rag and headed to the lobby. Bandit was in the middle of keeling over, clutching his chest. His kids had their hands out, wiggling their fingers at him and laughing maniacally.

I sniggered. “What’s all this then?”

“Hi, Rusty’s dad!” said Bluey. “Bingo and I overwhelmed him with our magic!”

Bandit looked at me. “Yeah, powerful stuff,” he whispered.

“Dad,” said Bingo, “you’re supposed to be asleep!”

Bandit slowly came to his feet. No doubt it took longer these days with those two scamps running him ragged. I certainly knew the feeling. “Let’s just call it a cliffhanger,” he declared. “Am I asleep? We’ll find out when we get home.”

Rugged, adaptable, and fun. Just like his car.

“All good?” he asked me.

“Good to go,” I said.

“Good job, there, mate.”

I smiled. “All in a day’s work.”

I held out my hand and he shook it vigorously. Of all the blokes I shook with, his was the best so far. “Make quick work like that and I might be calling you from now on,” he said.

What a compliment, especially since he already had a guy. “M-much obliged,” I said before I led him over to the computer to do his invoice.

“Only seen you at drop-off a couple of times. When’d you get back?” he asked.

“Not too long ago. It’s good to be home at last. Feels like I’ve missed too much outta my kids’ lives.”

“Yeah, I feel that way when I have to be on a dig site. I’m not gone nearly as long but it’s still too long.”

“Truth. And it’s good to really talk to someone outside of that whole world. Makes it easier to get back…to the swing of it, you know?”

“Hey, you oughta come and have a drink with me and some friends. Josh’ll be there. And Blake’s thankful you got his Subaru running again.”

“Oh yeah, I remember them.” But did they really remember me? “Well, I dunno-“

Bandit slung an arm over the counter. “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

I gave it a rummage in my mind. Sounded like the perfect proposition, and so quickly after getting back. I’d hopefully have a new friend group to make reintegration easier. But it still almost felt like I was intruding on somewhere I didn’t quite belong yet. I wasn’t sure if I should step in.

I looked away for a moment. Bluey and Bingo had slid right into another game, involving the footy in the toy box. I laughed. “These kids make it look so easy.” So easy to get along, I thought.

“Yeah, we can take a cue from them every once in a while, eh?” said Bandit.

I nodded. I’d take that step. “Sure, gimme the deets and I’ll be there.”

+++

“I’m sorry, Sergeant Kelpie, but we’re out of time for today,” said Dr. Bernard, rising up. “But it sounds like you’re making great progress with reintegration. I’m proud of ya!”

Diesel stood up. “Thanks, doc. After opening my garage and meeting Bandit and Blake and the others, it really feels like I have another troop. I know I’ve only just started my new life and there’s so much I want to do yet, but…” He shrugged. “It’s like I always say, even in the field.”

“All in a day’s work?” asked Dr. Bernard.

“Yeah, all in a day’s work.”

+++

Diesel opened the door to the pub and cased the joint for the table where Bandit and his friends were. Catching waving hands out of the corner of his eye, he saw they were all smiling and waving at him.

“There’s the dog of the hour,” said Bandit, filling a glass and handing it to Diesel.

“For putting us all back on the road,” said Blake.

“And for being a stand-up bloke altogether,” said Josh.

“Good to know ya, mate,” said a yellow Labrador. “Congrats on the new venture.”

Diesel sat down and rose his glass, gulping down the lump in his throat. “Thanks for making an army dog feel welcomed home.”

“CHEERS!” Glasses clinked and mirth and merriment took him over as Diesel joined a conversation about an upcoming cricket game. The garage had always been a goal of his, but now he felt like he accomplished something far more difficult-making a place in a third troop, a group of guys he was proud to call his new friends.

[goblin-banana-shark]

Rusty N Dusty🏏🐾

[rowdycowboyart]

reference for Dusty’s faithful “steed” and traveling companion, Gazpacho, who is definitely a real actual horse and not a chaotic fae creature in the shape of a horse...

[thatliminal-wanderer]

Pastel Rainbow Dog ID Pack

Requested by Anon

Names:

Aero, Akita, Amber, Amitola, Anuenue, Bea, Blossom, Blue, Blush, Brittany, Cain, Cairn, Canine, Capri, Celeste, Champagne, Coral, Crayon, Daffodil, Daisy, Dane, Dog, Doggie, Dusty, Goldie, Gordon, Green, Hina, Iridiana, Jack, Kaleido, Kelpie, Lab, Lavender, Lilac, Mal, Malinois, Manzat, Marigold, Mauve, Mutt, Orange, Pascal, Pasty, Paw, Peach, Peaches, Pearl, Periwinkle, Poly, Pooch, Pup, Puppy, Purple, Rain, Rainbeau, Rainbow, Red, Rose, Rosie, Rott, Russell, Scottie, Shepherd, Soft, Softy, Spitz, Splatt, Splott, Summer, Tosa, Tulip, Yellow, Yip

Zi don’t normally do noun names but did try a bit here? Sorry if it’s underwhelming!

Pronouns:

arf/arfs, bark/barks, blu/blue/blues, bud/buddy/buddys, canine/canines, col/color/colors, cor/coral/corals, cyan/cyans, dog/dogs, fluff/fluffs, gree/green/greens, ind/indigo/indigos, or/orange/oranges, paint/paints, pale/pales, pas/pastel/pastels, pastel/pastels, paw/paws, pup/puppy/puppys, pup/pups, pur/purple/purples, rain/rainbow/rainbows, re/red/reds, viol/violet/violets, wag/wags, woof/woofs, ye/yellow/yellows, yip/yips, ❤️/❤️s, 🌈/🌈s, 🌫️/🌫️s, 🍡/🍡s, 🍬/🍬s, 🍭/🍭s, 🎉/🎉s, 🎊/🎊s, 🎨/🎨s, 🏳️‍🌈/🏳️‍🌈s, 🐕/🐕s, 🐕‍🦺/🐕‍🦺s, 🐩/🐩s, 🐶/🐶s, 🐾/🐾s, 💙/💙s, 💚/💚s, 💛/💛s, 💜/💜s, 📒/📒s, 📕/📕s, 📗/📗s, 📘/📘s, 📙/📙s, 📚/📚s, 🖌️/🖌️s, 🖍️/🖍️s, 🦄/🦄s, 🦮/🦮s, 🧡/🧡s, 🩵/🩵s, 🩷/🩷s

Titles:

A Barking Rainbow, A Dog of Pastel Lighting and Colorful Hues, That Pastel Dog, The Colorful Puppy, The Dog of Pastel Colors, The Light Rainbow (In The Shape of A Dog), The Pastel One, The Puppy Covered in Colors, [prn] Who Barks in Many Shades

Genders:

Caninaesic, Dogstimmic, Kiddiepuppic, Pastelcutic, Pastelgender, Pastelpixelgender, Pastrasea, Puparciel/Pupaurciel, Pupgender, Pupsleepyic, Rainboscarfcloudic, Rainbowaesic, Rainbowgender, Rainbowquartzic, Rainbowsquish, Somnollisgender, Yellowdogplushic

Other MOGAI:

Alderainbow, Caninevesi, Canivior, Dog Omninoun, Dogperspesque, Dogvesi, Pastelaestelic, Pupperspesque, Puppyperspesque, Pupvior, Rainbowvesi, Rainbowvior/Rainbowalius/Rainbowperspesque, 🌈 Omninoun

[drabbles-mc]

Unannounced

Bishop Losa x OFC

Warnings: 18+, light angst

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: i don't know what this is. i cannot articulate how much i don't know what it is lmao. i had like??? 700 words of this written a long long time ago. reopened the doc. reread it. had no idea what i wanted to do with it so i just stream-of-consciousness'd the rest of it and here we are. Bishop and his long-lost high school sweetheart.

Mayans Taglist: @withmyteeth @just1bri @kelpies-shed @queenbeered @louisianalady @gemini0410 @paintballkid711 @fanfic-n-tabulous @littlekittymeow @buckybarneshairpullingkink @mijagif @garbinge @beardburnsupersoldiers @justreblogginfics @rosieposie0624 @choochoo284 @proceduralpassion @winchestershiresauce @frattsparty @nessamc @crowfootwrites @artemiseamoon @justazzi @danzer8705 @darqchilddaydreamz @camelia35 (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

When Bishop rolled into his driveway to see a car already parked there, he instantly felt himself getting defensive. With everything that had been going on with the club, unexpected visitors didn’t seem to spell out anything but bad news. He felt each muscle throughout his body start to tighten as he cut the engine on his bike and dropped the kickstand.

The car wasn’t one that he recognized. It had California plates, but there was nothing really all that notable about it. No bumper stickers, no dents or scratches. Just slightly dusty black paint on the SUV. He didn’t see the silhouette of anyone sitting inside it, or standing on either side. If the car was simply dropped off in his driveway that only made the entire scene more suspicious.

