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bawdybean · 1 year

Note

I saw you mention in the comments that you were also banned from the 30+ Fanfic Discord Server without warning or explanation. Would you be willing to share your story?

Sure why not. So I joined the server because I had several friends on there who were enjoying it, and then once I was there, a bunch MORE friends joined. It was nice for a bit, but I noticed quite quickly that there was one mod (Adela) who was... a bit aggressive. A hair trigger for correcting others but often did not follow the rules themselves- and that bothered me a lot due to previous fandom experience.

As an example, I invited a friend, and then left quite quickly because within a single day, Adela had come at them over their opinion on the ability of someone to write from a perspective they don't have (such as writing across genders etc). The mod apologized eventually and said they were very touchy about it because of a friend. Oookay. The flags were there but I chose to keep giving it a try. It is supposed to be a server full of adults (30+ is the whole point) and we were encouraged to act like adults- in the rules. But in practice, any phrase that any member or mod could interpret wrong was worthy of the mods reminding us not to do X Y o r Z because it might be offensive to someone. When I spoke up and asked that also maybe everyone could assume good intent as well? I was shushed and talked down to. I always felt that the mods were trying to "parent" the server. Adela in particular. One mod would tell me one thing and then Adela would come in HOURS later to correct both me and that mod.

Finally fed up with this I messaged the Server Owner Maryberry. I explained that I felt Adela was targeting some members of the server, and that I felt treated like a child, that ill intent was assumed in members actions first, but that Adela herself often did the things she corrected of others, even though they were not within the rules. I further explained that I had had a previous bad experience with a mod in a large server where I was a mod and that Adela bore a striking resemblance in behaviors. So in fairness part of it was me being set off by that. I asked if I was allowed to block a mod, because this is not explicitly stated in the rules but is the advice we/I would have given in much larger servers in case of a mod/member conflict. I also edxplained that several others had complained to me about Adela's behavior, including getting a DM from a server member I did not know, saying Adela was just like this and that Adela had treated her that way too, and she just wanted me to know I wasn't alone. I blacked out the persons name and passed that message along to Maryberry as well, naively thinking that perhaps they were too close to the situation and just not aware that they had a mod making a LOT of people uncomfortable. Maryberry asked if theycould tell Adela I had a problem with her, and i requested she not as I did not see how that would help in any way. They then requested time to think over if I should be allowed to block a mod. They decided I could, but that I would be at risk of missing messages that were important. I pointed out that I had a partner in the server who would relay those if needed, and that there was rarely if ever only a single mod on and proceeded to block Adella. Who continued to ping me with replies, respond to my comments (at times aggressively still), and all that came with that. I decided to stop speaking in the server because so often what I said drew attention from Adela, and with it criticism or unhelpful argument for the sake of argument. They have (had, idk if its still around) a public channel for asking questions and making suggestions for rule changes etc to the server, and one day someone was upset and requested a new rule that we not be allowed to make any jokes about any language we aren't a native speaker of (such as not being able to say: English can't verb, unless we are native English speaker. I chimed in that it might also be helpful to just assume good intent on the part of other server members and talk to them if they say something you feel is offensive since there is no real way to police if a person is a native speaker of a given language or not. And again a rule like that seemed unnecessarily "mommy-ing" of the adults in this server that claims to promote a mature atmosphere. Another mod responded to me, we all chatted in the channel things seemed fine. Adela came in hours later and scoured my ass, with a pinged reply. At this point I did behave poorly. I admit it. I unblocked Adela and DMd them that I had unblocked them specifically to let them know that I did not appreciate their behivior and that I was requesting that they no ping/reply/address me at all. I sent a screen shot of that DM to MaryBerry. I was not cruel, but I was BLUNT, and I did tell Adela that I did not appreciate her response. For transparency here is a shot of what I sent her.

what I then sent to the server owner

and the warning I received in response:

