Hello, I’ve been rereading “Diesel’s Patrol” theee past few days and as someone who has he own headcanon names and all that, would it be okay to use your headcanon of Rusty’s dad being a garage owner/mechanic? I wish to make my own book one day and I loved that headcanon of him being a mechanic after discharge !
Yeah, that's fine, go for it! I love that my fic inspired you enough to explore Rusty's dad with your own work. Lemme know when you write it, cause I'd love to read it
Started the outline / simple planning and named Rusty’s mom “pepper” and I was like “oh yeah i love her name- hold up. I need to reopen diesel’s petrol” and the terror and laughter I got at how your story made it to my headcanons is terrifying and funny loll (I picked Paul for Rusty’s dad and Pepper is 10000% fitting for mom, credited you in my notes as I work xD)
I’m mostly picking my HCs from you and another Bluey author, and I can’t thank you enough for giving me permission to use them, makes me remember how fandoms work and enjoying it !!
It's my pleasure! It's really cool that it's coming together for you so naturally. We're all here to share cool stuff so the fact that you want to use my cool stuff is awesome!
Diesel threw the oven door open and was assaulted by thick, black smoke pouring out. It surged down his throat, not helped by his gasp of surprise at the orange glow of fire he beheld. He fell back into the kitchen island, bumping his knee on the corner and crashing into a heap.
“Retreat, troops, retreat!” he choked out in between hacking coughs, waving the smoke away. The smoke alarm overhead screamed its shrill alert, adding to the ongoing bombardment on Diesel’s senses. Blinded by searing tears, he crawled to the cabinet under the sink and grabbed the fire extinguisher. After standing and readying his weapon, he unloaded it up and down and across the oven. Once the last of the stray flames flickered out and the black smoke mixed with the extinguisher foam into a light gray matter, he limped to the window and threw it wide, ushering the smoke in that direction.
Diesel heaved fresh air in and out and willed his racing heat down while holding his throbbing knee. Crisis averted, and now that his nose wasn’t overwhelmed with smoke, it was time to sniff out the problem. The oven control panel shone through the dissipating clouds and Diesel squinted toward it looking for an answer. Did he not hear the timer go off? Did he set the wrong temperature? What was it that caused such a calamity?
The timer was still ticking down from the three hours he set it to. In fact, it still had two and a half hours to go. Scratch that off. The temperature readout said 250, just as he set it. The “C” right beside it was a new sight however.
“C”?!, he balked in his mind, “Celsius?!”
Slowly turning his eyes down, what he saw on the sheet pan was not the red, pepper-coated roast beef he started out with, but a mass resembling a smoking volcanic rock freshly cooled from an eruption.
Diesel’s stomach dropped and he ran a paw through his long hair. “Ohhhhh, biscuits.”
+++
DIESEL: This episode of Bandit is called “Curry Impossible.”
+++
Earlier that day…
In the living room of the Kelpie home, father Diesel and middle child Rusty were trading pushups, something the kid always liked to do with his dad.
Diesel rose to the apex, disregarding the mild burn in his biceps. “15!” He grunted.
“15!” Rusty parroted, coming to the top just the same.
“Good one, mate! Good form. Think you can go to 20?”
“Kids! Come on, let’s go!” called his wife Pepper. She was standing by the hall leading to the bedrooms. “The sooner we get your school shopping done, the sooner I can grab groceries for dinner!”
“Guess we’ll find out later.” Rusty nodded as Diesel lifted himself onto his feet. “I can handle the shopping if ya want, babe.”
Pepper smiled. “Oh, you’d do me a big favor. I’ll send you the list.”
The text popped up in a second and Diesel’s mouth watered at every ingredient. Beef, potatoes, carrots. “Mmm, I love roast night.”
“Me too,” said Rusty, his tail wagging.
“Me three!” chirped Dusty, the youngest Kelpie, running into the living room.
“Ditto,” said Digger, the eldest, walking in after.
Suddenly, Diesel was struck with a great idea, something he knew his kids would be excited for. “Know what?” he declared, “Why don’t I cook dinner tonight?”
“No thanks!” chimed the kids, backing away.
“Kids, don’t be rude,” Pepper hissed, then turned to her husband hiding her own apprehension. “Um, are you sure, honey?”
Diesel held his hands up. “Look, I know my history, but I’ve learned a lot since the ‘Garlic Incident.’ I oughta start pullin’ my weight around here now that I’m back for good.”
“I appreciate it, but I can handle it,” said Pepper, taking Diesel’s hand.
Diesel added his other hand. “But you don’t gotta. School shopping’s gonna be a handful as it is.” Diesel let go and knelt down to his kids. “You can give yer ol’ dad another chance, eh?”