He left his helmet on the seat of his bike before walking up towards his house. He gripped the gun tightly by his side, but made sure to keep it lowered. His neighbors were accepting enough, but he didn’t want to go waving his gun around and ruin that if this all turned out to be nothing.

It wasn’t until he was almost in front of the car that he saw who had arrived in it. He froze in his tracks, painfully aware of how unnecessary his gun was but feeling like he was unable to try and move to put it back into its holster.

She looked up from the phone that was in her hand. Long, loose waves of brown hair fell in front of her shoulder as she turned her head to look at him. The small smile that seemed to almost always be present on her face stretched wider when she took in the sight of Bishop in front of her.

“Bispo,” she said, excitement palpable in her voice as she shoved her phone into the pocket of her jeans. In two long strides she closed the distance between them, pulling him into a hug without hesitation.

Bishop desperately wanted to hug her back, but he felt like his arms were glued to his side. His locked muscles were partially from the shock of the entire situation, but it was also because it felt so far beyond wrong to try and hug her back when he had a gun clutched in his hand.

“Mia,” he finally forced out her name in turn.

If she was off-put by the fact that he didn’t return her embrace, she didn’t show it. Stepping back, she took another long look at him. It was impossible to miss the way that he finally got his hands cooperating enough to hurriedly tuck his gun away, but she didn’t comment on it. So much time had passed since they’d last seen each other. There were so many other things to try to process and focus on. They were practically children the last time that they stood in front of each other the way that they were now.

“Look at you,” she said with a soft laugh. Unable to stop herself, she reached out and traced her fingers along the stubble that was starting to come in on his cheeks—five o’clock shadow that was getting just a little too unruly to still carry the name. He’d hardly been able to grow facial hair the last time she’d seen him, and now there were flecks of gray throughout. She wondered how so much time had managed to pass between them.

From the warmth of her fingertips to the slight scratch of her nails as she pulled her hand away, Bishop found himself nearly leaning into the sensation, not wanting it to disappear so soon. He managed to catch himself, clearing his throat as he started to study her almost as closely as she’d studied him.

“Look at you,” he finally said back with a chuckle.

Looking at her was all Bishop could manage to do. Whatever she had gotten up to in the meantime, it treated her well. The years were easier on her than they had been on him. She had the laugh and smile lines of someone who had experienced plenty of joy in his absence.

“Sorry to barge in on you like this.” Her smile was warm, but Bishop could see that she wasn’t too sorry. He wasn’t either.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

Looking over his shoulder, she glanced back at the bike parked at the bottom of the driveway. Last time that she saw Bishop, Marcus had been the only one out of the two of them who had a kutte. Hell, he’d been the only one out of the two of them who had a motorcycle. She saw the Presidente patch stitched onto Bishop’s chest and it briefly crossed her mind that she couldn’t possibly fathom what he’d been up to in the decades since they last saw each other.

She nodded towards the motorcycle. “Marcus was actually the one who went me your way.”

Bishop raised his eyebrows slightly, surprised not just that Marcus had told her where to find him, but also that his cousin hadn’t reached out to give him a heads-up. “Oh yea?”

“Was surprised to hear that you both left Oakland,” she remarked.

“Mm,” Bishop hummed in thought, stalling as he tried to figure out how to respond to that. “I don’t think either of us really planned on it.” His expression shifted, confusion going across his face for a moment before he smiled again. “You got out before either of us did anyway.”

“I didn’t get out, Bispo,” she laughed with a shake of her head. “I went to school.”

“Same thing,” he joked.

She rolled her eyes but there was still a smile on her face. “Yea, because getting shipped overseas wasn’t your attempt at getting out at all.”

He shook his head but he didn’t try to argue with her. He’d forgotten a lot over the years, but standing there in his driveway looking at her, for a moment he was nineteen all over again. Some of the details were muddy still, but there was plenty that he remembered from back then. Like the way that both of them were trying to get out of Oakland for a bit, but they were getting out and going in complete opposite directions.

“What had you calling Marcus, anyway?” he asked.

She shook her head. “Wasn’t calling Marcus.” She saw his brows knit together and she laughed. “Izzy and I are still friends, you know.”

“Oh yea?” he asked, smiling at the thought of that.

“Yea. Your name came up in one of our last conversations.”

“Doesn’t usually?” he said with a smirk.

Mia shook her head but she still laughed. “Funny, hm? That we have other things to talk about besides you after all these years?”

Bishop chuckled. “That doesn’t seem right.” They both laughed for a moment before he asked, “How’d it come up this time?”

Her smile faltered for the first time since she’d seen him. Bishop could feel the weight dropping onto his chest. “She mentioned that she was worried about you.”

He scoffed, trying not to let himself get too defensive. Not with her. “That’s all it took to get you down here after all this time?”

Mia laughed, but there was a touch of sadness to it. “Well,” she reached out and rested her palm against his chest, fingertips dragging over the small patches stitched into his kutte, “she said that she was worried about me too. Thought it might be helpful for the both of us.”

Worry creased his brows. “What happened?”

She shook her head. “Nada. Don’t worry about it.”

Bishop chuckled. A lot of things had changed over the years. Some things clearly hadn’t. “Mentirosa,” he said, a small smile on his face as he did.

“No,” she said, flashing a quick grin as she pointed at him. “It’s just not what we’re talking about right now.”

“Right,” he dragged the word out, smiling despite himself.

Mia watched him as he pulled a pack of cigarettes from the pocket of his kutte. He flipped it open, pulling one out and placing it between his lips. She was still smiling as she shook her head at him.

The click of his lighter preceded her saying, “Bad habit.”

He laughed and puffed out a cloud of smoke in the process. “It’s the best of my bad habits these days, sweetheart.” He tilted the pack towards her, eyebrows raised to solidify the offer.

There was a long moment of silence between them as Mia looked back and forth between Bishop and the pack of cigarettes in his hand. Letting out a deep sigh, she reached and pulled one out. Bishop managed a laugh around the cigarette between his lips as she leaned in and allowed him to light it for her.

“Still a bad influence, Bispo,” she joked.

“Still don’t have to work that hard at it either,” he fired right back with a smile.

She leaned back against her car again, crossing one leg in front of the other as she did. Her cigarette was perched so delicately between her two fingers. If Bishop didn’t know any better he’d say that she hadn’t given it up at all. Small tendrils of smoke swirled from between her lips as she looked at him, each of them waiting for the other to say something more.

As far as Bishop was concerned, he would’ve been perfectly happy to just stand there in the driveway and look at her. Too many years had gone by without him being able to do that. He should’ve called. He knew that he should’ve called. When he got back after his first enlistment was up and found out that she was still long gone, he never made any effort to reach out. Back then, when he was young and stupid, it’d partially been an angry thing. If she was so content to just leave then why would he try and chase her down? Even back then he knew that that wasn’t a fair assessment. Looking back on it now, he still knew it wasn’t fair, but he also thought that maybe it was for the best given how everything had played out. Or maybe not. Maybe if she had been there when he got back everything would’ve been different.

He watched her tap the ashes from the end of her cigarette. His eyes followed them all the way down as they fell to the ground. He took his time bringing his gaze back up to her face, trying to make a note of everything about her. He wondered how long she was going to stay, how long it was going to be before he saw her again after she left.

“You’re still in Oakland, then?” he asked, breaking the silence.

She nodded, pulling a drag off her cigarette. “I am.”

“Doing everything you ever wanted?”

She chuckled, shaking her head. “Are any of us?” She exhaled a stream of smoke. “It’s good.”

“Yea?” he asked, clearly not believing her.

She pried her eyes up from his driveway until she was level with his gaze. “It is, it is. Most of the time, anyway.” Even though she was looking at Bishop, she was absent-mindedly running her thumb along the ring finger of her left hand. “It’s been a rough few months, Obispo.”

His eyes flicked down to her hand for a moment. She wasn’t wearing a ring, but there was a feeling in his gut that told him that she used to be. He wasn’t brave enough to ask what happened. A bit selfish, too, because he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t know how to respond no matter what her answer was.

“Got you down here, though,” he finally said.

Her smile was small, but genuine nonetheless “It did.”

“Come on.” He nodded towards the front door of the house as he dropped his cigarette on the ground. “I’ll make coffee or something.”

She nodded, snubbing what little was left of her cigarette out with the tip of her boot. She didn’t say anything, but she stepped away from her car with a smile as she followed Bishop up to his front door. He didn’t know why he felt almost jittery as he slipped the key into the lock. Pushing the door open, he motioned for her to step in first, which she did with a quiet laugh and a nod in thanks.

“If Marcus told me I was gonna have company,” he said with a chuckle, “I would’ve cleaned or something.”

Mia laughed, shaking her head as she watched him close and lock the door behind him. “Now who’s lying, hm?”

