#so now it's a little screwy

[bookwyrminspiration]

it does look like sophie!! if you wanted to help her look a little more youthful, you might try adding some roundness to the cheeks and emphasizing the cupid's bow a bit more

ty catherine I love you forever and ever dedicating this piece to you and you only <33

me vs the roundness of sophie's cheeks is an ongoing battle I keep trying but she is staying stubbornly a little angular. actually almost everything about her is fighting me.

I think the reason it's not quite doing it for me is that she doesn't match the other individual in the piece. Who has a certain *essence* to them, a style that Sophie doesn't have. So while she technically looks fine and like Sophie, she doesn't look like she belongs in the same piece as them. and I very much want the two of them to go together. Will continue trying, even though I have class tomorrow and will. get a bunch of homework </3

also!! thank you to everyone else who made comments and suggestions as well :)

[herebecritters]

Far far away in a magical land there’s a beautiful sparkly fairy princess who lives in a magnolia tree ~

Screwy belongs to @ickyguts

[lusalemaart]

uwu

[livwritesstuff]

written for @steddie-week day 2 (managed to tap into both hands and touch starved i think)

Eddie didn’t like to be touched, didn’t like how it made him feel.

Didn’t like the lingering ghost of a poke or a prod, didn’t like the way his spine itched when someone hugged him for too long, didn't like the way his screwy childhood had him flinching if someone moved a little too fast a little too close to him.

Sure, Eddie had no problem getting up in someone’s face, in throwing barbs he knew would hit close to home, in putting on a show whether the audience wanted it or not, but, for the most part, he kept his hands to himself.

He figured nobody noticed.

Steve did. Of course Steve did.

Steve noticed and he kept his hands to himself too for a while, and then their friendship started to morph into something more, and then Steve started to push just a little.

It started with just one hand on Eddie’s thigh while they watched a movie together – not that Eddie remembers the movie at all, because Steve’s hand was warm and he squeezed just a little during the scary parts and sometimes he mindlessly ran his thumb over Eddie’s skin, and it was making his insides churn (and maybe turning him on just a little in a way he didn’t have the wherewithal to unpack in the present moment).

And then that something more became something real and one night, after Eddie had a more heinous than usual nightmare, he called Steve because…he could do that now because Steve told Eddie that he could and because Steve wanted him to. 

So he called Steve, and Steve told him he was on his way over and Eddie said he didn’t need to come and Steve told him tough shit, I already put my shoes on and Eddie knew that he had.

When Steve eventually showed up and let himself in, he pulled Eddie into a hug, and by no means was it their first hug – not even close – but Steve was holding him a bit tighter, holding him in a way that made Eddie feel like he’d been gathered up, had him thinking this is what I needed, this is what I needed, and he waited for that itch to tell him when to pull away, but for the first time in maybe ever it didn’t come.

So Eddie relaxed into Steve’s hold, gave in a little to the weakness in his knees, and Steve’s lips fluttered against his neck as he murmured things that Eddie wasn’t really hearing, things about how it’s okay and he’s safe, which Eddie doesn’t really need to hear because he feels it now, feels it in Steve’s arm around his waist and in his hand curved around the back of his neck, and Eddie is feeling so much more than he’s ever felt before and it’s good and it’s boiling itself down into three words that Eddie knows he’d be saying too early if he let them slip out.

Steve’s gonna know though, even if it's too early to say it out loud, because Eddie’s gonna hug Steve just as tight when he needs it, and he’s gonna hold Steve’s hand over the gearshift while they drive together, and he's gonna grab his waist whenever the opportunity presents itself, and he's gonna run fingers through Steve's hair, and he’s gonna zip up his jacket when it’s cold out, and he’s gonna kiss him soft and slow, and oh, he’s gonna know.

[sprnklersplashes]

five times telemachus sleeps in his parents' bed (ao3)

buy me a coffee!

Telemachus won’t even remember this. He is mere months old, and outside his palace his city is preparing for war. The kitchen table is weighted down by his father’s things, swords and daggers, a travelling cloak and provisions, stacks of paper for the letters he will write home. The air is heavy with grief for what it is to come, but Telemachus knows nothing about this. All he knows is that Father lifted him from his cradle and is taking him down the hall, pulling faces and babbling so that his little laugh fills the palace. He knows that his father loves him more than anything.

“Odysseus,” Penelope sighs. “You need to let him sleep in the crib. The midwife says he should learn to sleep on his own.”

“Let me have this.” He eases himself into the bed, shifting Telemachus from his hip to his stomach. “When I return he may not be in the crib anymore.”

“Odysseus-��� 

Telemachus babbles and reaches forward, fascinated by his father’s beard and oblivious to the admission he let slip. Odysseus kisses the boy’s tiny hand, his heart already aching. To think that he’s had so little time with his son, and now has to leave because…

It’s not your place to question, a voice whispers. He can’t tell if it’s himself or Athena.

To his side, the sheets rustle and Penelope’s head comes to rest on his shoulder, her leg slipping between and tangling with his. If he only could, he would stay in this moment forever. His boy on his belly, his love by his side. It’s why he cannot say no; if anyone touched either of them, Odysseus would make the world burn to get them back. There is no bliss like this. 

“You be a good boy for your mama while I’m gone, all right?” he asks him. “And when I return, I’m going to teach you all manner of things. We’re going to go hunting and I’ll teach you to shoot and we’ll go sailing and oh, wait until Athena meets you properly. She will love you. She’s going to train you like she trained me.”

I did not agree to that her voice booms in his head, but for once he waves her off. Telemachus gurgles, kicking his feet with delight as he kisses him and that is all that matters. 

They lie there for some time, sitting in tender silence, until Telemachus’ eyes begin to droop. He blinks and rubs them and sways like a tiny flower caught in the breeze. Odysseus lowers him slowly, so he lies flat against his chest. His heart beats against the tiny body; a special melody to lull him to sleep.

“I almost don’t want him to go sleep,” he whispers. “I don’t want him to close his eyes and wake up without me here.”

“I know.” Penelope runs her feather-light finger up Telemachus’ back. Unlike Odysseus, she doesn’t hide her anger. She might not speak it aloud, because she has common sense, but he can feel it coming from her. And hell has no fury like his wife scorned. 

It is almost enough to make him stay.

Odysseus kisses her head. He doesn’t mention the tears running down her face, nor the ones gathering in his own eyes. Right now, he is here, and he has promised to return.

It will have to be enough.

2

It takes him a while to knock on the door. His cheeks burn, half-hidden behind his hands. Part of him wishes to run back to bed, to hide under the covers and pretend like nothing happened. But the palace is different at night, the corridors are longer and cast in shadow, and the silence is suffocating. Telemachus doesn’t know which steps he should take, if monsters lurk around the corners he passes so freely during the day. 

“Tel? Sweet boy, why aren’t you in bed?”

Telemachus looks up. Mama stands over him, hair messy and eyes heavy. He opens his mouth, only to give nothing but a feeble croak. The words he has learned over the past four years desert him in less than a second.

Luckily, Mama knows. She lowers down until she is his height and in no time sees the soiled nightshirt. Telemachus whimpers, a feeling he can’t yet name gripping him, and before he knows it his face is screwing up and his whole body is hot and tears are running like rivers down his cheeks. 

Mama pulls him close and lets him rest his head on her shoulder.

“It’s all right, sweet boy,” she tells him. “It happens. It happens, it’s all right. Let’s get you cleaned up now, mm?” She pats his back. “It’s all right.”

Telemachus keeps his head buried as they make their way to the washroom. The monsters don’t come after Mama, but he doesn’t want to look up in case one finds him and comes into his room later. 

Fear strikes him, sharp and sudden, and his sobs build.

“It’s all right, Tel. Mama’s got you.”