At this point I decided that the only way for me to be able to be present in the server was to be a lurker, watching and enjoying what my friends and partner participated in but not able to share anything myself. But I stayed because it was one server, where a lot of people I knew had congregated and so much easier than DMing 15 people to keep up with them. Then **4 months later** came the bruhaha that was referenced in part one of this blog. Adela broke rules again, it caused a stir and people spoke up, including me about this continuing to be an issue [mods not applying the rules to themselves or their friends] and retaliating against those who spoke up. One mod asked me in honestly in public chat why I stayed in the server if i did not feel i could even speak in it, and I answered honestly, that I stay because i know and am liked by many people here, and its nice to see what they are up to. Another mod suggested that perhaps I should evaluate if the server was a good fit for me since I didn't feel I could participate, and in that context it came off very much as "get out" to the point of other people asking as well in chat. I asked for clarification if I was being asked to leave the server of my own accord, and was told that no, that was a decision for me to make. I chose to stay, and was unceremoniously banned a day or two later without any further interaction from any mod, any notification, or warning. To be clear in the idk 9+ mo I was in the server I received one warning and I accepted it. As shown above. That was MONTHS before I was banned. When several of my friends asked why I was banned in open chat, the mods released their patented "we never ban without communicating why/warning/etc" and said that unfortunately I was banned for reasons "unrelated" to me questioning why the rules did not apply to the mods.

#fandom wank #30+ fanfic discord #age does not equal maturity.#fandom #discourse #mods behaving badly #make informed choices #discord drama #toxic culture #sure did save these receipts

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luthien-under-bough · 1 year

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First Snow

Jace soars above endless leagues of mottled brown earth, further north than he’s ever been. Even the moon — high and distant in the northern sky — withdraws from this barren place.

Something white and delicate settles atop Vermax, glistening with borrowed moonlight before melting into pale green scales.

Jace looks up, and the bitter air comes alive with sparkles.

They catch on his eyelashes, and press icy kisses onto his cheeks. He laughs, snaring some with his tongue; a crisp, raw cold, bracing in its harshness.

This is what winter tastes like, he thinks, grinning.

He can’t wait to tell Luke.

My first drabble! Written for the 30+ Fanfic Discord's new monthly drabble prompt event. You can also find it on ao3.

#drabble #100 words #prompt fic #30+ fanfic #30+ fanfic discord #house of the dragon #hotd #jacaerys velaryon #jace #vermax #first snow

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annas-hair-donut · 1 year

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Overheard

Fandom: Frozen Ship: Anna/Kristoff Rating: M Words: 500 Summary: Kristoff gets into a fight with his roommate Anna when she coerces him into caroling with her, but it gets a little too personal.

Part of the 30PlusFanfic Server's December Prompt Event 2022.

#frozen #frozen fanfic #kristanna #kristoff #anna #overheard #coerced into caroling #30+ fanfic discord

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alondradina · 1 year

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Done for the 30+ Valentine's event! We had to choose from a list of romantic songs and write a 1k or less fic based on one. I chose Wicked Games by Chris Isaak.

Fandom: Dragon Age, Dragon Age Origins

Pairing: Cullen/Amell (Disguised Desire demon/Cullen)

Rating: T

Uldred has fallen, and the mages' rebellion has ended in a blur of blood magic and abominations. Demons stalk the halls; commanding and compelling their mortal prey. Cullen stands firm in his belief that there is nothing they can tempt him with.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/45061450

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #cullen rutherford #warden amell #cullen x amell #desire demon #song fic #wicked games #30+ fanfic #30+ discord #30+ writers #30+ fanfic discord

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mrs-steve-harrington · 2 years

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Answering Your Call

Read on AO3

Rating: T

Relationships: Jonathan Byers/Steve Harrington/Nancy Wheeler

Characters: Nancy Wheeler, Jonathan Byers, Steve Harrington

Additional Tags: AU, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha Nancy Wheeler, Alpha Jonathan Byers, Omega Steve Harrington, Protective Nancy Wheeler, Protective Jonathan Byers, Hurt Nancy Wheeler, Hurt Steve Harrington, Hurt/Comfort, Mutual Pining, POV Nancy Wheeler

Word Count: 2,987

Summary:

AU where Jonathan never left Hawkins at the end of season 3.

When Steve is dragged into the Upside Down, Nancy and Jonathan don't hesitate to dive in after him.

One of Steve's hands pats at her arm, quick but with nowhere near the force he's normally capable of. Nancy refuses to budge, even when one of the bats swoops back down and sinks its teeth into her shoulder. Steve is always, always the one who comes away with the most injuries of any of them. She's sick of it; sick of seeing the bruises on his face, down his chest and stomach. Sick of watching how stiffly he moves for weeks afterwards and how through all of it, he acts like he's fine. Like everyone else has it worse than him.