His shoulders shook as he tried to bite back his laughter. She saw the way his lips twitched as he attempted not to smile at her comment, knowing that she was right. He gestured towards the kitchen. “Coffee?”

She nodded. “Please.” She watched him as he went over and started to fill the pot with water. She perched herself on the edge of the small table that was set up at the edge of his kitchen. “Bispo?”

His eyes were focused on what he was doing, but he turned his head just enough to let her know that he heard her. “Mhm?”

“I know it’s been a while,” her voice had a precarious balance between humor and heaviness, “but I can promise you’re not going to need the gun with me.”

He let out a long exhale through his nose at her words, shoulders sagging as he registered them all one after the other. Shutting off the sink, he turned the rest of the way so that he could look at her. She looked as sweet as she ever had. He was hoping that she hadn’t noticed. Or if she’d noticed, that she wouldn’t say anything. He should’ve known better.

“Sorry.”

She shook her head. “It’s alright. I know…” her voice trailed off for a moment. “Well, maybe I don’t know. But,” she shrugged, “I can only imagine.”

He started the pot of coffee, disappearing out of the kitchen for a moment. Mia listened and she could hear a faint clattering sound. Her body relaxed. When he came back to the kitchen, there was still a bit of an apologetic look on his face.

“That what this is all about, then?” he asked her as he grabbed a mug from the cabinet for each of them.

“There’s no,” she gestured vaguely with her hands for a moment as she tried to come up with the right words, “all this.” She searched his face for answers that she wasn’t finding. “I’m sorry if it’s too much. Maybe I should’ve called. But I thought if I did, you would—”

“I’m sorry,” he cut her off, his voice heavy but sincere. “I’m sorry. I’m,” he nodded, looking at the floor for a moment before he looked back up at her again, “glad you’re here. I just…”

“Wish it was a little different?” she offered.

He let out a hollow chuckle. “Somethin’ like that.”

“I understand that,” she told him with a nod. “But this is what we have, hm?”

He nodded slowly. “It is.”

“Feel like catching me up on a few things?” she asked, a warm smile creeping back onto her face.

It got Bishop to crack a small grin in return. “Maybe a couple.”

She smiled a little wider at that, arms folding comfortably across her chest as the coffee pot beeped. “Good.”

[atwistedandbrokentale]

A BURNING DESIRE

My first fanfic! I’m quite proud of it. Now please read the tags and make sure what you’re getting into. With that being said, enjoy!

❤️💌———-———-———-———-———-——❤️💌

Squidward knocked impatiently on the door. He did not want to be here right now. All he wants is to get his vacuum cleaner back. It’s been a week since Spongebob “borrowed” (read: stole) it and his statues were getting dusty. As he stood there waited for Spongebob to answer, he thought about how weird Spongebob was acting this last week. Sure he was always weird but lately it's like someone cranked up to a hundred.

He seemed much more quiet than usual. Squidward would normally find this a blessing but it instead creeped him out. When Patrick told him that the studio that made Mermaidman and Barnacle boy comics released an in memoriam comic that would “send our favorite superheroes off in a blaze of glory”, all Spongebob did was ask when he could get off work and when he was told he’d have a 17 unpaid overtime shift, he was only mildly annoyed about the inconvenience.

The Spongebob Squidward knew would cry loudly and try to find a way to somehow both work and go to the comic book store at the same time. It would have been annoying but that’s what SpongeBob did. The door opened. A yellow sponge stood there, staring at him with an odd expression on his face. He seemed empty yet excited at the same time. “Hello Squidward.” He said rather softly. Squidward tried to shrug it off. “SpongeBob, can I have my vacuum back? It’s been a week.” The sponge smiled creepily. “Oh of course. Come on in..”

Squidward hesitantly went inside. The living room was dimly lit, looking like a dump. The tv showed a Kelpy G performance. “I didn’t know you like Kelpy G.” The sponge kept staring at him. “Oh I’ll like everything you’d like.” he said. Squidward wasn’t sure how to feel about this. He knew Spongebob wanted to be his friend but this felt too far. He cleared his throat nervously. “So, uh about that vacuum?..” The sponge didn’t show it but he was quite annoyed with this. With a forced smile, he chipperly said, “oh. Yes. It’s in.. the hallway closet.”

Squidward walked away, looking at the sponge with a worrying look on his face. He saw a closed door. He figured this must be what the sponge was talking about. He opened the door to see paintings. His paintings. “Spongebob..” he asked. “Where did you get these?” He turned around to meet the sponge. The sponge held something behind his back. “I took them. I knew you wouldn’t give them to me so I went inside and I took them while you were sleeping”. He started to walk to Squidward who backed away slowly.

“Aren’t you glad? I really like your paintings because they’re paintings of you. I think you’re very beautiful” the sponge said, never raising his voice yet becoming ever more terrifying with each step. Squidward felt the wall bump into him. “Oh, r-really?” He stuttered out, afraid of what the sponge would do next. The sponge nodded. “I’ve always wanted to hang out with you but you’d always say no. So I figured if I took something of yours, you’d come to take it back.”

“But you’d never notice how your artwork started to disappear. So I took something I knew you would need.” Squidward looked up at him. He was forced to slide down in fear. “S-SpongeBob, what are you doing?” “Well I can’t let you leave now, silly.” The sponge said, malice laced in his voice. “You’d try to escape. I won’t let that happen.” The sponge revealed a bat from behind him. “SpongeBob, wait! Think about this!” Squidward yelled before covering his face as the bat started to slam on his body.

Squidward slowly opened his eyes. Everything hurt. Pain flowed through his veins. He looked down. Both his legs and his arms were broken and were sloppy bandaged. Squidward frowned. He knew it was the sponge who did this. Paralyzing him so he couldn’t escape. He tried to get up only to be met with agonizing pain. He almost screamed and was forced to sit back down.

That horrible sponge showed his face again. His smile seemed to be inhumanly huge, almost tearing off his face. “Careful Squiddy. You might hurt yourself again and we wouldn’t want that, would we?” He told Squidward, wanting to seem caring. But he clearly enjoyed seeing Squidward in pain. Seeing him fragile and weak. Squidward would need him now.

Squidward felt like he wanted to cry. He didn’t know what he did to deserve this. He pleaded with the sponge, “Spongebob, why are you doing this? You were never like this before! You were just mildly annoying!” At this, the sponge softened up, clearly wanting to confront Squidward. But it just creeped out Squidward even more. The sponge leaned down closer to him, smiling all the while.

“But I always like this, Squiddy. I was always obsessed with you. Your clarinet playing, your artwork, your dancing. All of it. And you couldn’t stand me. You’d degrade me. You hated me. It was wonderful.” The sponge started to slowly stroke Squidward’s face. Squidward hated the touch but could do nothing to stop him.

“Whenever I was near you I felt something. It would consume me. At first I didn’t know what it meant but now I know what it was. It was love. Oh I love you, Squiddy! I need to be with you. I need to be at your side forever. But that won’t be enough. It never would be. No, I need more.” Squidward couldn’t believe it. SpongeBob really felt like this? “W-what? What are you talking about?”

The sponge got a manic look on his face. It was a combination of soft comforting and insatiable obsession. His eyes transformed to be heart shaped. It would be cute if it weren’t so horrifying. “I need to be one with you. It's only the way we’ll truly be together. When your heart beats, my heart will beat. When you breathe, I will breathe. You will be my oxygen, I will be your blood. We will be perfect together.”

Squidward wanted to cry, to scream, to do anything. “SpongeBob, please! Are you-is this because I said no to jellyfishing? I’ll-I’ll go jellyfish with you! Right now! We can go right now!” The sponge laughed. “We can go jellyfishing whenever we want when we’re together. We’ll have no choice.”

The sponge walked to the kitchen. He opened up a drawer and pulled out a big knife. Squidward feared the worst. “What.. what are you doing?” The sponge grinned with that same intense obsession. “As a sponge, I can regenerate cells. If I put my head on your body, my cells will mold and fuse with yours. You’ll be healed and I’ll have you forever. It’ll be perfect.”

Squidward couldn’t believe it. He always felt something was off about SpongeBob but he never thought SpongeBob would be capable of such evil. His body started aching as he tried to turn around to meet his intense gaze. “Please don’t do this! I’ll do whatever you want just please leave me alone!” He felt his head pounding like a ton of bricks but he tried to stay awake. Even after all he’s done, he couldn’t stand to see Spongebob die.

“But I can’t leave you alone, silly.” The sponge laughed. “How else can I make sure you’ll be safe? How else can I make sure you’ll never push me away? This is the only way.” Squidward couldn’t bear to look at the horror. His eyes started to feel weary. He can’t black out now, not like this. The sponge noticed this and giggled. “Just go to sleep, little prince. Soon it’ll all be ok..” He pressed the knife to his flesh. His beaming smile being the last thing Squidward saw.

