#beboptober2022

[eclaire-and-pocky]

Yee-haw! Beboptober Prompt Day 1: “Real cowboys”

Art style inspired by a photo I found online

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

Here they all were. Their ragtag little crew. Alone, together.

A collection of my short fics for Beboptober 2022.

I’ve finally posted my completed collection of Beboptober fics to AO3! Please check it out if you can, or if you’ve just forgotten the absolute majesty of all my earlier fics from October and would like to reread them!

Thanks, as always, to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list, and to the @bebopcrew server for making such lovely fics, artwork, and edits right along with me throughout October and for galvanizing me to finally finish all the prompts! Next up: the Bebop Crew July 30-Day Challenge…

[jetspikepub]

Old-fashioned cowboy dog costume

I wanted make it for Beboptober 2021 day 19 (Wild Wild West) but better late than never

[thestarlightsymphony]

Beboptober 3: Royal Flush

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 30: Rain

Thanks to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list...which is from October 2022 and not March 2023!!! I know, I know, this is a ridiculously late submission—I promised to finish the last two days of Beboptober in November and then just...never did. For a while there I thought it would be forever unfinished and just sorta languish, like Schubert’s Unfinished Symphony. What do we even CALL this now? Beboparch? Beborch?

But I am FINALLY finishing it (while procrastinating on other actual schoolwork, as is custom for me), and here it is! Once I’ve gotten all the chapters out (this and Day 31 are all I have left!), I’ll be collecting all the chapters and posting them to AO3 in one long work.

I’ll be tagging some of the other lovely friends in the Bebop fandom who have helped get me through Beboptober: @aldreantreuperi, @eclaire-and-pocky, @mx-sinisters, @spike-and-faye, @noblesixofhalo, @allicaj and @smithasandwich among them!

Oh, and this fanfic takes place pre-series, pretty early in the Spike-and-Jet partnership. Very mild TW for descriptions of PTSD triggers/flashbacks seen from the outside.

Spike and Jet were planetside, having collected the reward money for their most recent catch—small potatoes, barely enough to cover a few days’ worth of decent meals, but at least it was better than nothing. They’d bought a few necessary supplies and had been making their way back to their ship, bantering about something or other—probably about the kind of food Jet would make with the groceries they’d picked up—when all of a sudden the sky opened up, and they had to run back to the Bebop, as fast as they could, to avoid catching the brunt of it.

It was the kind of storm where the rain pounded down in torrents and the sky looked so bleak and gray that you couldn’t help but feel the same way; the kind of storm that made Jet shiver and his arm feel creaky and rusty, and that made him want nothing more than to curl up in a warm room inside with his bonsais and a cup of tea. Or, better yet, just pilot the Bebop out of there and into outer space, far above the rainclouds, where the star-studded sky was dark and calm.

But not Spike. He stood stock-still, the rain washing over him. His usually-fluffy hair hung limp, plastered to his forehead.

“Spike,” Jet called out from the entrance to the Bebop, gesturing for his partner to follow.

Spike was silent, unmoving. It was as if Jet wasn’t even there.

“Spike!”

“It was raining that day too,” Spike said under his breath, so softly that Jet wasn’t sure he’d heard right.

“Huh?” Jet lowered the grocery bags in his arms and moved a bit closer, leaning in to catch the words.

“That day. In the graveyard.” Spike still took no notice of Jet; the smirk that had been on his face just moments earlier was replaced with a faraway gaze. Preoccupied. Pensive. Like the thousand-yard stare of a soldier. “It was raining then too.”

Jet had no idea what Spike was talking about. They’d only been partners for a few months, but in that time Jet had learned that Spike didn’t like to talk much about his past. Every question Jet had asked about it had been met with a brush-off or a drily sarcastic joke or, when Spike was in a particularly bad mood or a few drinks in (or both), a sharp rebuke. Jet hadn’t pushed the issue very far; he supposed everyone had boundaries. After all, it wasn’t like he was going to just offer up all willy-nilly the story of how he lost his arm, either. Some things were better left in the past.

