#i had made shitty desert steak

[hopeless-nec-romantic]

Soaking in a bath, thinking about the time I saw the homebody get waterboarded in an interrogation roleplay at Burning Man

[mysticgoblinwriter]

Driving In A Cold Sweat; There Is No One On This Highway

Warnings- Murder, infidelity, swearing, food imagery, shitty parents, i made Steve the villain who’s in the HOA and a politician, adult content, dark!reader, cheating, a bit of flirting, mental health joke (mental health is NOT a joke, y’all), religion symbolism, dark!steve, peggy x bucky,

Word Count- 1.9k

kudos to @blackberrybucky for being my soundboard, and @fandomsandxfiles for being my beta reader. Love y'all

a/n- This is inspired by Hypothermic by Goodnight Texas.  Its really dark, and I surprised myself writing this but I like it. I also changed the landscape to desert. Leave comments if you want! As many as you like, I fangirl over my work too. All writers should, its selfcare.

IF YOU WANT SOMETHING FLUFFY AND SOFT TURN AWAY NOW; MINORS DNI

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE. A REBLOG IS APPRECIATED. A REPOST IS NOT.

Bucky looks you up and down, taking you in like you are the gods own ambrosia.  “So, doll.  What brings you to this shit hole?”

You laugh to yourself.  “I murdered somebody.”- was the sentence that also inspired this but its not in the actual story.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The radio gave out miles ago.  It was emitting nothing except for crackling and static.  Every now and then it would cut back to a sermon, funnily enough it’d been the same one that was on when you started your trip.  Sunset was a little ways off.  If you looked hard enough you could see coyotes just off the asphalt.  Alive, yes.  But just how long had their souls been gone?  Someone was screaming.

A man.  You’d heard that scream before.  Seared into you memory like that steak you had for your 15th birthday. It was right next to you.  Oozing blood and raw-red.  You could hear the clink of the knife as it scraped against the plate.  Shaking your head to clear it, you notice an exit with a gas station.  “Now’s a time as good as any to stop.”  Gravel crunches as you slide up next to the pump. The neon beer lights from the bar across the road are calling.  But you can’t answer. The gas handle is slick and grimy, you’ve felt something like that before, but you can’t remember what.  A fuzzy noise in the back of your ears gets your attention.  Another truck has pulled in.  Right in the spot next to yours, never mind the dozen others that are free.  A bulky man steps down, his face hidden by a rangers hat.

You could tell he worked out though.  And had hair in need of a washing.  Clunk.  The tank was full.  You thought it best to leave before anyone could place you, but your stomach needed something other than greasy two-bit fast food.  You glance around, looking for any sign that promised a hot meal.

“Looking for something, doll?” You let out a small gasp.  He was staring straight at you now.

“Does this shithole have a place to eat?  I might have to start eating the cactus.”

He lets out a soft laugh, “Yeah, there’s a diner about half mile down the road.”

His face brightens like he just thought of something.  “You wanna meet me there?  I’ll buy dinner?”  You weigh the options.  You can’t have anybody recognize you; but your cash is getting low and however you can stretch it, you must.  You nod once.  “Sure.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

The diner is every trope you’d seen in the movies your pops watched when he got off work.  Flies buzzing, neon sign flickering, checkered tile.  It even had the shiny red leather booths.  What a dream.  “Getcha a seat anywhere, honey.  I’ll be right over,” came a perky voice from the back.  Presumably a waitress. You choose the booth near the back exit.  Its always good to have a backup plan.

The man said he needed to get something at the mini-mart, that you could go ahead and he’d catch up.  Somebody screamed right next to you, causing you to jump out of your seat.  You whip your head around.  No one was even in the dining area.  It sounded so real.  Like you could reach out and grasp the shattering inky blackness.  You take a couple of deep breaths.  Try to remember your happy place.  Tahiti, its a magical place.  Or so you’ve been told  You just picked it from a magazine that was open on the coffee table the night your mother set fire to the curtains in the living room.  The flames had licked up the page, burning the island resort into ash.  Boots thudded as they made way to where you were.  He slides in across from you.

“Um, the waitress’ll be right out,” you said softly.  He barely heard it over the rickety air conditioning.  He nods to show he heard.  He’s sitting close.  Closer than you’d thought another human would ever sit next to you again.  His hands are rough and calloused.  The sleeve cuffs of his hoodie are frayed; as if someone clawed at them.  Eyes traveling up his body, you take in more details.  The hoodie isn’t faded, its brand new.  He wears a bracelet of leather on his right hand, with a charm you can’t quite see.  His necklace is corded hemp, plain and understated.

A light stubble that’s maybe three days old covers his jaw.  His eyes... are piercing right through you. You take in a quick breath, not being able to look away.  You’d never seen that shade of blue before.   He’d been watching you watching him.  Quirking an eyebrow, ”See anything ya like, doll?” You start to sputter an answer but the waitress comes over.  “Sorry about the wait.  Here’s your-”  Blue eyes interrupts her, “We don’t need those.  I’ll have the special and she’ll have the ‘Its Impossible To Go Away Hungry’ plate”  “Okay, then.  I’ll get that right out to ya folks.”

You glare at him, he mirrors it with dicky nonchalance. “Why did you order for me?”  He leans forward, tilts his head the right the tiniest fraction.  “You’re starved.  I really don’t give a damn what kept you from eating but I ain’t gonna let you go without giving you a meal.  The steak plate is the biggest meal they have.  You can take a to go box, that is if you don’t eat the whole thing.”

“Oh.”  You cast out a huff, “Well, thank you.”  He flashes a killer smile. Pearly white teeth in a straight line.  Not an imperfection to be found anywhere.  A silence falls between the two of you.  You can’t decide whether its comfortable of not.

“My name is Bucky.  I thought you wouldn’t like eating with a stranger.  I like to doodle in the margins of my books sometimes.”  “Please tell me not library books.”  He scoffs as if you suggested the impossible, “Never.  Do you think I’m crazy?”

“Jury’s out on that, Bucky.”  He looks at you more intently now.  “Really?  Same could be said about you.  When I first spoke to you it was like a deer in headlights.  Ya running from something, sugar?”  He’d said it jokingly but you didn’t laugh.

“No.  Nothing like that.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Shirley came back with your plates, and two root beers.  She left the check at the end of the table and Bucky swooped it up.  The meal passed by in the comfortable sounds of silverware clinking and ice clacking in the cups.  You both ate in record time.

You were careful to save enough for a second meal. That went into the to go container.  Now both cups were drained and plates scraped clean.  You start to slide out of your seat, mumbling a thanks but Bucky stops you.  “Wait, won’t you sit here a while longer?  I’d be kinda sad sitting here alone.”  After a moments hesitation, you resume your position.  “What do you wanna talk about?  It can’t be the weather.  Its been dry as bones for weeks.”   He ponders for a moment, “You.”  He shifts a little, resting one ankle on the opposite knee.

“I want to know what you’re running from, and see if I can offer...a distraction.”  That shocks you.  “Life?  Aren’t we all running away in some form or another?  I just happened to take the mobile route.”  You shrug, “What do you want me to say?  It was all shitty so I left it behind.  And as for the distraction part, I got a whore last night, so don’t bother.”  He is silent.  Just sits there and gazes at you.  You cock your head, getting impatient.  “Am I allowed to leave now?  Or do you want to talk about our feelings?”

“I slept with my best friends wife.”

“I-I’m sorry you what??”

“I slept with my best friends wife.  He owns half the town, what with him being mayor and all.  I couldn’t take it anymore, he’s always been the golden boy.  Always been the beacon of light.  I just wanted a slice of what he had.”  He looks up, his eyes are dead.  “She was willing, and I just... took her.  There on his desk.  He’d been out for lunch with some bigwig, and I made her cum twice on my cock.”  He chuckles darkly.  “That’d been the first time.  All the other times don’t matter, he doesn’t know about those.  But he does know about the time in the craft shed.  Peggy did pottery.

Had a nice little workshop, it was connected to the mansion they had.  I wanted to bring her pleasure in the place where she gets frustrated often, so she’d have something else to think about.  Steve caught us on the floor.  A big bunch of daffodils in hand.  Stupid, those weren’t even her favorites.”  He was gone now, lost in memories, not even knowing he was talking.  “Said he had come by to take her to lunch.  That was always like Steve.  Expected her to clear her schedule at the drop of a hat but never doing the same for anybody. He didn’t even get mad.  He just walked away, muttering something about his office.

Peggy said she could talk some sense into him.  The next day I found her in the garbage when I took out my trash.”  Your sharp inhale and big eyes do nothing to catch his attention.  “Steve comes strolling out of nowhere, said that she was a threat to his image.  Said that I need to leave or face the same.  I asked why he left me alive and he said ‘So you can remember the pain until you lay down in the ground and the mice and carrion drag your body up from its silk cocoon to feast.”

But that’s not all.”  He said the last bit so quietly, it was as if he said nothing.

“What?”  He’s crying now, tears are forming rivers in his eyes.  “She knew.  She knew  he was going to be there and that’s how she wanted to go out.”  Your puzzled expression makes him laugh.  “Don’t know many politicians, do you?  Good.  Keep it that way.  That day when the mail came I got a letter.  From her.  It said how she wanted to divorce Steve ever since he became the HOA president.  But she couldn’t.  He had threatened her once, just once and what he said was so blisteringly awful.  And he did it.  He is a man of his word, after all.  He kept his damn word.”

“So...she used you as an out?”  He winces.  You hadn’t meant to sound like that.

“Yes.”

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Out in the diners parking lot you say goodbye to James.  Wait.  No, no.  His name is Bucky.  He’s got a green  Chevy and blue eyes.  Or was it red?  It doesn’t matter anyway.  You back out and head for the next state, ignoring the blood leaking from the tarp in your trunk.  The screams have stopped.  And the moon is bright.

[justahopelessssromantic]

Hi I was wondering if you could do a request where the reader served with coco in the army and they had a sort of thing but nothing serious. And then the reader goes to find coco for protection after something happens in her life and then loads of fluff. Sorry it’s long and if you don’t have time don’t worry. Thanks ✌🏻

*I’m sorry if this isn’t what you quite had in mind, actually when I was about done with it I started thinking I kind of took it another direction than you were intending. My mind just took the idea and ran a little crazy with it so again I’m sorry if this wasn’t what you were wanting. Thank you so much for the request and sending your great idea. I hope you enjoy and I hope there’s enough fluff for ya! The beginning is a little intense and angsty so I hope you don’t mind and if it’s too much for anyone feel free to skip past the whole flashback scene it will be in italics. Anyways thanks again and I hope you like it! Let me know what you think ❤️😁*

*gif not mine*

Warnings: Violence, blood, gore, death, trauma, physical and emotional abuse. Fluff in the second half.

~Flashback~

On the top floor of an old building laid Coco as he looked through his scope out one of the busted windows. You were beside him crouched with your back against the wall, rifle in hand as you chatted casually even though everything about your surroundings was anything but casual.

“The first thing I’m gonna do when I get home is take a long bubble bath,” you moaned imagining the hot water soaking your sore and tired muscles, “And then I’m ordering food from every restaurant I’ve been craving, all of them at once,” your stomach growled as you thought of the countless burgers, pizzas, steaks, pastas, and deserts you had been so desperately craving as of late, “And I’m gonna just lounge around in the fluffy robe stuffing my face as I binge whatever crap show may be gracing my tv screen that night.” You chuckled

Coco chuckled, “Oh, is that all?” He teased as he surveyed the building across the way, searching for any movement, “When I get back I’m buying the most expensive bed I can and sleeping, forever. My back is getting real tired of the shitty excuse for beds we got here.”

“When I get back home, I’m going to take my wife out on the most romantic date,” Jefferson said from the other side of the room as he kept an eye on the back of the building, “And then I’m taking my kids to an amusement park, going all out, no stops.”

“And when is Sarah due?” You asked. Jefferson was a proud family man and he was quick to tell everyone he met all about his wife and kids. You thought that was sweet, it’s how he kept them close he would say.

“Just two more months,” he grinned as he looked back at you, “It’s a girl.” His smile widened, “Gonna name her Julia.”

“What’s that? Four girls now?” Coco asked, “Damn if you don’t get killed out here they certainly will.” He joked.

“It’s definitely scary,” he quipped back, “I’m outnumbered in my own damn home.”

You shook your head laughing as you stood up and made your way to Jefferson. You got about halfway when there was the shattering noise of glass, your smile vanishing instantly at the sound as you caught sight of a small object flying into the room from the corner of your eye landing right beside Jefferson.

