#penwell

[dimespin]

PENWELL WHAT HAPPENED

This happened when Pen was about 110. His brother Clay had moved out decades before and didn't find out what happened for a long time since he had lost contact with his family at the time (the saratoan bachelor lifestyle is not always super stable)

And unfortunately in the intervening 70 years he outlived those joeys, but not all at once as what triggered his tusk development.

[z-paladin]

Have you ever been close to tragedy Or been close to folks who have? Have you ever felt a pain so powerful So heavy you collapse?

@binarybreak

[illustrationsbychristina]

Happy Holidays to all of you, from all of us at @binarybreak !

[binarybreak]

FUN FACT: Mothman was first spotted on November 15, 1966.

Penny Penwell was first spotted twenty years later on November 15, 1986. Not to be conspiratorial or whatever, but they're never been seen in the same room 🤔 🤔 🤔 🤔

[tempest-toss]

((based on my previous post))

[xjjxccx]

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫.𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐨𝐬𝐚 on ig

[meetinginsamarra]

mayprompts2024 #9, intimidation

Read parts 1-7 on AO3 here

++++++

The Perfect Place - Part Eight

Of course, both of them pondered closing the final gap between their mouth and the other’s cheek, or fore head, or even - most daringly -the other’s delectable lips. But also, both were too afraid to currently move any further, as to not destroy whatever it was that had developed between them in this short amount of time.

They didn’t know for how long they lay side by side in this surprising and fascinating happy bubble of seemingly endless future possibilities, facing each other and exploring whatever bubbled up in the depths of the other’s eyes.

“Watson!” A voice boomed from behind their heads.

Sherlock and John petrified.

The scintilillating bubble of a future together burst and died a sudden and violent death. They could practically hear the shards falling down and feel the piercing senstaion on their bodies.

“It’s after closing time. Why are you still here?”

A big man came into view as he rounded the bed, stopping at the foot end. A grumpy face with a veiny nose and the remnants of some acne scars looked down upon them, disapprovingly.

“Mr. Penwell!” John scrambled into a sitting position. “Bernie, I…”

“What are you doing in the Royal Metropolis?” Bernie squinted hard, as if he needed glasses to see clearly. “Who is this woman beside you?”

(The glasses were on top of Bernie’s head but he had forgotten that he had put them there as he often did. Even being cripplingly myopic, Bernie was a vain man and hated needing the eyewear. Without them he could barely see, only able to discern blurry blobs of colour and a bit more detail when he squinted. Given the vibrant purple blob that was the other person’s upper body and the curly-ish and long-ish dark blob that must be the hair, he assumed Sherlock was a woman.)

(Also, the concept of same-sex relationships was quite outlandish to him.)

Sherlock was loathe to admit that the sudden voice had also startled him badly, however he regained control over his wits and body faster than John. In a fluent motion he glided into standing right in front of Mr. Penwell (John wondered enviously how Sherlock did that and if he possibly had vampire ancestors).

“Greetings Mr. Penwell,” Sherlock cried, using his deep velvety voice to shock the man, “I have to congratulate you on employing the formidable salesman Mr. Watson here!”

Sherlock grabbed the stunned man’s hand and shook it vigorously. Bernie reflexively shook the hand back. The glasses dislocated from his bald head and slided down onto his nose, making him blanch strongly.

John wondered if Bernie’s face had lost all of its usually rather reddish colour because he had confused Sherlock with a woman or because John had laid so close to a man or because Sherlock had lauded his salesmanship.

(It was the latter, of course.)

“Formidable?” Bernie choked out the word while pushing the glasses upwards on his nose. “Watson?”

Sherlock nodded enthusiastically. Taking on his poshest accent, he drawled, “Your excellent shop assistant Mr. John Watson has been going out of his way not only to explain all about the correct rigidity and appropriate springiness of boxsprings (John bit his lip to avoid giggling in the background), he also selflessly offered himself to help me decide if the Royal Metropolis would be an adequate accessory fixture to my second bedroom.”