In the washroom, she doesn’t bother calling for a servant. Instead, it’s her who washes his legs with warm water and soap that smells like honey. It is Mama who places his damp nightclothes in the basket and pulls fresh ones from the cupboard. It is Mama who wipes his tears and kisses his head and braves the monsters to walk back to their chambers. Telemachus wishes he could be like her, he could be brave and strong and walk back to his chambers alone, but he can’t. He doesn’t know how to be brave yet, and part of him worries he will never learn. 

“Now, my boy,” Mama whispers. “Why don’t you sleep in my bed tonight, mm?” She smooths his hair away from his face. “Just in case there’s any more accidents.”

Telemachus nods, and when Mama wraps him in her covers and cuddles him, he forgets about the monsters outside. 

3

Telemachus has never liked storms. Not when he was a child, not when he was a baby according to his mother, and certainly not at 10. The problem is, he is the man of the house until Father comes home, and the man of the house cannot be running away from storms. He cannot be huddled beneath his covers with his hands clamped over his ears because he does not like the thunder.

He should not be shrieking when the covers are pulled from his head by his mother.

“Telemachus,” she sighs. “What on Earth are you doing?”

“I was asleep,” he protests. He doesn’t know why he continues trying to lie to his mother, not when he has been caught out every time, but he does. One day it has to work, doesn’t it?

Mother sighs, sits on the bed, and rubs his back.

“Come and sleep in my room tonight.”

“No,” he says. “I-I’m fine. I can sleep on my own.”

“Tel-”

“I’m not scared,” he insists, just as another thunderclap booms overhead. Telemachus jumps before he can stop himself, and his mother’s reaction is equal parts concern for him and equal parts ‘I told you so’.

In response, Telemachus can just scowl, not even sure who he is angry with. 

“Well, I am scared,” she says. Telemachus shakes his head; he knows Mother is not afraid of anything. “No Tel, I really am. I hate storms.” She shudders and whimpers as she peers outside the window. “And I keep thinking if only I had a big strong man in my rooms to keep me safe.”

“The guards are there,” he responds. But a smile tugs on his lips.

“Oh, them!” she scoffs. “They’re good, but I wish I had a proper hero to keep me safe until the storm passes.” She puffs out her cheeks and fixes Telemachus with her most pleading eyes. He buries his face in his pillow. “But, if I can’t have that, I shall have to return to my rooms.” She gets up. “Alone.” She steps towards the door. “Afraid.” Another step. Telemachus bites his lip to keep the giggles inside. “And sad-”

“Wait!” He jumps from the bed, breathless. “Maybe I should come with you. To keep you safe.”

“Oh Telemachus!” She touches her hand to her chest, eyes brighter than the stars. “You would do that for me?”

“Of course I would.” He strides up to her and takes her hand. “I am the man of the house now.”

Mother squeezes his hand, a slight hitch in her breath.

“Yes you are, my little prince.”

With a newfound energy, Telemachus surges into his mother’s room, wasting no time nestling in the blankets. Mother rolls her eyes as she discards her cloak and climbs in beside him, more grace any all the nymphs put together. She lets Telemachus have the whole other side of the bed and when she settles he grabs her hand, his heart thump-thump-thumping like a canon. 

“Tell me a story. Please.”

“Which one?”

He pretends to think, but there is only ever one answer.

“One of Father’s,” he says. “Oh! Tell me the one about Athena’s magic boar!”

“You’ve heard that one fifty times, Telemachus.”

“Please,” he insists, bordering on whining. Definitely not how the man of the house behaves, but at present he is just a boy in his mother’s bedroom. So he can get away with it.

“All right,” she says. Telemachus grins and wriggles into her lap. Stroking his hair, his mother begins the story, of how his father was out exploring with a patrol when he came across a boar in the woods. His friends wanted to move on, but Father knew something was different about the boar, something in the way the fur glowed…

As Telemachus listens, Mother’s voice drowns out the storm outside. He fights the sleep taking over him until his Father becomes Athena’s warrior of the mind. Mother was right, he has heard this story so many times, but he never gets tired of it. To know his father is one of Athena’s chosen warriors, known throughout Greece. Powerful, clever, courageous. 

Definitely not afraid of some wind.

4

He is fifteen when the suitors start arriving. 

He doesn’t like them, and no, it’s not just because they aren’t his father. It’s not because they call him small, or that they sneer at him when his mother’s back is turned, or that despite him standing at his mother’s side they act like he’s not even there. It’s nothing he hasn’t faced before; he’s spent his life pretending he doesn’t hear the whispers, the constant comparisons to his father and how he is all the things Telemachus isn’t. He can handle it.

It’s the way they look at his mother. It’s the way they move close and closer and that Telemachus’ presence does nothing to deter them. Their hands on hers at dinner, their greedy eyes roaming everywhere except her face. It’s the way their teeth clench, when she tells them she hasn’t made a decision, that she is still weaving her shroud, that she has a duty to her son first. Impatience builds until their palace stinks of it and Telemachus can’t get them out of there fast enough. He watches his mother, his unshakeable, unbreakable mother, shudder whenever they leave. She sobs, silently, whenever she thinks Telemachus can’t see her. He begins to resent the dining hall, the front entrance, each plate and cup that they have touched.

The worst is what he hears when they think he’s not there.

“I’ll take that fucking shroud and strangle the bitch with it.”

“We’ll make her pathetic brat watch.”

“Him! I’ll hang the kid with his own innards if I could. String him up like the flower garland he is.”

“Do you think she’d beg if we did?” One of them asks giddily. “Maybe she’d let us have our way with her if her precious prince was in danger.”

Thankfully, Telemachus has learned not to scream. He forces his fear down, down, down, and by the time he can breathe again, his teeth are stained red.

He doesn’t tell his mother. But when she comes into her room to find him already there, she doesn’t make him leave. All she asks is he puts the sword beneath the bed.

“I don’t want you to hurt yourself with it.”

He does, but he keeps the hilt towards him and a smaller dagger strapped to his leg.

If anyone wants to enter his mother’s rooms without permission, they will go through him first.

He can be just as deadly as they are. 

5

The palace is quiet. Telemachus’ mind is anything but. He paces his room, afraid to lie down and close his eyes lest he sees it all again The hallways gushing blood, the tip of Antonius’ blade. Each man falling, one by one, as if torn down by an invisible wind.

Except it wasn’t wind or anything natural; it was his father. The space that sat vacant for twenty years is now filled and it is…. Everything. And incredibly, incredibly loud. 

As minutes and hours go on, Telemachus finds he can’t take it anymore. Voices overlap in his head, the walls of his bedroom are pressing inwards and whether it’s a trick of his mind or something else, he doesn’t want to find out. So he slips out with a blanket around his shoulders, and tiptoes down the now-scrubbed corridors to his parents’ room.

He’s barely knocked on the door before Father answers.

“Son?” 

Telemachus hesitates before slipping inside. The room isn’t as dark as he expected; a single lamp in the corner bathes it in a soft glow. Father is still awake, half propped up against the pillows with Mother asleep on his chest, her arm tight around his waist. Telemachus can’t shake the feeling that he’s interrupted something, even with Father beckoning him in. His eyes hold so much and he can’t help but wonder if he’s up for the same reason Telemachus is. That his thoughts were too loud to let him rest.

“What’s bothering you?”

Telemachus pulls on his sleeve, his breath shallow. 

“I can’t sleep.” 

Father smiles. Despite the heaviness in his eyes, it feels sincere. It’s a steady on his shoulder, a reminder to breathe, a warm embrace to keep him safe. A suggestion that maybe things will be fine.

“Come here,��� he says softly. He hadn’t realised how much he needed to hear that.

Mother is pulled from sleep as Father shifts to make room for him. There’s a moment where she hasn’t realised the second person yet and she smiles up at Odysseus, completely free of lines and worry as if it’s 20 years ago again.

Telemachus feels blessed to have seen it. 

“Tel?” she mumbles when she notices him. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He slides into the space his father left and reaches across to squeeze her shoulder. “I’m all right. I just couldn’t sleep.”