“Jefferson!” You screamed as you ran towards him, hoping to be able to do something, anything to save him. The image of his family flashing before your eyes, and his.

It all happened so fast, before you could get far there was a deafening boom and then you were being thrown back violently, your body crashing against the hard floor. You couldn’t hear shit, just a loud persistent ringing that made your head feel like it was going to explode, as dirt, blood and debris rained down all around you.

“(Y/L/N)!” Coco called out over all the noise, and his own ringing in his head, “Fuckin’ answer me dammit!” He coughed violently as he searched through the cloud of dust, his lungs filling with the polluted air.

All he could see was blood and limbs. Fuck this wasn’t good. His heart hitched as he started to fear the worst but then he heard it, it was faint but enough to alert him, a cough. He tread carefully in the direction of the sound when he saw a body, your body. His heart immediately dropped to his stomach. There you were laying across the ground, covered in blood, some yours and most Jefferson’s, and the bottom part of your right leg just below the knee was missing, blood gushing violently from the mangled appendage.

“Shit!” He said as he scrambled over to you. Kneeling beside you he looked to your face, your eyes closing, “No! C’mon stay with me, stay with me (Y/N)!” He slapped at your face trying to bring you back to him.

Opening your eyes you groaned. The pain in your leg was intense and your eyelids were heavy as they tried to stay open. You saw Johnny and mustered out a smile that came out more as a grimace.

At least he was okay.

“Fuck, good,” He breathed out a sigh a relief, “Stay with me ok?” He pleaded as he turned his attention to your most obvious injury.

“Jefferson…” you croaked out. He just shook his head, telling you all you needed to know. There would be time to mourn but for now you had to push the thought away.

You would think with each loss the pain would get easier, but it never did.

The searing physical pain returned your attention back to your own injuries, most importantly your leg, “Cruz my leg,” you moaned trying to move, “What’s wrong with my fucking leg!?” You tried to sit up, to see the damage, but he placed his hand on your chest keeping you down.

“Don’t. Just look at me, okay. Keep your eyes on my face,” he instructed. Taking his knife out he cut a strip off your already torn pants as he returned his attention to your leg, knowing he had to act fast before you lost too much blood.

“Oh god, am I gonna die?” You whispered as you tried to keep your eyes open, fear setting in, “I can’t die. I can’t have the last thing I see in this world be your ugly mug,” you joked pathetically trying to distract yourself from the gnawing fear that was threatening to consume you.

He snickered half heartedly,at least you still had your shit humor, as he tied the piece of fabric tightly around your leg as a tourniquet, “Then you fight, you hear me? You don’t want this face to be the last thing you see, then stay alive.”

Nodding your head you tried to keep your attention on his face, taking in every detail, trying to commit it all to memory, to keep your mind busy and active before it became too much and your eyes drooped shut.

Once he was done he scooted over and gently placed your head in his lap. Acutely aware of your breathing and all of his surroundings, he murmured a quick prayer to whoever may be listening, “Don’t let me fucking lose her.”

You two had a bit of a fling but your relationship would always be a friendship first and foremost. You were his best friend, his right hand and he was your left, a true team. Losing you would be like losing a part of him. This life was hard enough he didn’t think he could survive that.

He stayed with you until help came, and then refused to leave your side until you were at the hospital where all he could do was sit in the small waiting area for you.

Your last day in the hospital was the last you had seen that ‘ugly mug’ of Johnny Cruz.

~End Flashback~

Now here you were outside the gates to his place of work, hoping he would take you in and provide you with some comfort and protection, even after the long years of having lost touch.

You felt awful now but at the time after that traumatic experience you cut him off, but in your defense you cut everyone off. You were so angry at him, Jefferson, the world and mostly yourself.

You couldn’t help but think it should have been you that day who was killed, you didn’t have a family or anyone to go home to, Jefferson did. Meanwhile the same thoughts consumed Coco. It should have him too or at the very least it should have been him who lost a limb and not you.

You were in a dark place for a while after that.

Then you met Paul, and everything seemed so great. He took care of you, helped you out with everything, you could always lean on him. But what you didn’t realize was that he fed off your brokenness, your need to be taken care of and when you started to snap out of it, get yourself back, he felt threatened, which turned to physical and emotional abuse.

The small rumbling of a scooter alerted you to the presence of a man as he pulled up beside you wearing a sparkling red helmet and goggles.

“Can I help you?” He asked with a kind smile on his face.

“Yes, actually,” You replied, fiddling with your hands nervously in front of you, “Do you know if Johnny Cruz is here?”

The man’s smile grew as he replied, “Yes, I’ll let him know he has a visitor. Chucky by the way,” He extended his hand out, shaking your hand rather excitedly.

“(Y/N)”, you smiled back at him. You noticed his prosthetic hands but didn’t say anything, knowing not everyone was comfortable sharing their stories, however still you wonder just what had happened to the man.

“Come on in,” he said as he drove into the the yard and parked his scooter before bouncing off into the building.

You took one last look back at your vehicle, contemplating turning back around before sucking it up and walking through the gates towards the building you had just watched Chucky disappear into.

Chucky burst through the doors just as the guys were getting out of Templo, the large smile never leaving his face, but that wasn’t unusual for the strange man who had become family to the club.

“Where’s the fire, Chucky?” Bishop asked as he watched the man practically bouncing in place.

“There’s a woman here to see you Johnny Coco Cruz,” he said addressing Coco, “very pretty.” Chucky added.

All the men turned to look at Coco but he was just as confused as them. He didn’t know of any women who would come looking for him here besides Letty but Chucky and all the guys already knew her.

“Another baby mama?” Angel teased as he walked past and behind the bar to grab a beer, popping the top with a satisfying snap.

“I fuckin’ hope not,” Coco groaned as he tried to think who could possibly be looking for him.

“She said her name was (Y/N).”

Coco’s heart stopped for a moment . He hadn’t heard from you in forever and hadn’t seen you in even longer. You were the last person he was expecting to see here in Santo Padre.

“Did you say (Y/N)?” Angel asked as he passed some beers around, “Wasn’t that the girl you had a fling with while you were serving?” He recognized your name as Coco often talked of you and your time together.

“It wasn’t just a fling,” Coco said reflecting on your time together.

“Well what are you waiting for, hermano? You can’t just leave her hanging out there all day,” Angel said, “I’ll go get her.” He always wanted to meet you, having heard so much about you. He was curious to know the face behind the legend.

Before Coco could stop him Angel was strutting out the front door, Coco and the rest of the men trailing behind as Chucky stood back and watched.

“Coco you never said she was a fucking babe,” Angel remarked, as he stepped out the door, his loud voice catching your attention.

Coco stepped out just behind Angel as he stared at you standing just a few feet away, a smile instantly gracing his face. You looked good, great even, just as he remembered as you stood there staring back at him, matching his smile in every way.

He bounded down the stairs rapidly before pulling you into a tight hug almost knocking you back and off balance. You wrapped your arms around him just as tightly clinging on for dear life, “I’m so sorry I was shit at keeping contact,” you muttered into the embrace.

“Doesn’t fuckin’ matter, you’re here now,” he reassured you before he pulled back holding you at arms length to get another good look at you, you doing the same.

“Looks like you got a little chubby,” you teased, “One to many beers?” He looked anything but that and you could see the toned muscles of his arms through his shirt, still you couldn’t help yourself from giving him crap.

“You’re one to talk,” he teased back, the banter between you flowing as naturally as if you had spent no time apart.

“Hey! I lost a good chunk of weight, or do you not remember?” You grinned at him.

He chuckled, “Good to see your humors still shit. I’ve missed that, missed you.” He said earnestly.

“Yeah and I missed your ugly mug,” you teased some more,bumping his shoulder with yours.

“Yo Coco you gonna introduce us or what?” Angel called from the top of the steps.

Wrapping his arm around your waist he led you up the stairs introducing you to his brothers. The taller man who had been talking was up first.

“Angel,” he smirked, shaking your hand firmly, “It’s a pleasure. I’ve heard a lot about you. Maybe we can get a drink some time and you can tell me your side of things?”

“Don’t pay any attention to him. He flirts with anything with a pulse,” Coco said.

“Wow I don’t know if he should be offended, or if I should?” you laughed.

“We could be offended together,” Angel offered with a wink.

Laughing, you rolled your eyes. This guy really was a flirt.

Ignoring Angel and leading you past him Coco introduced you to all the other men as you meticulously memorized their names. They were a good group and you could feel the familia bonds between the club. It made you happy to know Johnny had found such great people to call home, he deserved that more than anyone you knew.

Family didn’t always mean blood.

“How about we get you a drink,” the older man Taza offered as you were brought further into what you learned was the clubhouse and sat at a table. The atmosphere was cozy and welcoming, Mayans decorations littered throughout. You liked this place.

You chatted effortlessly with Johnny and told him how you were hoping to make Santo Padre your home as well before recalling war stories and tales as all the men listened intently to your recollections.

“I wish I could have been there,” you said, referring to the time when Coco shot the cigar out of an officer’s mouth, “That guy was a right prick, I can just imagine his face! Fuck I was so jealous when I heard that story.”

Coco laughed as he shrugged it off, “It was nothin’”

“Really? I think it was more than that,” you challenged, a mischievous glint in your eye.

“Yeah? And what’s that?” He asked, leaning on the table towards you awaiting your response.

“I think you just couldn’t stand to be there without me.”

“Well it definitely wasn’t as fun without you. I lost my partner in crime that day,” he said referring to the day of the incident, “my best friend.”

“Hey! I thought I was your best friend!” Angel called out from the bar, interrupting your moment as he feigned hurt.

“The choice between your dumb ass and her? I’d pick her too,” EZ joked, dodging the coaster that Angle flung his way.

The two brothers bickered a bit as a beautiful young girl came through the front door swinging her back pack onto the nearest chair, “Fuck it’s been a long day.” She groaned walking up and behind Coco, “Who’s this?” She asked looking at you.

“Leticia this is my old friend (Y/N),” Coco introduced, “Letty’s my daughter.” He informed you proudly.

You smiled to yourself, laughing internally. All those years ago he was teasing Jefferson about having daughters and here he was with one himself, “I didn’t know you had a daughter. It’s nice to meet you,” you said smiling at Letty.

“Nice to meet you too,” She smiled before giving Coco a kiss on the cheek and heading back into the kitchen for a snack.

“It’s still kind of new,” he explained, “I’ll tell ya later, it’s kind of a long story.”

You nodded understandingly. There was so much to catch up on, so much had changed whether it felt like it or not.

“At the risk of sounding like an asshole,” Angel spoke up again as he pulled out a pack of cigarettes.

“That ship’s sailed a long time ago, hermano.” Creeper interrupted before taking a swig of his beer.

Angel shot him a glare before turning his attention back to you, “As I was saying. Can we see the leg?” He knew how you lost your leg, that being one of the stories Coco had shared although not in great detail and was a little curious.

You shrugged and stood up, “Sure,” you really didn’t mind anymore and were proud of serving your country, it was all just a part of your story.

You pulled up the leg of your jeans showing off the metal prosthetic and exposing your tattoos you had just above it.

“Nice ink,” Gilly commented as the men looked over your colorful display. On the front of your leg you had a special tattoo in honor of Jefferson. His wife eventually reached out to you and you ended getting along with her well and became close with her and their children. With her approval you had his dog tags tattooed and then a flower for her and her daughters each surrounding it. They all picked out the kind and color and the young girls loved getting to be a part of it.

You did your best to do right by them and make sure they were taken care of. You sent them birthday cards and money and were hoping to someday have enough saved up to take them to an amusement park and go all out just as he had planned to do.

“You gotta be fuckin’ kidding me,” Coco exclaimed as he stood up from his seat and walked over to you starring at your ink, but it wasn’t Jefferson’s he was looking at but that of his and yours catch phrase which you had inked on the back of your leg behind your knee in black ‘I’ve Got Your Six’. “No way,” he whispered in disbelief.

“What?” You asked as you looked at him confused, you didn’t know what the big deal with having a tattoo dedicated to him would be.

Stepping in front of you he took off his cut grinning before turning his back to you and lifting up his shirt showing off his very own ‘I’ve Got Your Six’ tattoo inked in black on his back.

You stepped over running your hand across the words grinning yourself now, “Wow we got fucking matching tattoos without even knowing it,” you chuckled.

Letty watched you and Coco from the kitchen. She didn’t know the whole story but could tell there was something between the two of you and she couldn’t help but ship the two of you together. You were a perfect match for Coco and if she had to help things along the way then that’s exactly what she was going to do.

