#jimmy when i catch you when i catch you jimmy

[succubixchz]

Haven't Mouthwashing posted in a while but, I love Anya fancanons and fanart because I HATE that we never get to see the true her in the game. Anya isn't and hasn't ever been a shy, quiet, timid woman. She went to medical school 8 goddamn times!!!!! She is not a quitter!!!!!!! She took a job as a NURSE on a fucking SPACE FREIGHTER after failing medical school 8 times because she was CONFUDENT in her own ability!!!!!!! Everyone in the crew absolutely ADORES her!!!!! She takes care of their mental health, their health in general, she's perceptive enough to prevent 4/5 people on the freighter from going insane!!!! She's charismatic and kind and confident!!!!

We see her how she is in the game because the player character is her damn rapist. And when we play as Curly, she's talking about him and being IGNORED!! (Curly when I catch you Curly)

The whole game she's staring at a guy who CRASHED THE SHIP trying to kill everyone who could implicate his crimes. And she doesn't know this, but she knows that he's dangerous enough that she hid the weapons from him. That she BEGGED Curly to hide the weapons from him because she was afraid for her LIFE. She spends the entire game getting talked down to, berated, and abused by this man. It's safe to say her actions are those of someone who's afraid or someone who's been broken down so much over months that she lost who she was, or a little bit of both.

I think the truest we see Anya is right before her death. In that moment, she's joyous. She talks highly of herself. She makes little jabs at Jimmy, knowing he won't be able to hurt her anymore. Because as much as he screams at her and pounds on the door, the medical room door is the only door with a lock on it. And if nobody else will defend her, that damn door will.

[earthsparked]

Part four - one two three (AO3 link)

You wake up with a short gasp, confused and fumbling in the dark. No idea where you are, or why you smell a sickening-sweet mixture of dried blood, ozone, pine tar, and...new car smell? You're moving. There's glowing lights on the dashboard. You're in an unfamiliar car, no seatbelt on, conked out in the passenger seat. It's so calm and familiar, reminiscent of long car rides when you were a child, that it takes you a second to realize there's nobody next to you in the god damn driver's seat.

You come all the way awake already lunging for the steering wheel, throwing yourself across from the passenger side and trying to smash the brake down. The wheel won't turn. The pedal won't depress. When the car's engine gives a weird rev and swerves a bit, you shriek incoherently. You've had stress dreams just like this. Next it's going to bounce off the road and into deep water, somewhere, then your teeth will fall out and you still won't have studied for that final exam for the college class on ancient Roman literature you don't remember signing up for.

A voice comes from nowhere and everywhere, alarmed. Whoa! Easy, sparklet, let up on that will you? Scared the coolant out of me, Primus! Do all humans jump out of recharge like that?

What, who. Robot?! Where are you? you ask foggily, grabbing for the door handle in a bid to jimmy it open. Then you cling to it in shock when you realize how fucking fast you're going. Bailing out is not an option unless you want to die in a spectacular splatter of gore on the blacktop. You're grooving down a highway that you don't recognize, but there are thick trees on either side of the road. You could almost believe you're in a self-driving car, but it's too smooth, too quiet, and way too fast. You glance at the speedometer and feel a little sick when you catch the reading, well over 100 miles an hour. How in the hell is this car taking these winding roads at these speeds without crashing?

Oh, so you're the DAMAGED, kind of damaged. Fragging 'Cons.. it grumbles. It's me. I am the car. Remember? Roddy? Hot Rod? Your hero in bitching awesome flame paint that totally looks just like Optimus Prime's? Saved you from Brawl and Ravage? C'mon, sparklet, don't tell me you got a memory wipe in the last couple klicks. Is that, like, normal for humans when they recharge, or do I gotta go Mach Primus to get you to a medic?

...Roddy? you ask, suspiciously, sinking back down into the (luxuriously comfortable) seats. You jolt when the car's seatbelt independently slides over you and locks into place.

So that's what those are for, he says in an ahh, now I get it, tone. Didn't really bother to look much at the cabin specs when I chose this alt mode, just the space for what's under the hood. Needed something that can take the heat, 'cause I'm just that kind of mech, you know?

His rambling is almost soothing, each weirdly enthusiastic, cheerful word calming you. As your pounding heart starts to slow, you fully come back to yourself, memories returning in a wave...

The robot slides down the cliffside with its hand crushing rock along the way, rappelling without a line, with you clutched protectively against its chest. It's a drop zone ride from hell, with no safety bars and a long way down. Just when you think you can't take the disorientation anymore, it leaps the final distance to the ground with a boom – taking the impact entirely on its legs, with barely a tremor getting through to you. It's honestly kind of impressive.

Who are you? you ask, finally, once you're sure you're not about to black out. What in the absolute fuck is happening? Where'd you come from? Why were you fighting those other robots? Why'd you protect me? Why did that one look like a metal mountain lion?

The robot looks down at you with unrestrained glee. You get the impression it's been looking forward to you asking some of those questions. The thought that someone was so interested in talking to you sends a pleasant little flutter through your heart. For a second you think it's about to stop and put you down so it can preen – there's something so young, and energetic, and good-natured about it, though why you feel that way, you're not even sure. But it shakes itself and strides into the woodland. You're well past the hiking trails down here, thanks to the shortcut, and the direction it picks isn't even one you're familiar with.

I'm Hot Rod, Autobot. Better known as Roddy, Rodders, Speedster, Speed Demon, The Pit On Wheels, fastest mech on either side of Andromeda, right-hand mech to Optimus Prime himself -! And..you don't know what any of that means, do you. When you shake your head no, it deflates a little, making you realize that it had puffed up its plating like a peacock ruffling its train. Uh, I'm really a big deal. I'm important, and fast, and I kick 'Con ass. That's all you really need to know.

But I'm not a robot, it corrects firmly, as it pushes through trees. Wincing as yet more leaves get stuck in various places in-between its armor. Robots aren't sentient. I'm a mech. And a - hm, you'd call it a "badass dude." Organics have gender, don't you? What gender are you?

Um, you say, but he keeps on going, both through the woods and running his mouth.