ONE WEEK AGO

Spongengebob was ecstatic. It’s been so long since he visited his parents. He can’t wait to see them again. He rang the bell for another delicious Krabby Patty. “Order up!” Squidward put his head over the window and grumply grabbed the sandwich. “Isn’t it great, Squidward? I get to-.” “Don’t talk to me.” Squidward shut him up. Spongebob wondered about Squidward. He didn’t want him to be left all alone. If he was Squidward, he’d want someone to play with him. He’d want another Spongebob.

That gave him an idea..

Spongebob started to grow a third arm. It grew like a tree branch before falling off. Spongebob watched happily as it expanded and tried to figure out its shape. It grew two eyes that looked around nervously. It started to shape into a square body. Two arms and two legs started to poke out the now solid form. It’s mouth started to form. “Welcome to the world!” Spongebob said excitedly. “What?” The other sponge said. “Who am I?” Spongebob bent down to help up the new sponge. “Well I’m not sure, that’s for you to decide.”

He stood up nervously. He looked at Spongebob and then at himself. He seemed in awe of himself. “So.. who are you?” The other sponge asked. Spongebob smiled. “Well I’m Spongebob! I work here at the greatest place in all the seven seas! The Krusty Krab!” Spongebob twirled around to show his enthusiasm. He took the other sponge’s hand. “Come with me.” He pulled on the other sponge and lead him to the door, where they peaked out and saw Squidward arguing with a customer.

While SpongeBob simply smiled, thinking nothing of it, the other sponge started to feel something. Seeing Squidward insult the customer, yelling and screaming without a hint of empathy. It was like a fire was lit in him. “Who is that?” He asked. “That’s Squidward, my best friend.” SpongeBob answered. “I’ll have to go soon and leave him all alone but I want you to take care of him.” The other sponge started to smile. It was his first one. “Why? Is he weak?”

SpongeBob, not really paying attention, simply answered, “well I wouldn’t say that but he’s definitely not exactly the strongest coral in the reef, if you know what I mean.” He laughed, not knowing how the other sponge took his words. He looked at Squidward, wondering what it would be like to be that customer. To be yelled at and to be humiliated. He shuddered with excitement at the thought.

SpongeBob grabbed his spare work hat and handed it to the other sponge. “Can't work here without a hat! It represents everything amazing about working at the greatest place on earth!” The other sponge couldn’t care less about the hat. He kept staring at Squidward. He liked the feeling he got when he did. He wondered what it was. SpongeBob put his hand on his heart and the other sponge confusingly did so as well.

Spongebob pulled out a book from nowhere. He flipped to a bookmarked page. “Do you soberly swear to uphold the spirit of the Krusty Krab? To put the customer first and promise fresh high quality products? To work with a smile on your face no matter what?” SpongeBob asked eagerly. The other sponge couldn’t care less about this grease trap but if working here means he can be close to Squidward, then he’d gladly never leave.

He’d stay by his side and watch him forever. Squidward won’t need to know. He’d stick to the shadows and make sure Squidward was safe. Squidward clearly can’t take care of himself. He’ll need someone to protect him. And the other sponge will be there, to take care of him. The other sponge enjoyed these thoughts. He won’t let Squidward go, he may squirm and fight but he’ll break eventually. The other sponge will be sure of it. He smiled once more, the sparks of obsession starting to flare.

“I do..”

🖤🗡️———-———-———-———-———-——🖤🗡️

(Disclaimer: the police busted in and arrested the faker before the real SpongeBob arrived, confused at what happened. Squidward was traumatized from the ordeal but did heal and recovered, eventually becoming able to hang around SpongeBob again. They aren’t together though)

[chaos-cousins]

[Introduction Post]

Hello, I'm Ren Amamiya, Wildcard, and my life is a nightmare. I'm either almost 17 or 24, depending on how you count time loop years. I keep getting thrown into other worlds with my cousins Elena and Hibiya, including this world. I like coffee and cats.

Also, Ene sometimes shows up and messes with my phone.

Hi!

We are currently in Alola!

My team:

Diego the Incineroar

Nekomata the Alolan Persian

Xiezhai the Ampharos

Milady the Toxapex

Red Rider the Mudsdale

[OOC INFO DOWN BELOW]

Hi there! My friends are making Pokeblogs so I thought I would make one too! But this isn't your average Pokeblog, instead it's from my crossover extravaganza from hell! Here's what you need to know:

Ren Amamiya/Joker (Persona 5), Elena Amamiya (Star Twinkle Precure), and Hibiya Amamiya (Kagerou Project) are cousins and have been isekaied into various worlds that I love. Meanwhile, their friends have been trapped in a time loop that resets two weeks after the Amamiyas end their adventure in whatever world they've become isekaied in. Luckily, the Amamiyas have their phones and csn communicate with their friends back in their world, as well as friends from the previous worlds they've visited!

For the purposes of this blog, the timeline is as follows: Xenoblade 1 > Xenoblade 2 > Chrono Trigger > Earthbound > Breath of the Wild > Persona 3 FES > Persona 4 > Persona 3 Portable FeMC > Yokai Watch > Pokemon Platinum > Pokémon Shield > Pokémon Legends Arceus > Too Many Types Emerald > Pokémon Violet > Pokémon Mystery Dungeon: Gates to Infinity > Ultra Moon (where the blog is currently)

Okay miscellaneous stuff:

This blog is run by Ren Amamiya, who has been through a NG+ time loop separate from this one and frankly is done with time travel.

Hibiya Amamiya is no longer 11, he's 13 because I only found out he was 11 a couple months ago and I think it's funnier if he stays 13.

Also, the mod is a minor. So please no NSFW. I also have arachnophobia, so please do not reblog my posts or send me asks with pictures of spiders in them (spider Pokémon like joltik and spinarak are fine)

Here's an archive of the Sinnoh teams!

Ren: Jack Frost the Empoleon, Izanagi the Luxray, Lucy the Gardevior, Cerberus the Houndoom, Andras the Chatot, and Arsène the Lucario.

Hibiya: Turters the Torterra, Pepper the Staraptor, Ace the Rapidash, Dart the Toxicroak, and Echo the Bronzong.

Elena: Blaze the Infernape, Usagi the Lopunny, Rosa the Roselia, and Frostbite the Sneasel.

Dawn: Bubbles the Empoleon, Menace the Golbat, Shelly the Gastrodon, Stella the Togetic, and Princess the Giratina.

+Legion the Spiritomb

Here's an archive of the Galar teams!

Me: Seiten Taisei the Rillaboom, Raoul the Thievul, Apsaras the Gastrodon, Futsunushi the Bisharp, Kelpie the Grapploct, King Frost the Mr. Rime, Genbu the Wartortle, and Kamui the Urshifu.

Hibiya: Aqua the Inteleon, Heilos the Growlithe, Pegasus the Rapidash, and Mammoth the Piloswine, Joule the Morpeko, Dusty the Mudsdale, and Spyro the Charmander.

Elena: Amber the Cinderace, Ringo the Appletun, Quake the Excadrill, Prism the Mantine, Fuji the Abomasnow, and Misty the Spritzee.

Here's an archive of the Hisui Teams!

Ren: Satan the Samurott, Lucifer the Luxray, Loki the Purugly, Helel the Hisuian Sneasler, Black Frost the Magmortar, and Pixie the Hisuan Zoroark.

Hibiya: Apollo the Decidueye, Geo the Golem, Matrix the Porygon-Z, Polar the Walrein, Sparks the Raichu, and Nightshade the Gengar.

Elena: Cyndi the Typhlosian, Honey the Combee, Vee the Glaceon, Gooey the Goodra, Vides the Tangrowth, and Clef the Clefable.

Akari: Borb the Decidueye, Bnnuy the Lopunny, Floof the Hisuian Arcanine, and Chomps the Garchomp.

Here's an archive of the Hoenn Teams! [Note: Elena, May's, and Hibiya's teams are incomplete because I cannot keep coming up with teams. From this point forward, only Ren's team will be listed.]

Ren: Mandrake the Meganium, Mot the Sandslash, Bicorn the Kingdra, Orobas the Galarian Rapidash, Bugs the Shedinja, and Trumpeter the Absol

Elena: Fuego the Delphox, Snips the Kingler, Cherry the Jumpluff,

Hibiya: Poseidon the Primarina, Anubis the Lucario, Slash the Zangoose

May: Foxy the Delphox, Stuffy the Bewear, Blobby the Ditto

Here's an archive of my Paldea Team!

Zorro the Meowscarada, Forneus the Paldean Clodsire, William the Pawmot, Carmen the Salazzle, Hereward the Ogerpon, Johanna the Miraidon

[cloudbattrolls]

Back Step

This drabble is preceded by Side Step and followed by Front Step.

Guardian Artifice | Present Night | Eirish Countryside

They stepped off the train in Eire, where Arty had never been, though had long wanted to see. It was a pity it didn’t have much time to linger in Leeson’s homeland. 

