#Beboptober

[lucyguusi]

Julia, Spike and Vicious - Spooky Visit lucyguusi.carrd.co

[bebopcrew]

Join @bebopcrew for Beboptober! For each day of the month, there will be a different prompt to keep you writing. Each day has at least two options, so feel free to choose whichever you feel the most inspired by! If you're feeling extra inspired, you can do something for each prompt or even combine them.

Remember to mention us @bebopcrew in your posts and we’ll reblog your work here! You can also add it to our AO3 Collection if you prefer.

You don’t have to complete all 31 days if you want to participate. Feel free to pick and choose! If you have any questions, check out our FAQ or drop a question in our ask. We can’t wait to see your work!

[lonichedgehog]

Commission for @betweentimeand42 !

It was for one of their Beboptober Fanfics, which you can read here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59343829/chapters/151429711

[loveneverfades]

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober 2024 Day 2: Crash

Thanks to @bebopcrew for the prompt list! This one takes place about ten years before the events of the series, and slightly before Spike joined the Syndicate—I used this timeline from The Cowboy Bebop Attic, which places Spike’s Syndicate years at about 2061-62 to 2068. This fic turned out WAY longer than I planned, and I stayed up WAY later to write it than I'd hoped, so apologies if some of it makes no sense at all, but I had fun with it!

Okay, so technically speaking, Spike didn’t have a real spaceship’s license yet. And technically speaking, this wasn’t even his ship. One could even say he’d stolen it. But did it really count when it was from the garage of one of those crazy Martian billionaires who probably had fifty identical, sleek and newly-purchased ships in their garage? They wouldn’t notice this one was missing at all.

Spike had engaged in petty thievery before, sure, but this was different. This was the big leagues. A ship of his very own—now that he’d wiped the tracking and identification as best he could with his shoddy, hodgepodge tech skills—opened up whole new worlds to him, literally. After seventeen years of being stuck on Mars, hopping ineffectually from city to city whenever he could hitch a ride, he’d crossed a Hyperspace Gate for the very first time and, after some annoying waiting, was by a whole new planet in a matter of minutes.

Once he arrived, it was an adventure in itself to try and navigate the overlarge ship past all the debris and space junk that circled Earth, almost like an old video game. And then he could see it, the pockmarked blue marble floating in space. A whole new planet. Although he was alone, he couldn’t help but give a low whistle at the sight. He wasn’t given to poetry, but he had to admit a sight like this would be breathtaking to anyone.

And the flying itself! Okay, so technically he’d never been in a ship’s cockpit before, but it wasn’t too hard to figure out the controls. He’d driven a car, and the mechanics of this weren’t too different. But flying? It was light-years away from driving.

He loved everything about it: the way the stars raced past him in the cockpit window, the whooshing sensation of freefall in his stomach as he dipped and glided and spun just for the hell of it, the way the ship responded beautifully to his every little touch to propel him faster and faster into the darkness as he whooped in delight. The way no one could find him or catch him way out here. It was freedom, so much more than he’d thought he’d had before on the streets, so much more than he’d even thought possible. It awakened dormant parts of him he didn’t even know existed.

It was bliss.

That is, until he pushed too hard and too fast—or maybe the dumb ship’s controls responded too well—and found he’d somehow fucked up. The ship was rapidly losing power and altitude, careening down towards Earth.

Shit, shit, shit! Spike wrenched at the controls and pushed frantically at all the buttons he could reach, pretty much at random, trying desperately to silence the beeping warnings that flashed all around him in the cockpit. And maybe it slowed down his entry speed a little. But it didn’t stop the warning signs from flashing faster and faster and more urgently, and for Earth’s surface to grow larger and larger below him. And eventually all Spike could do was curl up in the cushy pilot’s seat and brace for impact as best he could.

The ship crash-landed at what had to be a horrific angle, leaving a trail of cratered dirt and debris up until its final resting point. Rocks and detritus rained down, marring the ship’s perfect surface and adding another strain to the deafening noise. Airbags deployed all around Spike, burning against his skin. For the first few minutes, Spike wasn’t entirely certain he’d survived.

Figures. My first-ever real taste of freedom, and I almost die not even twenty-four hours in.