Notes: Written for the 30+ Fanfic Writers discord server’s second birthday event. For the prompts:

— Character A shields Character B with their body — Clothes Sharing

Also my contribution to @stoncyweek2022. It doesn’t fit with the prompts, but I wanted to share something for my OT3!

#stoncy #stranger things #stoncy week 2022 #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #steve harrington #my fic #my writing #30+ fanfic discord

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bad-at-names-and-faces · 2 years

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Baking

The 30+ Fanfic discord is having an event for its anniversary, and I finished one of my two prompts, so, I present: “baking”...

(for those keeping track at home, this is in the AU where Olaf and Kristoff are roommates)

Kristoff stared at the book. He’d picked it up at the free library box on the way home from work the day before, but it turned out to be less interesting than the cover made him think. The screensaver quietly flashed across the TV on the other side of the room, the black and purple giving an almost relaxing glow to the room. He had long since identified all the movies the pictures represented, and it had been a while since he had given them any thought.

There was a knock at the door. He wasn’t sure who would be coming by on a Saturday.

He opened the door to see Anna there.

“Oh, Kristoff, I didn’t realize you’d be home!” she exclaimed.

“I- Who did you think would be home?”

“I thought Olaf would be, but maybe I’m mixing up your work schedules in my head. That’s probably it. Don’t worry, if I’m intruding, I could go, or something. Or not. How are you?”

Kristoff blinked.

“Um, I’m fine. I was literally not doing anything.” He opened the door and stepped back, hoping that Anna would come all the way in.

“So…” Anna began, stepping inside enough for him to close the door.

“How’s it going?” Kristoff asked.

He knew Olaf was a childhood friend of Anna’s, but surely they weren’t- none of his business if there was something, he reminded himself. She was a friend, just a friend, and probably out of his league, anyway. Why was he even thinking this?

“It’s fine,” she said, somewhat vaguely. “We were going to bake a cake. It’s my sister’s birthday coming up, you know. I could bake it at home, but I really want it to be a surprise."

"Uh, of course," Kristoff mumbled. He and Anna had flirted a hit, he supposed, though he was never good at knowing when women were flirting with him, and whether they were even serious. Of course, he had never asked. "So, you were gonna bake a cake with Olaf? Does our oven even work?"

"Funny you ask, but remember your birthday when we got take out?"

"Uh, yeah?"

That had been a few months before. His roommate Olaf had invited Anna and her sister Elsa over as a surprise, and they'd ordered Chinese food from his favorite restaurant.

"So, Olaf and I were going to cook a meal for you, but we couldn't figure out your oven, since it's kind of old… anyhow, we figured out the pilot light last week, so now you have a working oven."

"Wow, thanks," Kristoff said, not wanting to admit just how little he ever touched the stove or oven that he hadn't even noticed.

"Yeah, I hope you don't mind."

"Why would I mind?"

"Well, it's your place," she reminded him.

"Olaf pays rent, too," Kristoff insisted.

"Yeah, but it was your place first."

"Fine," Kristoff laughed. "So, do you want some help with baking? Or are you just going to wait for Olaf to get home?"

"When does he get home?"

"I really don't know," Kristoff admitted. "I thought maybe you knew, seeing as you're hanging out and stuff."

"Well," Anna said,looking up at him, "you and I are hanging out right now and I don't know your schedule. And…"

"Oh, so it's not like you're-"

"Wait, what?" Anna interrupted.

"Uh, I don't remember what I was going to say," Kristoff replied, quickly attempting to backtrack.

"You don't think we're… Olaf?"

"I said nothing!" Kristoff insisted.

“Um, anyway…” Anna said, starting toward the kitchen. “You don’t mind if I bake something here?”

“That’s fine,” he said. “Is there anything I can help with?”

“Sure!” Anna chirped, smiling directly at him.

Kristoff looked away and walked to the fridge, trying to avoid eye contact. He could hear her fiddling with the dials on the oven, probably setting it to preheat.

“I just bought milk yesterday,” he told her, still staring inside the fridge, “so it should be good. And there are eggs. I’m not sure about sugar or flour or anything like that.”

“Oh, that’s fine! I’ve actually got a mix, so I just need the milk and eggs. I’m going to try to make egg whites, have you ever separated eggs?”

“Can’t say I have,” Kristoff admitted, quickly glancing over his shoulder to see Anna standing behind him setting out the box of cake mix.