So, Autobots. We're the good guys. We're all from a planet called Cybertron, but the Decepti-dicks are a bunch of slaggers who follow their leader Megatron like their olfactory bulbs are welded to his tailpipe. He's all "look at me, I'm big and scary and I turn into a tank, so I can roll over everyone who stands in my way, hurr hurr." I could take him, he says, conspiratorially. But I just got here on the planet like, today. So I haven't had the chance yet.

Ah, you say, somehow more confused than before.

He seems to notice in that weird way he has, as if he knows what you're thinking, or feeling, or something. He gives you that same soft smile he had back in the middle of the battle.

Look, it's an old war that old mechs have been fighting forever, and then shit happened and a bunch of mechs all ended up on your planet, a while back. Optimus Prime, our leader, sent out a call for reinforcements to help protect you little guys, 'cause the 'Cons don't give a flying frag about organics. Like to stomp you for fun, even.

But you said Revenge -

Ravage, he corrects. Primus though, that'd be an amazing name. I like your language.

Ravage, you said he wouldn't just kill organ- um, humans, out in the middle of nowhere. So what was he doing there? Why did he kill those people? And who were they, what were they doing there in the fire tower? I thought it was weird they had a lot of really advanced-looking radio equipment, not the kind of stuff most of the lookout towers have. And what does this have to do with the attack in town?

Dunno! he said, and you can't miss the glint of excitement shining from him. He's worried, sure, but he's thrilled too. But we're gonna find out. This has gotta be why they attacked your town, earlier. Ravage said maybe we're looking for the same thing they are. Energon? That's that pink stuff you're wearing, but in crystal form. We use it for fuel. But, our scans didn't show any significant deposits around here, so it can't be that. And humans don't have any real use for energon anyway, so what would those guys you talked to want with it?

So it can't be that. They called me a civilian, you remember, piecing it together now that you're not in the full-on grip of expecting to die any second. That means they had to be military. Or maybe, ex-military?

That's a disturbing thought. There's plenty of weird guys with way too many guns lurking around, with really scary and bigoted ideas, but you'd never thought there would be such a group near your tiny town. On the other hand, if they had access to a helicopter and that kind of advanced equipment – that sounded a lot more like some kind of para-military, or James Bond bullshit, not racist nutjobs.

...though you supposed they could be both, which was not an encouraging thought.

Hot Rod didn't, unfortunately, ease your fears. He frowned as he carefully stepped over a little brook, feet sinking into the wetland with an uncomfortable squelch. Can't be military. Optimus and his team made contact with your military ages ago. They even set us up with a base of operations and some supplies, though they're trying hard not to let anybody know we exist. There's this weird intelligence agent, Fowler? I met him this morning. Bet he's having a whole litter of turbofox pups over this slag.

You let that knowledge percolate a while. It wasn't too terribly surprising your government had knowledge of aliens and were trying to keep it a secret. You had to wonder if maybe Guillermo del Toro had ever run into one of these Cybertronians.

Because you were in danger, Hot Rod says suddenly.

Huh?

You asked why I protected you. 'Cause I'm an Autobot, and that's what we do. Help people in danger.

There's a straightforward earnestness to him that's very nearly innocent in its honesty. You're learning quickly that he's a robot - er, mech of intense feelings, not good at hiding anything. You find it makes it easier to trust him. There's probably no chance this guy could keep a secret to save his life. He really means what he says. He even came after you when you disappeared from the battle, even though it meant following your trail through terrain that was not friendly to him.

It starts to sink in you've somehow managed to gain the protection of a giant alien mech. Your own personal jaeger, with bright blue eyes and an easy smile, a funny sense of humor, a quick temper and a big, brave heart.

Though you'd need to have a talk about his tendency to go all Spider-Man without a word of warning, while holding you.

You lean into his chest, where you can feel something like static electricity, something like a heartbeat under your touch. You lean your head against him, a moment of trust. No human had ever done anything like this for you. And here was an alien, only on the planet a day, and even though you'd met him in the worst way possible, you already knew you'd never forget him or his kindness.

Thank you, Hot Rod. For saving me. I didn't get the chance to say it, before. I'm pretty sure you've saved my life at least twice now. So, if that's what being an Autobot is about, you're great at being one.

You'd expected some cheerful bluster, but what you get is a sudden heating of his armor, even some flames licking out of the pipes along his shoulders. You look up at him, and find him staring at you with a sort of startled expression more at home on a doe-eyed fawn that a giant alien mech.

People don't tell you that very often, do they? you softly guess from his reaction. You busy yourself with plucking bits of pine bark and pine needles out of the seams of his armor.

Sure they do! Hear it all the time, he bluffs, and it's so painfully human that you feel dizzy. How can these mechs be so much like you?

Anyway, Ravage looks like that 'cause he's an animal-form symbiont. He's small 'cause he's one of a contingent of several symbionts bonded with this weird fragger named Soundwave. You ever run into a big, spindly mech with a strange voice? Run. There's tentacles.

Hot Rod shudders, and you decide you really don't want to know.

That's about it. The plan now is to put some distance between us and that tower, which would be a lot fragging easier if your stupid planet wasn't covered in this green stuff. Any more questions, sparklet?

Just one. Where are we going?

His strides falter and he looks at you with an expression you can only describe as sheepish. Uh. Was kind of hoping you would know.

When you start to scowl, his face breaks apart into a laugh, and you feel his chest heaving with it. Oohh, the look you just gave me! No, no, sorry, we're cutting through the woods to get to the next highway over. I have um, what do your people call it...GPS? I'm not gonna get us lost. But we gotta make sure we lose -

Then you hear it, the thing you'd been fearing was going to descend on you this whole time, even though the conversation had been a nice distraction. It's the thudding blades of a helicopter, coming closer. Roddy gives a start - had he not been paying attention?!

Hot Rod, they're coming! Do something! you exclaim.

He sounds about as serious as you've ever heard him sound. Right, can't run, time to hide. And then he does...something.