The kids made their “thinking very hard” faces until Digger spoke first. “Well, roast night doesn’t seem that hard. Dad can probably do it.”
“The worst that’ll happen is we get fish and chips for dinner like last time,” said Rusty.
Pepper shook her head. She knew she wasn’t winning at this point. “Okay,” she relented, “Dad’s cooking dinner.”
Diesel pumped his fists. “Uss!” Dusty giggled at his victory dance.
“C’mon, then,” said Pepper, ushering the kids out the door before looking back. “I trust you, honey.”
“You can count on me now, babe,” Diesel shouted after. “I’ve got this!”
The door shut and Diesel looked back at the list. The weight of his current task was now upon him and it was heavy without warning. But he’d done much harder things in the army. It was just groceries and cooking dinner.
“I’ve got this,” he said again, grabbing his keys and marching out the door.
+++
Those words played in his head like a broken record as Diesel leaned against the counter and beheld his great cock-up. The kids were bound to be disappointed, but he could easily get back in their good graces. It was Pepper he was worried about. No one was safe from “the mom roast” as it was called, and she was bound to read him the riot act, not just for nearly burning down their kitchen, but for taking on something she could’ve already done herself, and correctly. She had sacrificed just as much as he had with his army service, and all he wanted was to give back.
A speck of brain power cleared and he recalled a mantra he drilled into his troop from day one, “Recognize when you need to ask for help, and then ASK!” He emphasized this because realizing you need help does no one any good if you don’t put your wounded pride aside and reach out.
Time to take his own advice to heart.
He left the carnage behind, grabbed his phone from the coffee table and found the group chat titled “Space Dads,” named after the game their sons liked playing all the time.
“SOS,” he texted, “Please come over right now.” He snapped a picture of the crime scene and sent it off, sweat beading on his back as his two best friends received the messages. Diesel paced the living room, waiting for a response but none came. Five minutes later, the doorbell rang, setting his tail fur on end. Diesel opened it and beheld a clean cut jack russel terrier and a bushy zebra-colored border collie holding their phones up, Diesel’s handiwork on full display.
“Mate,” they pointedly said in unison.
Diesel felt a blush betray his tan muzzle. “That’s a fine howdy-do,” he mumbled as he herded them inside. The group headed straight for the kitchen and beheld the now wisping roast corpse with their own eyes.
“I’m in a right pickle,” said Diesel. “Me wife and kids’ll be home from the shops later lookin’ for…” He couldn’t even picture what the roast was supposed to look like, and just gestured with both arms to his homebrew charcoal. “…not that!”
“How’d you even turn it into…” Blake echoed Diesel’s action. “…that?”
“I set the oven low and slow for the chuck!” Diesel implored. “Recipe said 250 degrees!”
“You’re dreamin’, mate!” Josh laughed. “You grilled that meat!”
“I realize that now,” said Diesel. “That’s the last time I rely on an American recipe.”
Blake poked the roast and drew his arm back when a chunk broke off and crumbled into powdered carbon. He stared for a moment before nodding. “Ah…Righto. Fizzy?”
“I need it, mate,” Diesel sighed. Blake walked to the fridge and tossed a can toward Diesel who cracked it open while not breaking the thousand-yard stare setting in. He downed the entire thing down to the last drop and rubbed his temples.
“Mate, you good?” asked Josh. “It’s just roast.”
“It’s not just roast, mate!” Diesel leaned against the counter, arms drooping. “I asked to work the mess hall so many times, mate. I always told ‘em, ‘first thing I’m gonna do when I’m done is cook for my family. I wanna give back like they’ve given to me. They’re gonna love it.’ And I blew it on a silly mistake.” With one groan, he found himself fully at a loss. “What am I gonna do?”
Josh pulled Diesel upright again by his shoulders. “You’re gonna put dinner on the table, Kelpie. That’s what you’re gonna do.” Josh met Diesel’s despair with a stern determination, a change from the border collie’s usual happy-go-lucky attitude.
“How?” The kelpie wondered, “I-I used most of the meat I bought for my…cremation already.”
“This meat?” said Blake, holding a zip-top bag from the fridge.
“Uh, yeah, that’s the leftovers, I bought too much meat. And I ain’t grabbing no fish and chips or takeaway curry to pass off, not for what’s left of my dignity.”
Josh opened it and beheld the contents, a gleam forming in his eye. He went to a nearby cabinet and started picking through spices.
Diesel followed. “What are ya doing, mate?”
Josh grabbed one more container, nodded, and shut the cabinet. “Don’t need a takeaway curry if you can make one.”