Róisín sighed in satisfaction as they stepped out, tail swishing back and forth eagerly as the fae breathed deep, taking in the evening air.

“S’good to be home.” He said with feeling. “I like t’travel. But home’s special.”

“Mm.” Said Arty, noncommittal. “I wouldn’t really know.”

The kelpie turned to look at her quickly, mouth open in shock.

“Ya don’t got a home?”

“Not really.” It said with a shrug. “It’s too dangerous for me to stay anywhere too long. I don’t want to bring trouble for any trolls around. Or the wildlife.”

Róisín shook her head. “That ain’t right. Ya deserve a place to stay.”

It looked at them blankly as the pair of them walked off the train platform, the train now chugging away to its next destination with a whistle.

“It isn’t about that, Róisí. I have to keep people safe.”

“Do ya never do anything fer yourself?”

Arty was silent as they went down a few steps, then snorted softly.

“I buy things for myself. I go where I want with my bodies that aren’t working. Honestly, I indulge myself too much already.” It said with a shake of its head. 

“I should be more focused. I’m meant to protect and assist trolls, and the more I do that and shut out distractions, the better off I am.”

The pair walked into the town - not a big one, but enough to have a modest train station and a decent array of stores. Trolls, mostly lowbloods and a few midbloods, dotted the streets, so once again Arty and Róisín stood out.

Yet here no one seemed to care much. The pair received a few glances, but most people were busy on their own errands or talking with others.

“Damn, that sounds joyless.” Said Róisín, shaking their shaggy head. “No wonder ya have such trouble relaxin’. Do ya even know how?”

It glared at them. “Yes.”

“Cool yer jets, I was just askin’.” Said the fae, raising her hands in surrender.

It sighed. “It doesn’t matter. Where are we going next?”

“To pick up th’wine, o’course. Then to my castle.”

“Hm.” Said Arty, amused. “And where are we going to find what I assume has to be quite the stunning quantity of wine?”

The kelpie gave it a yellowed grin.

“M’so glad ya asked.”

—

“You are doing this on purpose.” Said the muffled voice of the artifice from behind the boxes of wine Róisín had loaded it up with from the store they’d visited, one where the proprietor apparently owed the fae folk a favor. 

A very big favor, judging by the dozens of dusty boxes they were both dragging out of his cellar.

“Aw, nah, it’s gotta be carried is all.” Replied the fae breezily. “And yer so strong!”

The various boxes of wine concealing the entire upper body of the artifice wobbled slightly.

“I’m so overloaded with booze I might fall! Strength doesn’t equate to there being enough of me to counterbalance it!”

Róisín chuckled.

“Ah, yap yap yap, get it into the truck, will ya?”

“I hate you.” Grumbled the construct as, very carefully, it managed to carry and lay down its burden without any of it tipping and breaking. Strong it indeed was, but its slender limbs and frame were ill equipped for balancing so many bulky objects at once.

The kelpie grinned as they effortlessly tucked several boxes under their own broad, strong arms and hauled them into the back of the vehicle.

“Careful, I migh’ take that th’wrong - “

“No.”

He pouted in dismay, tail drooping.

—

Róisín drove the truck, to Arty’s surprise.

“I thought fae didn’t like vehicles.” It said in surprise.

“Most of us don’t.” She agreed. “But I’m different. I think they’re fun, actu’lly. Plus I got higher iron and silver tolerance than most.”

“So that’s why they sent you.” Arty murmured. “I wondered why those wounds I left didn’t seem to bother you much.”

The kelpie grinned. “Damn straight. None o’those pinpricks really did shit. But if ya wanted to get real rough I wouldn’t compla -“

“Finish that sentence and I will start cutting off your fingers.” The construct interjected coldly.

“Well ya don’t gotta be like that about it.” Róisín said sulkily.

Arty rolled its eyes, arms folded in front of it.

“Apparently I do, since you keep failing to grasp that I’m not interested and your fantasies are absolutely nothing I want to hear.”

The kelpie continued to pout as she navigated her way down an ever more twisty and winding road through the woods. 

“Sheesh, I can’t even joke around with ya?”

“Get some better jokes.”

It leaned back in its seat and closed its eyes, playing with the bell on its purple bracelet.

“What’s that thing ya keep fiddlin’ with, anyway?” Róisín asked as she finally slowed the truck down to a halt.

“A gift.” It said curtly as it opened the door, stepping onto the grass. “From my friend who doesn’t like music.”

“Looks almost like a collar.” Chuckled the kelpie as she followed, both of them now under the shadow of the trees. The canopy was thick enough that there was barely any moonlight streaming down through it.

“It was.” Said Arty, voice even more tight. “It was a joke. They slipped it over my head while we were goofing around. I kept it and turned it into this.”

“Damn, ya can goof around? Who’d have thunk.” Said the fae, going for the back of the truck.

The artifice hissed at them.

“I can goof around with people I like! People I can, to an extent, trust! Not you. Never you.”

Róisín stopped and looked at it with raised brows, hair out of his face as it had been while he’d been driving.

“Well shit, don’t have t’get all huffy at me. What’s so great about this troll, anyway? Ya said ‘to an extent’. Is it cause ya know trolls won’t ever really trust ya?”

It laughed sharply.

“Of course I know trolls won’t really trust me! I’m not an idiot. I know it’s stupid to care about them personally. But I can’t help it.” It muttered. 

“I’ve tried and tried to make it go away…it never does. I’m stuck with this affection, useless as it is.” It sighed, running a hand through its fluffy hair. “I’d retreat entirely, but…I don’t want to.” It murmured. “It’d be so, so boring…just like before.”

A pause stretched between the two creatures.

Róisín took a step closer. Arty was too despondent to care. 

They took another.

“Well.” Said the kelpie, slow and soft. “Seems to me it might be easier on ya if ya stopped tryin’ to hold onto stuff draggin’ ya down.”

Arty looked at them blearily. “What? I don’t - "

Róisín snatched its wrist and and with one swift motion, broke its bracelet.

The two halves of the purple ex-collar fell to the dark grass.

A moment passed.

Arty roared like a pride of lions and transformed into a great metallic beast, but one with no fixed form - the artifice was too enraged to settle, and kept growing and retracting spines and limbs, fins and wings, a shifting chaotic mass of flesh and tech that pinned the bewildered kelpie down with a great clawed paw.

“Do you know - " It said in a clicking, chittering voice, the words coming from it more impressions of sounds than properly spoken. “ - why you aren’t dead?”

Róisín swallowed as her body was pressed down into the dirt and didn’t dare answer in case she said the wrong thing.

“For the moment, I need you. Once I don’t, your life is forfeit. You are not a troll. I could split you from throat to groin and feel nothing except the satisfaction of scavenging your corpse. 

I could wear your skin as mine and it would feel no different than all the other skins I’ve taken.” It whispered, almost lovingly.

Róisín shuddered.

“If you damage my gifts or disparage those I care for again, I will kill you.”

The kelpie swallowed and nodded in understanding.

“Good.” It said shortly, then began turning back into its troll form.

The fae didn’t dare move as it folded in on itself once more, layers and layers retracting like fractals of gleaming metal and engineered sinew, sparks of light dancing between them as the construct resembled a troll in a suit again and bent over to carefully pick up the halves of the broken bracelet.

It sighed, stroked them with its fingers, and put them away in its sylladex.

It looked down at Róisín, its lip curling with disgust.

“Get up. I assume we’re near your castle, and I need to carry these in the right direction.”

The kelpie scrambled to their feet, quick to obey and start babbling instructions.

—

The pair had spent the time carrying the wine in silent cooperation and brief exchanges about where to take the wine.

Róisín’s castle in the woods wasn’t too bad, Arty admitted to itself. Nothing like the Kelter one - it sighed, glad it was at least there as Eileit while this body had to be here - but in better condition than it had expected from the fae.

It hauled the last of the wine into the basement and looked at it, calculating. It would take a while to dose all the bottles, but it would be well worth it, if it could only find - 

“Hey, Arty, uh…”

It turned to look at Róisín, expression neutral.

“Sorry.” Róisín said, scratching her head as she looked to the side. 

It raised its eyebrows.

“Let’s just get this done. Then we won’t have to see each other again.” It said, tone even.

The kelpie’s tail dragged on the floor as they silently led the artifice into the main hall of the castle.

To the construct’s surprise, there was a small crowd waiting for them - fae of all shapes and sizes, a few more troll-like while others resembled animals and plants, even mushrooms.

“Welcome home, lady!” They all said together, in a cheerful and welcoming tone. “Lady Róisín, how are you? Is the castle to your liking?”

The kelpie chuckled. “O’course it is, y’all do as good a job as ever. Nothin’ t’complain about. Now, everyone tell me what y’ve been up to -“

Surprised, the construct watched as the kelpie walked among all her - servants, it realized, or attendants - and asked them how they were, what they’d been doing, listened to their concerns or clapped them on the back for taking care of things so well.