He folds himself around you. One minute you're in a giant robot's hands. The next, the whole world comes apart in a tornado of metal. You catch a single bright flash of light, a lick of flame, and then you're blinking at finding yourself in the passenger seat of the most expensive sports car you've ever seen in your life. You feel too poor just to let your butt touch the seat made of ...it's probably leather? Alien leather? From alien cows? It's sinfully soft, and warm, and you hadn't realized you'd gotten so cold. But the sun has just about set, and you are so, so beyond tired.

Do I even want to know, you say, leaning back against the seat. Why you didn't tell me you can turn into a car?

You didn't ask, he says, predictably, but with the glee of a toddler getting to make that joke for the first time in his life. Now, shh. My cabin is soundproof but my engine throws off a lot of heat. I gotta run silent. No way they'll see us under all this plant life, their radar's gonna scatter all over. Just sit tight, human.

Not human, you mumble sleepily.

Huh? You're not?! Then what the frag are you? he exclaims, jostling on his tires despite himself.

You snort. My name, you goofball. It's not "human." My - designation is...

You tell him, and he repeats it several times, using different inflections. Does that help him remember? Or do robots - er, mechs - just record things for remembering later?

I like it. What does it mean? Did you pick it yourself? Where were you sparked, anyway? Where do humans come from?

Quiet, you remind him, hiding from scary people. Shh. You can't hear the rotor blades anymore, or see searchlights in the sky. They've passed over you, whoever they are.

Warm, comfortable, not alone, if not at all that safe – you fell into a much-needed sleep.

Only to waken hours later, well after dark, confused but slightly better rested.

You lean back into Hot Rod's seats, which you're pretty sure are heated. It's incredible how smooth the ride is. If you'd had any doubts that what you're sitting in isn't a human-made vehicle, that alone would have erased them. It's like riding on air, and the surety with which he steers you is more like a falcon navigating an air current than a human driver trying to steer a two thousand-pound metal deathtrap down backroads of a conservation forest.

You want to go back to sleep, and he tells you that you can. I'm doing some patrolling before we go back to your town. Hoping to catch something on my sensors that could explain what the frag is going on here.

But your stomach growls loudly enough that it sparks a conversation in hurt tones about why are you growling at me, what did I do?! (You're starting to think he's a wee bit sensitive, your new giant alien mech protector.)

I can't remember when I ate last, and - fuck, you groan, as your injuries give a horrid throb. The brief burst of adrenaline had warded it off, but now your side, hip, and most of your body was hurting fiercely. You had raw scrapes from the road rash, and should probably start getting worried about infection.

I really need a doctor. And a bath. And some new clothes. Or at least a place I can wash up.

Yeah, poor little guy, you really got knocked around, he says sympathetically, with just enough condescension that one of your eyes twitches. Ratchet - that's our chief medical officer, he read me and Drift and a bunch of the other guys all these ways to kill a human, so we wouldn't do them. You're like protoforms, you're so - soft.

You'd take more offense to it if his tone wasn't so full of wonder. Though it's hard for you to understand how your smelly, banged-up, completely imperfect body could hold any wonder for anyone, right now, let alone The Pit on Wheels, whose alt mode was probably worth more than some people's entire life earnings.

I think there's a rest stop up ahead, you say, squinting as the sign blows past in the rearview mirror. They'll have a bathroom. If you can stop a minute, I'll get cleaned up and then we can head back to town?

Yeah, I guess we're not gonna find anything out here. Frag it. I was hoping I'd have something more to bring back with us. I uh, kind of disobeyed orders to come after you, he admits. On impulse, you reach out and gently stroke the steering wheel. He doesn't say anything, but his powerful engine purrs gently.

You pull over and groan loudly as you limp into the rest stop. You spend a blissful, yet miserable twenty minutes washing various substances off of yourself. Your clothes are absolutely trashed, but a quick rinse and dry under the automatic hand-dryer has them stiff and uncomfortable but less goopy.

You drink your fill from the sink and drag yourself back outside. Only to find the parking lot empty.

Roddy-? You call, heart sinking. Had he left you?! Without a word? You'd only known him for perhaps a dozen hours, but that strikes you as incredibly unlike him. Getting distracted maybe, but abandoning you? No.

Before you can call out again, gloved hands slam themselves over your mouth and wrap around your waist, heaving you backwards into the confining grip of a tall, muscular body. As you screamed muffled cries into the hand, something sharp pricks the side of your neck, and against your will you fall into darkness.

[pxnsneverland]

Riding With Devils | biker!Austin Butler x OC (part 1)

(gif source: shadowhaert)

Part 1

plot summary: Sophie Ann Sutton appears to have the perfect life as a high school senior in a small town during the 1960s. With straight A's, a thriving social life, and a scholarship to her dream college, she feels invincible—especially with her loyal best friend by her side. But everything changes when she crosses paths with Austin, the dangerously charming son of the local biker gang's leader. Their worlds collide in an electrifying romance that defies all expectations, pulling Sophie into a whirlwind of rebellion, excitement and danger.

pairings: austin butler x oc

word count: 4295

warnings/notes: I decided to start another biker!Austin story after re-watching The Bikeriders. Hope y'all enjoy :)

Chapter 1: The Unlikely Knight

It was the kind of decision Sophie Sutton would later describe as "temporary insanity," but at eleven thirty on a Tuesday night, it felt like the most rational choice in the world.

"Come on, Sophie. One night of breaking curfew isn't going to derail your entire future," Maggie insisted, leaning against Sophie's bedroom doorframe with the casual confidence of someone who had never worried about college applications or parental expectations.

Sophie glanced at her desk where her half-finished English essay sat beneath a stack of college brochures. "My parents would literally murder me if they found out."

"They won't find out. They're dead asleep by ten every night. You've said it yourself a million times." Maggie flopped onto Sophie's meticulously made bed, disrupting the decorative pillows arranged by size and color. "Besides, Jimmy will be there."

The mention of Jimmy Carson—with his quiet intensity and habit of quoting poetry when he thought no one was listening—made Sophie's stomach flip in a way that was both thrilling and terrifying.

"That's supposed to convince me?" Sophie asked, though she was already mentally cataloging what she would wear.