Bernie gasped. He didn’t know what to say, overwhelmed by the fact that John Watson (the most terrible salesman in history) was praised most profusely by this distinguished member of the upper class and also slightly confused by this man’s labyrinthine sentence structure.

Meanwhile, John had stood up, had straightened his cardigan and rearranged the gun in his trouser pocket, positioning himself at Sherlock’s side.

“I’m glad to have helped. Shall I get the contract ready now?”

“Yes yes,” Sherlock absent-mindedly confirmed, “fill it in so I can sign the purchase.”

Bernie gasped again. He took the glasses off his nose and cleaned them with a wet wipe he fished out of his jacket, in dire need to reassure himself that what he had just witnessed had not been a trick of the light (as in a blotch on the usually dirty glasses blurring his view on reality).

While John was occupied with the contract, Sherlock took Bernie aside, whispering into his ear.

(Apart from having the advantage of superiour eyesight versus Bernie’s, Sherlock also had superior brain matter to use his all-observing deduction skills. Thus, he already knew why Bernie had been so upset to find them both in this bed.)

When John returned, Bernie’s face had become boiled-lobster red and he nearly stumbled over his own feet to grab the pen out of John’s hand. Bernie viciously crossed out the printed retail price of “2549” and scribbled a shaky “500” over it.

Sherlock signed with his name, adding some unnecessary swirls.

“It’s been a pleasure doing busisness with you, Mr. Penwell.” Sherlock bowed his head curtly, then turning to John. “Now get your belongings, Mr. Watson. You promised to help me find the perfect place in my flat for the bed to be positioned. Making sure the Feng Shui energy flow won’t be compromised.”

Five minutes later, they stood outside the shop, leaning against its brick wall.

“What did you say to him? He never gives discounts. To anyone.”

“I said that it was unwise to hide his stash of weed in the Royal Metropolis’s mattress, given that such an amount could easily get him sacked by the police for possession if someone would relay such information.”

John laughed out loud. “You intimidated him.”

“No. It was merely a friendly and well-meaning reminder.” Sherlock laughed as well. “I even offered to help him with the evidence and wouldn’t it also be nice to get rid of the old overpriced shelf warmer, too. Killing two birds with one stone, as the saying goes.”

“That was the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever done.” John said in between guffaws. And I’ve invaded Afghanistan, he thought.

“Shocking, indeed.”

Either man would yet need to notice that John’s walking cane was still leaning against the shop's counter, forgotten.

+++++

tagging some people @calaisreno @totallysilvergirl @lisbeth-kk @peanitbear @raina-at

[qbdatabase]

Renovated to Death by Frank Anthony Polito Real-life domestic partners and stars and producers of the new hit reality home renovation show Domestic Partners, bestselling mystery author Peter “PJ” Penwell and actor JP Broadway are enjoying work and life in their sleepy Detroit suburb of Pleasant Woods—until a suspicious death makes an unscripted appearance . . . View the full summary and rep info on wordpress or check it out for free from the Queer Liberation Library!

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

"Ophelia?" -Abel

@abel-uncontained

“ Hmm?”

Hearing the smaller voice of Abel break the silence surrounding her, Ophelia paused, closing her journal instinctively and turning to face him. Her face, though not at all bearing any ill-emotions was oddly blank. It was hard to say, perhaps it was the emotions but her eyes held no recognition, no spark of warmth, just an empty slate.

“ Oh, pardon me, I did not mean to ignore you. Nurse Penwell, it’s a pleasure to meet you! ”

Giving a soft smile without a second though, Ophelia extended her hand towards Abel to shake, yet, she paused, something was not adding up, and she retracted her hand, only to mime snapping as if in an attempt to loosen some memory or thought at the tip of her tongue.

“ I apologize, my memory, it is not what it used to be- you seem, very very familiar, and I feel as though I know you, no, I know I must know you- please, pardon me a moment,”

Bending over to flip through the pages of the thick journal she had been reading prior to Abel’s entry, Ophelia seemed to focus, familiar names flitting through in neat writing before settling on a single page baring his name.