Well, if he really was dead, at least they couldn’t catch him for stealing that ship.

~~~~~

Of course, after a while Spike had to realize that he was, in fact, alive, and unfurl himself from the ruined cockpit to clean up his mess.

The trip had been pretty impulsive, and he didn’t know what, exactly, he’d been expecting to find on Earth, but he had expected to return to his home planet eventually. He knew that owning a spaceship of his own could open up a lot more opportunities to get money and power and a bit of food in his stomach. It could even make him look more attractive to some of the bigger crime syndicates on Mars, even if he still had to start out as a grub doing all the grunt work. At least they’d consider him.

But for that, his spaceship had to be working. And as he surveyed the ship, having extricated himself from the wreckage and now looking up at it with arms akimbo, he figured that his hodgepodge tech skills wouldn’t be of much help here at all.

At least it wasn’t on fire. Maybe a better mechanic could somehow revive it, even if they had to replace all its parts one by one, like that old Earth story about the wooden boat. It would be better than no ship at all, especially if it made him harder to catch by the guy he’d stolen the ship from.

He should be as destroyed as the ship, he thought. He really shouldn’t have survived that crash. Maybe he had a lucky star up there, somewhere, watching out for him.

Somehow, he doubted that.

There was only one thing he could do. He hated feeling dependent like this, and if it didn’t work pretty soon, he may as well pack up and set out on his own—find some decent food and shelter, try his luck on Earth, maybe eventually find a way back home, such as that home was. But for now, he let out a defeated sigh, leaned against the ship’s ruins, and held up one thumb.

He saw rockets taking off in the distance; he heard the distant purr of cars’ engines. There had to be someone willing to pick him up eventually and take him to a place where his ship could maybe get fixed. If his lucky star was still watching out for him. If it even existed at all.

~~~~~

“This isn’t getting fixed today, kid.”

“Whaddya mean?” Spike scowled at the mechanic—Doohan, according to his assistant who’d driven Spike here—an old, cantankerous-looking guy with goggles perched on top of his wild gray hair. Every part of his clothing was either singed or actively smoking. He’d thought a guy like this could bring his ship back to life right away, as if by magic.

Doohan was still peering around the ship with an appraising eye, examining the mangled remains of its dashboard, the hunks of metal that used to be its hull. “I can keep it here and modify it. Or, if it turns out to be truly useless, save it for scrap. But if you were planning to be out of here in an hour and race home on this pretty little number, that’s not happening.”

“But—but the person who drove me here, your assistant—Jimmy or something—he said you were the best mechanic this side of the planet. He said you could work miracles.”

The man snorted and turned away. “Flattery like that is exactly why he won’t last around here.”

Even though the news was a disappointment, Spike honestly kind of appreciated that Doohan wasn’t bullshitting him. And obviously, the guy knew ships. As Spike gazed around the hangar, he saw several ships of all sorts—some that must have been historical artifacts from the early days of hyperspace gates, some brand-new ones like the one Spike had just crashed—in varying states of repair. One, a half-finished model with a slender red body and a long nose, particularly caught his attention. Surprisingly, some sort of looked like what he had originally expected: old relics, nursed back to health. He wondered how many of those could actually fly. He wondered what it would feel like. Already, his hands itched for the controls of a spaceship again, any spaceship.

“It’s been through quite a crash,” Doohan said, squinting up at Spike from the other side of the ship. “Where’d you get a ship like this? Only to junk it up right away?”

Spike had long since learned that the best response to questions like this was to stay silent, so that’s what he did.

“Rather not say? Okay. What’d you do to crash it?”

Simple as possible. “I went too fast.”

Doohan grunted. “Seen that before. Teenage boys who think they know everything. They always think they’re invincible.”

Something about that smarted. It hit Spike in the chest, white-hot on his already-frayed nerves.

Doohan turned back to the wreckage. “They always eventually get cut down to size.”

Spike felt his hands involuntarily balling into fists.

“You think I’m some privileged little rich boy?” he said, and it came out as an unexpected growl. “I sure as hell know I’m not invincible. I’m from Mars, I just got here. I’ve got no family. I’ve been cut down to size plenty of times in my life.” His voice was getting louder, more insistent. “I need a ship, any ship. I can work off whatever debt I owe to you. But don’t go thinking I did this just for the hell of it!” His last words were a yell, echoing in the silence.

Doohan just grunted again, not looking up. Silence fell once again for a while as he fiddled with the inside of the ship, tinkering with his tools. Spike’s breaths came out shuddery, but slowing.

“I think something was fucked up with the accelerator,” Spike said, quieter this time. “It was my first time piloting a ship and I went through a Gate no problem, I could do loop-de-loops and shit, and I guess I went a little overboard. But I barely touched that pedal thing and next thing I knew I was crashing here. I think I could do better with another craft.” He looked up at Doohan, choosing his next words with caution. “Or if I could find out how this one worked. How ships work. And how to fly them for real.”