"Don't pretend you haven't been stealing glances at him in AP Lit for months." Maggie grinned. "Plus, Mel's Diner has the best milkshakes in three counties."

Sophie adjusted her pearl earring—a sixteenth birthday gift from her grandmother—and caught her reflection in the vanity mirror. The perfect daughter. Student council president. Early acceptance candidate for Radcliffe. What would happen if, just once, she didn't live up to the image?

"Fine," she said, surprised by the steadiness in her voice. "But we're back by one, no exceptions."

Maggie squealed and threw her arms around Sophie. "This is going to be the best Tuesday night of your life, I promise."

As Sophie changed into a sky-blue dress with a Peter Pan collar—rebellious enough to sneak out, not rebellious enough to abandon her standards completely—she couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental was about to shift in her carefully constructed world. The descent down the trellis outside her window was less graceful than Sophie had imagined. Romance novels never mentioned splinters or the undignified scramble to keep one's dress from catching on the wooden lattice. When her feet finally touched the dewy grass, she felt a rush of adrenaline that was equal parts exhilaration and terror.

"See? Easy as pie," Maggie whispered, already waiting below. Her friend's carefree smile gleamed in the moonlight, a stark contrast to the knot tightening in Sophie's stomach.

"If my father hears that car start..." Sophie murmured, glancing back at the darkened windows of her house. Each one represented a different disaster scenario in her mind—her mother's disappointed sigh, her father's lecture about responsibility and trust.

"That's why we're walking to the corner. Jimmy's picking us up there." Maggie linked her arm through Sophie's and pulled her across the lawn. "God, you look like you're walking to your execution. It's midnight milkshakes, not armed robbery."

But to Sophie, the weight of this small rebellion felt enormous. Seventeen years of carefully following every rule had created deep grooves in her psyche, and stepping out of them felt physically disorienting. Still, with each step away from her house, a strange lightness began to spread through her chest. When Jimmy's battered blue Chevy appeared at the corner, headlights dimmed to conspirator levels, Sophie's heart performed a complicated gymnastic routine. He leaned across the passenger seat to push open the door, and the interior light briefly illuminated his face—those serious eyes, the slight curl at the corner of his mouth that suggested he knew secrets about the world she was still learning.

"Ladies," he said, his voice deeper than it ever sounded in the fluorescent glare of classrooms. "Your chariot awaits."

Maggie nudged Sophie forward. "Shotgun for the first-time rule-breaker."

Sophie slid into the passenger seat, hyperaware of the worn leather against her bare legs, the faint smell of pine and something uniquely Jimmy—like old books and guitar strings.

"I wasn't sure you'd actually come," he said quietly as Maggie climbed into the back.

"Neither was I," Sophie admitted, surprising herself with her honesty.

Jimmy's smile then—slow and genuine—made the risk suddenly worth it. "Well, I'm glad you did."

As they drove through the sleeping town, Sophie watched familiar landmarks transform in the midnight hour. The courthouse square, normally bustling with activity, stood silent and dignified. The storefronts along Main Street, with their darkened windows, seemed to hold their breath alongside her. For the first time, Sophie felt like she was seeing her hometown as it really was, not as the backdrop to her perfect-daughter performance.

***

Mel's Diner glowed like a lighthouse at the edge of town—neon signs buzzing in the darkness, promising warmth and secrets and possibilities. Sophie had driven past it hundreds of times but had never been inside after ten o'clock, when the respectable families cleared out and the booths filled with night shift workers and teenagers with nowhere better to be.

"Here we are," Jimmy announced, pulling into a spot near the entrance. "Home of the famous Blue Ribbon milkshake and the only decent jukebox left in Millfield."

Sophie hesitated before opening her door.

"Having second thoughts?" Jimmy asked, his voice gentle.

"About a dozen," Sophie admitted. "But I'm still going in."

The bell above the door chimed as they entered, and several heads turned their way. Sophie felt instantly conspicuous in her sky-blue dress, like she was wearing a sign that read "Good Girl Breaking Rules." The vinyl booths were cracked in places, patched with silver duct tape that caught the overhead lights. A burly man in a trucker cap gave her an appraising look before returning to his coffee. In the corner booth, a group of leather-jacketed boys from the technical school across town played cards, cigarette smoke creating a hazy cloud above their heads. None of them wore pressed clothes or pearl earrings.

"Well, if it isn't Miss Student Council," drawled a raspy voice from behind the counter. The waitress—Doreen according to her name tag—had teased blonde hair and knowing eyes that seemed to see right through Sophie's façade. "Slumming it with us common folk tonight?"

Sophie felt her cheeks flush hot. "I—I just wanted a milkshake."

"We all want something, honey," Doreen replied with a wink, sliding three sticky menus across the counter.

Maggie, completely at ease, sauntered toward an empty booth. "C'mon, Sophie. Stop standing there like you're waiting for someone to check your hall pass."

Jimmy's hand found the small of Sophie's back, guiding her forward with a gentle pressure that sent electricity up her spine. "Don't mind Doreen," he murmured. "She gives everyone a hard time."

As they slid into the booth, Sophie noticed a girl about their age with jet-black hair and multiple ear piercings watching them from the counter. The girl's eyes locked with Sophie's, and her red-painted lips curled into something between a smirk and a sneer.

"That's Roxanne," Jimmy explained, following Sophie's gaze. "She's in my art class. Talented, but..."

"But what?" Sophie asked.

"Let's just say she's got reasons to be suspicious of anyone from our side of town."

The jukebox in the corner switched to a Janis Joplin song Sophie's mother would have called "inappropriate," its raw emotion filling the diner. Two mechanics still in their work clothes began arguing loudly about a carburetor, their voices carrying across the room.

"What can I getcha?" Doreen appeared at their table, pencil poised above her order pad, chewing gum with methodical precision.

"Three Blue Ribbon specials," Maggie ordered confidently. "And a basket of those chili fries everyone talks about."

"Comin' right up, princess," Doreen said, her eyes lingering on Sophie's pearl earrings.

When she walked away, Sophie whispered, "I feel like I'm wearing a costume to a party where everyone knows I don't belong."