“ You must be Abel, correct? We are—” Pausing again to consult the book, Ophelia’s narrowed for just a moment before melting away beneath her hauntingly familiar warm smile, “ Lovers! Yes… yes, that feels more than apt! It’s a pleasure to see you again,”

[dimespin]

wait, can the Atau interbreed with the other kinds of saratoan?

Hmm I wonder

[z-paladin]

Wanted to draw another bit of @binarybreak fanart and what better bit to draw than BADTOTHEBONERIFF.MP3

[keybordcaps]

redesigned one of our ooooold MLP OCs, Bloodwell “Penwell” Pen [She/It/Vamp/Bat]

bat pony and something else with a vampire writer aesthetic, she grew up in a dense forest and doesnt like going out in the sun much due to sensitive eyes, but will do so just because thats when most shops are open though. What does she write? idk. but i love her.

[binarybreak]

Official Notice

Have you or someone you know been robbed by Mark "Penny" Penwell?

You may be entitled to compensation in the form of a new episode of Binary Break on Digi-Monday, April 1, 2024.

[tempest-toss]

X

(ooh thanks for the response! [/gen] and for also opening up some thinking for me

Below is me rambling about hypothetical's involving @dcwnthercbbithcle's OC Nurse Ophelia Penwell. I talk a lot so I'm putting a keep reading!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Just thinking about Ophelia's visit to 230. Easel (at that point) would absolutely despise his nickname as he wouldn't trust Ophelia and thinks the nickname is an act to befriend him to take him back to the Gallery

Lily very much confused by hers

And Yam...wouldn't actually be there yet. As after Ophelia visited the earthquake happened and after that Yam fled to 230 with the help of then Site Director Enigma

oh but another thing! (Ramble incoming)

Thinking of a hypothetical scenario where Ophelia stays at 230 and/or is turned human/was always human: She would love it there. Especialy since it's well after Enigma's plan is enacted and staff is encouraged to be loving and supportive? Ophelia would have to be held back from adopting them all. Hanging out with them in the inner courtyard, listening to them ramble, helping as much as she could with their abilities, patching up the littles' scrapes.

While it isn't mentioned a lot, 230 is home to sapients from all across the age spectrum, so Ophelia could also be seen helping the elderly to their rooms, maybe help deliver food to a sick adult couple, or help a teen trying to learn chess?

Not to mention she might also really want to help the foundlings, especially if they aren't anomalous and help them feel like they belong in a place seemingly dominated by anomalous folk.

Maybe Ophelia would like the anomalous pets they have on site too? (Unless she's allergic of course... can paintings have allergies?)

Of course the only problem in this hypothetical is that it would mean she's cut off from her polycule and the rest of her skip family and friends. Perhaps some of the skips she befriends offers a dimensional warp service? who knows.

If you got this far, then thanks for reading my wild rambles, and check out Bunni! They v cool and make great headcanons, aesthetic reblogs, and they write a-mazingly! :>

[dcwnthercbbithcle]

Would Ophelia like the Night King?

Ophelia hummed a quiet sound, the compilations she had been shown illustrating moments across Game of Thrones:

" Hmmm, does he not speak? " "No, 8713, I'm sorry, he's more of an... imposing character," Interjecting with an understanding note, Ophelia waved a hand, fanning away any notion of potential wrongdoing, " Nurse Penwell, but it's more than alright,"

" That boy he was with, the one with the long hair-" " Jon Snow?" " -Yes, him. He reminds of a man from the facility, an MTF Officer... Leonard? Leopold? Ah, either way, he bares a striking resemblance! I must let him know the next occasion I see him. Aside from that, however, he is not for me; a touch too young and too pretty," Ophelia gave a short chuckle after her comment. Though the intern wanted to interject that Ophelia was only in her thirties, this was a battle not worth fighting.

" How about the Night's King? " Bringing a hand to her chin, Ophelia thought hard, and harder still, it was hard to speak for a man who's character was so shrouded in mystery, yet; " I admit, he is attractive, in an... ethereal sort of way. I would give him a chance, at least until I was able to read him better," this is a lie, she would totally let him smash.