“Me neither, but I was watching a video this morning, and it shouldn’t be too hard.”

He opened the fridge.

“How many eggs?”

“The box says two. I’m not sure what to do with the yolks, but I’m sure someone has a recipe for using them, since so many things call for egg whites.”

Kristoff got the eggs out while she was speaking, not sure whether he should actually open the carton, since he didn’t want to just set the eggs on the counter, since they might roll off on the floor. He held up the two eggs. “Where do you want them?”

“Oh, um, here, I’ll take them!” Anna said, holding out her hands.

Kristoff suddenly felt awkward about it, but placed the eggs firmly in her hands, trying not to think about his fingers brushing hers. That was stupid, why was he even thinking about this?

“So…” Anna began, “I’m supposed to break the egg in half, and then go back and forth over a bowl and keep the yolk in the egg. I think?”

Kristoff shrugged. “I’ve never done this, either.”

Anna hit the egg on the counter, making a dent in the side. She giggled. “That worked! Half the time I crunch it completely and get bits of egg inside.”

Kristoff nodded, focusing on the egg, not sure if he should make any comment. Better to just keep quiet than say the wrong thing to her.

She carefully split the egg open, the yolk looking like a flattened marble going back and forth between the sides of the shell, and the yolk dripping into the bowl.

“There!” she declared, “One down, one to go!”

“Do you want something to hold the yolks?” Kristoff asked.

“That would be a good idea,” Anna said.

Kristoff opened a drawer and got out a container that had originally held some kind of soup, he couldn’t remember what. “This good?”

“Perfect!”

Anna dropped the yolk in the container, and set down the shells. Kristoff silently took them and stuck them in the trash. Anna was busy starting on the next egg and didn’t notice.

“Two for two!” she shouted as she dumped the second yolk in the old take-out container.

“Nice,” Kristoff said.

“The next part is easy,” she said looking around, grabbing the jar of oil from the shelf. “Wait, Kristoff, do you have a measuring cup?”

“I thought you already did some cooking here?”

“I did, but not any baking. You can cook and just guesstimate how much to put in. I don’t want to do that with the oil and water here.”

“Uh…" Kristoff rummaged through the drawer where he kept random kitchen things he'd acquired but never used. He found a measuring cup. "This?"

"No," Anna said quickly, "that's a dry measuring cup, I need one of the clear ones with markings on the side."

"Like the glass ones?"

"Pyrex is best, but yeah."

"Does it have to be pyrex?" Kristoff asked. "I have one, but I don't know if it's pyrex."

"No, it doesn't really matter. My mom used to make a big deal about that, but it's not like we're boiling anything."

Kristoff went to the cupboard where he kept the glasses and got out the measuring cup.

"That's exactly it!" Anna squealed, almost jumping.

She measured out the oil and milk, and squinted at the box again.

“I wish they didn’t make the print so small… Oh, shoot, do you have an electric mixer?”

Kristoff chuckled. “Unless Olaf bought one while I wasn’t looking, I know I don’t have one of those.”

“This will take a while, then,” she sighed, beginning to mix.

“Can I try?”

Anna stopped. “Good idea! Here! Make sure to get everything really mixed, and try to get it fluffy.”

Kristoff nodded and took the bowl and spoon. He mixed as quickly as he could without making a mess. He didn’t take his eyes off of the bowl, but he could feel Anna’s eyes on him.

“Is this good?” he asked after a few minutes.

“Oh, that looks good! If I weren’t making this for Elsa, I’d want to dip my finger in right now.”

“Isn’t that dangerous?” Kristoff asked.

Anna shrugged. “The eggs weren’t cracked, and they smelled fine. Did you know that you’re actually more likely to get salmonella from flour?”

“Really?”

“That’s what I read. Not that I let it stop me from tasting the batter, anyway…” she trailed off, looking for the pans in the cupboards she could reach. Kristoff knew they were in the cupboard above the oven, so he reached up and got it down for her.

“Oh, thanks!”

Kristoff watched her get the pan ready, and then pour in the batter.

“Do you need any more help?” he asked as she opened the oven.

“I got this!”

She slammed the oven door closed, then got out her phone.

“Twenty minutes,” she announced.

“Twenty minutes?”

“Yup. Just enough time to make frosting. Olaf said he bought powdered sugar.”

“Is that what that was?” Kristoff asked. He opened the lower cupboard and handed Anna the bag.