It felt strange watching her be so familiar and comfortable with them. Watching them be genuinely happy to see him.

It felt…some sort of ache. An ache it didn’t understand. As if it wanted to walk beside her and do the same…

No. That was silly. It didn’t even know these fae. 

What was this feeling? Something else useless it should get rid of, no doubt.

“Who’s your guest, lady?” Called one fae curiously, after greetings had been exchanged.

Arty’s ears flattened. Suddenly, it didn’t want to be looked at.

Róisín nodded encouragingly.

“I…” it said. “I’m Arty…”

“Oh, that’s a cute name!”

“Why are you here with the lady?”

“Oh, you’re not a troll, are you? Do you mind telling us what you are?”

It couldn’t. It couldn’t find its words. 

They were all being nice…

Their faces were all…pleasant, curious…

They clearly had no idea how many of them it had killed.

They had no idea it had nearly killed their lady.

Their lady they clearly cared about very much.

Arty bolted.

—

It curled up in the castle’s treasure room, growing feathered metal wings to wrap around itself as it nestled in a high corner. 

It didn’t know how long it had been. Probably at least an hour.

“Ah, there ya are.” 

A familiar voice carried up to its ears and it curled its wings even tighter around itself. It did not look at Róisín.

“Didn’t know that was gonna be too much for ya. I explained it away for ya, though. Said ya were tired and a little overwhelmed.”

It chitter-groaned, still unable to speak.

“They didn’t mind none. We’re not like trolls; won’t judge ya for bein’ a bit different.”

It clicked a bit, then fell silent.

“Ya can come down if ya want. I told no one t’bother ya unless ya spoke first. But if ya wanna stay up there until tomorrow, I un’nerstand. M’goin’ to bed soon, but feel free to walk aroun’ th’castle.”

The creature still couldn’t respond. It didn’t really know how. Róisín’s kindness left it floundering for words, even if it could have spoken them.

It heard her leave.

It stayed still a bit longer, then unraveled its wings and flew down to land gently on the stone floor.

The artifice looked across all the gleaming piles of gold and armor, weapons and jewelry.

It couldn’t afford to indulge its weakness any longer.

It had a job to do.

[privatedarius]

Aussie stock woman directing working kelpies in dusty cattle station stockyard photo credit: Bulldust & Mulga

[sparrow-orion-writes]

Fairweather

Part 1 - All good and terrible things start with the words "I need a job"

This one shot is set in the Cardinal Sins universe. No prior reading or knowledge is required.

POV: First Person

Genres: Fantasy, adventure, romance.

Rating and warnings for the whole fic: 18 (violence, some mild gore once or twice, one detailed sex scene, and one not-so detailed sex scene). By clicking "Read More" you confirm you are at least 18 years of age, and willing to read the above topics.

Warnings for this part: N/A

Word Count: 1742

Synopsis: A man looking for work joins the crew of The Kelpie on an expedition, only to become fascinated with the elusive captain who keeps her face covered at all times. He recounts the tale of their journey together, and the weird and wonderful things he encountered whilst at sea.

I was in need of a job.

That’s the way things go, isn’t it – you find yourself with your life changed, it always starts with ‘well I went for this job.’

At that time in my life I was falling from job to job all the time. Short term contracts were no good for comfort but I never had much trouble finding more work once I had a foot in the door. The agency I was at did a fair good job at making sure I always had some money coming in. Almost a pity they treated us like cattle.

I wanted something new that wasn’t being stuck inside some dusty factory or warehouse. I don’t think I knew that when I saw the job posted, but I do now, I needed something different. I didn’t even know if I’d be any good on the sea but I was always that sort of bloke – I’ll never know until I try – sometimes it works to my favour and others it doesn’t.

Anyway, that’s how I had the strangest few months of my life.

When I got to the ship (The Kelpie, she was called) I was greeted by an odd man. Tall, with slicked-back hair and half-moon glasses. He looked like an academic of sorts, dressed all neatly in a fancy waistcoat and slacks. I asked if he were the captain and he frowned at me as though I’d offended him.

“No,” he spoke with that distinct firmness, you know the sort, bosses around and doesn’t get bossed around “…she’s through there,” then he turned away, fishing in his pocket for something. I didn’t stick around to see what.

The first time I met Fairweather, the captain of The Kelpie, I had many questions that would only keep doubling from that moment.

Firstly, every inch of her was suffocated in clothes. I’d met women before who dressed oddly or differently, in my trade most of the women would dress as the men. This was different to that, everything from her head to her hands to her feet was entirely covered in thick, black leather – the durable sort. I supposed it made sense, really, his is a trade that requires durability.

What unnerved me most was the mask. Black and shaped like a raven – the beak protruding outwards and the eye-holes clouded in unsettling blackness. I couldn’t see her face nor her expression, bu I imagine to this day that even then she was amused by me.

“I’m here about the job post,” I managed out, trying not to show that I was caught off guard by her attire “…what’s uh…what’s the mask for?”

To this day I can remember the first time she laughed, right then, the first sound she had made since I stepped into her quarters. My body had felt like a spring releasing, unwinding from knots that I hadn’t even known I had.

There was something musical about it, something enchanting.

“I like how it looks,” she shrugs, lifting her chin a little, “…plus, the witch doctors had the right idea about blocking out smells, and ships don’t smell too good after about a week.”

Odd, but I accepted the explanation with a nod.

“Have you worked on a ship before?” She asks.

“No, I’ve worked in warehouses and factories most,” She bows her head into an exaggerated nod, perhaps used to over compensating for the fact that people can’t see her face.

“Working on a ship is a lot different to working on land, you’ll be on here for months, if you don’t like the crew, you’re stuck here, if you don’t like the job, you’re stuck here, and if you find out two days in that you get sick at sea…you’re stuck here.”

I should have heeded the latter warning with a bit more consideration, I’d find out later.

“That’s all right, I’m no stranger to being in situations I hate,” I offered her a tired sort of grin, wondering if she can see the bruises on the side of my face and the scars all up my arms. Work is just work, I’d learned to tell myself a very long time ago, you suffer, you eat, and that’s just life.

“Alright,” she nodded, sitting down, “…and how are you with the law?”

My expression must have betrayed me, because she laughed again.

“Good,” she snorts, “…we’re not running anything particularly illegal this time around, but if you happen to see a wanted poster with my name on it…”

“I’ll look the other way.”

‘Is this a pirate ship?’ I thought to myself, a twist of excitement lingering in my knotting stomach. Now, I’d never fancied myself an outlaw, I wasn’t – and still aren’t – a fast runner, but working on a ship with a wanted woman, well that’s just something a person shouldn’t pass up on.

“Good man,” I could hear the grin in her voice, a pleasant sort of strain. She turns to open a drawer. “Can you read?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Captain will do,” she snorts, “…I’m fairly young by my family’s standards,” she places down a few papers, “…give that a read, read it carefully, it’s your contract.”

I took the papers in my hands and began to read, it was all standard things, usual words in their usual order. Except that there was a small clause at the bottom, detailing how the journey will contain knowledge of confidential and sensitive information that shouldn’t be shared outside the crew. I wondered, maybe for the first time, where I was intended to be going and when I’d return. I imagine most crews feel the same. But it occurred to me then that I hadn’t even considered that; then there was the feeling that I just didn’t care.

“Are you self-employed?” She asks, as I sign the piece of paper and hand her my life for the next few months.

“Currently, yes.”

“Good, that’s easier, you’ll receive your wages at the end of each month, usually just before we dock for re-supply so you can have a gander around a town and stretch your legs, treat yourself.” She slides over another piece of paper, “…you may want to leave your next of kin and a contact address, in case anything goes awry…though I will do my best to protect you against the seas and her creatures.”

I haphazardly scribbled the name of my neighbour – a young woman we called Red, due to the bright orange of her hair – who may have been the only person that I saw regularly. I wanted someone to know I died, if I did, it’s only right, I thought.

“And food, water-”

“All provided, you will share a room with another crew member, but otherwise I try to make it as comfortable as possible – I don’t like my crew mates in discontent, though I do like you working.” I could hear her smile again, and any stressors began to ease. She seemed more focused, calmer, than the hot-headed men in suits I was used to chaining my days to.

“Who’s the fancy lad outside?” I wondered aloud.

“My contractor,” she slid a box of cigarettes from the drawer and placed it on the wooden desk, “-he’s harmless, but a real sourpuss, still, he’s paying all our wages, so...”

I nodded, unsure what else to add. Generally, I feel unease around men who can afford tailored suits, and he didn’t half look out of place, but, she was right, money’s money. “Thank you,” I stood, sliding the contract back over to her.

“Thank you, and welcome aboard.”

I shook her hand and turned to leave, a feeling of deep trouble and joyous excitement already beginning to brew.

--

The Kelpie was as I expected a ship to be.