“What? Now you’re dreamin’!” said Diesel. “I don’t got all ya need for curry.”
“Trust me,” Josh countered. “You got enough.”
As Josh went to the fridge and sifted through the produce, Diesel watched his friend taking on the challenge ahead, not unlike what he did many a time under deployment. The fire returned to him and he knew he had to take charge or he’d stand around like a green private and not learn anything from this. And he had to learn.
“Hang on!” barked Diesel. Josh and Blake whipped their heads toward him, surprised. Diesel cleared his throat. “Lookit, I want your help, need it, really. But if I’m gonna ever redeem this in my mind, I gotta be the one to cook it.”
The two nodded their approval. “Of course, mate,” said Josh. “Sorry if I got a bit ahead of myself.”
“No worries. Thanks for talking me outta the hole. Now let’s do this, eh?”
They high-fived. “Yeah!”
Sergeant mode engaged. “Josh, feed me instructions step by step. Blake, can you fetch ingredients?”
“Sir, yes, sir!” Blake saluted.
“I was just lookin’ for onion and carrot, mate,” said Josh, and Blake took up the task.
“How’s your knife skills?” asked Josh.
Diesel answered by taking up the vegetables Blake offered up and cutting them in half and beginning to dice.
Josh chuckled in amazement. “Sweet as. That mess hall work served you well.”
Diesel beamed without stopping his action. “Thanks, mate.”
“Watch your fingers!” Josh yelped.
Diesel startled and looked back down before shifting his fingers. He flashed a nervous grin. “Right on.”
“Take a breath, and just trust the process,” Josh said.
Diesel continued on the path, pushing all doubts to the back of his mind. There was a chance that this couldn’t work, that he didn’t have what was needed to pull this misadventure back from the brink. But he couldn’t focus on that. He needed to trust his friends and trust the process.
Before long, the meat chunks were cubed up and all ingredients prepped. The dogs congregated around a hot pot, empty and waiting. Diesel turned to Josh and the border collie nodded. First, the diced onions were scraped in from the cutting board and sautéed in oil and butter. Upon translucency, the carrots were added and took their turn on the scorching surface. Diesel listened to Josh’s every instruction as he guided him through a simple beef curry recipe, sure to please at a moment’s notice.
As Diesel poured in the beef stock and it began to boil, he took a moment to sniff the mixture he created. The smell his nose met almost blew him backwards. It was fantastic. Every piece of the puzzle had settled into place and for the first time since that morning, the weight of expectation had lifted from Diesel’s shoulders.
“Good, eh?” said Josh.
Diesel looked at him, grinning ear to ear. “Mate, this is ace! How could I ever thank you for saving my tail?”
Josh smiled. “Just promise to check your temp’s in the right format before you start cooking next time, okay?”
“Agreed,” Blake concurred.
“Make that a double,” said Diesel. “Now what’s next?”
“Rice time,” said Josh, rubbing his paws together.
“Right, I got a pot we can use. I’ll need to know the ratios and maybe some cardamom as well-”
Josh held his paws up with a chuckle. “Mate, just throw it in a rice cooker.”
Diesel stopped. “Heh-heh, got one o’ those as well.”
+++
The Space Dads were long gone and the Kelpies were seated around the dinner table, the steaming result of Diesel’s efforts placed at the center upon the lazy susan. Diesel’s tail twitched with anticipation as Pepper placed the first spoonful of curry into her mouth. The payoff moment was here.
Her gaze turned from skeptical to surprised to delight with every chew. An “mmm” from little Dusty broke the silence. The entire table devolved into yummy eating noises and Diesel’s tail devolved into full wagging as his heart surged with pride.
“Honey, this is amazing!” said Pepper.
“Ditto, dad,” said Digger.
After dinner, the two parents were on the couch cuddling while the kids did the dishes. Pepper stroked Diesel’s hair and he hummed happily.
“Thank you, Diesel Kelpie,” she said. “You don’t know how much you’ve helped me today.”
“I have an idea,” he responded. “All in a day’s work. I just needed a good recipe.”
“From Josh, I imagine.”
“No one makes it better.”
She sighed. “I never did get an answer as to why curry instead of roast night. Not that the kids minded.”
“Call it a whim, a moment of inspiration.” That answer sounded really good to Diesel, and to Pepper as well as she returned to scratching him behind his ears, his favorite spot.
“Dad!” Rusty called.
“Yeah, mate?” said Diesel.
“What’s this black rock in the oven?”
Diesel’s brow immediately produced a cold sweat.
“And why’s all this white stuff in there?”
Pepper sat up and crossed her arms. “Yeah, why is all that there, dad?”