Doohan inspected a panel of metal sheetwork on the side of the ship, his face inscrutable.

“That was you,” he finally said. “Doing the loop-de-loops in the sky. That was you.”

“Uh, yeah.” Damn. Spike hadn’t been as surreptitious with that stolen craft as he thought.

“And you say that was your first time ever piloting a ship?”

“Yeah,” Spike said again.

Doohan made eye contact with Spike for the first time. “How’d you feel when you were up there?”

“Uhhh…good? Happy?” Dammit, Spike wasn’t good with talking about feelings or whatever, and Doohan looked thoroughly unimpressed with his attempts. He didn’t even really know why Doohan was asking about it, but he could tell there had been something different, something distinctive, about that feeling. He racked his brain for the right word to describe how it had felt, soaring through the stars.

“Free,” he finally said. “I felt free.” He cupped his hands as if around the controls in a ship’s cockpit, and he felt his eyes narrowing in determination. “I wanna feel that way again.”

Doohan nodded slowly, then put his hand on what used to be the hull of the ship. “New ships like this, they tend to be trigger-happy. They advertise responsiveness, they say they’re user-friendly, and then they go way too far with it.” Spike nodded. Reminded him of some people he knew back on Mars. “You’ve got some natural talent,” Doohan continued. “But if you want to learn how to fly a ship right, you have to know how it works. You either work for the machine, or it works for you.”

Spike nodded again, at first slowly, but then with more determination. He could do that. In fact, the thought excited him. Something to fill his days that wasn’t petty crime and rooting around for his next meal. Something that actually felt purposeful. Like he was born for it.

Doohan looked over the ships in the hangar, appearing contemplative. “Been working on fixing up that old MONO racer for a while now,” he finally said, gesturing to the red ship that had caught Spike’s attention earlier. “Now, get me a 3/8 gauge from the toolbox in my office.” He turned to the assistant, who’d been leaning against the car he’d driven Spike in and watching the conversation with interest. “Jimmy, you’re fired.”