“So where are you staying,” She asked as she walked into the room, “Cause you should stay with us. There’s plenty of room.”

“Oh no. I don’t want to be intruding on anyone’s life,” you tried to protest holding your hands up, “I was just gonna get a motel room or something, until I found a place.”

“Nonsense,” she insisted, “You can’t stay in some shitty motel room. Right Coco?” She looked to him for support.

He had thought about offering himself but wanted to be respectful of Letty’s privacy and space. Since she was the one who offered though he figured she must have been cool with you and thought why not. It wouldn’t be the first time you stayed together, “Yeah. We got plenty of room.”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling at him and Letty.

“Well with that settled I’m gonna head home and get stuff ready. I’ll see you there!” She kissed Coco’s cheek once more goodbye before heading out the door.

—————————————————————————————————————

You chatted and hung out around the clubhouse for a few more hours before deciding to call it a night and following Coco back to his place.

Opening the door he led you into his home where Letty greeted you with the biggest smile, “This way,” she said, leading you down the hall, “You can stay in Coco’s room for now.”

“No that won’t be necessary. The couch is quite fine with me,” you tried to protest for the second time that night.

“Just take the damn bed,” Coco said from behind you, “I’ve slept on far worse than our couch.”

“Go ahead and get settled and I will order some food,” Letty said before dipping out of the room and back down the hall.

Plopping your bag on the bed you sat on the edge giving it a couple bounce checks, “So is this the best bed money can buy?” You asked.

“Best bed my money can,” Coco chuckled before sitting down next to you, “So you gonna tell me what’s going on?” He asked. Turning serious he placed his hand reassuringly on your thigh as he looked at you, “I know it’s been years but I know you better than I know my damn self. I can tell something’s up.”

“It’s nothing,” you said as you looked at your hands folded in your lap.

Lifting your chin up he raised your face to look at him, brushing the stray tear that betrayed you off your cheek, “Remember we said no secrets? We tell each other the truth even when it’s difficult.”

You nodded, “I just feel so stupid, I mean I’m a fucking marine.” You glanced down before looking back up to meet his eyes once more, the deep brown feeling so comforting and familiar, “I left my ex,” you started, “And I don’t think he will try to find me but I’m not sure.”

“What happened?” His jaw clenched but he kept his voice even as he took your hand in his.

“It all seemed so perfect, he helped me through all my trauma and shit, when I was at my worst. I guess I felt like I kind of owed him but then things turned bad, he got violent.” You explained, “I had to leave, to get out of there before he killed me or I him.”

“You’re safe here, querida.” He reassured you by pulling your head to his chest and holding you close, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. I’ve got your six, always have and always will.”

Running his other hand down your back he added, “And if that fucker ever shows his face around here I’ll kill him, or at the very least help you dispose of the body.”

“Thank you Cruz,” you said, pulling away and looking back at him.

He kissed your forehead before standing up, “Anytime,” he smiled, handing you his hand and helping you to your feet, “How about we go see if the food’s here.”

Leading you down the hall and to the living room you smiled at Letty as she sat on the couch. Sitting on the opposite side Coco followed and sat between you two wrapping his arms around the both of you, his two favorite girls in the world.

“So what are we watching?” He asked as you and Letty both started a passionate discussion about the show that was on the tv, laughing and sharing your theories with each other.

He smiled to himself listening in even though he had no clue what the fuck you were talking about, he was just happy that the two of you were getting along and happy to have you back in his life once more.

Everything Taglist: @jad3djay @fairygardenss @carlaangel86 @briannab1234

[ziracona]

Do you have any favorite drinks and foods headcanons for ilm?? I feel like Meg would like Shirley templess 👀

Hmmm for sure but there’s so many characters I don’t know how to comprehensively answer this, haha. Meg probably would enjoy that. I think she drinks sometimes for fun or bc it seemed like a good idea at the time, but actually prefers non-alcoholic, because it’s not that great to her, and also because you have to not take your adhd meds if you plan on drinking that day as they interact, and amphetamine > depressant lol. I think she enjoys fruity mixed non-alcoholic stuff a lot. Specially if it got that 👌 zest 👌 to it.

Meg is a huge nerd who likes most of her favorite foods for fan reasons. Her favorite food is chocolate chip cookies with blue chocolate chips because of Percy Jackson. Favorite drink she would probably say is coke, but in reality it’s probably some kind of non-alcoholic cocktail she wouldn’t think to name.

Jake has a proficient pallet from being rich and can actually tell a huge difference in food quality, but hates this and is determined not to be the spoiled rich shithead who only deins to eat from a plate prepared by someone who graduated prestigious culinary school at the top of their class. Has forced himself to acquire a taste for lean meats and nuts. Would request like salted cashews if Meg was getting snacks & she’d throw a fit bc mixed nuts isn’t a treat and he would be offended she was judging his pick. Secretly really appreciates diligently and artfully prepared food. Does not like lamb. He will hunt and there’s not much he feels bad about eating, but he saw a lamb going to get slaughtered as a kid and absolutely will not stomach that as food ever since. Would feel weak & has probably only mentioned it to Dwight, or maybe Claudette, bc she’d never judge or be mean, or maybe Quentin, Kate, or Adam, because Quentin & Kate would agree, and Adam is like, the chillest man ever.

Dwight likes sea salt and vinegar chips, beers, Pepsi, pretzels, steak, and (secretly) those frosted animal crackers. Gets shit constantly for his taste in food and drink. Just wants to be left alone. One time Claudette drank a beer with him to make him feel better bc everyone else was making fun of him for liking beer and she is sweetheart.

Claudette enjoys a dish her mom makes out of fried onions, squash, artichokes, and optionally also mushrooms, probably more than any other food in the world. It is really good. Favorite drink is sparkling grape juice. It makes her feel like she is drinking champagne, but it actually tasted good, and won’t get her drunk or hungover. Also likes tea a lot. Most green and white tea types especially.

Nea likes almost anything with a cronch when you bite into it. Enjoys fish too, and curry the way Min makes it (which is very rushed college student but like, rushed college student with standards). Really likes empanadas after being introduced to them. Also genuinely really loved both Claudette’s amaranth oatmeal and her realm cookies, and since she and Quentin kind of ‘grew up’ inside the realm, it’s also like, surreally and kind of heartbreakingly, a nostalgic and comforting childhood memory to her. They remind her of times she was more okay as a teenager. :’-] Favorite drink is probably a kind of complicated cocktail that is very strong but also sweet and tangy, nursed for a long time. Or a sports drink if she’s on the go. (Lol her fave drink is just the alcoholic version of Meg’s).

Min likes anything spicy that is prepared well, but especially likes meat dishes. Girl wants her protein so she can kick ass. Really loves Ace’s cooking. Smell is 70% of taste. Spice it up, fam. Only knows how to cook 3 dishes on her own, but they’re a good 3. Doesn’t have a single fave. Although she does greatly enjoy just like, devouring a slab of meat if Anna cooks. It makes her feel like a powerful wild beast to just shred a flank with her teeth and she digs that. Fave drink is baijiu, although more in a competitive way because it’s alcoholic af & she can stomach it than actually for taste or pleasure. For taste she will just mooch off Nia & Ace, who both like fruity alcohol.

Ace likes a homemade bread recipe of his mother’s most (I think he and Frank are the only two with stated favorites in-fic?). Makes it a lot for the girls and for friends, and everyone likes it so this works out well. Enjoys martinis and any fruity alcohol, but is good about not actually getting drunk past lucidity. Also enjoys just really nice brands of various juice (mango is probably his favorite?)

Quentin likes his Dad’s pasta recipes probably most, but doesn’t have a favorite from among them. Also likes red velvet cake a lot because he only ever gets it on his birthday and it makes him happy. His mom died when he was really young and he pretty much doesn’t remember her, but one of the memories he still has is of her giving him birthday cake. It’s the time of year he always feels closest to her. Favorite drink is energy drinks because he’s stupid and likes to play god with his body and knock back adderall with shots of redbull. Didn’t like energy drinks so much before Freddy, and back then probably Coca-Cola or something was the fave, but now energy drinks are associated with comfort in his head, so he genuinely likes them. Also really likes M&Ms. Used to treat himself to a bag from the school vending machine if he had a shitty day, so they are also associated with comfort.

David likes chips (as in fries cut UK style/thick, not American chips). He is enlightened and sees the true value of all potato products as well, and honors them as such. Also is the enjoyable kind of person who genuinely & visibly appreciates most all good food. He likes beers too (you and Dwight, buddy) although he’s got better taste in them. His favorite drink is probably coffee though. He likes strong coffee, full body, with just a little bit of cream and sugar so it’s still bitter but has a pleasant edge to it. Not sure why that’s his favorite. He just really likes it.

Laurie likes strawberry milk. Would give that answer if asked for fave food or drink. If prompted further would consider, then suggest that as her drink, and some kind of really nice soup as her favorite—probably pumpkin. Will genuinely enjoy any gift of food someone picked out for her with some thought. Also loves Mac’n Cheese a lot, but would not admit to that to everyone because she’s kind of embarrassed that as many times as she’s had it in the past two years alone, her heart still sees a warm bowl and years for the good shit.

Kate likes fruit. Mangos, raspberries, blueberries, blackberries, peaches, pears, pomegranates. Has the patience to eat a pomegranate too. Would just say “fruit” if asked. Loves to pick it fresh. Favorite drink is probably a smoothie, but she would insist that counts. What flavor would vary, but she leans towards blueberry or raspberry on default because she likes the colors.

Tapp likes Chinese food. Mostly this is because Chinese takeout was the nicest thing he could ever afford on the reg as a treat. However, he gets to eat real chow mein and mapo tofu (former made by Ace, the latter by Min—spicy mapo tofu being one of the 3 dishes she knows), and decides those are now his favorite food. Would not ask people to make that because it would be being a hassle, and he would think it wouldn’t matter and would be stupid & not worthwhile to request a dish when visiting a friend, but gets excited internally when they make that & gives sincere and generous compliments. Tried and failed super badly to learn how to make both, but Rachel Thomas (who didn’t know at all how to either but is great at teaching herself shit) helped him figure it out and now he makes them as often as he can without feeling like it will get old/annoy the people living with him. Favorite drink is whiskey but that’s for depression reasons. For genuine enjoyment, he likes probably just juice. Orange or pomegranate.

Adam shares Min’s enjoyment of spicy foods, but is really into trying new things and genuinely doesn’t have a favorite. If he had to pick, he’d probably say Bulla cake, because it is his favorite desert/treat. He really enjoys them & they are nostalgic to him. Good memories of his childhood. His uncle wasn’t always great at knowing what to say, but used to pack him one to take to school any time he knew Adam was stressed or intimidated by an exam or due project. Even if it went bad, he had a comfort reward for making it through. Always buys them when he’s somewhere he can. Favorite drink is tea. He likes a wide variety, but masala, jasmine, and ginger are some constant favorites. Would actually know, care about, and adhere to proper boiling/steeping times per tea type.

Jeff likes baked goods. He really enjoys the baking process itself a whole lot, especially if he has people he can cook for/share with. Definitely has created several original & very good bread recipes. Prefers bready goods to sweet ones. About the sweetest fave he has is basic scones (just bread/no nuts or fruit or filling. Slightly sweet bread with a little sugar on top, meant to be paired with jams etc when eaten). Likes those a lot. Favorite drink shifts from subtype to subtype, but is always one of his homemade craft beers. Also enjoys Dr. Pepper (ah I knew I was forgetting—both he & Joey also have some stated canon favorites. So does Susie).

Jane’s favorites are both things her dad makes. He has a really good ceviche recipe and a complicated secret recipe bean dip, and Jane likes snacking on those with a bowl of chips while chatting on the porch. Slow meal extends both fun of chat and fun of conversation. And her dad has a really good sense of spice use. She can make both well too, but is convinced they taste completely different when she does & distressed by this. Her dad insists they taste the same, but also always sympathetically packs her some time take home anyway. Her favorite drink is probably either coffee or wine, out of familiarity and comfort. She’s not very particular though. As a treat she enjoys moccacinos with a ton of whipped cream a whole lot though.