Mother nods, an easy smile gracing her lips. Propped up on her elbow, she leans over and musses Telemachus’ hair, chuckling when he protests. Father laughs too, and Telemachus feels it against his body. Solid, warm, real. Here. Alive.

Mother settles back into the bed, pressing kisses to Father’s bare shoulder as she goes. Father grins and again, it’s like Telemachus is watching a scene from twenty years ago, from a world where nothing bad ever happened and he grew up whole. And maybe it’s the late hour talking, but for the first time, he has hope he can be.

Especially when Father kisses his head. 

“Go to sleep, son,” he whispers. “I’ll be here when you wake.”

“I know,” he murmurs. He presses into his father’s side and sleeps soundly the entire night.  

[hey-hey-j]

god 'cause I haven't been able to stop thinking about this either like

alternate version of Band Together where Branch and Poppy team up with Hickory chasing leads on Floyd and that's how they end up running into Clay and John Dory

and here's a specific scenario I was thinking about this morning: in this AU Velvet and Veneer sent a forged letter to everyone in BroZone, but due to plot contrivance Bruce is the only one who received his on time and that's why he was the one to rescue Floyd.

but now picture John Dory finally finds his letter just a little too late, he gets to Mount Rageous after Bruce has already taken Floyd and just narrowly escapes getting captured himself. He writes the whole thing off as a hoax and a trap and it's as he's leaving Mount Rageous that he runs into the search party and realizes that oh, Floyd might actually still be alive.

(also Barb is here because this is post- Rockapocalypse and helping out Hickory with this is part of her making amends since the events of World Tour are what caused Floyd and Hickory to lose track of each other in the first place 😬)

(timeline of events is a little screwy so there can be more than a single month between World Tour and Band Together)

[thewertsearch]

CG: IF WE CAN RIDE THIS OUT FOR A LITTLE LONGER UNTIL THE CRITICAL MOMENT, AND DAVE/ROSE CAN DESTROY THE SUN, JACK SHOULDN'T BE A THREAT. CG: CONVENIENTLY, IF THEY'RE SUCCESSFUL, THAT WILL SIGNAL THE BEGINNING OF OUR OWN ESCAPE PLAN. […] CG: APPARENTLY THE EXPLOSION WILL BE SO HUGE, IT WILL BE VISIBLE AT GREAT DISTANCES THROUGHOUT THE FURTHEST RING. CG: EVEN FROM DIFFERENT SESSIONS, LIKE YOURS AND OURS.

Alright, this escape plan is starting to come into focus.

The Sun's explosion will create the Ring's first ever landmark, allowing the trolls to pinpoint its 'location' without needing to build a Horrorterror Map. It's a little screwy that the explosion will be visible 'at great distances' when the Ring's concept of distance is nebulous at best - but on the other hand, this is no normal explosion, either. I guess the metaphysical details don't really matter here; the key takeaway is that the trolls will travel to the Sun.

CG: EVEN FROM DIFFERENT SESSIONS, LIKE YOURS AND OURS. YOU WON'T GET TO SEE IT BECAUSE BY THEN YOUR SESSION SHOULD BE WIPED OUT BY THE SCRATCH.

The kids, however, will not. The timing doesn't work out.

What I'm hearing, though, is that it is theoretically possible for other sessions to follow this new waypoint. Over time, the Sun's remains could even become a rendezvous point for sessions scattered across the multiverse, allowing Players to meet, collaborate, and share resources.

For now, though, it's just a way for the trolls to get out of dodge.

CG: SO YEAH, WE'LL MEET IN THE AFTERMATH OF THE EXPLOSION WITH OUR PEOPLE ON THE INSIDE, OR I GUESS I SHOULD SAY OUTSIDE. CG: I DON'T THINK THEY CAN COME WITH US THOUGH. EB: come with you where? who are they? CG: DEAD PEOPLE.

Dead people, as well as their cheerful psychopomp. Unlike the Ring's ghosts, Aradia could conceivably rejoin the team at this point - but I don't think she's actually likely to do so, because she's needed out in the Ring.

The Dream Bubbles are an extremely important resource, and I don't think anyone could manage them as well as her. This is her element.

CG: THE SCRATCH WILL REBOOT YOUR SESSION. YOUR WHOLE UNIVERSE ACTUALLY. SO SOMEWHERE IN THIS DREADFUL ABYSS, THAT NEW SESSION WILL START UP IN ITS OWN INCIPISPHERE, FROM SCRATCH. […] CG: THE IDEA IS FOR YOU ALL TO PRESERVE YOURSELVES BY ESCAPING THERE.

I sort of assumed that the reboot session would physically replace the original, by spawning directly on top of it. Apparently that's not the case, though; it just pops up somewhere at random.

Well, that'll make it a little harder to find, since we won't know where to look. I can't really think of any solutions, either, unless reboot-Rose is kind enough to post another GameFAQs guide. Preferably one containing her exact dimensional coordinates.

EB: through the lawn ring? CG: YES.

Through the lawn ring? So, what, the Yard is a physical pathway that they can move through?

Once again, I don't have any real theories - except that if the Yellow Yard is indeed some sort of 'pathway', I have a horrible feeling we're being teed-up for a 'yellow brick road' joke.

[trilobitepunch]

Time for some upgrades. Here's a battle shell design I was playing around with. I thought something a little sharper would be fun. He's also easing out of his arm/elbow pad phase to join his brothers on the arm/leg wrap train.

(Background: Space bridges are screwy so while his bros are all post movie timeline, Donnie's only from mid-season 2. 8];;; He has found out he's missed...a lot. And not at all upset that he's now somehow the little brother.)

I love Wearingeul's Verethragna. It is a very pretty purple.

[hmslusitania]

Either 16 or 21 or both or neither

There was no specified ship, so it ended up being kind of pre-relationship TimKon

The party had been a questionable choice, Tim can admit that now. Nothing says “I’m so totally over a relationship, see how fine I’m doing!” like throwing a Halloween party, drinking a little too much at the sight of his ex-girlfriend making out with her new girlfriend who is, for most purposes, Tim’s sister, and then retreating to the bathroom because his more recent ex-boyfriend had actually taken him up on the invitation and brought a plus one.

Which is why he’s hiding in the bathtub in his own bathroom, not totally shielded from view by the novelty map of Faerûn shower curtain Steph had helped him pick out. At least it matches the elf ears that had seemed like a good idea six hours ago, and at least the porcelain he’s resting his face against is cooling and pleasant.

His relative peace — generally not helped by the thumping of the bass from the stereo in the party beyond his room — is interrupted an unknowable amount of time later by the bathroom door opening without a knock, and then he’s in the company of…

“What are you supposed to be?” Tim asks without lifting his head from the side of the tub.

Kon looks down at his “costume” which includes fingerless gloves, a denim jacket, and a black and red buffalo check shirt.

“Breakfast Club?” Kon prompts.

Tim blinks at him.

“Come on, we watched it for YJ movie night like last month,” Kon reminds him.

“I wasn’t there,” Tim says, miserable, and sags a little farther into the comforting embrace of the side of the tub.

“We were gonna do a whole group thing, right, except we decided you’d for sure have to be Ally Sheedy, not Emilio Estevez or Anthony Michael Hall,” Kon continues, unphased by Tim’s demeanour. “But then Cissie wanted to dress up like Wendy instead, and I’m pretty sure Cassie’s dressed up like me, which is kinda a head trip. And Bart had some whole situation where he can’t make our party because he got roped into babysitting Jai and Irey while they go trick-or-treating, because as screwy as my family might be, only when you’re a member of the West-Allen family do you really get to go babysit your, uh…”

“Second cousins,” Tim supplies.

“Huh, I definitely thought that was gonna be a weirder chain of relationship,” Kon says.

He sits on the bathmat next to Tim’s head and pokes him in the side of the face.

“Stop,” Tim says.

“So is there a particular reason you’re hiding from your own party in your bathroom?” Kon asks.