“Aw, man,” the assistant said, staring down at his sneakers. “Mom’s gonna kill me.”

~~~~~

Spike had worked for Doohan for a few months now, learning the ins and outs of amateur spaceship repair, not to mention how to actually pilot different types of crafts so they wouldn’t crash. Over the course of weeks, they’d watched ships transform from beaten-up hunks of junk, or broken-down relics that belonged to a museum, to actually usable, sometimes even restored to their former glory. It was a hell of a hobby, but no one could say Doohan wasn’t passionate about it. He worked from sunup to long past sundown, through mealtimes and rock showers and explosions that signed off his eyebrows. And, Spike had to admit, it was gratifying seeing their progress every day and week, bit by bit.

Spike had memorized every tool Doohan owned, where to get or borrow the ones he didn’t, and which ones just flat-out didn’t exist. He was used to getting barked at by his boss, sent on so many impossible tasks and wild-goose chases that he could no longer count them, sometimes having sharp implements thrown at him. (He’d learned to only piss Doohan off when he was holding something soft like a newspaper.) But he’d managed to avoid getting unceremoniously fired, like poor Jimmy. Or quitting, like a lot of assistants in Doohan’s past apparently had.

It wasn’t like Spike wasn’t used to rebukes or harshness. In fact, he kind of appreciated that Doohan didn’t baby him. And he thought maybe Doohan respected that he didn’t crumple under the pressure—although that may just have been wishful thinking on his part.

Still, after a few months of practice, even Doohan couldn’t find fault with the way he flew. (Or at least not very much fault.) The controls felt natural in Spike’s hands, like an extension of himself. He could effortlessly swoop and dive through the sky, at least in Earth’s atmosphere, as easily as moving his own body. And no matter how often he set off from the hangar with a whoosh, or how often he practiced all the proper measurements and calculations to land the way Doohan had showed him, it still felt just as freeing as it did the first time. It gave him a strange, bright sense that maybe he could do more when he got back to Mars. Maybe he could have an actual future.

But it still caught him completely off-guard when Doohan took a satisfied look at the newly-refurbished MONO racer—the Swordfish II, he’d called it (Spike decided not to ask what had happened to the Swordfish I)—and declared, “It’s yours now.”

“M-mine?” Spike babbled, like some sort of idiot.

Doohan nodded quite sensibly, as if this were the only logical option and any idiot would understand that. “You’ve done enough work on it to have earned it fair and square. You know it inside and out. And besides, it’s sturdy enough that it should survive a crash or two.” And for the first time, he flashed a smile at Spike, a knowing gleam in his eye.

Spike smiled back. The ship really was beautiful, lithe and maneuverable but still tough. Not some delicate thing that would crash and burn at the slightest provocation. It had been through some shit, just like he had. And it had come out alive. Maybe it was an old model, but it was his.

The words Thank you felt awkward on his tongue, tripping it up. But he hoped his face would show his gratitude.

Doohan patted the ship’s hull in satisfaction. And okay, technically speaking, Spike knew it wasn’t meant for him, not really—but it felt almost like a pat on the back.

“Why don’t you take it for a spin?”

[obnoxiouslittlefrog93]

Sorry I went out for milk

It turns out I am just as much of a deadbeat as my own father, but unlike him I always come home to feed my audience eventually. Eat, my fellow fanfiction fiends

@bebopcrew

Skeletons from the Closet - Beboptober 2024 (1492 words) by RockNRollOccultist2267 Chapters: 1/31 Fandom: Cowboy Bebop (Anime) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Jet Black/Spike Spiegel, Faye Valentine/Original Character(s) Characters: Spike Spiegel, Jet Black, Faye Valentine, Ed (Cowboy Bebop), Ein (Cowboy Bebop) Additional Tags: One Shot Collection, this takes place at varying points in the timeline of my main Bebop fic Turn The Page, mostly after the ending of said fic, could contain spoilers, they're all bi btw, Angst, Romance, drugs (mentioned), Smoking, sex (mentioned/implied), tags will change with each new addition but i'm trying to cover some of my bases here, and probably the rating too if I feel like writing anything explicit, Spike Needs Therapy, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse Summary: A collection of one-shots from the void. The void being whatever liminal space in my Bebop universe I haven't filled. These will not be in chronological order and may contain spoilers for my main fic, Turn the Page. I'll try to include trigger warnings in the tags as much as I can, but they may leak into the author's notes if I end up adding too many.

[bellpeppersand-beef]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Cowboy Bebop (Anime) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Jet Black/Faye Valentine Characters: Jet Black, Faye Valentine Additional Tags: Beboptober (Cowboy Bebop), Femdom, Handcuffs, Collars, Leashes, ill advised gambling practices, even more ill advised BDSM practices, Always negotiate your scenes first kids, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Puppy Play, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, author wrote this over the course of 21 hours, Author Is Sleep Deprived, The Author Regrets Nothing, Humiliation, Blackmail, sort of anyways Summary:

…but always keep them on a leash.

Written for day two of Beboptober.

[thestarlightsymphony]

Do you know if Beboptober is happening this year? No guarantees I’ll participate (unfortunately, I’m currently languishing in Thesis/Grad School Application Hell), but I’d love to know if it’s happening and see what other people come up with!