"That's because you're still playing by their rules," Jimmy said, reaching across the table to touch her hand. His fingers were stained with ink, evidence of the poetry he was always scribbling. "Maybe tonight isn't about belonging. Maybe it's about figuring out who you are when no one's watching."

Sophie opened her mouth to respond to Jimmy when the rumble of an engine cut through the diner's ambient noise. It started as a distant growl, quickly growing to a thunderous roar that vibrated the silverware on their table. The jukebox seemed to fade into background noise as heads turned toward the large windows facing the parking lot. A single headlight sliced through the darkness, illuminating the lot in stark white light before coming to rest directly in front of the diner's entrance. The motorcycle's engine gave one final, defiant rev before falling silent.

"Oh hell," Jimmy muttered, his hand tensing on Sophie's.

The rider dismounted with fluid grace that suggested complete ownership of not just the machine, but the very space around him. Even from inside, Sophie could see his broad shoulders beneath a worn leather jacket, the confident tilt of his head as he removed his helmet. Blonde hair caught the neon glow of the diner sign, creating a halo effect that seemed almost deliberately ironic.

"Who is that?" Sophie whispered, though something in her already knew the answer.

"Austin Butler," Maggie breathed, a hint of both fear and fascination in her voice. "His family runs the Devil's Mark motorcycle club out past the quarry."

The diner's bell chimed again, this time with an ominous finality. Austin Butler stepped inside, scanning the room with electric blue eyes that took inventory of every person present. His gaze lingered for a moment on their booth, a slight curl forming at the corner of his mouth—not quite a smile, more like recognition of something interesting.

"Evening, Doreen," he called out, his voice surprisingly soft yet carrying the unmistakable weight of someone accustomed to being heard. "The usual."

"Coming right up, trouble," Doreen responded with none of the edge she'd directed at Sophie. Instead, there was something almost maternal in her tone.

The card game in the corner had paused, the players nodding respectfully as Austin passed. He returned the gesture with casual authority before sliding onto a stool at the counter, his back to the room yet somehow still commanding it.

"Aw hell," Jimmy said under his breath.

"What?" Sophie asked, even as she felt a strange electricity humming beneath her skin. "Is he dangerous?"

"Not exactly," Jimmy glanced nervously toward the counter. "But where Austin goes, the rest of the Devils usually follow. And they don't exactly appreciate people from our neighborhood in their territory."

"This is their territory?" Sophie's eyes widened. "It's just a diner."

"After midnight, it might as well be their clubhouse.”

Sophie watched as Roxanne slid off her stool and approached Austin, leaning in to whisper something in his ear. Austin's gaze flicked up from Roxanne, looking directly at Sophie. The diner seemed to shrink around them as their eyes connected across the room. Everything else—the clatter of dishes, the murmur of voices, the hum of the refrigerator—faded to white noise. Sophie couldn't look away, caught in the gravity of those startlingly blue eyes that seemed to see right through her carefully constructed façade. A knowing half-smile played at the corner of his mouth, as if he recognized something in her that she herself hadn't yet discovered.

"He's looking at you," Maggie whispered, her voice tinged with equal parts excitement and alarm.

"He's not," Sophie replied automatically, though she hadn't broken the eye contact. She felt her cheeks flush warm, her heart drumming an unfamiliar rhythm against her ribs.

Jimmy cleared his throat loudly. "Can we focus on enjoying our night without worrying about the local criminal element?"

Doreen arrived with their milkshakes—towering concoctions of ice cream and whipped cream in frosted glasses—breaking the moment. Sophie lowered her eyes to the table, suddenly fascinated by the pattern of water rings on the laminate surface.

"Something wrong with your milkshake, honey?" Doreen asked, noticing Sophie's distraction.

"No, it's perfect," Sophie replied, taking a deliberate sip through her straw. The sweetness hit her tongue, momentarily grounding her back in reality.

***

The next hour passed in a blur of conversation and laughter that felt increasingly forced on Jimmy's part. Every few minutes, Sophie would feel the weight of Austin's gaze, and despite her best intentions, she'd find herself looking back. Each time, he'd be watching her with that same inscrutable expression, as if she were a puzzle he was piecing together from across the room.

"I need to use the ladies' room," Maggie announced suddenly, sliding out of the booth. She gave Sophie a meaningful look. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do while I'm gone."

"That leaves a pretty wide range of options," Sophie replied with a nervous laugh.

As soon as Maggie disappeared down the hallway, Jimmy shifted closer on the vinyl seat. "Finally, a moment alone," he said, his voice dropping to what he clearly thought was a romantic tone. His arm stretched across the back of the booth, fingers brushing Sophie's shoulder.

"We're hardly alone," Sophie pointed out, gesturing to the half-full diner.

"You know what I mean." Jimmy's hand moved from her shoulder to her hair, twirling a strand around his finger. "I've wanted to get you alone for months."

Sophie leaned away slightly. "Jimmy, I—"

"You know, I always thought you were too uptight," he continued as if she hadn't spoken. "But sneaking out tonight? That shows there's more to Sophie Sutton than perfect grades and student council meetings." His hand dropped to her knee, warm and insistent. "I bet there's a lot you'd do if you just let yourself go a little."

"Jimmy, please," Sophie shifted away, uncomfortable with his sudden forwardness. "I'm not interested in—"

"Come on," he pressed, moving closer until she was trapped against the wall of the booth. "I know Maggie told you I would be here tonight. And you insisted on sitting in the front of the car with me. You sat next to me in this booth instead of with Maggie. Tell me you weren't looking for something more." His fingers tightened on her knee, inching higher along her thigh.

Sophie placed her hand firmly on his, stopping its progress. "I said no, Jimmy."

Across the room, Austin's posture changed subtly. Though his back was still to their booth, something in the set of his shoulders suggested heightened awareness. His head tilted slightly, like a predator catching a scent on the wind.

"Don't be such a prude," Jimmy whispered, frustration edging into his voice as he leaned closer. His breath smelled of chocolate and something sharper—had he been drinking? She hadn’t even noticed the scent in the car above the overpowering smell of pine. "Everyone knows good girls like you are just waiting for someone to break through that ice."