But he knew that look, the one on Spike’s face now. He’d seen it a lot on his fellow officers in the ISSP who were dwelling on the past, lost in painful memories—even if they didn’t want to be, didn’t plan to be. Some were so lost they couldn’t move. Some did things they regretted later. That was the tricky thing about the past—it had a way of sneaking up on you.

So he made his way over to Spike. The rain fell over him in a deluge, the drops bouncing off his bald head and sliding off his metal arm, but he barely noticed. He shifted his bags of groceries to one hand and, as gently as he could, took Spike by the arm. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

At Jet’s touch, Spike’s expression suddenly cleared and his face seemed to harden. “Right. Home.” He shook his head, as if he were physically shaking off whatever had come over him (or maybe just drying himself off, the way dogs did—Jet couldn’t tell); then his face relaxed and he threw Jet a sideways, sardonic glance. “For a delicious, hearty meal of Nothing But The Cheapest Carbs In The Store.”

“Hey!” Jet replied in mock outrage as they set off in a jog back to the Bebop’s door. “I’m doing my best here.”

“Guess it’s better than having to look forward to our third straight day of ramen. Without even an egg for flavor.”

“Eggs are too damn expensive these days….”

As the door closed behind them, shutting out the storm, Jet realized he still didn’t know what exactly it was from Spike’s past that had him in such a chokehold. Something about a graveyard, and rain—that, right there, was the most Spike had ever offered up, and Jet wasn’t sure Spike was even aware he’d said it.

He supposed that information would come in time. Or never at all.

But for now, they were here—Spike hanging up his jacket and wringing out the bottom of his shirt with an expression of disgust, Jet stocking the pantry with the food they’d picked up, the two of them getting ready to fly the Bebop away from the planet, from the rain, from everything.

That, he guessed, was what mattered.

[bohemian-rhapsody-in-blue]

Beboptober Day 31: Pumpkinhead

Thanks, as ever, to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list…of what may as well be called Bebop-une at this point! I want to FINALLY finish all the Beboptober prompts—as out-of-season as this one may be!—so I can turn my energy to the lovely @bebopcrew’s 30-Day Writing Challenge for the month of July.

Fittingly enough, this fic is inspired by the work of @aldreantreuperi, one of the lovely admins of the Bebop Crew server—specifically, by THEIR final fanfic for Beboptober, taking place during Cowboy Bebop: The Movie—Knockin’ on Heaven’s Door and detailing how Jet carved Ed’s pumpkin mask and watched Ed construct her Halloween costume. I wanted to write some of that same scene from Ed’s point of view! Their fic, in turn, was inspired by @jetspikepub sharing the pictures from the brochure that came with the movie!

Also, tomorrow I’ll probably publish my collected Beboptober fics on AO3 and publish a link to them! (Update: Here’s the link!)

And with this, and after far too many months, I bid a fond farewell to Beboptober…

Ed strode into the Bebop’s storage bay decisively, Ein following closely beside her. They took a look around the area, piled high with sealed boxes, baskets, and crates, then immediately began searching through whatever was readily accessible. The two of them were on the hunt for anything that would make Ed the perfect Halloween costume—paired, of course, with the jack-o’-lantern that Jet, back in the kitchen, was carving out of the great big pumpkin he’d procured and that she’d already resolved to wear over her head. What was Halloween without a mask, after all?

She had carefully sketched out the design she wanted for the jack-o’-lantern’s face, and as Jet carved it, he’d sent her off to find other supplies for a costume. She was exultant with joy, already imagining running out into the streets of Alba City to trick-or-treat, snack on deliciously sweet candy, and see the big parade that filled the streets with big balloons and costumed revelers—a Halloween celebration the likes of which Ed had never before experienced.

But before she did all of that, she’d need a proper costume.