“I’m bitterly single?” Tim replies.

Kon considers him. “So, I get why you invited Steph, because she’s still for sure one of your best friends, and I’m pretty sure you’re, like, contractually obliged to invite Cass to events, and they’re a matched set. But like… your civilian ex-boyfriend who likes to conspiracy theory about the majority of the rest of your guests?”

Tim groans and shuts his eyes, only to have Kon pry one of them open and stare at him up close.

“I wanted to prove I was, like, mature and evolved and so totally over it,” Tim says, and feels stupid even saying it.

“Which is why you’re drunk in your bathtub, sure, yeah, I get that,” Kon says, and smiles when Tim rolls his eyes.

“You don’t have to be in here being nice to me, you can just like… enjoy the party,” Tim says.

“The party where my ex-girlfriend is dressed up in my clothes and making out with our other very good friend who’s dressed up like my all time fictional crush? That party?” Kon asks, and Tim snorts.

“Do you ever think about the fact you dated two girls named Cassandra and both of them turned out to be gay?” Tim asks.

“With really similar taste in women, also,” Kon adds. “And, like, yeah, every once in a while.”

Tim hums and closes his eyes again, but this time, Kon doesn’t pry his eyes open.

“I know you’re mad at me,” Tim mumbles finally. “You didn’t have to come.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Kon says, and this time the physical botherment he inflicts is tweaking the elf ear Tim had spent a stupid amount of time gluing on. “I was questioning your judgement, which is so not the same thing.”

“Judgement I definitely didn’t improve by throwing this party, right?” Tim guesses. Kon makes a noncommittal noise.

“Like I get that you have a thing for blonds with a penchant for getting into trouble, but…” Kon says.

“Not just blonds,” Tim mumbles before he can think better of it. He blinks when he realises what he’s said and finds Kon staring at him curiously. “I’m really fine, Kon, you can go enjoy the party.”

“Nah,” Kon says, and before Tim can move to stop him, he clambers over the side of the tub to squish into the narrow space between Tim and the shower wall, his combat boots which have a certain authenticity that say they might have been Pa Kent’s from the ’60s clunking against the basin. Kon wriggles his shoulders trying to get comfortable for a second, and then gives up and wraps his arm around Tim. It’s just for the better use of space, Tim’s sure, but it’s… it’s really nice. And when Kon tugs him sideways until Tim rolls over so he’s resting the side of his face on Kon’s chest rather than on the side of the tub, it’s so damn pleasant he can barely stand it. “I’d much, much rather be in here with you.”

It makes Tim’s heart flutter in his chest and he knows Kon can hear that, which is just embarrassing, and which he can only sort of blame on the alcohol.

“Yeah, okay, Bender,” he says, trying desperately to hit annoyed.

Kon gives him a full belly laugh that echoes off the bathroom tile, and squeezes him just a little closer. “I knew you’d seen the Breakfast Club before.”

Tim rolls his eyes and smacks Kon in the stomach with a light, open palm. It gets him another laugh, and maybe, just maybe, this party hadn’t been the worst idea after all.

[spaceorphan18]

The Lady Whistledown Papers : 2x04 Victory (Part 4)

Welcome back, Gentle Readers, to The Lady Whistledown Papers, where I’m taking an in-depth look at Penelope Featherington and Colin Bridgerton’s character arcs and romance within the show Bridgerton!

For previous issues, follow tag : The Lady Whistledown Papers

Bridgerton Ball

The Bridgertons are hosting a ball in their very large country home. (It's kind of amazing they can accommodate for the nine hundred families attending - just how big is that mansion??) And Penelope and Eloise remain the wallflowers that they are.

It's a shame Colin decides to sit this one out -- look how gorgeous this girl is! Her hair is beautiful in this scene, and her dress isn't that bad. I'm really appreciating Season 2 Penelope a lot more through doing this meta. The dresses might still be not the greatest, but her hair and make up have been A+. Colin is a dope for not seeing her sooner.

Anyway, one detail I love about this scene is how much Penelope and Eloise are close physically. They're literally clinging to each other for support.

Violet is on her way, bringing over a suitor for Eloise, and Eloise begins freaking out. Penelope is rather calm -- wanting Eloise to dance because she (sadly) knows she's not going to. (And, the girl really would love to dance.) I do love that Penelope teases her a little -- wanting to hear gossip about a possible love life for her friend instead of Eloise going on about pamphlets.

I also kind of love that she slips in there a question about Colin - and if she's heard about his trip to Marina. Like, girl you are not subtle in your inquiries. If Eloise hadn't been so wrapped up in her own, little world, there's no way she couldn't have noticed Pen's Colin obsession. But Eloise doesn't get to answer - her new suitor awaits.

I love that during this awkward exchange between Eloise and the guy, Penelope's off in the background, pretending to mind her own business while secretly listening in, and giggling about how terrible Eloise is with a suitor. Honestly, Penelope isn't much better but at least she's getting amusement from Eloise's antics.

There's this cute little moment, as Eloise goes off to dance... Eloise sarcastically jokes that Penelope is going to get that entertainment she asked for, as Eloise is dragged onto the dance floor. But then Violet looks back at her, and they share a knowing grin. I said it last time but -- man, I do wish Penelope and Violet had had more interactions. But there is some small groundwork here that Violet is comfortable with Penelope, and seems to enjoy her presence.

Well... so much for Eloise dancing with some guy. He turns out to be an asshat, and Eloise won't stand for it! Penelope is worried for her friend as things heat up. Penelope does run after her, but Eloise wants to be alone... Which gives Penelope plenty of time, now, to watch everyone else -- including her own family, where things are going to get a bit screwy.

Penelope has her own little perch to watch the entire ball -- surely there's some Lady Whistledown noteworthy things going down... But she's distracted by the fact that her mother is pushing Prudence out of the ballroom. Penelope isn't dumb, and she's well aware that Portia has been up to things -- what, she doesn't know exactly, but she's definitely aware that something doesn't feel right.

Well, Portia, upon freaking out that Jack is interested in Cressida, puts her plan into action and has Prudence go out into the garden when she just sent Jack out there. And then has everyone come out and catch them... not doing a thing. Penelope is scandalized!

And, I mean, I realize they need this for plot purposes (and - in a way, this is a nod to the Viscount Who Loved Me, in which Kate and Anthony are forced into marriage because of a beesting), but it feels so forced. Just, Idk. With the amount of shenanigans that Colin and Penelope get into... (I mean, does anyone care that Colin is off visiting a married woman, and she had been alone for some time?). And for the amount of 'alone' time both Simon and Daphne and Kate and Anthony have managed thus far, this whole sequence is so farfetched.

Whatever, they need it for plot reasons.

Anyway, while Prudence is thrilled about being married, and Jack is horrified, Penelope is simply perplexed. She knows a set up when she sees one, and she knows things are right about this. On top of that, she absolutely is going to have to report this as Lady Whistledown, and while her column may have started out to throw shade at her own family, she isn't really interested in getting them into scandal -- especially when her family doesn't need the extra drama in their direction.

Later, Penelope confronts her sister (I assume on their way back to their rooms?). Prudence tells Penelope not to be jealous, and I love how dismissive Pen is of it -- like, god, no, totally not jealous of you marrying someone actually related to us.

Quick sidebar, look at the detailing of Penelope's necklace and hairpiece. It's absolutely gorgeous. Shame Colin wasn't there to see that...

Anyway, Penelope wants details and gets confirmation that Portia had set it all up. Prudence is thrilled that Lady Whistledown has something to write about concerning her, but Penelope is fearful of that. Whatever the gossip may be -- it'll be a scandal, and that could ruin their family, and be a huge ordeal. Prudence accuses Penelope of being jealous of her, to which Penelope is deeply offended. (Penelope could never imagine being jealous of Prudence -- but it's another thing her sister can attempt to rub in her face)

Prudence goes on to say that there's no possible way that Lady Whistledown would know that it was a set-up, and will just report the basic news of the engagement. She also takes a moment to throw in Penelope's face that she is now engaged, and Penelope is still... Penelope. Also, Prudence can't help but throw at her that she is now going to be the new Lady Featherington, a fact that does grate on Penelope. She's left there to stew as Prudence marches away, seeming victorious.