No idea! I'm actually planning on doing a personal project during October, so I doubt I'll have time for it either; however, if I hear anything or anyone has a prompt list, I'm happy to boost and share it!

[luvie-42]

Y'all...Y'ALL-

Why is nobody talking abt this lanky ass man's LEGS????

He seems like the type to randomly bounce his thigh while you're sitting on his lap and then laugh like a maniac from your reaction 😭

Like y'all would be chilling in the Bebop while Edward and Ein go off and run somewhere as he sits on one of the yellow chairs and you come up and sit on his lap.

He takes this as his chance to tease you a bit and as you get comfortable, you look up at him as his big silly grin shows up on his face. '𝑾𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒅𝒐, 𝑺𝒑𝒊𝒌𝒆?"

And before you can react, he bounces his leg suddenly and looks at your flustered and shocked face as you we're blushing furiously. "𝙇𝙤𝙤𝙠𝙨 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙄 𝙜𝙤𝙩 𝙮𝙖, 𝙘𝙪𝙩𝙞𝙚~"

Now he's laughing hard as you hide your flushed face in his chest

LET'S BE HONEST WE'D ALL GET ON OUR KNEES FOR HIM-

[noblesixofhalo]

Fallout Bebop

Alright before I get started, I'm not trying to ruin anything or retcon Fallout or Cowboy Bebop for that matter, this is just something that I want to write about off an on as long as I am still committed to my playthrough of Fallout 4. (New Vegas requires a ton of space on my PC which I don't have right now sadly) It's not the greatest of writing but I'm not hear to write a masterpiece, just whatever comes to my mind. I will get the next chapter out by tomorrow maybe. I'm still trying to continue with where I left off on Saturday when I completed chapter. Anyway without further ado, let's get started. Btw the "tall skinny individual in the intro is not Spike lol, it's supposed to be me but as the main character in any Fallout game so it can be whoever. I don't spend much time making my character, I just play around with their appearance a bit and just give them a normal look to them. Anyway let's start.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Introduction

*Theme song of Cowboy Bebop "Tank!" plays before fading*

*Piano music plays in the background before a male singer begins*

When you attend a funeral It is sad to think that sooner or later Those you love will do the same for you And you may have thought it tragic Not to mention other adjectives To think of all the weeping they will do But don't you worry.

No more ashes, no more sackcloth And an armband made of black cloth Will some day never more adorn a sleeve For if the bomb that drops on you Gets your friends and neighbors too There'll be nobody left behind to grieve.

And we will all go together when we go Oh, what a comforting fact that is to know Universal bereavement, an inspiring achievement Yes, we all will go together when we go..... *fade to black*

*Narrator begins his monologue*

War. War never changes. Nearly 200 years ago after decades of conflict over Earth's last resources, the world was plunged into nuclear fire. The atomic conflagration between the world's nuclear powers ended in a span of only two hours but in those short few hours, the world was reduced to ruin and billions of lives snuffed out by atomic fire and by the aftermath of this nuclear holocaust. Though civilization as humanity knew it ceased to exist on Earth, the tale of humanity still preserved despite many challenges and trials ahead. Thanks to years of false alarms and the cry wolf effect, very few took the warnings seriously and those who were fortunate enough to make it to the safety to the underground Vaults, their fate was in the hands of the overseers who either delivered the survivors a new life from war and death or a life of hell at the hands of their new mad scientists. In the many decades since the Great War in 2077, societies that some how managed to escape the ravages of nuclear war and the societal collapse, have colonized much of the solar system thanks to the help of the Intersolar Brotherhood of Steel who have dedicated their lives and their mission to colonize other planets. Thanks to the technological advancements made by the IBOS, the very few humans left on Earth have managed to make space their home free from the horrors of the atomic wasteland and the constant struggles that plagued humanity since the bombs fell. Amid rising crime, the Intersolar Brotherhood of Steel have created a legalized contract system similar to prewar bounty hunting who are dedicated to capturing criminals not just on Earth but throughout the solar system. With the help of the Inter Solar System Police, the official police force of the Intersolar Brotherhood of Steel, bounty hunting has expanded beyond the atomic wasteland on Earth and into the stars above.

*Atomic Wasteland, unknown location in the former United States of America*

A taller somewhat skinny looking individual equipped with combat armor and old military fatigues and a trusty Pip-Boy 3000 courtesy of Robco Industries, was prepping for a long haul to a great unknown. Next to him was a skinny and lanky looking androgynous teenage girl with fiery red hair and a goofy looking grin that seemed constantly in one mode and that was happy, giggly and bubbly all the time. The strange man didn't mind and often was happy to see her with nothing but endless content regardless of the world that he and she are forced to grow up in. He met this strange child a few months ago after he found her wandering endlessly in nothing but open wilderness and the harsh atomic wasteland. One would have to wonder if this child was part ghoul or was naturally immune to radiation as no child would be sane enough to go out in the wasteland without proper protection.

"Rad X?

"Check, check, check!"

"Radaway?"

"Check, check, check, checky check!"

"Stimpaks?"

"Check, check!"

"Purified water, bandages, and extra food?"

"Oooooooh do you got nuki, nuki colas for Edward?"