The first thing she gravitated towards was a huge sombrero with a wide brim. Ed liked the colorful pattern around the inside, but when she plopped it down onto her head, it promptly slipped right over her eyes. It took a bit of blind groping for her to get the thing off. No way would that work with the jack-o’-lantern mask she was planning. Farther into the storage bay, she discovered a pair of ruby-red stilettos that had probably belonged to Faye at one point. The heel of one of the shoes had broken off, and now the pair lay broken and discarded. But this didn’t stop Ed from slipping her bare feet into the shoes anyway and taking a few tentative steps, wobbly and uneven. However, it didn’t take long for her to kick the shoes off her feet, sending them sailing back into the oblivion of the storage bay. They probably wouldn’t have been much fun to trick-or-treat in, anyway.

She rifled through a few more boxes, some of which produced interesting finds—including a tie that looked like one of Spike’s, ballpoint pens that still had a bit of ink in them, some wires and cords that she’d have to remember to plug into Tomato to see if they fit, and the old holographic chessboard (she thought they’d lost it after her week-long chess game with the old chessmaster, Hex!)—but none of which were promising as supplies to use for her costume. She was about to give up and look elsewhere on the ship when Ein began sniffing at an old cardboard box, then barking at what he found. Ed bounded over and pulled out the object at the top of the box, and her face immediately lit up. “Great find, Ein!” she said, and the dog barked in appreciation.

Ein had uncovered an old piece of cloth, possibly some scrap material from an old blanket or jacket. Ed knew immediately what she could use it for: a cape! It was a dark turquoise color and would reach down to just past her bottom when worn on her back, and it was the perfect article to pair with her jack-o’-lantern mask to make practically any kind of costume she could imagine. And as a bonus, if she slung it across her back, it worked well for carrying the pumpkin when she wasn’t wearing it! She wasted no time in tying it around her neck and imagining its endless costume possibilities. Her imagination ran wild.

First, she drew the cape closely around her, grabbed one of the pens, and pointed it off in a random direction, shouting “Abraaaaa-cadabraaaa!” and “Alakazam!” in her most mysterious, commanding voice. She was Edward the Great, Edward the Mysterious and Powerful, master of the arcane magical arts, commander of the universe, bending the world to her whims….

But she quickly abandoned this idea, tossing the pen aside. The cape wasn’t quite long or dark or imposing enough to belong to a proper wizard or warlock; she was pretty sure real magicians wouldn’t have their skinny legs poking out from the bottom of it. Besides, while having magical powers would be fun, she wasn’t really sure she wanted to bend the whole wide universe to her whims. That would get pretty boring after a while. It was more interesting to see what life would bring her, where it would take her next. (Although having a bit of magic certainly wouldn’t hurt!)

Next, she adjusted the cape to flow behind her, clambered up to the top of one of the stacks of crates, and perched precariously on the edge, her fist poised high above her in a triumphant gesture. She was Super-Ed, defender of justice, savior of…uh, people who needed saving. There had to be a lot of those out there, right? And she could be the superhero they needed. “Up, up, and away!” she yelled out at the top of her lungs as she leapt off the top, feeling for a moment like she really could fly, like she had powers flowing through her veins.

Luckily, she was able to break her fall without hitting anything else in the storage bay or knocking over any of the crates. From there, she ran around the storage area as fast as she could, her cape flapping and fluttering behind her as Ein—her loyal superhero sidekick?—followed as fast as his stubby corgi legs would take him. In her imagination, she was flying across a bustling city, rescuing civilians, fighting bad guys—kind of like what Spike, Jet, and Faye did, but flashier. Not to mention more fun. “Shazam!” she shrieked as she leapt over boxes of random odds and ends. “To infinity…and beyond!”

At one point, she had the bright idea to grab the tie she’d found earlier and secure it over her eyes, just like the mask a real superhero would wear. She shut her eyes tight as she tied the knot in the back of her head; then, giggling madly, she set off in another run—and immediately crashed into one of the stacks.

Right. Real superhero masks had eyeholes.