After a little chat with some friends I hadn’t seen in a while – on the chance I didn’t come back – and boarding the ship, I found my footing fairly easily. The hardest part was loading the barrels on, me and some others piled everything into storage, up and down until I started to feel the ache crumbling my shoulders. But it wasn’t too bad, not too large of a ship, not too large of a crew, and not too many mouths to feed.

Once we were on the ship, there wasn’t much to do. I could have a lie down if I wanted, as long as I got up when I was called for. We played card games, drank, kept our eyes peeled just in case. “We’re not pirates,” Fairweather had stressed “…not right now, anyway – either way there are still pirates out here, or worse, the English.”

Days turned to weeks without a hitch. In the first week my seasickness began to alleviate, I grew used to the lull of the waves. In the second, I started to enjoy being on the sea. It was peaceful, nothing like the factories or the dusty asbestos-filled warehouses. Unlike any employer I’d had before, Fairweather did her best to make sure the crew were content. I suppose it’s not a nice place to die, out at sea, with no one to hear you scream.

Mostly, she kept to herself, though, the oddity that she was. She never took down the mask, and at night she locked her quarters with several locks. I wondered if maybe it was a convict thing at the time. If the law was after me, I’d be a little restless too, wanting to keep my face hidden. That’s what I reasoned anyway – I was never given an indication for otherwise.

At night, whilst we gambled, the other crew mates gossiped between them. One said ‘she’s horribly disfigured, and covers her face to hide the scars.’ Another said that he was told ‘she was cursed at birth and has the face of a bird.’ A woman tipsy on the grog giggled and said ‘the captain is a demon sent to drown them all at sea.’

I said they were all full of shit.

For the most part, I didn’t care why she wore a mask. Curious, sure, but it didn’t matter much. She fed us, she gave us drinks, she let us breathe; most of us weren’t ever getting a deal this good ever again. She could’ve been shooting down ships without mercy and I’d  have been inclined to say I’d still work for her. I’ve seen what the cruelties this world can offer first hand, and this woman did not seem so inclined to it.

--

So, for the first month at sea, things were okay, time passed, we worked, we rested, we got our paycheck and spent more of it than we should have at the first town we stopped at.

It wasn’t until we set sail again, heading somewhere north into territory I wasn’t sure I could point at on a map, that things changed. That was when Fairweather really struck my interest.

I think she would’ve struck anyone’s interest, anyone that saw her. But I knew the first time I really saw her that my life would never be the same again.

Taglist:

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[unsettlingcreature]

Killian Trevelyan (unusual oc associations)

[picrew by elenaillustrate] unusual oc associations :) i couldn't find who started this off so i am technically yoinking it, but i'd still like to tag some folks!! (at the bottom ^^;) if anyone else wants to yoink this, please feel free to do so because this was actually really fun

Seasoning: salt rosemary

Weather: cloudy/overcast

Colour: dusty red

Sky: two steps past twilight, when the stars are just first beginning to peek through

Magic Power: blinking/short-distance teleportation (fade-step my beloved)

House Plant: trailing ivy

Weapon: boot knife/gambler's dagger

Subject: sociology or history

Social Media: reddit (throwaway account, mostly used for AITA)

Make-up Product: eyeliner (would be left for days, all smudged and faded)

Candy: mint humbugs (he tries to keep them until he reaches the centre but often gets impatient and cracks the hard outer candy)

Fear: tranquillity (of himself and those he teaches)

Ice Cube Shape: one of those big bags you can buy from the supermarket where they all stick together in clumps. he likes ice clumps.

Method of long-distance travel: coach

Art style: I feel like he'd enjoy abstract art

Celestial Body: stars

Mythological Creature: kelpie

Piece of stationery: regular graphite pencils

people i'm tagging: @morvaris, @miraakulous-cloud-district, @darling-leech, @argisthebulwark, @catt-crossing

[uncaaj]

Fanfic: Curry Impossible (Bluey)

READ NOW ON AO3!

Diesel threw the oven door open and was assaulted by thick, black smoke pouring out. It surged down his throat, not helped by his gasp of surprise at the orange glow of fire he beheld. He fell back into the kitchen island, bumping his knee on the corner and crashing into a heap.

“Retreat, troops, retreat!” he choked out in between hacking coughs, waving the smoke away. The smoke alarm overhead screamed its shrill alert, adding to the ongoing bombardment on Diesel’s senses. Blinded by searing tears, he crawled to the cabinet under the sink and grabbed the fire extinguisher. After standing and readying his weapon, he unloaded it up and down and across the oven. Once the last of the stray flames flickered out and the black smoke mixed with the extinguisher foam into a light gray matter, he limped to the window and threw it wide, ushering the smoke in that direction. 

Diesel heaved fresh air in and out and willed his racing heat down while holding his throbbing knee. Crisis averted, and now that his nose wasn’t overwhelmed with smoke, it was time to sniff out the problem. The oven control panel shone through the dissipating clouds and Diesel squinted toward it looking for an answer. Did he not hear the timer go off? Did he set the wrong temperature? What was it that caused such a calamity?

The timer was still ticking down from the three hours he set it to. In fact, it still had two and a half hours to go. Scratch that off. The temperature readout said 250, just as he set it. The “C” right beside it was a new sight however.

“C”?!, he balked in his mind, “Celsius?!”

Slowly turning his eyes down, what he saw on the sheet pan was not the red, pepper-coated roast beef he started out with, but a mass resembling a smoking volcanic rock freshly cooled from an eruption. 

Diesel’s stomach dropped and he ran a paw through his long hair. “Ohhhhh, biscuits.”

+++

DIESEL: This episode of Bandit is called “Curry Impossible.”

+++

Earlier that day…

In the living room of the Kelpie home, father Diesel and middle child Rusty were trading pushups, something the kid always liked to do with his dad.

Diesel rose to the apex, disregarding the mild burn in his biceps. “15!” He grunted.

“15!” Rusty parroted, coming to the top just the same.

“Good one, mate! Good form. Think you can go to 20?”

“Kids! Come on, let’s go!” called his wife Pepper. She was standing by the hall leading to the bedrooms. “The sooner we get your school shopping done, the sooner I can grab groceries for dinner!”

“Guess we’ll find out later.” Rusty nodded as Diesel lifted himself onto his feet. “I can handle the shopping if ya want, babe.”

Pepper smiled. “Oh, you’d do me a big favor. I’ll send you the list.”

The text popped up in a second and Diesel’s mouth watered at every ingredient. Beef, potatoes, carrots. “Mmm, I love roast night.”

“Me too,” said Rusty, his tail wagging.

“Me three!” chirped Dusty, the youngest Kelpie, running into the living room.

“Ditto,” said Digger, the eldest, walking in after.

Suddenly, Diesel was struck with a great idea, something he knew his kids would be excited for. “Know what?” he declared, “Why don’t I cook dinner tonight?”

“No thanks!” chimed the kids, backing away.

“Kids, don’t be rude,” Pepper hissed, then turned to her husband hiding her own apprehension. “Um, are you sure, honey?”

Diesel held his hands up. “Look, I know my history, but I’ve learned a lot since the ‘Garlic Incident.’ I oughta start pullin’ my weight around here now that I’m back for good.”

“I appreciate it, but I can handle it,” said Pepper, taking Diesel’s hand.

Diesel added his other hand. “But you don’t gotta. School shopping’s gonna be a handful as it is.” Diesel let go and knelt down to his kids. “You can give yer ol’ dad another chance, eh?”

The kids made their “thinking very hard” faces until Digger spoke first. “Well, roast night doesn’t seem that hard. Dad can probably do it.”

“The worst that’ll happen is we get fish and chips for dinner like last time,” said Rusty.

Pepper shook her head. She knew she wasn’t winning at this point. “Okay,” she relented, “Dad’s cooking dinner.”

Diesel pumped his fists. “Uss!” Dusty giggled at his victory dance.

“C’mon, then,” said Pepper, ushering the kids out the door before looking back. “I trust you, honey.”

“You can count on me now, babe,” Diesel shouted after. “I’ve got this!”

The door shut and Diesel looked back at the list. The weight of his current task was now upon him and it was heavy without warning. But he’d done much harder things in the army. It was just groceries and cooking dinner.

“I’ve got this,” he said again, grabbing his keys and marching out the door.

+++

Those words played in his head like a broken record as Diesel leaned against the counter and beheld his great cock-up. The kids were bound to be disappointed, but he could easily get back in their good graces. It was Pepper he was worried about. No one was safe from “the mom roast” as it was called, and she was bound to read him the riot act, not just for nearly burning down their kitchen, but for taking on something she could’ve already done herself, and correctly. She had sacrificed just as much as he had with his army service, and all he wanted was to give back.

A speck of brain power cleared and he recalled a mantra he drilled into his troop from day one, “Recognize when you need to ask for help, and then ASK!” He emphasized this because realizing you need help does no one any good if you don’t put your wounded pride aside and reach out.