“You really haven’t done any baking, huh?”

“Nope.”

She got out a bowl and put a bit in, mixing with a little bit of milk.

“Do you need the measuring cup again?”

“Nah, this one is just getting it the right consistency. I think that’s perfect!”

“Now what?”

“Now we just wait until the cake’s ready to come out.”

“Want to watch something?” Kristoff asked, gesturing to the living room.

“Sure!”

Anna raced to the living room, and sat down on the couch. Kristoff hesitated, but went ahead and sat down on the other side.

“Want to watch a baking show?” he asked.

“Seriously?”

Kristoff shrugged, smirking.

“Actually, sure!”

They sat silently watching. Kristoff felt very aware of how close Anna was to him.

“Hey, Kristoff,” Anna said, her hand touching his knee.

“Yes?” Kristoff croaked in reply.

“Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you.” She moved her hand back to her lap. “I was just wondering…”

Kristoff waited for her to finish the sentence.

“She needs to check the oven now!” she shouted at the TV, apparently forgetting whatever she was going to say.

“You were saying?” Kristoff asked.

“Right… right… it’s just funny, when I came over to make your birthday dinner, or, well, not make it, but that’s not the point-”

“What was funny?”

“Olaf was surprised I hadn’t been here before, that’s all.”

“Why would he be surprised?” Kristoff looked over, but Anna was staring intently at the TV again.

“I mean,” she said, glancing back over, “I’m sure he didn’t mean anything by it, right?”

“And so if he did?” Kristoff shrugged.

“Exactly!” Anna laughed, her hand resting on his knee again.

Kristoff let himself stretch out, his arm behind Anna’s shoulders, not quite touching her. What was he, a teenager?

Anna leaned into him a bit more. This was comfortable.

Suddenly, the entire couch was vibrating.

“What the-” Kristoff began.

“The cake!” Anna shouted, jumping up and turning off her phone’s alarm.

By the time Kristoff was in the kitchen, Anna had already gotten the cake out, and was giving the frosting a second stir.

“I need to wait a few minutes for the cake to cool a bit,” she explained. “Otherwise, it’ll just soak into the cake and won’t look like frosting.”

“Then what?” Kristoff asked.

“Then, well, do you mind if the cake stays here tonight? I’ll cover it up, but it should be fine in the fridge overnight.”

“There’s plenty of space, sure!”

“Then… oh, we need to figure out getting the cake to my place for the party. We invited you, didn’t we?”

“I don’t remember,” Kristoff admitted. “Who’s invited?”

“No one, really. Elsa hates big parties.”

“Will she mind if I’m there?”

“Mind? She’d love it. She thinks you’re great!”

“I’ll be there, then. And I can bring the cake.”

“When Olaf gets home, maybe talk about coming together. No point in bringing two different cars.”

“Right.”

Anna gingerly touched the cake. “It’s cool enough now. I’ll take care of the frosting, and get out of your hair.”

“You can get in my hair any time,” Kristoff replied without thinking.

“Wait, what?”

“You’re dripping the frosting!”

“Sorry, sorry, I'll wipe that up.”

“It’s fine, really,” Kristoff insisted.

Anna finished frosting the cake, and took a paper towel to wipe the extra frosting from the counter.

“Um, so, I’ll see you tomorrow?” he asked as she was heading out.

“Six o’clock!” Anna smiled and headed out the door.

#30+ fanfic discord #kristanna #modern au

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thychesters · 9 months

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ocean breathes salty. zolu ; 2.7k | for @loopeyfluff

Nami stomps up like she’s had to scour the entire ship for them, as if there’s any other place they would be on the Sunny this close to the in-between of dinner and splitting off to nightly duties. The wind picks up to whip her hair around her face, and he catches the fluttering of paper and her huffing. He narrowly avoids getting socked in the jaw or Luffy elbowing his nose into his brain.

She stops to watch them in the golden light, her own features casting longer shadows than normal, and she closes her eyes with a sigh before lowering herself to the deck behind them. She grimaces at “don’t put your ass in my face” as Luffy twists while the man below him adjusts his hold.

“Why am I not surprised you two are doing something weird.”

“Nami!” Luffy chirps as she brushes imaginary lint off her knee. “I asked Zoro if he could bench press me.”

read on ao3.