This was already super long so I’m gonna stop here, but I wood cry if I didn’t include at least Philip in what is now clearly just a survivor lineup. So honorary addition:

Philip likes anything really cold and refreshing. Prefers things with a little bite, so he would pick a cola or alcohol over a fruity drink. Not a big preference past that. Always touched and surprised any time a friend goes into a gas station pitstop and comes back with /any/ ice cold beverage for him, no matter how many times it happens. The gesture to him is very much genuine kindness instead of a friendly nothing. For food, he likes anything with enough substance to actually make him not hungry. So meat dishes are a big plus, as is nice bread. He doesn’t have a favorite meal-meal, probably, but there is a kind of cookie made entirely of egg whites and sugar, that is beaten and fluffy and sweet like a cloud and really delicious somehow despite having almost no substance. Philip had no knowledge of these, but Claudette made him some one morning she was feeling happy not too long after they both first went home to Montreal, and the meringue chocolate chip cookie variant she made was one of the best things he had ever eaten, and probably is his favorite food. They’re like little bites of the concept of sweetness without it being an overdose, and have a very unique and pleasing texture. With the chocolate added, it’s just right. 👌 And then also, of course, it was a gift welcoming to his new home, from the person who more or less is his new home. : )

[efemerald]

C19?

C19 “Want some tea?”

Kirishima thought it must hurt when the Queen wrenched her son’s arm like that. Logically, he knew it was necessary – the prince had an unstable power, with a capricious temper to match. But even so, every time he saw the boy’s arms wrapped in those horrible chains, Kirishima couldn’t help but feel guilt gnawing on his insides, like a stone pit in his stomach. 

As usual, once the chains were placed, the prince was sent up to his chambers. The queen watched him disappear up the stairs, cheeks red with exertion and pupils blown wide, before whirling on the waitstaff. “No dinner tonight.” she snapped. “And no communication with the brat either. Maybe that’ll teach him some respect.” She was seething like a dog. 

There were murmurs of assent among the servants, along with cries of support from a few elderly women. She gave them a curt smile of approval. 

Then, gathering her robes, she stalked out of the dining hall, pausing only once to comfort a visibly bewildered Kirishima. “Apologies for the disruption, your highness.” she bowed shortly. “He’ll be better behaved in the morning.” 

In some ways, this was true, Kirishima thought. After having stayed as a guest for the last few months, and having witnessed this same ritual at least twelve times, he knew that Bakugou would be made docile and tame by the deprivation of basic comfort. He also knew that the boy would be uncomfortably timid for a number of days, before eventually lashing out again, repeating the whole cycle all over.

Not that Kirishima minded Bakugou’s fiery side. He enjoyed the company of an unrestrained, reckless Bakugou; he thought that his fearlessness made him manly. Plus, the number of adventures they’d manage to sneak in during those brief intervals of freedom – they’d been infinitely superior to any of the luxuries he’d been showered with at the palace. 

He almost opened his mouth to say so, but then the Queen was walking off again, crown held between pale clenched fingers. With an angry whip of her cape, she receded into the distance. 

Kirishima looked at the meal in front of him. Steaks, roasted vegetables, even a small purin on the side – they’d gone to great lengths in catering specifically to his tastes. Suddenly, however, he found he had no appetite. He excused himself, and let the servants take his food into the back. 

On his way up to his own chamber, he passed by a familiar stone door. Bakugou’s name was etched on the front. A vulgar stream of curses were pouring out of it now, echoing against the dark cobble tiles and wafting down the empty corridor. Hearing it made the pit in Kirishima’s stomach grow just a little bit heavier. 

Pausing, he brushed his hand against the face of the door – it shook beneath his touch, as if someone inside was desperately fighting with the walls. Kirishima heart flared with anger. This, walking by and doing nothing – this wasn’t manly at all. Before he could think better of it, he formed a new resolve. 

It was such that a little over twenty minutes later, he stood anxiously outside of Bakugou’s door, tea tray in hand. The platter was covered precariously in porcelain pots and cups, all clattering against each other and steaming with white vapor. The slightest stumble, Kirishima knew, and they’d all come crashing down. 

Now that he thought about it, this plan seemed stupid. Kirishima’s grandmother taught him that tea was the best way to form bonds between two people – but did that same rule apply when one of those people might not want to see the other at all? His cheeks heated in embarrassment. This might be the dumbest idea he’s ever had. 

Well, he figured, there’s no backing out now. 

He knocked at the door with his foot. “Uh, Bakugou? Your highness?”

A second passed. Followed by another. And then the door swung quickly open. “Shitty Hair, wha–” he stopped short when he saw the array of platters in Kirishima’s hands. “What are you doing?”

Face red and heart racing, Kirishima blurted out, “Want some tea?” 

He thrust his offering forwards. 

Bakugou stared at him with eyebrows half cocked. His expression was a riddle of both confusion and amusement, as if he couldn’t decide whether or not to be pleased. “You’re not allowed to talk to me.” he said flatly. “I heard Ma telling everyone to leave me alone.”

“Yeah, well,” Kirishima grinned sheepishly. “I’m not everyone, right?”

The blonde pursed his lips, looking him over thoughtfully. Kirishima was right – The Queen’s rules don’t apply to him. So, first checking that no one was watching them, he stepped aside and let the other boy slip in. 

“Over there.” he nodded to the kotatsu in the center of the room. 

Kirishima immediately complied, dropping to the ground with a boyish fervor. “I brought the tea leaves from home,” he explained, eagerly picking up the pot and recklessly filling two cups to the near brim. “They’re specially grown in my grandmother’s garden. We pick them in the summer, then we roast it over the fire – that’s what gives it the caramelized quality, see? – and then we brew it as tea for desert. Normally, we’d eat something sweet with it, but I figured since you haven’t had dinner yet – and I remember you said you hated sweet things anyways – I made some onigiri in the kitchen. It’s not super fancy or anything, but…”

As Kirishima rattled on, Bakugou lowered himself to the opposite end of the table, listening with bemused interest. The chains his mother had fastened were still wound tight around his hands, and his arms hung limply in front of him. Sitting down, he folded them awkwardly on his lap. The set before them was way more impressive than Bakugou thought the other boy was capable of, and with his lips parched and dry, the amber liquid was looking irresistibly tempting. 

“Kirishima.” he interrupted. The other boy shut up. “Can I have some of that tea?”

“Huh? Oh, yeah!” Kirishima pushed it forwards on the table. “That’s why I brought it!” He beamed expectantly, waiting for Bakugou to take it up. 

Instead, the blonde shot him a glower. “Kirishima.”

“Yeah? What’s wrong?”

He sighed. Reluctantly, he raised his hands for Kirishima to see, gesturing towards the metal that bound him at the wrists. “I can’t pick anything up, dipshit.”

Kirishima felt the blood drain from his face. “Oh, right. So, you want me to, uh…”

“Just, help me drink.” Bakugou grumbled, and his face was glowing red. “Like, bring the cup up and stuff.”

“Oh!” Kirishima squeaked. “Yeah, right. Of course. That makes sense.”

He leaned over to reach the cup, and prayed to God that Bakugou didn’t notice the tremble in his hands. Gently, he lifted the tea upwards to Bakugou’s mouth, holding it against the other boy’s lips. He could feel the warmth of Bakugou’s body on his nose, and his heart began to race. This entire scene felt all too close, too intimate. He wondered if Bakugou could feel it too. 

The cup tremored as Bakugou gulped down its contents, and once he was sure it’d been emptied, Kirishima pulled it away in relief. 

Bakugou let out a satisfied sigh. Licking the last drops from his upper lip, he smiled. “Thank you.”

Kirishima suppressed the shiver running down his spine. “Uh, sure. No problem.”

He looked at the rest of the food and drink on the table. There was no way he could get through this meal without making a fool of himself. “Hey, Bakugou,” he said instead, “Why don’t I just get the chains off your arms.”

Almost immediately, it was like a switch in the prince’s head was turned on. The blonde jerked his whole body backwards as if he’d been electrocuted, twisting his arms out of reach. His eyes blew wide. “What the fuck, Hair for Brains?” he snarled. “Are you stupid?”

Kirishima flinched in surprise. “Well, I just thought it’d be easier,” he stammered. “For you to, you know, move and stuff?” 

“These chains are the only thing keeping my magic suppressed!” Bakugou cried. “You take them off, and I might blow your whole head off with it!”

“Okay, but… you won’t? Why would you do that?”

“Don’t you ever pay attention, asshole.” the blonde growled. “You heard my Ma. You saw what happened downstairs! I can’t control these powers.” he glanced away, hiding his face from the other boy. His ears burning at the tips. “What if I blasted you by accident? Or scorched you, or hurt you, or worse?”

“You won’t!” the words were falling out of Kirishima’s mouth, on reflex, before Bakugou could finish. Even Kirishima was surprised at the surety in his own voice. “I’ve only known you for a month, but I trust you. You’ve never lashed out before.”

“But, downstairs–” Bakugou protested, “you saw what happened.”

“What I saw was you being treated horribly.”  Kirishima spat, speaking with a sudden malice in his tone. “That woman was awful to you – she kept screaming at you, and calling you such nasty things – I would’ve gotten angry too! It’s not your fault she’s the worst.”

Bakugou puffed out a breath of sardonic laughter. He shook his head. “But I should be able to control it. Just because she’s a bitch to me doesn’t give me the excuse to…”

“Okay, but how’re you going to learn to control it when you’re constantly walking on eggshells here? Admit it, Katsuki, you’re always on the defensive, and it’s not fair. Of course your instincts are gonna be a little unstable.” Kirishima moved around the table, until they were barely inches apart. He placed a brave hand on Bakugou’s shoulder, not daring to breathe. He’d used Bakugou’s first name – was he allowed to do that? – but Bakugou wasn’t shaking him off. So he continued. “Let me help. I can… I mean, maybe I can’t. But at least let me try. You deserve to live better than this.”

Up close, Kirishima could see how tightly the chains had been woven, and it made his heart ache. They dug angrily into Bakugou’s skin, carving out red welts against his flesh. The boy in question had gone silent. 

“...Bakugou?”

When the blonde turned back around, his cheeks were wet with tears. “Eijirou,” he said, and his voice was barely a whisper. “You can’t do this. You can’t trust me. I’m a total fuck-up, even my own mother knows it. I’ll end up hurting you.”

“I hate seeing you like this–”

“I deserve it!” Bakugou was outright sobbing now, shamelessly letting himself to fall apart. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks, forming thin rivers down to his chin and dripping into his lap. “I deserve to live like this, after everything I’ve done. You don’t– you don’t know half of it, Ei, so don’t even try–”

Instinctively, Kirishima grabbed him by both shoulders, squeezed and didn’t let go. “Katsuki! Katsuki, stop, listen to me,” and he held Bakugou still, grasping him until all the tremors died beneath his hands. “I don’t know what you did, but I do know you. I know you better than most people. And I know you can’t live your whole life punishing yourself.”

Bakugou lifted his gaze to meet Kirishima’s, and the redhead’s breath caught in his throat. His eyes were dark crimson, like the sky after a storm, and they burned with an intensity that made Kirishima’s skin turn cold. Without speaking – without thinking, really – Bakugou lunged forwards, crushing his lips against Kirishima’s. He kissed with the same fierceness he fought, and Kirishima could feel his insides turning to mush. 

Then, as quickly as he’d initiated it, Bakugou pulled backwards. His eyes were shut, and he breathed raggedly, every huff of his lungs ghosting across Kirishima’s face. “I’m going to regret this.” he grumbled. 

Kirishima could barely remember how to breathe himself. He exhaled softly, focusing on the soft features of Bakugou’s face. “Regret what?”

The blonde smiled weakly. His eyes shot open. “Okay. I trust you.”

He held out his arms to Kirishima. “Get these chains off. And then,” he gestured towards the patio. His eyes were blazing with the same confidence Kirishima had fallen in love with ages ago – the same confidence he’d possessed so much of before his mother stripped it away. “And then,” he grinned wildly. “We’re running away.”

Send me a prompt!

[life-is-no-sugarlicking]

Character-Sheet for

Ruby Summer

Ruby is my Fallout New Vegas OC, but the CC is horrible there so i made her in f4. She isn’t a Courier and works at the Camp Mclaren as Mechanic for the NCR.

sheet by @madddraws! Infos under the Read More:

Name:  Ruby Summer

Nickname: Ru for people who believe that ‘Ruby’ is too long. Sunny because of her personality and her last name..

Age:  26 Years

Height: 1.70

Specials: 

Eyes: icey blue.

Hair: black, long. Sometimes she binds them but most of the they are open.

Body type: pretty… normal, duh. Strong arms because of her work

Status Currently: Mechanic for the NCR? She grew up in an NCR family so it was no big wonder that she also ended up there

Relationship Status: Single  

Spouse(s): -/p>

Sexuality: bisecual

Gender:  cis female

Ethnicity:  white.