"I think you misunderstood why I came tonight," Sophie said, trying to keep her voice steady despite the panic building in her chest. She glanced toward the hallway, willing Maggie to return.

Jimmy's hand slid around her waist, pulling her closer. "No one's watching, Sophie. You can drop the perfect girl act."

"It's not an act," she insisted, pushing against his chest. "And I'd like you to stop."

"Just one kiss," he persisted, his grip tightening. "Then tell me you don't want more."

Before Sophie could respond, a shadow fell across their table. Jimmy froze, his expression shifting from determination to alarm as Austin Butler loomed over them, his presence filling the small space like a thundercloud.

"The lady said no," Austin stated quietly, his voice carrying an undercurrent of danger despite its conversational tone. "Twice, actually. I've been counting."

Jimmy's face flushed red. "This is none of your business, Butler."

Austin's smile didn't reach his eyes. "See, that's where you're wrong." He slid his hands into his pockets with casual menace. "When a girl says no in Mel's after midnight, it becomes my business."

"We were just talking," Jimmy protested, though his hand had already retreated from Sophie's waist.

"Didn't look like talking from where I was sitting." Austin's gaze shifted to Sophie, softening fractionally. "You okay?"

Sophie nodded, unable to find her voice under the intensity of those blue eyes. Up close, she could see a small scar bisecting his left eyebrow, giving his face an asymmetry that only enhanced its appeal.

"Good." Austin returned his attention to Jimmy. "I think it's time for you to switch seats. Give the lady some breathing room."

Jimmy glared at Austin, then back at Sophie, his jaw working with barely contained anger. The diner had gone quiet, all eyes on their booth.

"Fine," Jimmy finally spat, sliding out abruptly. "You want to play damsel in distress with a guy like him? Be my guest."

He stood, fishing his car keys from his pocket with trembling hands. "I'm not sticking around to get my face rearranged for a girl who can't make up her mind."

"Jimmy, wait—" Sophie started, suddenly aware of the predicament this would create.

Jimmy's voice had turned ugly. "Maybe he can give you a ride on his motorcycle. I'm sure Daddy would love that."

With that, he stormed toward the exit, shouldering past Maggie who was returning from the restroom.

"Jimmy? Where are you—" Maggie called after him, but the slam of the diner door cut her off. Through the windows, they watched him peel out of the parking lot, tires screeching against asphalt.

Maggie slid back into the booth, eyes wide. "What just happened?"

"Your date decided to bail," Austin said, still standing beside their table. "Left you ladies without a ride home."

Sophie felt the blood drain from her face. It was nearly one in the morning—her curfew deadline—and they were stranded miles from home. Her carefully orchestrated rebellion was spiraling into disaster.

"I can call my brother," Maggie suggested, though her expression betrayed her doubt. "Though he'll definitely tell my parents..."

Austin seemed to consider something, then turned toward the corner booth. "Hey, Ray," he called to one of the leather-jacketed card players. "Feel like a midnight escort mission?"

A muscular guy with a neatly trimmed beard looked up from his cards. "What'd you have in mind, boss?"

"These ladies need a ride home. Safe and sound, no detours."

Ray studied Sophie and Maggie for a moment, then nodded. "Sure thing." He collected his cards and stood, revealing his impressive height.

"I don't know..." Sophie hesitated, looking between Austin and Ray.

"Look," Austin said, his voice dropping so only she could hear. "You've got two options. Call your parents and explain why you're at Mel's after midnight, or let us get you home before anyone knows you were gone."

Sophie's green eyes locked with Austin's blue ones, searching for any sign of deception. Her brain ran through a dozen scenarios at once, each ending in disaster. But something in his steady gaze made her hesitate before rejecting his offer outright. "Why would you help us?" she asked quietly.

Austin's mouth quirked up at one corner. "Maybe I'm a sucker for damsels in distress."

"I'm not a damsel," Sophie replied automatically.

His smile widened, revealing a flash of perfect teeth. "Clearly." He leaned slightly closer, his voice dropping further. "Look, Princess, I don't make a habit of leaving girls stranded in the middle of the night. Even ones from the right side of the tracks."

Maggie tugged at Sophie's sleeve. "We should take the ride, Soph. My parents will kill me if they find out."

Sophie glanced at Ray, who stood patiently by the door, then back at Austin. "Just a ride home? No... detours?"

"Scout's honor," Austin said, raising two fingers in a mock salute that somehow suggested he'd never been anywhere near the Boy Scouts.

"Fine," Sophie conceded, reaching for her purse. "How much do we owe for the milkshakes?"

Austin waved her off. "On the house tonight. Right, Doreen?"

The waitress nodded from behind the counter. "Sure thing, honey. You girls get home safe now."

Outside, the night air had cooled considerably, raising goosebumps on Sophie's bare arms. Ray was already waiting beside his own motorcycle.

Austin walked to his motorcycle, a gleaming piece of machinery decorated with paintings of devils, skulls and fire. He pulled a helmet off one of his handlebars and handed it to Sophie. “Put that on.”

Sophie stared at the helmet, her fingers hesitating before making contact with the smooth surface. "Wait, I thought Ray was giving us a ride."

"Ray's taking your friend," Austin said, nodding toward Maggie who was already being helped onto the back of Ray's bike. "You're with me."

"I didn't agree to that," Sophie protested, but her voice lacked conviction even to her own ears.

Austin's eyes gleamed with amusement. "Would you prefer to walk? It's only about five miles."

Sophie glanced at her watch—12:47. Her window of plausible deniability was closing fast. "I don't even know you."

"Sure you do. Austin Butler. I sit behind you in assembly every Thursday. You give those speeches about school spirit and community service." He swung his leg over the motorcycle with effortless grace. "You never look back at the last row, but we're there."

The fact that he'd noticed her, had been watching her all this time while remaining invisible to her, sent an unexpected thrill through Sophie's body.

"Come on, Princess. Decision time." He patted the seat behind him. "Your reputation or your curfew. Which matters more tonight?"

Sophie took a deep breath and put on the helmet, adjusting it over her carefully styled hair. The weight of it felt foreign, like a crown made of different metal than she was used to wearing.