#zolu #zoluna if you squint really hard #one piece #op fanfic #kate writes #the 'zoro holding up sogeking with one arm' > 'what's the ballast on the ship like' > 'luffy can be a weight'#> 'how many times do you think someone has stumbled across zoro bench pressing luffy' 1:30 am discord pipeline #this one is dumb but i had fun practicing more dialogue lmao

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annaofthenorthernlights · 9 months

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The Tavern Deity

for the 30+ fanfic discord monthly 100 word drabble prompt event

prompt: libation on AO3

Fandom: Beauty&The Beast (Disney 1991) post-canon diverted Rating: M

~~~

Gaston's Tavern is packed with people celebrating with the host and his three lovely brides, the Bimbette sisters.

"How on earth will he handle them on the wedding night?" Adam muses as he watches Gaston dance, encircled by his wives. He looks like a revered deity, and the wine spilled on the floor by the drunken guests resembles an ancient act of libation.

"I imagine one at a time, while his hands work on the other two simultaneously." Belle says with a sly smile and nudges her husband. Adam chokes on his wine and Belle pecks him on the cheeks.

#100 word drabble #30+ fanfic discord #batb1991 #fanfic

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whimsicalmeerkat · 1 year

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a tale of two sweaters

On AO3

Derek isn’t blind, OK? He knows how Stiles reacts to his red sweater.

Derek already has one sweater Stiles really likes. Erica gives him a new one.

Written for the @thirty-plus-fanfic December 2022 winter event. (Collection)

#holidays #christmas #teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #500 words #prompt fic #30+ fanfic #30+ fanfic discord #rated e #author:whimsicalmeerkat

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lenievi · 10 hours

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First TOS thingie written this year \o/ It was written as mckirk.

prompt: signal

Could be longer, but I really wanted to make it only one hundred words.

---

The signal isn’t coming.

Jim grips the fabric of his pants. “Come on, Bones.”

The planet visible on the viewscreen is blue like home. Even now, Jim feels the wave of longing, but it’s quickly drowned by dread and worry.

“Two minutes to the eruption,” Spock says, and Jim holds himself back from snapping.

McCoy’s still on the surface! Doesn’t Spock care?

Uhura’s urgent calls for “Doctor McCoy” are the only sound on the bridge.

“One minute.”

Jim stands, fists clenched, seeing nothing but blue.

A noise in the intercom. “Enterprise?” McCoy. “Three to beam up.”

Jim exhales in relief.

#my writing #jim kirk #mckirk #star trek tos #written for a prompt over at 30+ fanfic discord #sometimes a prompt can inspire me i guess #but i'm just happy that i wrote a short mckirk thingie #even tho i think the story just lives in my head and idk if i managed to properly express it lol #but anyway i had fun #i don't write in present tense but i made an exception for this #also this isn't the writing i mentioned earlier. it's more writing! yay :D

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bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue · 10 months

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Bebop Crew July Challenge, Day 1: Midnight

Thanks to the @bebopcrew community for the prompt list! I’ll be writing fics based on their July 30-Day Challenge all this month (if I can!); I’ll also be posting them to AO3 here!

Fittingly, I wrote most of this around/past midnight—my sleep schedule is so messed up these days that I’m most productive between the hours of 11 PM and 4 AM, so that’s probably when I’ll be getting most of these stories posted. So if you see me posting, for instance, my fic for Day 1 on what’s technically July 2, well…that’s what I have to say for myself.

This fic was also (minorly) influenced by @graysongraysoff’s first fic for Beboptober 2020, “3, 2, 1…Let’s Jam!”

Also, enjoy this rejected first line: “There are many benefits to being a marine biologist bounty hunter….”

As the clock ticked past midnight, Spike and Jet sat on neighboring barstools, keeping a sharp lookout for the bounty head who was rumored to pass through this bar tonight—or from a message from Faye indicating that the bounty head had visited the bar where she was stationed, instead. There had been no sign of the guy for a while, and the only messages from Faye just consisted of her complaints of boredom. (The bar was on a relatively remote asteroid, after all.) The anticipation and the silence—other than the occasional attempt at conversation from Jet or the crack of peanut shells (no drinks for them tonight, or at least minimal drinks; they needed to focus)—gave Spike a lot of time to think about the reasons he’d become a bounty hunter in the first place. The reasons he’d chosen this offbeat, freelance profession to fill this part of his life—such as it was.