Family: Her parents passed away but she still has her Cousins Lucky and Mary Lu

Languages: english.

Disabilities/Illnesses/Injuries: for someone who grow up in the Freeside she is pretty fine, duh. :O

Scars: some smaller ones on her body because… dangerous place and also some on her hands from her work.

Physical traits: big eyes, long nose and round face? Wears always her welding glasses at least on the forehead because you can’t never know when you need them.

Voice:  cheerful? not really deep. She speaks also really fast when she is excited. :I

Clothing: mostly dark. She loves fingerless gloves or long shleeves

Fashion Style/Lifestyle: uuuh… wears like i said prefered dark clothes, but pimps them up with colorful pins and other highlights. 

Weapon of Choice: a pistol? It’s never good to get unarmed into the freeside. But she can also use her tools as very useful weapons. And there is also Betzy, her Nightstalker and this good girl is very good in chasing danger away.

Skills: You need something repaired? Ruby is your girl, duh. Already as kid she had much fun in fixing things.

Weaknesses: uuuh she rather talks before she fights which is normally probably nice but in the Freeside not always the best idea. She gets also sick when she sees blood - so most of the time she runs away or Betzy saves her butt and Ruby is puking into the next corner. :///

Poor skills:  big weapons,  iii.. don’t think she could move in a powerarmor. Also she wouldn’t be able to pick a lock and is too nice to pickpock someone. :/

Affiliations: NCR. She doesn’t like the military stuff but like said before she grew up in a NCR family and believes that they most be the good guys. Someone has to be the good guys.

Former Affiliations: uuuh… she.. used to work as barkeeper in some of the casinos?

Enemies: The Legion, duh.

Neutral Affiliations: everyone who doesn’t hurt her? Important to say is that she has nothing against the Kings even when the rest of the NCR aren’t big friends with them.

Religion: none  

Likes:she loves old legends and myths |  sweeties

Dislikes: High places.She says she isn’t afraid of them. She.. is just afraid to fall down. :’D |   afraid from the darkness but shhhhht | big heat. Which is great when you live in a fucking desert | ehm.. uh.. blood? |

Hates: when people try to tell her what to do? This actives the 5 y old Ruby and she will do exactly what  she shouldn’t do.

Pets: Betzy, a Nightstalker. She found Betzy as halfstraved Puppy and wondering about the weird looking puppy, she took her with her. To be fair - Ruby never heard about a Nightstalker before, otherwise she would have been afraid. Now she knows of course what Betzy really is but she still loves her good girl. You can be always sure that Betzy is with her - even when you can’t see the Nightstalker. And you can always be sure that you will learn why Nightstalkers are so dangerous if you should be mean to Ruby…

Personality: Not everyone in the Freeside is a thief or killer. At least Ruby isn’t. She is easy going and usually in a good mood  - A ray of sunshine full of optimism . At least most of the time. Ruby feels most comfortable among other people, and thanks to her open nature it’s easy for her to make  new contacts. She is a faithful soul and offers herself as a shoulder to cry on for others …. Even if she is not always the best one. If she thinks that you are to blame, in most cases she will say it relentlessly – She was always very direct even when you doesn’t want to hear it. Only very close people get her pity  - she was always biased when it comes to her friends and will blame others without hesitate. She isn’t perfect – but she also doesn’t want to be perfect. So like mentioned before She is usually direct and sometimes has a big mouth with no filter, and too often she regrets it shortly after. Ruby isn’t very brave and if she doesn’t need to fight, she rather uses a…uuh… tactical retreat. Fast. Probably screaming. But she will still jump over her shadow to help her friends, without thinking in which danger she puts herself. The regrets can wait for later. And believe when I say that they will definitely show up.

Favorite color:  blue

Favorite foods: Big horner steak.

Favorite drinks: Nuka Cola. No special one. just the good old Nuka Cola

Favorite Sweets: cakes. All cakes. Just give her every cake you find.

[alexandros-ho-megas]

What places would ya recommend to travel and visit which are associated with the story of your life?

Great question! I travelled quite extensively, but here’s a basic list to get you started on your own epic journey. Pro Tip from Alexander the Greatest: Be careful about drinking the water while traveling. You will get dysentery and shit yourself during a pursuit and then people you thought were your friends will write about it in your biography and you’ll never live it down. That never happened to me, of course.

Turkey/Asia Minor

Go visit Troy. 

Cry over the Iliad. Cross the Hellespont and drop a bloody steak into the water since animal sacrifice isn’t looked upon too fondly these days. Lay some wreaths at the tomb of Achilles and Patroklos with your life partner and/or best friend. Strip down. Get oiled up. Run a naked race. Don’t get arrested. (Arrian 1.11-12)

Gordion

See where I untied the Gordian knot and was divinely destined to be the lord of all Asia! (Spoiler alert: Don’t tell anyone, but I actually untied the knot by pulling out the wagon pin. I didn’t cut it, but that makes for a more dramatic story. [Arrian 2.3.7])

Greece/Ancient Macedonia

Pella (My birthplace)

Pella’s a bit of a shit show now, after that ass Kassander razed it. So that’s kind of depressing for me. Like going back to your hometown to find that everything has changed and your favorite restaurant has gone out of business and your childhood home has been bulldozed and some whiny asshat murdered your young son, your mother, and your wife. Is that #relatable ?

 It does have a very nice museum, though. 

The Nymphaion, Mieza

Come see where my friends hit puberty at the same time and we had to ignore the sounds of Kassander jacking it every night! Fun!

Oh, and where Aristotle instructed us in a very high-brow philosophical way, of course. (Plutarch 7.4)

There are also a bunch of nice wineries around Pella and Mieza. Check those out! Channel me and get trashed on wine! But please don’t kill anyone in any drunken arguments. Be cool.

Aigai

See where my father got murdered in front of me at my sister’s wedding! Fun times for the whole family! (Diodorus 16.94.3)

You can also go see the royal tombs. Which is where I should have been buried if a certain someone hadn’t hijacked my funeral procession and stolen my dead body. Fuck you, Ptolemy. (Diodorus 18.28.3)

Delphi

A lovely site to visit. Pro Tip: Make sure to go on an auspicious day. I went there and certainly didn’t get impatient with any oracles at all… (Plutarch 14.6).

Skyros

Achilles dressed up as a woman here and fathered my ancestor Neoptolemos with Deidameia. Need I say more? It’s also a very scenic and quiet island with a fun hilltop museum. 

Egypt and the Middle East/Persia

Alexandria! (The one in Egypt. Since I founded… a fair amount of them)

Damn, what a great name; someone really impressive must have founded this city. While I am horribly disappointed there are no modern shrines to Hephaistion in Alexandria as per my orders (Arrian 7.23-24), it is still somewhere very closely associated with my life. And it’s kind of my baby.

Siwa

Get told your destiny about conquering the world! Be cryptic with your friends about it! Tell everyone about how the priest addressed you as the son of Zeus due to him being shit at Ancient Greek! (Plutarch 27.9)

There are hotels and such there now, and the temple of Ammon is on Google Maps, so you won’t get lost due to shitty guides and need a raven to guide you (Plutarch 27.3-4).  

Tyre

Where I changed the literal face of the earth. Not that I’m still bragging about that or anything.

Persepolis

An amazing archaeological site, even after some mistakes were made there. By me. No fires allowed anymore.

Other Sites of Note

Cyropolis

I got a concussion here from being smashed on the head by a rock in battle! Fun! (Arrian 4.3.3)

Cyrus the Great, sharer of my current most popular epithet, founded this city. The modern city has a nice historical museum, too. 

The Hydaspes

See where I kicked ass and took names against the Indian king Poros.

Pro tip: Make sure to know how many islands are in a river before crossing. (Arrian 5.13.2)

To avoid:

Don’t go to Ekbatana. 

For the love of god, don’t try to cross the Gedrosian Desert. Google Maps will probably fail you like my shit guides did and then you’ll have to find your way out of hell on your powers of intuition alone (Arrian 6.26.4-5)

Have fun on your journey, don’t let whiners make you turn back in India, don’t drink the water, and don’t get typhoid! Safe travels!

[floggingink]

Riverdale, “Chapter Twenty: Tales from the Darkside”

THIS ISN’T DOWN TO THE WIRE, KEVIN

I think most of the references this ep went over my head, as I am not a classic horror connoisseur, but I’m giving it the old college try

CHUCK AND HIS 18-INCH WAIST IS BACK!

Sixth period is Intro to Film: for starters, the opening text crawl is from the beginning of the original Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and they did this to placate Jughead, who has an amazing episode this week in that he fucking survives to the end of it

oh yeah, Betty got Mr. Phillips killed!

I like that in response to the circumstances Betty and Jughead have started sinning MORE

Jug’s snake tattoo has a little crown on it, because history will not be denied/he’s a dweeb

Jughead’s being very dutifully “You didn’t do anything wrong, etc.,” and Betty absolutely cuts him off like, “BUT HOW THE FUCK?”

he calls her “Poirot,” which is like Betty calling him a rebel without a cause

ah, the poster of which is by his bed! Jughead has a bedroom!!!! you’ve earned it, champ!

Sexy, aesthetic Southside: I don’t remember if Penny Peabody had crimped hair the last time she and Jughead met, but it’s straight outta 00’s Avril Lavigne and I love it

the Kentucky Derby blinders Jughead has for his father are Riverdale’s truest tragedy. FP is doing him so wrong

Jughead is going to be Penny’s “transportation advisor,” because he’s such a good driver

LOVED the Kill Bill typewriter “Archie & Jughead” titles

What damn high school in America: you know Jughead just totally skipped class and sauntered into Riverdale High in his fucking jacket. now that his English teacher is gone, what’s the fucking point? can he still run his paper?

Gay?!: Cheryl calls them Bert and Ernie as she shoves them aside like they were made of papier-mâché (Bert and Ernie are life partners)

I like Jughead’s sort of layered expression when he’s asking Archie for help/telling Archie he’s going to help him, like he’s slightly smiling when he talks about the Ghoulies ��stunt”

Archie COMMENDABLY says NOTHING about the huge crate full of drugs (it’s not POSSIBLY full of drugs, or even pancake mix) he’s about to get his prints all over. Riverdale would never have them pick up a like a metal Law & Order box, it’s got to be like a fucking pirate chest

Archie & Jug in the truck was presh. Archie had a lot of Fred-esque lines, but I think he’s filtering his true fears about Jughead ENDING UP IN PRISON, WHICH IS WHERE HE IS HEADED, into father-speak, and Jughead, whose father blows, is like I DON’T KNOW, DAD, I’M LIVING MINUTE TO MINUTE HERE

—which is very traumatized, you know? like when you’re growing up, if you’re too hassled and anxious you get holes in your developing brain because it’s too focused on constantly being in fight-or-flight survival mode to the detriment of learning how to be a person? Jughead doesn’t have time for anything that isn’t literally getting to the end of today, possibly sleeping with Betty

I like how Archie’s fantasy does NOT include college, which he doesn’t care about

Jughead doubts it: GQ tells me the East Village is still around, Jughead

not even in his dreams does Archie imagine Veronica would NOT be living on Park Avenue

I like the possibility-thread of “Even worse than jail” being cut off by the flat

Jughead wants to call Betty, his fixer, but then they’re like, How about the sheriff’s son?

would Kevin even have helped them out? he’s not into the shady anymore! he’s post-Joaquin!

Jughead has grand movie-thoughts about his own persona but has not “played it cool” once in his life

OH GREAT, IT’S TONY TODD. IT’S THE FUCKING CANDYMAN. GREAT. GREAT. HOW THE FUCK. WHAT. THE FUCKING—WHAT????????

Jughead only has $18 and he carries it with him wherever he goes

Jughead RELEASES Archie from his friendship debt before getting into McGinty’s truck, because HE’S ABOUT TO DIE

“DON’T LOOK UNDER THAT TARP”

JUGHEAD TAKING HIS LAST LOOK AT ARCHIE IN THE REARVIEW

The Blossom spawn: when Tony Todd fucking invoked Jason fucking Blossom, on top of everything else, ON TOP OF EVERYTHING ELSE, I had a fucking myocardial infarction

McGinty throwing out the time warp phrase “for just a hot minute”

okay the lighting in the truck makes his eyes reflect these tiny pinpoints of white out of the beyond-the-grave voids of his eyes and that Judgement Day shit is on the radio and Jughead is like, this is too much atmosphere even for me

“IN THE BLACK OF THE HOOD IS THE LIGHT OF GOD, AND WHEN YOU SEE IT, YOU WILL DIE.” WHAT? WHAT???? WHAAAAATTTTT???????

and then Archie sees a zombie deer. he sees like a fawn with its fucking skin blistered off. he sees a fucking Chernobyl deer. walking precisely the line between Riverdale and Greendale. great. Greendale is full of ghosts. Jughead is in a death truck driven by the Riverdale Reaper’s sixth victim or something. GREAT. GREENDALE IS FULL OF GHOSTS! GREAT!