"Hold tight," Austin instructed as she awkwardly mounted the bike behind him, her dress riding up despite her attempts to keep it modest. "And I mean tight. This isn't like riding in Daddy's Cadillac."

Sophie cautiously placed her hands on his sides, barely making contact. Austin laughed, the sound vibrating through his back. He reached behind and grabbed her wrists, pulling her arms all the way around his waist until she was pressed against him, her chest flush against his back.

"That's better," he said, and Sophie was grateful the helmet hid her burning cheeks.

The motorcycle roared to life beneath them, a primal vibration that traveled up through Sophie's body, settling somewhere deep and unfamiliar. As they pulled out of the parking lot, Ray and Maggie following close behind, Sophie instinctively tightened her grip around Austin's waist. The town blurred past them, transformed by speed and moonlight into something magical and forbidden. Wind whipped at her dress, and Sophie found herself not caring about the state of her hair or whether her hemline was appropriate. The exhilaration of movement, of freedom, overwhelmed everything else.

Austin took a corner faster than necessary, causing Sophie to press even closer against him. She could feel the solid planes of his body, smell the leather of his jacket mixed with something distinctly male. Nothing in her carefully ordered life had prepared her for this—the raw physicality of being pressed against a stranger, trusting him with her safety while breaking every rule she'd been raised to follow. They reached the edge of Sophie's neighborhood far too quickly. Austin slowed the motorcycle to a quiet purr, rolling to a stop at the corner where Jimmy had picked them up hours earlier. It felt like days had passed rather than mere hours—as if she'd crossed some invisible boundary in her life with no possibility of return.

"Which house?" Austin asked, his voice low enough not to carry in the silent street.

Sophie pointed toward the white colonial three doors down. "The one with the trellis."

Austin's eyebrows raised slightly. "The trellis, huh? Didn't figure you for the Romeo and Juliet type."

"I'm not," Sophie said quickly, then hesitated. "Well, I wasn't. Until tonight."

He killed the engine, the sudden silence almost deafening after the constant rumble. Behind them, Ray pulled up with Maggie, who dismounted with surprising agility for someone who'd never been on a motorcycle before.

"That was amazing!" Maggie whispered, eyes bright with excitement. "We should do this every Tuesday!"

Sophie shot her a warning look before carefully swinging her leg over the bike, mindful of her dress. The world felt strangely still after the speed and vibration, as if her body was still moving while the ground remained stationary. "Thanks for the ride," she said, removing the helmet and handing it to Austin. Her hair tumbled down in wild disarray, freed from its usual perfect styling.

Austin didn't immediately take the helmet. Instead, he studied her face with an intensity that made her breath catch. "You know, you look different when you're not trying so hard."

"Different how?" Sophie asked before she could stop herself.

"Real." The word hung between them, simple yet profound.

Ray cleared his throat. "We should roll out, boss. Patrol car's been making rounds near the park."

Austin nodded, finally accepting the helmet from Sophie's hands. Their fingers brushed, the brief contact sending an electric current up her arm. "You should get inside, Princess. Wouldn't want to push your luck on your first night of rebellion."

"It's not my first," Sophie found herself saying, though it absolutely was.

Austin's smile was knowing. "No? Then maybe I'll see you around the next time you decide to break the rules."

Before she could respond, he kickstarted the motorcycle back to life. With a casual salute that somehow managed to be both mocking and respectful, he and Ray pulled away from the curb, their engines gradually fading into the night.

Stay tuned for part 2!! Click HERE to view!

[im-an-insane-man-lover]

Idk if someone's done this

[diviedrawn]

“Why do you think Pony Express put a lock on the medical door but not in the sleeping quarters?”

[starsiex]

THOUSANDS FOUND DEAD 😭😭😭😭

[verdantwyrm]

Thanks to noclip, i was able to check out the letter Curly gets from "up top" and it is exactly as i thought.

Curly wasn't fired. He was Promoted.

Thats apart of why Jimmy was so jealous, why he was so upset and why he was so destined to not only secure his place as a hero, but to also ruin Curly's chances of ever becoming anything greater.

Its canon that Jimmy has been endlessly climbing the ranks behind Curly, he wasn't automatically brought on as a co-pilot, so to finally reach a position in that career where he could be feasibly equal to Curly, he goes and finds out that he's about to be promoted, furthering their separation, and shoving Jimmy back down the ladder, all over again. And he twists it in a way at the Birthday party that explicitly makes Curly out to be like he wanted this, like he wanted everyone else to get fired and him to climb the ladder even higher.

And its adds so much more to this scene.

Jimmy was so obsessed with the aspect of being the hero of a story, that when he was directly being cut out of one, he immediately went to the suicide-murder route. Not even bothering to try and talk it out, to think rationally or even try and understand Curly's pleas and his hopelessness.

He was being left behind, essentially forgotten by his so called "friend" that the only way he knew how to stay apart of his life and remain a good co pilot, a hero was to destroy every and all opportunity of ever being not one.

Him crashing the ship wasn't just the avoid the responsibility of what he did to Anya (not that he ever gave a shit about her, only himself) but to also make sure he died as a co-pilot, the co-pilot of an amazing captain, and whats a better way of doing exactly that than framing it to look like Curly is the one that crashed the ship?

[alexcalexart]

I've been listening to Headlock on repeat for he past 3 days bc of her

[juststandingthere]

ISTG this game is making me insane, brainrot strong enough for me to make my first analysis post

One thing i love about the narrative is how distorted the characters, relationships and events are from jimmy's pov. Most posts discussing this focus on Anya, and it makes sense bc she's probably the biggest victim of this. She's seen as less than a person, she's an incompetent nurse, she has a meek personality, she'll let anyone(jimmy) step over her and she still follows his orders, despite everything he has done to her. We obviously see, from curly's pov, that she's simply too terrified of her abuser to act any other way, and when she's not with him she's way more confident and competent.

I haven't seen as many people talking about how this "distortion" affects Swansea and Daisuke as well, including the relationship they have with each other.