Sure, the paychecks were irregular, often scanty, and—more often than the crew would like—nonexistent. And he wasn’t one to pretend that the money didn’t matter, that he was purely in the bounty-hunting business for the love of the job or whatever. And sure, one could go on and on about catching bad guys, keeping them off the streets, bringing justice to the world—and Spike supposed those were advantages too, though he preferred to leave the philosophizing to Jet. And they definitely weren’t the reason he’d picked up the work. Anyway, on nights like these—when he and Jet and Faye were in their element, and he was sure a fat stack of Woolongs was on their way—Spike preferred to focus on the more practical benefits of the job.

Spike knew he’d chafe in some corporate 9-to-5 job, or in retail or customer service, or in any position with set hours and fake smiles and a supervisor breathing down his neck. He’d struggle and squirm as if wearing an ill-fitting jacket. And he couldn’t imagine having to say things like “actionable items” or “let’s circle back” with a straight face. He often griped and complained about the woes of bounty hunting, but he was feeling unusually optimistic tonight, and he had to admit, the freedom that this job afforded him suited him perfectly.

Take the work hours, for instance. Twelve A.M. and he was wide awake, raring for a catch; in twelve hours he’d probably be passed out on the Bebop’s couch. And the job was so unpredictable that in another twelve hours, he might still be asleep. This was the kind of schedule that suited him; he wouldn’t have it any other way.

And to be honest, midnight wasn’t a bad time to be up and working. The sky outside the bar was pitch-black, but the streets hummed with life. As Spike looked around, he saw flickering neon signs, sporadic streetlights, headlights of cars and spacecrafts, and the occasional tiny flame of a lighter filling the darkness. And while he and Jet were quiet, the bar was replete with lively conversation, raucous laughter, and the sounds of games of pool, foosball, and darts, often accompanied by wild cheering. These were technically Spike’s work hours. This bar was sort of his office. The gun resting securely at his side served as his office supplies. What boring corporate job would let him say that?

For another thing, he didn’t have to deal with any stupid dress codes; he never had to memorize the meanings of words like “business casual” or wear the same polo shirt with the same embroidered logo of the same megacorporation as everyone else. He did business dressed up in a suit and tie because he wanted to, and, in his opinion, it looked stylish as hell. (As bonuses, it also allowed him a lot of freedom of movement and was very comfortable, as was evident from the few times Ed had stolen and wrapped herself in it, gleefully flapping the ends of the sleeves.)

Perhaps the best aspect of the job, though, was that every day of it was different. It brought the Bebop crew in contact with such a wide variety of criminals and other strange characters—from senile old chessmasters, to vindictive bombers using teddy bears as their weapons, to homicidal genetically-engineered clowns—that no two people they encountered were ever the same. And if Spike decided a bounty head was too boring, or too much of a small fry, he didn’t have a boss forcing him to take it. (More often, he had an empty bank account and a disapproving look from Jet forcing him to take it—but that was neither here nor there.) Also, the work took Spike and his crewmates pretty much everywhere in the Solar System. He was constantly on the move, never staying in any one place for long. It suited his restless spirit perfectly—and made sure that nothing, or no one, from his past would be able to catch up to him.

“Spike.” Jet’s voice startled him out of his thoughts. “That’s the guy.”

Spike glanced over to where Jet was gesturing, and sure enough, the muscular, grizzled man entering the bar, with a suspiciously gun-shaped bulge under his trenchcoat, matched the description in the criminal records and the picture on Big Shot exactly.

With a grin, Spike rested his hand on his own gun. “Let’s get him.”

Sometimes, when he was in a more brooding mood than tonight, he’d reflect on how his life never felt real. How it felt more like a constant dream he could never wake up from. The ephemeral, meandering nature of bounty-hunting, with its strange and amorphous structure, felt dreamlike sometimes, too. And for someone on the outskirts of society, seeking autonomy—well, he guessed that applied to his whole group of crewmates, in one way or another—it was perfect. As much as he liked to complain about the job, it fit him better than he’d like to admit.

And here he was now, in the dead of night in a random bar on an even more random asteroid, easily dodging the bounty head’s blows and landing his own—without making too much of a scene that attracted the rest of the bar. The fight was over quickly enough that the man didn’t even need to pull out his gun. Just the way Spike liked it. As he threw the final punch that rendered the man unconscious and Jet tied him up, he was completely comfortable. Relaxed. In his element.

There were worse ways to spend a dream.

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