Stairway

I wanted to include this shot from farther away just to see their full profiles. He's standing four steps down to meet her eyeline. Yes. I counted. I just had to point that out. Also, oooff, that unflinchingly hard yellow is back. But most importantly -- can we talk about the fact that they all spent the night at in the same house? Where are my Season 2 AU fics, they've got to be out there, right??? I mean think about the shenanigans.

Alright, so let's dig into this one. Penelope is thrilled to catch him. What an odd coincidence that there are, like, 500 people in that house and the two of them cross paths without anyone else in sight. (I mean, I know, I get it, I understand how filming works, I just think it's funny - especially after all of the shenanigans with Jack and Prudence.)

Anyway - she completely lights up when she sees him. This is one of the few times, however, that Colin doesn't light up when he sees her. (I'm going to have to go back and take a look - because he usually is just as happy to see her whenever their paths cross.) But Colin didn't go to the ball for the same reason he's in a morose mood at the moment. He's lost in his own thoughts and emotions, and he's still kind of dealing with the aftermath of his time with Marina.

Colin says he stayed in because he wasn't feeling up to the ball, and I do have some questions -- like, Violet is insistent on Eloise being there, but doesn't seem to push Colin in the same way (the difference between sons and daughters? and, btw, was Benedict there - where is Benedict, he always seems to be getting out of these things). But I also wonder -- I assume Colin just left for Marina's without telling anyone (except El and Pen). Does no one care what he's up to? Colin honestly could get away with murder based on how little anyone pays attention to what he's up to. (I feel the same way about Benedict.)

Penelope asks how Marina is doing. Colin simply responds that she's content. Which isn't wrong. Penelope takes it as a good thing, and it's a nice reminder moment that Penelope does and did care for Marina's well being. Penelope wasn't set out to ruin anyone's life. She just wanted Colin to make decisions on all the facts, and not have his own life ruined by a lie.

Anyway... while Penelope is glad to hear of Marina's contentness, it's clear that Colin is, I suppose, unhappy that Marina is doing fine. It's clear, really, that Marina didn't need Colin's help - and he's still rectifying that in his head.

Penelope goes on to say that maybe seeing Marina is what he needed, for closure... She states specifically 'to leave the past behind' which is an echo of what Marina told him. Colin, however, has a hard time letting things go... but first, Penelope, not really reading him in the moment, goes on to suggest that maybe he doesn't really need to swear off women. It's a slightly sad attempt to get him to notice that she is a woman.

The two of them, however, are really not on the same page. Penelope's somewhat missing the fact that there's more going on with Colin than just his sense of heartbreak -- that Colin's still trying to figure out what his place in this world is. Meanwhile, Colin is truly missing that the answer to that question is standing in front of him.

Next we get a section that... does feel a little like clunky writing. Colin's next thoughts are that he still feels bad about how everyone, including himself, was hard on her for hiding her pregnancy, and chastises Lady Whistledown for printing the gossip. And that if LW hadn't, things would have turned out differently (and in Colin's mind - for the better).

The purpose of the statement, I believe, is less about Colin (I'll get to that in a sec) and more about making Penelope feel guilty for being LW and having that happen. It's a moment that's supposed to add tension to the Polin narrative -- reminding us that even if we do want these two together, there is something that hangs over them... the LW secret, and the fact that Colin does not have a high opinion of her.

But the way Colin presents it makes it seem like he thinks that had LW not printed, he'd be happily married and so would Marina. Which... just would not be true. In fact, Colin, babe, you'd be miserable because your wife would not love you and she'd be merely 'content' with you. And, honestly, her life is for the better after the LW reveal, because Sir Philip respects her back but isn't in love with her -- and Colin would be miserable being in love and not feeling it back, so Marina kinda lucked out there. It's kind of weird that Colin doesn't seem to recognize it.

Also, as an aside, I kind of, sort of wonder if any of this was/is supposed to be a small set up for things to come way down the road. Were they trying to acknowledge things that happen in Eloise's book, with the mental health issues, etc? Idk - I just don't think they were thinking that far in advance, but still.

Anyway, Penelope looks understandably guilty about it -- though Colin doesn't notice this at all.

He does go on to say that there is no use dwelling on the past -- echoing Marina and now Penelope. And I do get a sense that Colin is trying to move on and forward, even if he doesn't know what direction that might exactly be. (Despite might stern looking screencap) Colin is actually a bit lighter when he says he's thinking of the future. It's such a subtle facial shift, where he slightly smiles when he thinks about it. He may be in a mood about Marina but I think he's okay, and genuinely open to pursuing the next phase in his life.

Penelope is left on the stairs with the weight of her secret and how it effects other people's lives hanging over her.

And, I mean, now that I've sat and watched this scene closely about fifteen times - I don't necessarily think that Colin is still stuck in his broken heartedness about Marina. I think this scene is more about Penelope, and having to face consequences for being Lady Whistledown. But also, to a lesser extent, that she just can't wishful think Colin into liking her back. There's still very much distance between them that isn't going away any time soon.

Proposal

As the episode closes, we get the Lady Whistledown narration stating that there is a tiny bit of gossip she can speak about that not everyone knows... And, I mean, had everyone else left already? why is Penelope there but not the rest of the ton - or even her own family? Idk, I shouldn't think too hard about logistics here. The point is that Penelope has a front row seat to Anthony's actions.

I want to mention the scoring here, which is kind of interesting. I do believe the music was heard in Season 1 (though I can't remember when). But... a shorter version of this material will be used in 3x04... at the end of the carriage scene... when we get another proposal. But more on that later...

Okay, so Penelope is waving to people as they leave. Also, it seems like Prudence, Jack, and Portia are all in a carriage - so is Penelope dragging her feet getting in? Oh, the logistics!

Meanwhile, the Bridgertons are all standing in one pack as they are the hosts. It's very Christmas Card-ish of them.

Anthony runs out to go propose to Edwina. The Bridgertons look on shocked at the development. Colin and Benedict share a great look of -- wtf, Anthony?? They... really haven't been a part of the plot lately. At all, lol. None of the Bridgertons really seem like this is a good idea. (And we all know it's not...)

Okay, so Pen was dragging her feet getting into her carriage...

Unlike the Bridgertons, half of whom had an inkling that there are Kate and Anthony shenanigans that are unresolved, Penelope had not been around, and has no idea. She just gets to witness a proposal, and omg does her romantic little heart get caught up in it -- not to mention that she'll have this salacious detail to write about later. She is probably the happiest person there, after Edwina.

Victory indeed, the narration ends with. Meh, Pen, i don't think anyone has won here...

We still have four more episodes of Season 2 left!! ;)

[aziraphales-library]

Hello! do u have any recommendations on fics that are corporate/work human aus?

Thanks!

Hi! Here are some office worker AUs...

When God Closes a Door… by wyrmy (T)

Aziraphale is a burnt out salesperson, stuck in a boring job selling sliding doors for a wildly incompetent boss. The highlight of his work day is a man he is fascinated by but has never met in person, Anthony Crowley, the sexy purchaser who buys doors for another company. Can two small cogs in two large machines somehow defy their bosses and find love?

Critical Upgrade (Or, How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Tech) by Kirathaune (T)

Modern Office AU: Aziraphale likes his vintage computer equipment, but it's causing problems with his colleagues. Gabriel mandates an upgrade, and Crowley from IT is assigned to make it all work.

be mine tonight (be mine forever) by artenon (T)

Aziraphale knows he’s a solitary person. He knows Crowley may very well be his only true friend. He doesn’t mind this. He does, however, very much mind learning that his coworkers have a betting pool on whether he’ll be coming alone to the department holiday party next week. He especially minds when he learns that the reason there is a betting pool in the first place is because their intern, young Newton Pulsifer, is the only one naïve enough to believe Aziraphale might have a date. ----- In retaliation to a bet made against him, Aziraphale asks Crowley to be his date to the office holiday party. Certainly there are no flaws to be found in this plan. Certainly the secret love Aziraphale has been harboring for Crowley for the past several years won't be an issue. Certainly not.