Time to take his own advice to heart.

He left the carnage behind, grabbed his phone from the coffee table and found the group chat titled “Space Dads,” named after the game their sons liked playing all the time.

“SOS,” he texted, “Please come over right now.” He snapped a picture of the crime scene and sent it off, sweat beading on his back as his two best friends received the messages. Diesel paced the living room, waiting for a response but none came. Five minutes later, the doorbell rang, setting his tail fur on end. Diesel opened it and beheld a clean cut jack russel terrier and a bushy zebra-colored border collie holding their phones up, Diesel’s handiwork on full display.

“Mate,” they pointedly said in unison.

Diesel felt a blush betray his tan muzzle. “That’s a fine howdy-do,” he mumbled as he herded them inside. The group headed straight for the kitchen and beheld the now wisping roast corpse with their own eyes.

“Oh my,” said Blake Russel with a wince.

Josh Border Collie nodded, eyes wide. “The photo definitely sugarcoated it.”

“I’m in a right pickle,” said Diesel. “Me wife and kids’ll be home from the shops later lookin’ for…” He couldn’t even picture what the roast was supposed to look like, and just gestured with both arms to his homebrew charcoal. “…not that!”

“How’d you even turn it into…” Blake echoed Diesel’s action. “…that?”

“I set the oven low and slow for the chuck!” Diesel implored. “Recipe said 250 degrees!”

“You’re dreamin’, mate!” Josh laughed. “You grilled that meat!”

“I realize that now,” said Diesel. “That’s the last time I rely on an American recipe.”

Blake poked the roast and drew his arm back when a chunk broke off and crumbled into powdered carbon. He stared for a moment before nodding. “Ah…Righto. Fizzy?”

“I need it, mate,” Diesel sighed. Blake walked to the fridge and tossed a can toward Diesel who cracked it open while not breaking the thousand-yard stare setting in. He downed the entire thing down to the last drop and rubbed his temples.

“Mate, you good?” asked Josh. “It’s just roast.”

“It’s not just roast, mate!” Diesel leaned against the counter, arms drooping. “I asked to work the mess hall so many times, mate. I always told ‘em, ‘first thing I’m gonna do when I’m done is cook for my family. I wanna give back like they’ve given to me. They’re gonna love it.’ And I blew it on a silly mistake.” With one groan, he found himself fully at a loss. “What am I gonna do?”

Josh pulled Diesel upright again by his shoulders. “You’re gonna put dinner on the table, Kelpie. That’s what you’re gonna do.” Josh met Diesel’s despair with a stern determination, a change from the border collie’s usual happy-go-lucky attitude.

“How?” The kelpie wondered, “I-I used most of the meat I bought for my…cremation already.”

“This meat?” said Blake, holding a zip-top bag from the fridge.

“Uh, yeah, that’s the leftovers, I bought too much meat. And I ain’t grabbing no fish and chips or takeaway curry to pass off, not for what’s left of my dignity.”

 Josh opened it and beheld the contents, a gleam forming in his eye. He went to a nearby cabinet and started picking through spices.

Diesel followed. “What are ya doing, mate?”

Josh grabbed one more container, nodded, and shut the cabinet. “Don’t need a takeaway curry if you can make one.”

“What? Now you’re dreamin’!” said Diesel. “I don’t got all ya need for curry.”

“Trust me,” Josh countered. “You got enough.”

As Josh went to the fridge and sifted through the produce, Diesel watched his friend taking on the challenge ahead, not unlike what he did many a time under deployment. The fire returned to him and he knew he had to take charge or he’d stand around like a green private and not learn anything from this. And he had to learn.

“Hang on!” barked Diesel. Josh and Blake whipped their heads toward him, surprised. Diesel cleared his throat. “Lookit, I want your help, need it, really. But if I’m gonna ever redeem this in my mind, I gotta be the one to cook it.”

The two nodded their approval. “Of course, mate,” said Josh. “Sorry if I got a bit ahead of myself.”

“No worries. Thanks for talking me outta the hole. Now let’s do this, eh?”

They high-fived. “Yeah!”

Sergeant mode engaged. “Josh, feed me instructions step by step. Blake, can you fetch ingredients?”

“Sir, yes, sir!” Blake saluted.

“I was just lookin’ for onion and carrot, mate,” said Josh, and Blake took up the task.

“How’s your knife skills?” asked Josh.

Diesel answered by taking up the vegetables Blake offered up and cutting them in half and beginning to dice. 

Josh chuckled in amazement. “Sweet as. That mess hall work served you well.”

Diesel beamed without stopping his action. “Thanks, mate.”

“Watch your fingers!” Josh yelped.

Diesel startled and looked back down before shifting his fingers. He flashed a nervous grin. “Right on.”

“Take a breath, and just trust the process,” Josh said.

Diesel continued on the path, pushing all doubts to the back of his mind. There was a chance that this couldn’t work, that he didn’t have what was needed to pull this misadventure back from the brink. But he couldn’t focus on that. He needed to trust his friends and trust the process.

Before long, the meat chunks were cubed up and all ingredients prepped. The dogs congregated around a hot pot, empty and waiting. Diesel turned to Josh and the border collie nodded. First, the diced onions were scraped in from the cutting board and sautéed in oil and butter. Upon translucency, the carrots were added and took their turn on the scorching surface. Diesel listened to Josh’s every instruction as he guided him through a simple beef curry recipe, sure to please at a moment’s notice.

As Diesel poured in the beef stock and it began to boil, he took a moment to sniff the mixture he created. The smell his nose met almost blew him backwards. It was fantastic. Every piece of the puzzle had settled into place and for the first time since that morning, the weight of expectation had lifted from Diesel’s shoulders.

“Good, eh?” said Josh.

Diesel looked at him, grinning ear to ear. “Mate, this is ace! How could I ever thank you for saving my tail?”

Josh smiled. “Just promise to check your temp’s in the right format before you start cooking next time, okay?”

“Agreed,” Blake concurred.

“Make that a double,” said Diesel. “Now what’s next?”

“Rice time,” said Josh, rubbing his paws together.

“Right, I got a pot we can use. I’ll need to know the ratios and maybe some cardamom as well-”

Josh held his paws up with a chuckle. “Mate, just throw it in a rice cooker.”

Diesel stopped. “Heh-heh, got one o’ those as well.”

+++

The Space Dads were long gone and the Kelpies were seated around the dinner table, the steaming result of Diesel’s efforts placed at the center upon the lazy susan. Diesel’s tail twitched with anticipation as Pepper placed the first spoonful of curry into her mouth. The payoff moment was here.

Her gaze turned from skeptical to surprised to delight with every chew. An “mmm” from little Dusty broke the silence. The entire table devolved into yummy eating noises and Diesel’s tail devolved into full wagging as his heart surged with pride.

“Honey, this is amazing!” said Pepper.

“Ditto, dad,” said Digger.

After dinner, the two parents were on the couch cuddling while the kids did the dishes. Pepper stroked Diesel’s hair and he hummed happily.

“Thank you, Diesel Kelpie,” she said. “You don’t know how much you’ve helped me today.”

“I have an idea,” he responded. “All in a day’s work. I just needed a good recipe.”

“From Josh, I imagine.”

“No one makes it better.”

She sighed. “I never did get an answer as to why curry instead of roast night. Not that the kids minded.”

“Call it a whim, a moment of inspiration.” That answer sounded really good to Diesel, and to Pepper as well as she returned to scratching him behind his ears, his favorite spot.

“Dad!” Rusty called.

“Yeah, mate?” said Diesel.

“What’s this black rock in the oven?”

Diesel’s brow immediately produced a cold sweat.

“And why’s all this white stuff in there?”

Pepper sat up and crossed her arms. “Yeah, why is all that there, dad?”

Diesel gulped. “I knew I forgot something.”

[vtgbooks]

Vintage FRANK DALBY DAVISON Dusty 1952 Vintage Dingo Book Vintage Kelpie Book

[kiwipiepetz]

More petz, adopted May 13, 2023

Kitten the Ragdoll and Dusty the Kelpie were adopted together because Dusty came out while I was playing with Kitten and they immediately hit it off so I couldn't turn Dusty back in. I was originally going to get a tan/brown Ragdoll but when I saw his color I kind of fell in love and kept playing with him. Kitten likes to act like he's too dignified for Dusty, but he's not fooling anyone, he adores her. Dusty is a little more foolish than most of my petz, but she fits right in. I haven't had them out separately yet because I think it's super cute that they're friends and it feels weird to only have the one.

Toes the Cymric VPZ. He's super playful until I take pictures lololol. He's also constantly scratching my carpet or making biscuits, so I'm lucky that it can't get ruined.

Last but not least for today, Duke the Poodle. As a kid I was never big on the poodle, but when I played a few years ago I had a poodle I absolutely adored, so I guess this is me trying to get that back. He's more standoffish than my last poodle, but I still think he's nice to have around.