Jughead wears his watch face very rakishly on the inside of his wrist

for a hot second, I thought the flies were bees. I did think they were bees. I did think they were doing Candyman

BECAUSE IT’S FUCKING TONY TODD!!!!!!!

you know Jughead was going to look under the tarp. you fucking knew it. he’s in act two of a horror movie. he’s going to relay this story later and say he didn’t look under the tarp? what’s under the tarp? WHAT’S IN THE BOX

deer too dead even to still walk around

I’ve seen this like three times and I can’t tell you what the fuck he’s eating in that shitty cafe. steak? Jell-O? kitten flesh?

the way he says “I’m no thrill-seeking sicko,” sucking on the S’s

the single fly buzzing around McGinty’s shoulder as he tells the Reaper story was like a single further death omen and if it turned out Jughead was already a zombie like in that comic you know, I would’ve fucking bought it, fuck it, what the fuck

some people THINK a lynch mob got him? there was a RUMOR lynch mob? or there was DEFINITELY a lynch mob that only MIGHT HAVE lynched the right person??? I’M GONNA NEED SOME CLARIFICATION, POP TATE

California in my experience is exactly where you should be to pray to the devil

I loved how fast things went incredibly south in the diner. the thud of the check, McGinty saying Jughead would pay, Jughead beings like, Pardon me? Jughead about to be LEFT BEHIND

“YOU’RE SINNERS, BOTH OF YOU. CAREFUL OR YOU’LL TASTE THE REAPER’S BLADE NEXT.”

Archie > Dawson: Archie is, simultaneously, the worst and best person to have along with you inside a horror movie, because he’s sort of dense but also will never give you up, never let you down, desert you (if it’s a Good Archie episode, which this unmistakably is). Archie is the only character I would buy forgetting he was there and miraculously he shows back up in the nick of time

next we have Archie and Jughead driving around some more with the Friday the 13th echoing exhale sound effect in the background, just for funsies

Fifth period is AP English: Penny’s fucking Arctic exploration crate has all this HP Lovecraft motif lore on the side of it, so, cool, I guess it contains screaming desiccated souls or something (Lovecraftian Ghouls eat flesh, by the way)

“Damn good coffee”: aaaaaaaaand coming out to meet them is a Soviet spy wearing a beret, wheeled out by Karla, with an AK on his hip. Greendale contains the trapped spirits of everyone who died there in the 70’s

These students are legally children: Jughead is screwed. Jughead is so screwed. Jughead is one part vodka, two parts orange juice

Archie’s coloring lends itself well to being bathed in that pink Pop’s lighting I love

Jughead has recovered enough to call McGinty (who isn’t named aloud) “Mr. American Gothic”

JUGHEAD WANTS TO GO TO THE LIBRARY WITH ARCHIE. he doesn’t want to do drug runs. he wants to snoop around with his best friend, because despite having a gang in his bloodline, Jughead is REALLY not a gang member. when he gets to choose what he wants to do, he just wants to do research. he wants to be Giles, okay

endless tragedy with Archie’s “Next day, for sure.”

I would absolutely believe that Riverdale’s jail’s visiting hours are actually “sunup to sundown” as opposed to like “eight to four”

how precious is he, steeling himself to see his father’s slashed face

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

apparently Penny’s surveillance video has some sort of infrared lighting quality

I like how Penny specifies that Jughead is not to raise his voice to her, a classic scarier-than-violence threat

is this why FP was so freaked that Jughead would owe her? not because she’s naturally treacherous to everyone, but because he knows she wants recompense for his betrayal? FP, you’re awesome start to finish

Jughead has not done like a SINGLE THING WRONG this entire time that hasn’t been at the behest of him trying to FIX everything single thing that his father set him up for, dog

I do not deserve a whole segment dedicated to Josie and her white manicure, yet here I am!

Josie and the janitor have an understanding, because people who stick around school after hours are usually slightly strange and have to stick together

“I don’t need a bodyguard! I’m not Whitney. Yet.”

Certified pedigree: Mayor McCoy is another Scary Riverdale Mom, but I’d say she’s the least scary of them WRT her daughter (not the southsiders, although jury’s still out on how much of that is Alice’s fault)

Josie’s vocal polyps swell when she’s stressed

her denim one-piece? only you, Josie

Cheryl’s hair: Classic Disney princess hair this episode. Classic Cheryl. a Classic

Cheryl sums up Josie’s guilt as being about “sinning” which means therefore the Black Hood may notice, as opposed to something like “You feel like you’re betraying your friends,” which would be the human response

Chuck Clayton is thoroughly charming throughout. if you just watched him this episode, you’d be like, How bad could he really have been?

he came prepared with the knowledge that Josie “loves her cheese fries”

Chuck’s leather jacket is very nice. all the boys should just be wearing leather jackets

Josie is partaking of a “eucalyptus steam”

“Nick St. Creature”

Cheryl’s measured response to Josie calling her controlling was perfect. she says she’ll never be able to “repay” her “debt,” because Cheryl is ALL ABOUT tit-for-tat, emotional burdens handled via business deals, paying off favors, clearing her side of the column

I also like her Blossom pun

The 2001 Josie and the Pussycats movie was a masterpiece: VALERIE! MELODY! VALERIE’S SWEATER! MELODY’S SKIRT! VALERIE’S CURLS! MELODY’S AFRO! “WOMEN ARE SUPPOSED TO TREAT EACH OTHER BETTER THAN THIS.” “PRIDE COMETH BEFORE THE FALL.”

Fwoopy hair is the best hair: Melody is not happy but she is the goddess of my life and I hope she can sense that from this distance

why IS Josie doing the solo thing? she did claw them in the back!

ooh, he’s smooth. he’s smooth with the Pop’s thing. Chuck did that

Josie’s “YEAH MHM” nod when Chuck says he “doesn’t have the greatest track record” and rolls her eyes at him “going to church”

“Why? To objectify models?”

he wants to draw comics, because he is a creative? Chuck and Jughead and their leather jackets would have a great time at the library together, after they make up (with hugs)

did I say Archie looked good in the pink light? fucking Chuck and Josie look phenomenal

Pulp Fiction diner dancing!

I’ve seen Brick like thirty times: the two of them synchronized jitterbugging together, I did not have the patience to Google the name of the dance, like fully won me over. is Chuck good now? I’m fucking on Chuck’s list now. like is that all it took for me? I am a weak bitch

“YOU’RE A DAMNED FOOL.”

stay strong, Chuck! don’t fuck this up!

is Mayor McCoy lying on the spot about her hate mail mentioning Josie? just to scare her into compliance?

���Taking a few art classes does not a saint make.”

Cheryl’s sheaths: Cheryl’s wearing huge thick ankle-strap platforms again with a VERY leggy romper

okay shut up because Cheryl actually says “What’s in the box?” and Brad Pitt felt a little bit of his life force drain from his body

Gay.: What up with Cheryl’s game here? was she preemptively putting things in Josie’s locker on the off-chance she would need to get a rival presence out of Josie’s life? I would like a reason, but I don’t need one, because Cheryl is so beyond my mind to comprehend I take solace simply in basking in her wake. like, she found a pig’s heart? of course she did. of course you did, Cheryl

Cheryl’s a chaos angel from hell: “For all we know, he’s the one sending your mom those letters, too” is SUCH an overreach if Josie had had time to think about it for two seconds, but she does not have such two seconds, thus it is a master move by Cheryl Blossom

Chuck’s puppy eyes

Josie knows what she diiiiiiiiid!

THEY GOT ME FOR THE SECOND TIME! GODDAMMIT!

nicely specific throat-slashing, right in the polyps

I’m writing a scene where it’s gay.: Cheryl is listening to Josie sing as she draws, in the greatest reveal in television history (at least since “You’ve done a bad thing, Daddy,” which feels like it happened fifty-eight years ago) (is this actually gay? am I being #blessed with Gothic lesbian villainy?)

Every triangle has three corners, every triangle has three sides: Betty and Jughead literally sleeping together I WOULD ASSUME means they’re having sex except I’m like 0-4 on this stuff, I’m not taking anything as a given

Best costume bit: Betty’s flower decal sweater

VERONICA: How’s he been dealing with it? BETTY: WHAT’S HE BEEN DOING?

Veronica’s tiny poofy magenta skirt and EXTREMELY high heels

“Poor Kevin. He’s like a character in a lost Tennessee Williams play.” (Archie does not know Tennessee Williams)

Sheriff Keller is REMARKABLY forthcoming, in that I think he assumes Betty is going to dig around until she’s found this stuff out anyway, so he may as well show her the ACTUAL EVIDENCE PHOTOS now

Kevin is a cashmere-besweatered angel who plays RPG’s and drinks milk

dare I spy a Tarantino split-screen?

The female gaze: Tom Keller is jacked and this just complicates everything

the extent to which Veronica can be read as absolutely hitting on him while actually prying him for information while ostensibly offering comfort is a tribute to Camilla Mendes, James DeWille, 60,000 years of human speech

the animal targets on the wall as like, art?

aw, Kev took the floor. honestly thought he might have a bunk bed for like, his bears

God bless jingle-jangle: can you imagine having it in your obituary that you were “a jingle-jangle addict”? can someone finagle this for mine? is this blog a legal document?

50 Shades of Betty: I love how off the rails, if you will, Betty is this episode. she’s lost the forest for the trees a bit and it’s GREAT. she’s such a fucking oddball. Lili Reinhart’s massive eyes are like laserbeams of manic certainty

Summer + Blair = Veronica: Veronica is the only person with sense this entire episode. like what would it have been like if it was Veronica and Jughead in the first part? and Archie seeing Josie get a pig’s heart! AND CHERYL IN SHERIFF KELLER’S MAN-SWEAT BASEMENT

it appears the singing bass salesman made a stop at the Kellers’ after he hit up FP Jones

Please protect Betty: Betty’s expression of defiant stoicism throughout her father’s apology on her behalf and Keller explaining himself even further

“Where-oh-where do you think you’re going, Sheriff?” TO LIVE HIS LIFE, BETTY?

he is wearing a very Black Hood outfit of the leather jacket (!) over a flannel with jeans

love the split-second shot of the camera flash

Veronica was rich: of course Veronica’s in like thigh-high boots or whatever

OOOOOOOOHHH HE’S DOING THAAAAAAAT WITH HEEEERRRRRRR!

Veronica was 1) correct and 2) says “broment”

Pop keeps delicate teacups around for “fancy” orders

Cheryl’s structured red coat!

can you believe Jughead left BEFORE Pop got that phone call?

THE RECKONING, Y’ALL, IT’S HERE! MAYBE ONE SINGLE MORE PERSON WILL DIE!

NEXT WEEK TWENTY HOURS FROM NOW: Cheryl makes FP clean up a milkshake, and I enjoy this very special purchase

[sodiumqueen]

upd8 “liveblog” obviously, spoilers below

heads up i chose candy first *slams fist on the table* free the clown, free the clown yeah wow thanks. someone just farted in my hands and said “here’s your story” yes, we get it, you know we wanted to give Gamzee a redemption arch, and then you shat the bed in act 6 making it even worse for any hope of an arch, that doesn’t mean the request wasn’t valid, but thanks for the mockery I guess??? like we didn’t get enough shit from the fucking fandom. THANKS. wow. oh wow it’s getting worse? how is it getting worse. This is hilarious. This is beyond insulting. Fuck you. No. Yeah, see, you know what you did. You wrote an abuse victim and then you mocked people for IDENTIFYING WITH HIM, and made him someone else’s abuser. That was shit writing and you are a shit for writing it. Fuck you for that, and fuck you for this.

The rest of my excitement for this fucking comic has just died in the water.