House Style by soft_october (M)

“Since that's all settled, the real question is did he give you his number?” Anathema laughed. “He was looking at you the way you look at lunch.” “Forget lunch!” Michael declared. “He was looking at you the way you were looking at him!” Aziraphale is content in his job as an editor at Celestial Publishing, though he could go for a bit less of doing his boss' job for him. But everything goes a bit screwy when the CEO brings in a consultant with plans to build a program that will turn the entire editorial department on its head. If only he wasn't so handsome

Butterflies in a Bell Jar by Still_Not_King (T)

Arthur “Zira” Fell and Anthony J. Crowley both work for the same company in London, a big office building for Ethereal™ Investments. Crowley is in IT, which is good because his favorite coworker’s husband is kind of a mess with computers, plus his office-mate Zira is fricking adorable. Of course, then Zira finally joins Newt and Anathema for Karaoke Friday and comes face-to-face with the real A.J.. To say they hit it off would be an understatement - it’s like they’ve known one another for years. It’s an adorable little meet-cute. There’s navigating a new relationship, falling in love hard and fast, and the Incredibly Strict No-Fraternizing Policy at work. Cept, turns out that No-Fratrenizing Policy is mostly directed at THEM specifically...

i've found a way (a way to make you smile) by curtaincall (T)

Crowley worked in Sales. He had never intended to work in Sales. It had just sort of happened. One moment, there he’d been, a newly minted university graduate off to change the world, exquisitely useless Philosophy degree in hand, and now here he was, having sauntered vaguely downwards into a Hell that consisted mainly of cold-calling new customers and sucking up to existing ones.   AU based on The Office.

- Mod D

[uniquethingtastemaker]

I think ruggie is such a great character to have in Vil fics, especially ones that center the VDC training because you have a character who is so aware of the importance of food and eating and not being wasteful and a character who is spiking/drugging/cursing food (food the MC is known to not have a ton of) just because it doesn’t fit his diet plan. The juxtaposition is incredible, and if you have the reader be close to ruggie (say shopping for food deals or just commiserating over screwy bosses and lack of funds), this makes it that much more interesting!

I'm so glad you're excited to see Ruggie in one of my upcoming Vil fanfics! I'll admit I'm not using him as a counterpart to Vil. However, that is an interesting idea! I didn't even think about that. I'll give you a little teaser for his upcoming role: Ruggie is more connected to Epel than Vil. Ok! That's it for now!

I love hearing what other people think, so thanks for sending in a comment anon!! It always makes my day

[herebecritters]

Overwhelmed ♥️

Screwy belongs to @ickyguts

[void-ink-studios]

Rinse and Spit [Part 4] - A Mouthwashing AU

Chapter 4 is here, and it's a messy one. Seriously. Read the content warning. It's Jimmy's breaking point. Seriously, this one's a doosey.

Read on AO3 here.

Content Warning:

There is not Sexual Assault in this chapter, but there are interactions written to intentionally mirror one

Forced Cannibalism

Torture with medical devices

Word Count: 3,000

If anyone feels I need to add more trigger warning tags, please let me know and I will do so.

Jimmy didn’t do much at first.  In the darkness of the Med Bay, after the screen’s sunset changed to a night scene, Curly could barely make out the outline of Jimmy’s face.

But he could see his eyes.  His empty eyes that just stared at him.

“You just couldn’t wait, could you?”

Curly watched as Jimmy stepped forward, the artificial moon light reflecting off his face.  The captain could see the blank expression on his face.

“All you people had to do was give me time to think.”

He tapped the empty gun lock box with his foot.  He slid it quietly out of his path in his slow approach towards Curly.

“I was fixing things.  I was going to make it all better.  I was going to set things right.”

Jimmy stopped at the chair next to Curly’s bed, taking a seat.

“All you had to do was let me fucking think.”

Curly watched him, trying to keep even his breathing as still as possible.  Maybe if he was as unresponsive as possible, he’d lose interest and leave?

“What did you fucking tell them, Curly?”  The captain flinched as Jimmy hit his fist into the wall next to his head.  “First Swansea’s telling Anya who fucking knows what… Then Daisuke stops talking to me… And now they’re all acting fucking screwy.  What did you tell them?  Was it before the crash?  Or have you been giving me the silent treatment this whole time?”

Curly shook his head.  He could hear his own heartbeat starting to pick up speed.  There was something in Jimmy’s eyes tonight.  But it wasn’t good.  It was something… unstable.  And he didn’t like it being directed onto him.

“Bullshit.  Trying to tell me you’d fix everything.  You were going to throw me to the wolves.  But I forgive you.  Even though none of you have ever apologized, I forgive each and every one of you.  Every night.  But I’m cleaning up the mess.  I’m making everything all better.”

Jimmy was leaning closer, invading Curly’s space.  The captain could smell something on his breath.  Mouthwash…?

“It’s a virtuous cycle.  You should be more considerate about what I’m dealing with, honestly.  I’m trying to be the best captain I can, given the mess you left me.”

If Curly didn’t think his life was literally in the hands of this man’s mood, he would’ve rolled his eye hard enough to fall out of his head.

There was suddenly a hand on him.  A hand placed on the stump that would’ve been Curly’s hand a few months ago.  It made his breath hitch as he tried to pull back, but Jimmy gripped it.  It squeezed a bit of blood caught under the bandages, making Curly wheeze softly in pain.

“How did things get so bad?  How could you let it all go so wrong, Captain?  I always heard about what a great leader you were…”

The hand traveled from the stump very slowly up his arm.  Jimmy’s nails dragged over the edges of the bandages, making them tug on the wounded skin.  Curly tried to pull his arm away, but the pilot wouldn’t let go.  He laughed a little at the struggle.

“You’re lively tonight.  Decided to be a person today, Curly?”

The hand reached the sleeve of the hospital gown and lingered.  Fingers reached under to pick more at the bandages, digging themselves to touch his actual skin.  Curly whined, the stinging sensation traveling up and down his arm and shoulder.  Still, he continued to try and pull back.

“I still think goodness exists, Curly.  Even in circumstances like ours.  If you sit still and wait for it long enough… it will arrive.  No thanks to the people around you though.  Is that what you did?  Is that where I went wrong?”

The hand traveled up the sleeve more, squeezing at Curly’s shoulder.  The touch burned, Curly could feel the lingering touch on his skin like acid had been left there.

“Maybe that was my problem.  I didn’t sit and wait for it enough.  I just kept struggling.  But you?  You just got to be you, unstoppable you, and you were floated up the ladder.  I bet you thought you were real generous when you graciously offered me a hand to get me on the ladder.”

Finally, mercifully, Jimmy removed his hand from under the sleeve.  It was covered in blood, but he seemed to pay it no mind as he placed it on top of the hospital gown this time, still lingering at his shoulder.

“People like me don’t live, Curly.  But, then again, neither do people like you, at least now.  No, we don’t live.  We survive.  I mean, look at you.  Surviving.  Relying on all of us to do so, but you’re surviving.  Look at that.  You’re sitting here, and goodness is arriving.”

The hand started wandering away from his shoulder, moving towards his neck and chest.  Curly thought he’d be in for another attempted strangulation.  He still doesn’t understand Jimmy.  How in the great inky void he can look him in the eye, call him his best friend, and then press all of his weight down on his neck.

I hope this hurts

It seemed he really didn’t understand Jimmy how he thought, considering the strangulation would be preferable to what he ended up doing next.