We see, in the first Curly section, that Swansea is a great mentor to Daisuke (one might even say they have a father-son/uncle-nephew relationship). He takes his time to teach him not just the basics, but also how to do his job as safely as possible. He lets him take notes, he himself writes stuff down for him to remember and even lets him doodle on those notes! Sure he is harsh with him, but he clearly cares about him and wants him to be safe.

And in return Daisuke looks up to him and has great respect for him, as both a mechanic and a man, while he also makes some jokingly offensive comments towards the older man, showing the close bond they have formed.

But that's not what we see when we play as Jimmy.

In his pov we don't see them interacting much, when they do we either see Swansea insulting Daisuke for no apparent reason or, in one occasion, we see him leading the kid down a "bad path" wanting to teach him how to "drink like a man".

When they aren't interacting tho, we do see hints of their actual relationship: Swansea asking where the kid is when he is "partying" in the lounge, confirming that he does not, in fact, hate spending time with him; him looking desperately for something, *anything*, that could help Daisuke with his suffering after he's injured; how whenever Jimmy tries to bring up to Daisuke how "badly" Swansea treats him, or how he "lied" to them about the utility room, Daisuke immediately shuts him down, because he knows what he's saying is completely wrong (i'm pretty sure those are the only times he doubts something Jimmy says), showing once again the trust and respect he has for his mentor.

(this part is kinda speculative but i think it makes sense)

There are two other times where we see them interacting, where we actually see how much Swansea cares for the kid, and coincidentally, neither of them is seen through Jimmy's eyes, but from a third person pov: what Swansea says right before they knock him out with the drink, about how he resents the people that let Daisuke, someone with his whole life ahead of him, with so much optimism and joy, board the ship for a job that would inevitably leave him "mangled" and "smarter in a worse way" (i could make a whole other essay on this part but i won't), and what he says right before mercy killing him. In that scene specifically, as the camera pans out in the corridor as Swansea raises his axe, ready to take the final swing, Jimmy doesn't see the hesitation in his body language, the way his body tenses, the way he comforts the kid, telling him to close his eyes, the heavy breaths (crying?maybe?) right after the act. He only sees the older man as a monster that would take away an innocent life that jimmy would have been able to fix had he been given the time to fucking think.

Hell, now that i think about it, Swansea's final monologue, where we find out that he is in fact a good man who tried his best to better himself, who simply wanted to protect the kid and give him "a chance off this goddamn rock"(implying that the Cryopod was meant for Daisuke all along) is also shown in third person!

A few other things i found interesting:

1-The missing pieces between what happened to Daisuke in the vent and when Swansea started attacking Jimmy. There's a cut from when Daisuke screams to when he's laying on (Swansea's) bed, bloody and in pain; from when Jimmy uses the mouthwash to disinfect him (which only causes him to suffer more) and two hours later; from after the talk the two men have and the moment Jimmy decides to go find the gun, the axe gone from Daisuke's face. What happened in those missing scenes? Was Swansea the one who helped the kid onto his bed, trying to make him as comfortable as possible? Did he try to comfort him, to distract him, and ease his pain as well as he could? What was his reaction when he had to take back the axe off the face of the young man he had started seeing as his own kid, whose life he had hoped he could save but that he ultimately had to take with his own hands?

I personally think those parts are blocked out of Jimmy's mind, as he couldn't fit them in his own narrative, where he was the hero, Swansea the villain and Daisuke the innocent, young man whose life he tried his best to protect from this "monster" that was now going to come after him.

2-Swansea attacking Jimmy with the axe, especially the cemetery scene, and how it can be interpreted in different ways.

We, the viewers, knowing everything that happened, will see it as a desperate man, Swansea, trying to avenge the lives that had been lost on that ship because of Jimmy (wether directly or not), with Daisuke's death being the last straw. But i don't think that's how Jimmy saw it. He saw swansea as a crazed, mad man, a ruthless killer, coming for him after taking an innocent life, Daisuke's photo and mausoleum as a reminder for Jimmy of what the older man had done, and a justification for what he was about to do.

(not to talk about the implication that the fight against swansea was not as intense as we saw it, only confirming the idea that jimmy was looking for a justification for shooting him)

[silliam-billiam]

Saw this in a dream

[fungiikind]

I hope this hurts.

[redjukebox]

Mouthwashing AU where the crew beats the shit out of Jimmy and kills him and makes it back to Earth and gets help and lives happily<3333

Mouthwashing AU where Curly beats the shit out of Jimmy and kills him for assaulting Anya when he found out<3333

Mouthwashing AU where Anya beats the shit out of and kills Jimmy herself and makes it back to Earth with her friends and they’re ok and getting help<3333

[clydesmissingnut]

Jimmy is NOT straight for that captain that's for true

I don't see Curly feeling the same way to Jimmy, that's the difference with how I feel.about them... it's purely one sided okay

Jimmy , to Curly, is his best friend, his right hand.

Curly, to Jimmy, is everything he wants to be , to have. Envy.

Also Jimmy is totally bi and in denial, blame Curly for that

Homophobic Jimmy is funny to me.

[localfandomenthusiast]

Choose your last words

This is the last time

'Cause you and I

We were born to die

[sillyandquiteawkward]

What’s so insanely jarring about Jimmy and of course what the creators wanted us to see while playing as him is how easily he can interact with someone he SA’d like idk that shit is so baffling. Like the way he doesn’t hold any space within his mind of what he did like it was something so minuscule as he interacts with Anya as if he’s never done anything to her ever it’s really so shocking

its so viscerally upsetting to me so much how much jimmy doesnt even blink when it comes to anya and what he did to her. he doesnt fucking care unless it affects him. so he only mentions anya or hints at the baby when its briefly negatively affecting him or his psyche. hes not even guilty and hiding that, hes just angry at her bc she/the baby makes him so scared that it triggers his superiority complex and makes him feel powerless.

but hes also all about presentation, so he acts big and tough even around anya and knocks her down any time he can. little infantile lashing out for what he thinks SHE did to him. PISSES ME TF OFFFF...MAN....

[noxiousidiocy]

Finishing this on chromebook was hell

umm the guy