---- anyways----

I don’t give a fuck about Kanaya and Rose, I just don’t connect with their stilted, poised bullshit. I like Kanaya and Rose separately, but together they bore the everloving fuck out of me. “Poised lesbians” no bye. Rowdy, disaster lesbians > Rosekanaya I’m feeling a bit better about the ending, one because Karkat just appeared and I love any and all of Karkat’s dialog because his personality archetype is and always has been my kryptonite but also because I got up, got a drink and talked to my roommates. The  sun is shining, I can still write fanfic, and there will be life beyond this terrible webcomic. I do love shitty and domestic DaveKat, and if there’s not DaveKat in both sides of this epilogue I’m calling this entire comic a fucking wash. You may take the clown, but you will never take, the DaveKat. (if one of them dies I’m going to flip every fucking shit I have)

are they going to fuck????????????? WHAT IS HAPPENING?

OK but who sticks their fingers in someone’s mouth to flirt, ew jade No. Youd on’t do that IN THE COLD. that’s something when you’re in the HEAT of the moment, it’s not a match. fucking real jade. wow.

“KARKAT: WHATEVER YOU SAY, DAVE “NOT XENOPHOBIC” STRIDER.“ See, This is the shit that I’m here for. Thank you for Karkat. He’s the only thing I’m getting out of this epishit. “Jade pinches his ear and twists hard, smiling pleasantly. JADE: get fucked karkat“ I’m also here for this, this is great. I’ll take 100 more pages of this, stat. Ah man, It really feels like I'm reading fanfic and NOT Homestuck. Feels weird. "KARKAT: THIS IS WHY I HATE LEAVING THE *FUCKING HOUSE*!!!!!!!" Karkat is the best thing in homestuck. Fuck all naysayers. "DAVE: nah i just had a sudden need for a bro down DAVE: just an unquenchable thirst to be showered in a flashstorm of righteous bro juice JOHN: yikes. DAVE: gotta guzzle the shit out of it like gatorade after a sports match DAVE: help me out here my brolectrolytes are low” Dave is the best human. He's narrowly beating Jade because Jade is being very weird as an adult. This is painful. This? This here? I can see why Karkat iddn't want discussed. It is painful to look at. I am looking at it and it is uncomfortable. "JOHN: i almost managed to forget that she was trying to fuck you and karkat." - wow whawt also on a darker note, I am technically here for this. well bye dirk. I wish they'd stop puppeting Gamzee in front of me. Fuck you. So Jane is going to run for president. I guess this is why it’s important to read one before the other. The universes run parallel and they spoil each other. I’m real done with them waving the dead corpse of Gamzee in my face. Fuck you still. It’s ruining the epilogue. I get that they're going for a fanfic feel and they've reached it. There's nothing homestuck about this shit. It's fanfic all the way down. Also in proper fanfic/homestuck form I'm skipping the boring and terrible bits. wow it's reached new hights of bad!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It just keeps getting worse it's incredible!!!!! this is not homestuck Well thank god, Sollux and Aradia free us. There is no hope. We are in the Bad Universe. This is the Bad universe where Homestuck was written Bad by idiots. thank fuck for Meena and Karkat. I love them, they are my last bastion of hope for this garbage tale of trash. I’m just sorta.... reading it. Letting the words happen at me. I’m over it. “ARADIA: you werent even sympathetic to the very story it seemed you were trying to get me invested in from the beginning ARADIA: almost like a mean prank!“ (almost like what happened with gamzee, *gasp*) DAVE: um i guess also your charisma and likability and shit KARKAT: YEAH. KARKAT: YOU MIGHT BE RIGHT...  KARKAT: I’M PRETTY SURE I CAN FAKE THOSE THINGS WELL ENOUGH. DAVE: oh also DAVE: your weirdly sincere humility KARKAT: I PREFER THE TERM “SELF LOATHING” ACTUALLY. help i still love these boys thhey’re not gonna kiss are they. we’re getting eternally cockblocked here. KARKAT: I KNOW THAT YOU PERISH LIKE A DELICATE LILAC BLOOM IN THE FUCKING DESERT IF NOT SHOWERED WITH MY VERBAL ATTENTION AT ALL TIMES. man i love this tho KARKAT: MY MORNING WORKOUT?? KARKAT: I COULDN’T THINK OF A MORE OFFENSIVELY PRESUMPTUOUS PHRASE IF I TRIED. there’s my boy!! FUCK you, you made me read Terezi and John making out. “here’s your davekat, I GUESS” *tosses it on the goddamn floor* fuking ugh this epilogue. It’s like someone cooked you a fucking mouthwatering t-bone steak, and right before you take a bite, they just PISS all over it. i take it back they are cute in this scene I am freed from this terrible webcomic. Davekat has set me free. It is the only worthwhile thing here. I am leaving. It’s over.

[talldarknsexy]

Trials of India

India was kinda crazy. Certain things happen, are always happening, which cannot be easily understood with a western mindset. But what I need to convey first is that it’s another world that operates on seemingly unspoken and foreign logic.

Traffic is a prime example. It’s almost maddening to watch. I did witness a few accidents there. But, for the billion plus people walking, all the Tuk-tuks, motorcycles, push carts, “cycles”, and cows moving independently, all within centimeters of one another, one typically remains unscathed.

The streets themselves are another thing of pure fascination to me. One typically orients based on specific landmarks, signs, shops/stalls. The markets there for whatever reason are in constant flux. “India time” is variable and dependent on unknown factors. Only trains can be expected to run somewhat on schedule. Space is also inherently amorphous. The people and stalls in markets are constantly moving depending on the day or hour. I’ve gotten so ridiculously lost getting back to a hostel for no other reason than the street appears completely different than it did when I left.

I spent a few days in Delhi walking around the markets, metro, and cowshit. For the first time on the trip I paid to store my bike. There just wasn’t space in the hostel in Delhi even if they wanted to. Anyways, it cost less than $10 for a month.

There was never a dull moment in Delhi. I’d walk by a naked man eating out of a bowl in the building next door. Alley kids would throw firecrackers through the door into the lobby. There was plenty of wildlife in Delhi too. There were plenty of cockroaches, pidgins, cows, surprisingly chipmunks, and hundreds of hawks overhead, presumably fed by an endless supply of rats. There were also men on the street trying to sell me anything from wristwatches to women.

I arrived to Udaipur in the early morning and I went down to the lake while the sun was coming up. In Hinduism, certain animals are sacred and in these early hours there were many people passing through the plaza and tossing food to various animals. There were flocks of pidgins, some lazy cows that wandered down, and the occasional rat that would pop out of a crack to grab a corn kernel and jump back. Sunrise was always my favorite time of day in Africa, and felt similarly here too. It was a vibrant, odd, but peaceful scene to witness in the orange light along with the scent of burning incense ironically stuck into some cow-pies nearby.

I traveled by train and bus to Goa and spent most of my time with a fella named Aaron and a gal from Mumbai, Poonam. We did a lot of eating out and some beach time and some party time. It was somewhere around this time I’d decided I was going to go home.

There was no dramatic shift, but a combination of geography, loneliness, and finances had me come to the conclusion that I was feeling ready to finish. Rajasthan had been a bit lonely and while I’d heard good things about Northeast India and Myanmar, I’d already spend plenty of time in Southeast Asia.

Loneliness is a slippery thing. People often ask whether I get lonely. There’s a notable distinction between being alone and being lonely. For example, in vast desert, I can be completely on my own with only the sand and sun and camping with stars at night. And with myself as company I can be completely content. Loneliness on the other hand is much more insidious. It can sneak up on you and suffocate slowly. If I’ve ever felt lonely it’s in cities and ironically, or accordingly, I felt it in India which has 1.4 Billion people. It’s a place where you’re never truly alone.

In Goa I got dinner with Aaron and a nearby cafe. I got some kinda fish curry. The waiter had limited English but I told him I would like to know (for curiosities’ sake) What was in the “traditional hamburger.” “It’s not cow, right?” I asked. He met me with a sharp head shake. “Is it meat?...” I gently inquired. He, this time, replied with a quintessential Indian head bob of unclarity. “Nevermind... I don’t wanna know.” I murmured.

I met with two other fellas I had met earlier in Udaipur that said for lunch a man had offered them the “secret menu” which they had ordered steaks from. Now, you can get everything under the sun in Goa, legal or illegal. But still, I wouldn’t be surprised if it was buffalo 🐃.

Aaron and I booked an overnight train from Goa back to Delhi. It was close to Diwali and we were surprised that sleeper class if any was still available online. (It wasn’t as we would soon figure out.) We had electronic tickets with seat number listed as WL 85 and 86. Not finding the WL section, we came to find out we were actually number 85 and 86 on the waitlist... The train conductor didn’t have the will to kick two foreigners off the train, but we had to spend the ride with the other freeloaders in between the cars.

Sleeper class is basic enough. But this was sitting upright against the side door of the end of the car. It was cold, cramped, noisy, dusty, and they needed to open the door plenty in the morning. Another conductor came by and we were forced to pay the ticket price along with a small “fee.” It was a maddening, mostly sleepless, 30 something hour affair. One that would get me sick.

I spent a week in Rishikesh after getting back. It was an amazing place. To summarize though: I explained to a couple later how it was considered a holy place meat and alcohol are not allowed to be sold there. “Josh... What were you doing there then??” They wanted to know “Yoga?...” I replied hesitantly to my own confusion and surprise.

It had been a bit hazy in Rishikesh, but Delhi was now enveloped in cloud. Not clouds though per se, but smog. It was a combination of burnt crop smoke, emissions, and fireworks from Diwali. I wanted to leave Delhi, but the smog made even being outside hazardous. One day it reached a point of being the most polluted recorded day in history. Equivalent I read to smoking more that 50 cigarettes in a day. India nowadays makes China look good. It’s easy for me to ridicule, but it is a reminder how privileged I am to be able to pass through, whereas this is reality for millions who have no recourse.

When I finally did escape, I did so with Chris, a German cyclist, headed to Asia. There were another two cyclist couples headed out of Delhi straight for Nepal, but I’d coaxed Chris into checking out the Taj Mahal and biking through northern India and floating a bit of the Ganges to Varanasi.

Leaving the city we hit quite a bit of traffic and were still pretty aggravated with the level of pollution. I told him that if he was leaning more towards Nepal we could flip a coin. Tails. And just like that, we switched directions for the next 2 weeks, but not without a slight detour to visit the Taj.

I’m order to do so, we had to stop in a city called Aligarh the next night. I sincerely hope that for the rest of my life I don’t ever, ever, have to step foot in a city as loud and shitty as Aligarh ever again. Entering the city was an onslaught. It was a “small” city by Indian standards with only a few million people, but withno main roads. At least not in the conventional sense... We got trapped in a network of alleyways that were just chock-full of people and motorcycles and raging with a +100db cacophony. We couldn’t stop, turn, or speed up. Just trapped, moving slower than waking pace. I started to notice as our week’s yoga retreat was wearing off, how a vein in Chris’ forehead would bulge at times like this.

We finally arrived to the center and got denied by some 6 different hotels. They claimed they weren’t allowed to accept foreigners. They all pointed us to the one that did which was about $35. After a good hour or two Chris had the good idea to book one on Booking.com and persuade them to accept us. It turned out to be a non-issue and they hurriedly over-accommodated what were probably the first white dudes to stay there.

We bussed to the Taj and back. An almost equally long and stressful experience. With large, popular tourist sites like the Taj, sometimes I feel like I’m just checking a box, and others I’m genuinely stunned. For me, the Taj was somewhere in between.

After all the selfies with Indians and the intensity of the day, Chris’s vein was bulging a bit. It was time for a beer. It’d been a few days, and after all, he’s German. Alcohol can be somewhat faux pas in India. So, after some searching we found Aligarh’s small unmarked shop. It was a dark, smelly enclosed box with chicken wiring separating the shopkeeper/bartender. They sold beer- two kinds. Standing behind us were probably about a dozen Indian men. They cannot drink on the street and certainly not in front of their wives. Here they were after work drinking as fast as possible before going home. Chug, burp, chug, gasp for air, burp... repeat. All the while, staring at two white dudes.

We stayed in our hotel room for those two nights. In India, whole families will share a single bed, so for us there was obviously just one. Chris was European and very confused as to why I wasn’t keen to share the bed with him. But, as I left him with the bed for himself, he didn’t protest. We had a good stay there, but when we left, the manager insisted we leave a 5 star review. He explained a few times in broken English that the checkout process IS a 5 star review. I probably would have if they’d asked casually, but instead played dumb and politely let it be know that we were leaving anyways. Kind of the opposite of the Hotel California... I suppose we’re still checked in there.

Leaving Aligarh was also a trying experience. I’d accidentally navigated us down a market street. It was a war zone of vehicles and stalls. As it eased up towards the end I shouted to Chris: “I only got hit twice, how about you??” “Me too!” He responded with a forced smile. His vein looked like it was throbbing.