The hand traced around the dips of his neck, motioning like he was going to grasp it but… It didn’t.  Instead, it wandered down, resting on Curly’s chest.  He stopped to feel Curly’s heart beat.  He smiled… sadly?  The captain really didn’t know how to read his expressions these days.

“How did things get this bad?  I feel terrible about all the things… I feel terrible.  You tried to warn me.  How fucked everything is at the top.  Why didn’t I listen to you…?”

Curly’s breath hitched again at the hand slipped under the collar of the gown, digging into and under the bandages he found there.  The Captain squirmed, even trying to shove Jimmy back with his arms, but the pilot wouldn’t budge.

“Why did you have to go check, Curly?  I never meant for you to get this hurt.  We were going to die.  We were all supposed to die.  But you had to go fucking check, didn’t you?”

Curly’s breathing picked up as the hand continued to intrude, pulling at bandages to nestle onto his skin, continuing to squeeze and wander on his chest.  In the reflection of the artificial light, the captain could see tears in Jimmy’s eyes.

“...I never expected them to come look for you… I told them I saw you run out of the cockpit right before the crash.  But you just keep ruining things, don’t you?  You kept screaming.  For a fucking hour.  How did you stay alive to scream for a whole hour, Curly?  Why wouldn’t you just fucking die?  If you did, I wouldn’t have to keep looking at you.  Wouldn’t have to keep giving you your fucking medicine.  You keep staring at me like I’m the freak here.  Why did you do this to me?”

Curly was reeling.  He left him.  He fucking heard him screaming and ignored it.  Kept rescue away for an hour.  He could remember sitting there, screaming until his voice just wouldn’t allow him.  He knew the impact took his eye, took one of his hands and that side of his chest.  But the fire ate everything else.  Trapped under rubble and expanding foam, being eaten alive by fire.

The fire took his other hand.

The rubble crushed his legs, and the fire had its fill.

The fire chewed his flesh.

And then the fire took his voice.

He remembered getting finally found and dug out by Swansea.  He remembered Anya screaming, asking where he was.  He remembered Daisuke questioning how he was still alive.

And he remembered Jimmy asking what Curly had done.

And the next thing he knew, he was waking up wrapped in bandages, half blind, sitting in front of that stupid fucking sunset.  And in indescribably agony.

All this time, he thought he just couldn’t be heard over the alarm.

“Don’t fucking look at me like that.”

Curly snapped out of his rage fueled thoughts by Jimmy’s voice.  He didn’t even realize he was looking at him this whole time.  The grip tightened even further.  The captain could feel his skin ripping underneath his fingernails, warm blood starting to pool under his hand.

“Stop looking at me like that.”  The grip on Curly’s chest tightened, threatening to break the delicate layer of skin trying its best to heal.  “You’re always fucking looking at me like that, you’re always judging me.  You all do.  I’m sick of it.”

Jimmy mercifully let go, finally looking at the blood on his hand.  He wiped it off on Curly’s hospital gown before standing up, heading over to the drawers.

“I keep telling you to stop fucking staring at me, but you never listen.  I’m trying to help you, Curly, but I can’t do that when you’re looking at me like some kind of monster.”

He rummaged through them, silently cursing to himself.  Clearly looking for something.

“There’s enemies all around us, Curly.  They’re going to kill you.  I’m the only reason you’re alive.  You’re my friend, I’m the reason the others let you live.  You should be grateful.  But I don’t know if they’ll listen to me anymore.”

His voice was breaking, like he was ready to start weeping.

“You’re so ungrateful.  But maybe so was I.  I took your generosity for granted.  Never suspected you’d wipe your feet of me. You had so much power, power I never appreciated.  The highest rung on my ladder wouldn’t even be worth living to you.  But now…?”

He finally turned to look at Curly again.  The captain could see a glint of metal in Jimmy’s hand.

A scalpel.

No.  No, he wouldn't, right?

I hope this hurts

“You’re as powerless as I was.”

This wasn’t happening.  This couldn’t be happening.  No more did he want to scream than right this second, as Jimmy hoisted himself up on his bed and loomed over him.  The scalpel glinted in the artificial moon light.

Jimmy felt so much larger than Curly ever realized.  He could feel all of the weight of the man above him pressing down on his body.

He opened his mouth, hoping for some noise to escape, but Jimmy shoved his hand into his mouth, pressing down on his throat.

“Shhh… It’s okay.  Don’t scream.  This is for your own good.”

Jimmy held the scalpel close to his eye.  In a desperate prayer, Curly wrenched his head to look at the door.

Take Responsibility

I hope this hurts

“Who are you looking for?  The door’s locked.  No one can open that door except for you and Anya.  And… Well, we both know Anya’s not going to stop me.”

Curly felt rage burn.  It overrode his fear, the indignant fury.  An energy filled him, one he hasn’t had in months.

Take responsibility

His jaws clamped down as hard as he could.

I hope this hurts

The metallic taste of blood flooded his mouth.  He could feel his teeth crushing flesh.  Jimmy’s scream filled his ear as the man desperately tried to pull his hand out.  He heard the scalpel clatter somewhere on the floor.  Curly only let go when he felt his jaw go sore.

“You FUCKER!”

Jimmy gripped his hand close to his chest, looking at the damage.  Curly tasted the blood, felt it slide down his throat.  He wanted to vomit it back up, but his stomach was so empty…

There was a little knock on the Med Bay door.

“Jimmy?  You okay?”

Daisuke.

Curly opened his mouth to scream, only to have a hand press down hard on his throat, cutting off his air.

“Yes Daisuke, I’m fine .”

The door rattled a little.

“Why can’t I open the door?  Is it stuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s stuck.  I’ll find my way out, don’t worry.”

“Hold on.”

Jimmy cursed under his breath as he heard Daisuke leave.  Curly was starting to see spots in his vision as the hand pressed down harder.

“Now look what you’ve done.  They’re coming to kill us, Curly.  It’s mutiny.”

Jimmy finally let go of Curly’s neck, letting him gasp lungfuls of the stale air within the Tulpar.

“You deserve a captain’s goodbye… You haven’t had real food in months, right?  Let’s get you something to eat.  There’s no meat left in the kitchen.  But I have an idea.  Come on, Captain Curly.  We’re having a Hero’s feast.”

Jimmy climbed off of Curly and meandered back over to the cabinets and drawers.  The Captain had to think fast.  He didn’t know what Curly was thinking, but it couldn’t be good…

He tried to roll over and crawl, but where was he supposed to go?  It was just him on his little fabric island of a bed.  Then he looked down.

Nowhere to go but down.

“There we are.”

Curly didn’t even look at what Jimmy had found, just moved.  He used what strength he had to roll over and off the bed.  He tried to angle the fall in a way that wouldn’t hit his head on the chair, but it hardly mattered.  He felt the air drop out of him as his broken body hit the metal floor.

He made a slow, desperate crawl towards the door.  His entire body screamed for him to stop.  He felt barely healed tears in his skin split and bleed.  Every movement of his arms attempting to drag his weight across the floor made him feel as if he were made of lead.

“Jimbo.  What’s this about the door being stuck?”

Swansea.

Curly tried again.  Tried to scream, but now there was a work boot on his neck.  Jimmy stared down at him, a hack saw in his hand, the teeth of the blade reflecting the window screen.

“It’s just stuck, Swansea.  Don’t worry about it.  I’ll sleep in here and we’ll get me out in the morning, yeah?”

There was a long 

“Jim.  Is the door really stuck?  Or did you lock it?”

“I don’t know what you mean, Swansea.”

“I mean that if you were stuck, I know how you’d actually react.  You’d be complaining about how I don’t do my fucking job by making sure the doors don’t jam.  You’re not stuck.  You’re right where you want to be.”

“Don’t be silly.  I’m just tired.”

Jimmy took the boot off of Curly’s neck, bending down to scoop him up and carry him like a bride.  He unceremoniously dropped him back on the Med Bay bed, ignoring how the captain was kicking out his limbs to make him go away.

