#scottykerouac

[somebrokenfate]

[from scotty/scottykerouac 😘 for chloe] ❝ i haven’t been hugged in years. ❞

“one moment,” chloe held up a finger, quickly disappearing and reappearing dragging a chair behind her. climbing on the chair did not make her quite eye level but it was as close as she could get. 

“a hug, my dear sir,” her arms spread out wide while she spoke.

[cybervigilant]

@scottykerouac replied to your post: I feel like im making @scottykerouac laugh their...

LISTEN I bullshit my way through my job too okay ��

never forget that me making u watch Mr. Robot helped you figure out a problem at your work. youre welcome. Elliot is your savior.

[lumenari-moved]

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀                      STARTER   →   @scottykerouac ⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

   Most of the time, Lucifer enjoyed cities. There was always something to do, people to talk to, people to tempt, drinks to be had — the possibilities were endless. It kept her mind occupied, which was usually how she liked it. But there were times where the concrete jungle would suddenly feel SUFFOCATING, and she needed to escape somewhere more beautiful. Nature had been Lucifer’s first love, and it was a love that had never truly died.

   THE MORNINGSTAR found herself in South Lake Tahoe, of all places. The place was beautiful, though, and not overcrowded with skyscrapers and concrete floors. She’d spent most of the day time on her own, just admiring the place. If earth was anything, it was beautiful.

   Come night time, Lucifer had entered the first bar she could find. It was a little BUSY due to some band that was playing there, but she didn’t mind it. She worked her way up to the bar and pulled herself up into a stool. She slumped forward a little, hands running down her face. It had been a long month. Once she caught the attention of the bartender, she pulled herself up straight.

      “I’ll have whatever you’re best at mixing up,” she told him, not in a particularly FUSSY mood.

[fiinalgiirl]

“I’m not the enemy here. But this makes me wonder who the real one is for you.”

She glares daggers at him. He’s right, she knows that, but her anger is an all consuming force when it gets going and doesn’t distinguish friend from foe. It’s not one of her better traits. It kept her safe, though. It got her through more things than it ruined and she counts that as a win. That’s what matters. 

Scotty may be more than an arm’s reach away now, but at least she could see all of him. 

Her mouth twists, like she’s chewing on a come back but can’t settle on just how cutting the words should be. She settles on something true enough, if bitter. “Do you?” There’s a biting laugh at the end of the sentence. “Cause I do too.”

[trashkick]

       ❛  the  only  advice  i’m  gonna  give  you  is:  don’t  eat  the  egg  salad  sandwich.  that  thing  has  come  from  hell  itself.  ❜  //  @scottykerouac ; sc !

[kopiya]

@scottykerouac

Scotty leaned away from her, and the pretend knife—because they were bring careful, because she did not want to hurt him and she did not want him to her her—and she smiled. Maybe she had beaten him at last. Oh. No, she hadn’t. Helena grunted, stumbling back from the punch. That was stupid, and she realized her mistake a few seconds later when Scotty grabbed her arm, twisting till she dropped the knife. Before she could collect herself, he was moving again, knocking her feet out from under her, sending her toppling over.  

Most of the time, Helena was grateful for how Scotty treated her. He did not treat her like a delicate baby who knew nothing, and he did not treat her like a monster who would attack at any moment. He treated her like a friend, and he acted as if she were a normal person. Most of the time she was grateful—but sometimes, she wasn’t. Sometimes, she wanted to bite him. Or dive at his ankles. Or slide in between his legs and ram her head up into his—well, usually she did not think about doing that unless she had lost several rounds. Other times she thought about hiding in his attic and tackling him from the opening in his ceiling. Now was one of those times, and she eyed his outstretched hand for a few seconds too long before she took it and let him pull her up. 

She wouldn’t, because they were friends and she would be honorable when they sparred. Also, he might also know how to fight dirty and that could get messy. Still, she did not like losing—though she was not as bad as Sentra Alison. Maybe being a sore loser was genetic. Well, she was not only her DNA. So she smiled and said, “Thank you,” and, “You are very good at this, also,” and, “Yes.” Then she asked, with a grin, “We still are not biting, yes?” and she chuckled.

[positivity-for-the-rpers]

Have you seen scottykerouac's blog? Scotty's background is something so many of us can identify with, and this is part of what makes him relatable as a character. I want to snatch up little Scotty and give him a hug. It's the first time a character's BIOGRAPHY elicited an emotional response in me. Fantastic work.

@scottykerouac

[agentharrisonofshield-a]

intimidation scale: like a 4. idk man i used to play roller derby so it takes a lot to intimidate me. so don't take my rating too close to heart lololol

on a scale of 1-10 how intimidating am i@scottykerouac

TBH that’s significantly more intimidating than I expected anyone to rate me?