We set off once more into the craziness that is India. That afternoon I watched a monkey jump it’s way up to the top of some buildings armed with a crowbar. We rode through a village where they were widening the road. They had simply bulldozed through the fronts of homes and businesses almost seemingly without announcement. There were mounds of rubble and debris. There were bedrooms and backs of shops exposed. “Was there a war here??” Chris asked.

In India the horns are unbelievably loud. I had armed myself with a 140db horn from a bike shop in Delhi. Aside from notifying a close by tuk-tuk or to alert a nonchalant cow that I was overtaking, it was pretty futile endeavor. 140db just blends into the background noise of vehicles, motorcycles, and truck horns.

One day I decided to try a humorous sign in order to dissuade all of the honking. It said “horn if you masturbate.” My thinking was that people would honk less to avoid admitting such a thing. In reality, very few in this region could read or understand English. The only person that commented all day was the affiliate from the hotel chain that morning as he was from an English speaking state. “Wow!” “That’s a very strong message!” He’d said thinking I was gallivanting around the globe promoting the cause of masturbation.

In the end, the only satisfying way to keep my hearing was to wear earplugs all day. Things were still loud, but at least I didn’t feel my ear drums piercing every time a truck or bus overtook.

Chris and I had other challenges to contend with also. Second to noise was definitely staring. I’m sure you’ve rumors of the attention one receives as a foreigner in India. Actually, a staring contest with an Indian isn’t too difficult. But when it’s a crowd that’s something else. I’d have to recruit Chris’s assistance quite often, and him mine. We’d have code words and on que we’d pivot into a power stance and start an intense staring war of attrition. Sometimes they’d laugh and cease. Usually not. Usually they just kept at it without so much as a blink.

We camped a total of three times in India. India was probably not the best region for solitary camping because of the billion plus people or so. But not impossible. The second night we’d scoped a spot, but wanted to wait on the road until it was dark enough to go camp in that spot unseen.

Some folks approached us that didn’t know any English. The road we were on had probably never been cycled by any westerners. Now add to that the fact that most people here had never even seen a white person in their lives. They were understandably confused as to why we were here on funny bicycles with funny bags, wearing funny plastic hats standing on the side of the road in the middle of fuck-all-nowhere as the sun goes down. We could only communicate a little bit. So I google translated “What year is it?” For them to see. I was shocked when they responded. I then translated John Connor’s dramatic speech in the Terminator movie about how he is from the future and how only those who join me will survive. They were even more confused. We rode off a few moments later and camped.

The third time we camped was less intentional. Chris had gotten a bit of the “Delhi belly” and hadn’t been feeling too hot. We reserved a hotel room online that afternoon so he could have a sanctuary to recoup. Unfortunately, when we arrived there was a wedding there. We hardly needed to go to the reception to know it was overbooked. They were no help, so Chris got on the phone with Booking.com while I scouted out the other 6 hotels in town. It was wedding season and they were all full.

Normally it wouldn’t be a huge issue, but there were no other cities nearby, Chris was sick, and it was now dark. I went back to the reception and explained how we were stuck, they had overbooked us, and I pleaded for their help finding in a place to stay. Now I understand cultural barriers, but this should be a no brainer to at least make an effort. But they wouldn’t budge to contact anyone. The manager told me in front of some 20 people that had gathered that it was my problem, not his. I lost my cool and spewed some obscenities on him and left not without an inappropriate hand gesture. It was the second time I’d unloaded on someone on the trip... The first had hit me with a motorcycle. It was time to get out of India I realized as we rode off to go camp.

I don’t much like finding spots to camp in the dark. You don’t have a great idea of what’s around you or how exposed you’ll be in the morning. After probably 2 hours searching in the dark we finally settled on a sugar cane field, one of the few not flooded. Chris staked out his sanctuary a ways away. He woke up many times that night to go pray.

In the morning, it didn’t take long before we were spotted. There were about half a dozen teens outside our tents. I was midway into changing into riding shorts. “Can you distract them??” I asked Chris. “I’m a bit naked at the moment...”

By the time we had fully packed up, half the village had gathered to watch the show. Maybe 30-50 people. One or two spoke English. Videos were taken, questions were answered. I signed my autograph into a school notebook. They were quite funny and excitable. Before we left,I decided to indulge them.... “Alright...” “One selfie!” I shouted. The crowd erupted and we took some group photos before finally breaking free and riding off.

That last day riding in India went fairly smoothly. Or maybe we’d already been baptized in fire. Or better yet, smoke. A man that day came up to compliment my bike and “strong lungs.” Hardly, I thought giving the equivalent hundreds of smog cigarettes I’d inhaled in the past few days.

We got a drink and snack by a stall before crossing the river border to Nepal. With a wrapper and empty bottle in hand, the shopkeep and patrons pointed to the field of rubbish off to the side. They couldn’t understand why I wasn’t willing to add to the years of accumulation and I wasn’t prepared to explain my own convictions. Again, the world of India and it’s culture are tough for me to understand, and given all the staring, I would say the inverse is probably true as well. Backpacking India had been a great experience, but cycling it was undoubtably trying. I could sense this with Chris as well... His vein had been pulsating all the way to the border. It was time to go.

[rememberthattime]

Chapter 31. Move II. Part II. Home

Alright, where’d we leave off with the last post?

Part I was Japan, our first week after leaving the UK. Part III will conclude with our arrival in Sydney. That means Part II will be the time in between. The awkward middle brother, or Jeff, of this three-part moving post. Included in Part II: Christmas in Dallas, New Year’s in Woodinville, and reunions in Seattle.

Over the past two years, most of my posts have been about our travels around Europe, Africa, the Middle East, Asia, and soon-to-add, Australia. That said, I still like to add our trips back home, specifically because I want them to be included when Chelsay converts this blog into a book. I’ve done all the writing and uploading, so she can handle eventually turning this into a NYT’s best seller.

That was a joke (except not, she definitely needs to make this a book). The real reason I want to write about our trips home is the same reason I write about any of our travels: I don’t want to forget.

As I wrote in my wedding post, this blog should be a time machine. 20 years from now, I’ll open the book that Chelsay publishes and place myself back in what will likely be our most adventurous years. Young D’Derek (or whatever weird name Chelsay decides on for our first) will be learning to drive, and Diana (the classic, sensible name I choose for our second) will be taking piano lessons, while Papa Mike heads back to Iceland or Morocco or Jordan or Japan via these posts.

That said, as exciting as our travels to new places have been, some of our favorite memories will undoubtedly come from our returns to the familiar. I’ve written about our first trip home in March 2016 (Chapter 7) and our second trip home that Christmas (Chapter 15), so now, without further ado, here is our third trip home: Christmas 2017.

Oh, one more note first: because there are so many moments I want to remember from this third rendition (and because I’m three months behind in writing about this long move), I’ll structure this post in bullet form.  Okay, now: Christmas 2017.

Highlights from Texas:

Our trip began in Dallas, and as all trips to Dallas begin, we started with Chick-fil-a. It might just be fried chicken and a pickle, but I’d take it over a 18 oz steak any day.

While Chelsay, Liv, and my mom got mani/pedis, my dad, brothers, and I headed to Top Golf. Not even the dumping rain could stop Matt & I’s pin-seeking in our 2-on-2 match up.

The Kerns play a lot of games. Pictionary is always a family favorite, while the meme game seemed slightly inappropriate for this crowd. A few new additions to the game arsenal were Matt’s e-games, where we all come up with funny responses to various prompts, then vote on the best (my mom’s “Shmule” response was an all-timer). One surprise favorite was also one of the simplest: Uno. The unexpected enjoyment actually had nothing to do with the game, but more to do with someone inevitably making a fart joke. (You can tell it was a fart joke in the picture below because my mom is not amused).

Bocce, and braving the frigid temperatures to complete undoubtedly the worst matches those courts had seen.

Another Kern family tradition: back-and-forth putt-putt battles between the kids and parents (+ Chelsay).

It doesn’t even matter who won.

It was definitely the kids.

Christmas cookie making, with some highlights being Matt’s Grinch, Chelsay’s wreath, and Liv’s stocking. Definitely the worst cookie goes to Jeff (”Someone’s in here”).

Pasta on Christmas Eve. Continuing our tradition of informal Christmas Eve meals (grilled cheese, Italian beef sandwiches, tortilla soup, sloppy joes), the family decided on homemade pasta this year. Chelsay made a phenomenally hearty Bolognese sauce, while the family spun out rolls of al dente linguine.

The Christmas Day photoshoot.

After a delicious Christmas beef tenderloin, my mom shared the basics of piano playing with Chelsay, while Matt, my dad, and I took a long, cold, sunset walk down the Trophy Club fairways.

THREE successful Escape Rooms, including a near record-setting win with 24 minutes remaining. Based on our experience, we now get free Escape Rooms for life!

Countless gut-busting meals, including Feedstore ribs, Anamia’s taco salad, Christina’s queso, Mi Cocina sunset fajitas, and i Fratelli thin crust pizza.

On a sad note, Abby’s memorial, where we followed my dad’s heartfelt but humorous eulogy by saying goodbye to the cutest, strangest, best dog any family could hope for.  

Highlights from Seattle:

Playing with Miles. His favorite games: Monster Auntie Chelsay (he got so excited that he pooped), Bucket Flights through the house, and Uncle Mike Express, where I delivered my little passenger to Grandma Helen Station or Papa Sum Pass.

Din Tai Fung & Lucky Strike with Chelsay’s whole family, which included shot-caller Chris destroying the record high score in pop-a-shot.

Runs around Crystal Lake. Dan & June have been in this house for years, but the setting blows me away every time I see it. I loved going for chilly runs around the lake, quietly taking in the massive trees, charming homes, calm waters, and beautiful surroundings.

Ringing in New Year’s 2018 with Chelsay’s family, Dev, Babs, Auz, Kels, and our new friend Harvey.

The second annual virtual golf showdown with Danny. Similar to Chris at Lucky Strike, we set some high scores (high scores are good in golf, right?)

Saturday nights with Auz, Dev, Hanan, Tiin, ALoh, Trav, Ben P, Rob Sooz, and Andy Lit at the 5715 House (aka STZ Pad 3). That house has to be one of my favorite places in the entire world. You can visit the Eiffel Tower or Sahara Desert, but it’s hard to beat watching the NFL playoffs on that shitty couch, bumping all the hits from 2011, embarrassing ourselves with throwback beer pong, or epic 3 AM battles in Hockey.

Catch up drinks with Chelsay’s friends, including Officer Nicole, El Gringo (Will), and the Doctors (Matt & Shiva).

Busy season JC meetings w/ Mark Fitz, and the occasional bucket with him & Dev at Bellevue Muni.

Dan and June’s first Escape Room, overcoming some of the hardest puzzles we’d ever faced to escape on their first attempt.

Chelsay and I’s triumphant one-day return to the city. This was my favorite day in Seattle. Although I had a few trips to the city for nights at the 5715 House, Chelsay and I mostly stayed around her parents’ place  in Woodinville. On the weekend before her flight to Sydney though, we went with her parents on a reunion tour through the city. We ate breakfast at Portage Bay, walked through South Lake Union, took in the Space Needle views from Kerry Park, visited Pike Place Market, returned to Green Lake for cookie cakes, and enjoyed a nightcap tasting to top it all off from Woodinville Whisky. Our January in Seattle was largely about reconnecting with friends and family, but this day was Chelsay and I’s reunion with the city.

Countless gut-busting meals, including Firenze Amatriciana (possibly my new favorite dish in Seattle), Pink Door Bolognese, La Carta tacos, Great State burgers & crispy crinkle fries, more Chick-fil-a, and of course, Juju’s home cookin’.

Chibi just trying to sleep through all of this.

Alas, our six week return to the States was just a tease, a brief glimpse into our former lives.

Like this blog, life is a collection of different chapters, and each chapter has its setting. Most of Chelsay and I’s story has taken place in the US, though our past two years were set in London and our next two will be in Australia.

Throughout our story, we understand the importance of remaining present in each chapter. Sometimes it’s fun to reminisce or look ahead, but Chelsay and I always come back to the present and appreciate our current setting while we can.

As I write this, it’s been three weeks since I left the US, so Chelsay and I are well into our new lives in Sydney. The next & final post in this trilogy will show how much we’ve already enjoyed our latest life chapter, but this post is a reminder that nothing can ever replace the love I feel for our story’s first setting: Home.