“Unlock the door, Jim.  You know we can unlock it from our side.  No need to make this harder.”

“I told you, I haven’t locked the door.  The door will open when it needs to.”

Jimmy sounded detached.  Like the borderline sobs he was holding back a few minutes ago were a long distant memory.

“Jim?  What are you up to?”

“Nothing, Swansea.  Nothing at all.”

Curly kicked as Jimmy approach him with the saw.  There was that emptiness in his eyes again.  A quiet acceptance.  As if what he was about to do was his solemn duty.  He grabbed Curly’s leg, hard, and held it down on the bed.

“Let’s feast.”

I hope this hurts

Curly didn’t see more than feel the next few seconds.

He felt the teeth of the blade sinking into his already ruined leg.  He felt the sawing motion, as if he was a piece of ham that Jimmy was carving.  He felt his vision go white from pain, and tears well up in his eye.  He felt his own heart pounding in his chest, he could hear the saw digging into the bone.

But he could mostly hear his own scream.

The first time he had heard his own voice in months.  And it’s a scream of agony.

He felt blood pooling out of his leg, trying his best to breathe through his agony.  It felt as if Jimmy has shoved a white hot poker into the stump below his knee and twisted it.

Jimmy inspected the piece of his leg he had sawed off.  The blade was dripping crimson, his hands were soaked in it.

“There.  This should be good enough.  Feast now, Curly.”

Curly didn’t even realize when Jimmy climbed back on top of him until his face was right against his.  The darkness in his eyes was inescapable.  Like he was staring into tar pits.  He thrashed and tried to push his former friend away with his stumps, but he didn’t move.  He didn’t even flinch.  He was smarter this time, using his hand to force his jaw open instead of sticking his fingers back in.

Please please please please no no no no no

Jimmy planted a soft kiss onto Curly’s forehead.

And then shoved the piece of meat down into his mouth.

Jimmy clamped Curly’s mouth closed, covering both teeth with his hand, and holding his jaw in place with the other.

Something was paralyzed in the captain’s mind.  A part that refused to process what was happening, refused to register what was in his mouth.  He struggled with every ounce of energy his body could muster, but Jimmy has always been bigger than him.  The pilot pressed down with most of his weight onto Curly’s head and face, keeping his mouth closed as tightly as possible.

No one heard the door unlock.

“Just accept it, Curly.”  Jimmy lifted and slammed down Curly’s head over and over, trying to jostle it off his tongue.

No one heard the door open.

“It’s your last meal, enjoy it.  Be grateful it’s not more Pony Express cake.”  Jimmy pressed his hand down, muffling any noise Curly could make.  He paid no mind to the bloody stumps the captain pressed into his face.  He never broke eye contact.

No one heard Anya cry out.

“Just fucking swallow it.”  The meat fell down his throat, his body reflexively trying to choke it down.

Everyone heard the gunshot.

[marlynnofmany]

Racetracking

“The good news,” announced the gravelly voice of Mimi the tentacle alien, “Is that this model defaults to zero-g when it breaks.” He led the way down the corridor with tentacle slaps instead of footsteps, which managed to sound exasperated.

I had the brief thought that he was louder than Mur and Wio when he walked, possibly because he spent so much time in the engine room where everything was noisy. But I put that thought aside. I had a pretty good idea what the bad news was.

“The bad news,” Mimi grumbled, “Is that the carrying cage that these high-paying customers insisted on is so broken that I can’t fix it. Even with the right tools.”

“So we have animals in zero-g,” I said.

Mimi waved a tentacle in a way that I privately found hilarious. “We just took off! Just! It’s like they’re trying to frame us for damages!”

I looked at him in alarm. “Are we sure they’re not?”

He made a dismissive motion, still walking. “That’s what the cameras in the storage holds are for. There’s proof that no one dropped it or whatever. And I think Captain Sunlight is already talking to them about it, which is a conversation I do not envy her.”

I winced. “Yeah. Which animals? It’s just one of the carriers, right?”

“The little ones. I dunno what they’re called. They were alive when I left, but they looked pretty upset.”

That didn’t narrow it down. As the ship’s resident animal expert, I’d had a look at each of the half-dozen life support chambers that passed for carriers among the rich folks. Each of them held a different type of little furry whatsit in wild colors. Each was sealed with its own supply of air and gravity — or at least it was supposed to be.

I couldn’t hear any distressed noises yet, but when Mimi poked the button for the door, it slid open to a chorus of muffled squeaks.

The six chambers were lined up in a row, on display in the center of the room, with nothing close enough to so much as touch them. Five held animals calmly nosing around the bottom.

One held a whirling tornado of blue fur.

I dashed over to peer through the glass, hands dancing uncertainly. I shouldn’t touch it, shouldn’t open it. But—!

…But.

I looked closer. “They’re running.” I dropped my hands and stared.

Mimi plopped down next to me. “Is that bad?”

“No, it’s just — Look at them! They’re doing this on purpose!” I started to smile as I realized why the squeaks sounded familiar. “They’ve made their own hamster wheel.”

“A what now?” Mimi wanted to know.

I gestured vaguely. “It’s an exercise thing for animals like this where I’m from. A wheel that they run inside of, and it keeps spinning. These guys—” I pointed at the chamber. “—Have created their own.”

“Uh-HUH.” Mimi tilted his head to watch the antics, which were slowing down as they noticed us. “That is a strange reaction to zero-gravity.”

“I’ve heard of mice that did that, actually,” I said as a memory surfaced. “It took them a while to make a game of it. I wonder if this isn’t the first time the carrier’s gravity has gone screwy.”

Mimi held a curl of tentacle thoughtfully to his face. “That is an interesting data point. The captain will want to know.” He lowered it. “And if you’re sure these things aren’t about to die of organ explosion or whatever, then we should go tell her.”

The blue furry things — which did honestly look a lot like mice — had settled down to some more even-tempered bumping around in there. None were limping as far as I could tell, and none had been knocked unconscious or worse.

“I think they’re okay,” I said, looking closely. “The food dispenser is closed, thankfully, so there aren’t any pellets or globs of water floating about. They just got a bit of excitement.”

Mimi levered himself off the floor. “They’re not the only ones,” he grumbled. “Annoying little meatsticks must be in cahoots with the rich jerks, trying to make our lives harder. Why would they even do that?”

I gave the chamber one last look, then stood and followed him toward the door. “I dunno, it looks like fun. Probably a lot of animals would enjoy that if they knew it was an option.”

Mimi stared at me with one large eye. “Animals from your planet.”

“Well, yeah. Probably others too.”

He made a wet-sounding snort of skepticism and led the way into the hall.

I followed, smiling. “Come on, it looks like fun. I was just thinking it would be neat to try in a zero-g room, though flat walls wouldn’t be as good as curved ones.”

“Your planet’s full of weirdos. You know that, right?”

“Oh, it’s been said before.”

~~~

Thanks to this post for inspiration! It was too good an idea to pass up.

Anyways, this is the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book. But you probably already knew that.

[soaps-mohawk]

CR:CB is so ingrained in my head because of you Rory... (thank you, I love your writing🥰😘)

..that I caught myself using the term "distressing" when my dad had called just a bit ago asking why he heard me freaking out and sounding distressed while I was over at my parents place earlier. Told him "I was already distressing from stuff I'd found out (about my work schedule) last week." And now.. the paycheck I got today is all screwy and I have yet to receive the paystub for it. So yeah I'm distressing a lil bit

So congrats, you got me using the term "distressing" as if I'm a little Omega struggling to survive in this world. 🫡🤨

Which honestly, it kinda feels like it most days🙄😮‍💨😵‍💫

Omg not you using CRCB lingo in real life 😭 I feel that though I too am an omega struggling to survive in this world.

I am sorry you're going through that though that's super stressful 😭 especially paycheck stuff. That's the worst kind of stress to have. I hope it gets solved soon!!