After rubbing her lightly bruised shin and doing away with the makeshift superhero mask (it wouldn’t have worked with her pumpkin mask anyway), Ed pulled off the cape and sat for a bit in thought, going through her mental catalog of other suitable costumes—until, finally, she had it. She once again tied the cape securely around her neck, pulling the knot closed with a decisive, confident tug, and let it flutter behind her on her back. “Spooky, spooky vampire! A-ha-ha-ha-ha!” she said under her breath.

Then, she loomed over Ein—her face menacing, her hands with claw-like fingers poised on either side of her head, and pretending her teeth were long, pointy fangs. “I vant to suck your blooood!” she said in her best, slightly warbling, Dracula voice. Ein drew back and whimpered a little, his ears low on his head. Ed quickly snapped out of character, then gently pet his head to let him know she hadn’t really meant to frighten him.

The costume was perfect—perfectly spooky, for Halloween—and would fit right in with the masses of people trick-or-treating on Alba City. It was bound to bring in tons of candy, too. With this cape, she was fully equipped for what was sure to be the best Halloween celebration in the whole Solar System—or, at least, the best one she’d ever had.

“C’mon, Ein!” she exclaimed, and together the two of them ran back to Jet in the kitchen, crashing into things as was their wont. Ed was laughing, brimming with holiday excitement, ready to take this costume to the streets of Alba City. She couldn’t wait to find out what happened next.

Since she’d joined the Bebop crew, since she’d made these new friends that she loved with all her heart, she’d had so many adventures that she felt like they would never end. The world, in her eyes, was brimming with possibility and promise. Anything could happen.

Anything was possible.

[eclaire-and-pocky]

Beboptober Prompt Day 6: “Collateral Damage”

[eclaire-and-pocky]

Beboptober Prompt Day 12: "Alone Together"

Thanks again to @thestarlightsymphony for the prompt list!

This one is for @aldreantreuperi! This is my first attempt at Spike and Faye, I hope it turned out alright!

The Bebop was surprisingly quiet when Jet and Ed weren’t on board. For the obvious reasons, of course– Ed had a tendency to make a lot of excess noise for seemingly no good reason, and Jet was either cooking, cleaning, or watching the tele-screen at any given time– but for the less obvious, as well. When neither were on board, there was no one for Faye to quarrel with, or Spike to tease. 

Well. They had each other, but the environment seemed to shift without the other two in the crew present. It was almost like the act fell away; they could be real with one another. In the rare times that they were alone on the quiet ship, with the only sounds being mechanical clunks and tinny whines, they didn’t have it in themselves to be petulant. 

Spike was laid out on the couch with his hands behind his head. His eyes were closed and a serene expression was on his face. Faye sat cross-legged on the floor next to him, absentmindedly pulling at the hem of her pants. 

“Hey, Spike?” She asked, breaking the silence in the room. Her voice almost seemed to echo in the empty space. 

“Hm?”

Faye sighed. “Nevermind. It’s… it’s nothing.”

Spike opened his eyes and tilted his head toward her. “What’s wrong?”

One side of her lips quirked up in a sad half-smile before she answered. “You’re not really gonna go out there and face him, are you?” Her eyes searched his as if looking at him harder would give her the answer she desperately wanted to hear. 

“C’mere,” Spike murmured, sitting up on the couch. 

He hadn’t given her a direct answer– and Faye knew what that meant. She got up and sat next to him. She swallowed a lump in her throat and willed herself not to cry in front of him. 

Gently, Spike lifted her chin and kissed her. 

She kissed him back, ran her trembling fingers through his hair, trying desperately to hold on to the apparition that was fading before her eyes. She had kissed him before, but she understood this would be the last time. After a long moment, she pulled away first, trying to memorize the way his hands felt on her face and the taste of his kiss. 

“It’s like I’m in a dream, the best dream, and I know I’m about to wake up,” Faye whispered as she wiped away the tears that had begun to fall. 

Spike pressed his forehead against hers. “But isn’t it good that you had the dream at all?”