"I'm afraid not kiddo and besides that stuff is bad for you, I don't know how prewar society could handle such a sugary concoction."

"120% the daily recommended sugars!"

The young girl proudly beamed proud of her statement of fact. The strange man smirked at her before continuing with the checklist.

He made sure that he was armed enough to go out in the wasteland. He was tasked on a secret mission by the Detachment, a paramilitary organization that provides extra security for anyone that has the caps for it. Truth be told, it was a pretty insignificant faction that had little to no name recognition other than the fact that they were well armed, and they provided security for any organization out there that wasn't just comprised of degenerate raiders. Originally the strange man was going to drop off Edward at the nearest settlement and not have to deal with her but overtime he grew protective of her and considered dumping her at the nearest settlement one of the last things he wished to do given the dangers of the wasteland. But he also argued that this child was capable of taking care of herself without adults but child or not, raiders would not care.

"Alright I got my gear ready, take the chem but only once we don't want any side affects causing problems for you. You're how old again Ed?"

"13, 13, 13!"

"Let's try one dose for now. It says on the bottle that it won't cause any addiction but I don't want to risk it."

"Hehe, you worry too much."

"I just...I just don't want you to get hurt".

"I'll be fine!"

She giggled as he gave her the one chem of Rad-X, sure enough after she took the dose, nothing happened. The man took his dose of Rad-X and off they were to the great unknown ready for anything. He debated whether or not he wanted to stay with the Detachment or if he wanted to just keep going his own way with this child. He had plenty of caps and was perfectly capable of plowing through the wastes though having a NBC suit on would be more ideal, he thought.

"Alright let's go kiddo."

"Right!"

[lucyguusi]

Julia And Spike - Spooky Red

[bebopcrew]

Join @bebopcrew for Beboptober! For each day of the month, there will be a different prompt based on a song to inspire you and keep you writing. Give the playlist a listen!

Remember to mention us @bebopcrew in your posts and we’ll reblog your work here! You can also add it to our AO3 Collection if you prefer.

You don't have to complete all 31 prompts if you want to participate. Feel free to pick and choose! If you have any questions, check out our FAQ or drop a question in our ask. We can’t wait to see your work!

[lonichedgehog]

My drawings for Beboptober Day 29-31 following @bebopcrew 's list! :3c

[loveneverfades]

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober 2024 Day 4: Virus

Thanks to @bebopcrew for the prompt list! A short one for today :)

Spike-person and Faye-Faye were out chasing a bounty on the Swordfish and the Red Tail, but they weren’t doing so hot. The two guys they were trying to track down had somehow turned the tables and were now hot on their tails, firing missiles left and right. Spike and Faye’s ships were taking it okay for now, but a couple of more good shots by the criminals and they’d be falling down, down, down….

Good thing Ed was there to save the day!

Because little did those bounty heads know that she and Jet had a secret weapon: a computer virus she’d written. It had worked once before, on those mean old pirates, and unlike then, she could send this virus wirelessly, over the net. Besides, these criminals weren’t pirates; they hadn’t even tried to hack their ship or steal all their data first. They probably didn’t have any antivirus software. In fact, for all Ed knew, they didn’t know their ships could be infected at all!

She could see Jet’s brow all scrunched up in worry as he watched Spike, Faye, and the criminals chasing them out the Bebop’s big window, and occasionally glanced back at her. She giggled as her fingers flew over her keyboard, adding some finishing touches to her masterpiece of a program. Silly Jet. He didn’t have to worry. Never fear, Ed was here!

With a flourish, she gestured to Ein, floating next to her. She’d let him do the honors. Obligingly, Ein pressed his nose down on her computer’s Enter key and barked.

Now she drifted over to the window and watched, too, as the ships tailing Spike and Faye started to veer and spin crazily out of control. They almost looked pretty, like a bird or a butterfly in zero gravity. “Wheeeee!” Ed said, following their path with her finger on the window hoping Jet wouldn’t notice and reprimand her for smudging it.

And then the bounty heads were the ones falling down, down, down, while the Swordfish and the Red Tail zoomed safely away, then turned back to follow them down into the planet’s atmosphere—Spike and Faye had the upper hand again.

The virus had worked!

Ed had known it would, but it still delighted her. She spun and twirled around in zero gravity, laughing and squealing, feeling all filled up with her shiny, sparkly triumph.

Jet’s brow wasn’t all wrinkly anymore, either. “You’re a lifesaver, Ed,” he said, casting a grateful smile her way.

Was she? Maybe she was. She was a lifesaver. She had kept Spike and Faye from spiraling down into Certain Oblivion. Thanks to her, they’d catch the bounty and earn lots and lots of Woolongs to buy yummy treats and souvenirs, and keep the crew happy, fed, and not grumpy.

And without her, they’d be totally doomed. She’d been the one to save them.

She sure was lucky!

[obnoxiouslittlefrog93]

I was pretty on the fence about Beboptober, because i'm terrible at committing to completing projects in a timely manner, but I do thiink i'm going to do it. I think my biggest struggle is going to be fitting all 3 prompt words into the work because i'm not going to write anything crazy long for it (I already have a huge Bebop story i'm working on). Depending on how the first week or so goes I might end up doing only one of the words for each day's prompt or something like that