Spike Spiegel - Tumblr Posts

@febuwhump prompt: "Who did this to you?"

doubles as my submission for Relationship Week: Spike and Faye and Jet @bebopcrew

***

She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth and frowned at the smear of bright red blood that stood out so vibrantly against her pale skin. Well, at least she hadn't been wearing her gloves - blood was such a bitch to get out of fabric.

"Faye?" Spike's voice held an uncharacteristic note of concern.

She paused on the landing between the two short flights of stairs in the living room. Spike was sitting on the couch with a steaming cup of ramen cradled in his hands. He was frowning at her over the top of it and his worried expression along with his greeting had also drawn Jet's attention for the other man was turning away from the computer screen to see what had Spike so perturbed.

Both men were on their feet so abruptly that Faye felt like she'd somehow missed a segment of time. Was she that zoned out?

"Who did this to you?" Jet was demanding as he tried to lead her over to the couch.

Spike, grim-faced, was already rooting through the mini fridge for the small arsenal of bullets and other destructive items he liked to stash there.

Faye fobbed off Jet's tentative grasp of her right arm but wobbled alarmingly enough that he was able to successfully catch hold of her on his second attempt. Feeling far too spent to fight off his attention, Faye gave in to the doctoring that Jet began to administer once he'd gotten her onto the couch.

"Which bounty were you after?" Spike asked quietly as Jet dug through the medical kit they kept stashed in the living room.

Faye turned her head to spit out a mouthful of blood. She felt bad about that momentarily but then remembered how many times Spike had bled all over the furniture and floor in here and decided she'd earned the right to do the same on occasion.

"Goliath." She muttered. "Aptly named, turns out. Dunno what happened. I shot him. I know I did. Point blank." She'd never had an adversary react the way the giant man had. It was like the bullets she fired at him lent him an unholy strength. In retrospect, being close enough for her target to reach out and grab her was not the best idea. The whole benefit of using a gun was to keep your distance so you stayed out of trouble. But she'd assumed he would... well, at least flinch. Instead, he'd smiled the most terrible smile she had ever seen crawl across someone's face and then he'd snapped his hand out so fast that she hadn't been able to dance away from his strike.

"Jet." Spike's voice was calm yet Faye could sense a maelstrom of meaning in the tone used to address the other man. It had always mystified and impressed her how little the two men had to say to one another to communicate effectively.

Sure enough, Jet understood every portion of the things Spike left unsaid.

"I'll send you coordinates as soon as I get the location." He was still preoccupied with trying to staunch the blood flowing from a gash across Faye's right side. Surprisingly, that open wound didn't hurt nearly as much as where Goliath's fists had landed on her left hip and her right cheek, nor where his ridiculously strong grip had crushed her right wrist when he latched onto her dominant hand to knock her gun away.

Spike was already to the circular door by the time Faye blinked again.

"My gun," she murmured, wincing as Jet began to clean along the cut so he could stitch it up neatly.

"I'll find it." Spike assured her. "Tell Jet everything you know before you pass out. I don't wanna go looking for a needle in a haystack trying to find this guy."

She gave him a jaunty little salute though she immediately regretted the movement. Everything was sore or seeping blood. She hadn't had her ass handed to her that badly in years. If the sirens of approaching squad cars hadn't frightened off the bounty... well, she decided not to think about that. What ifs were pointless.

"Okay Faye... so where did this all go down and where do you think he went..." Jet began interrogating her while suturing her side.

It had been demeaning to be tossed around like a ragdoll. She didn't like having to admit there were times she was in over her head. But something in her heart swelled at how the guys jumped to offer assistance without her having to ask. Likely they knew how difficult it was to swallow one's pride and admit to needing help. But they made it so she didn't have to voice her failure at all... they just bypassed that aspect of the issue and dove straight to the heart of things - taking stock of her injuries and taking over the mission of bringing Goliath down.

Hissing at the pressure of Jet's metal fingers pinching her flesh together so he could thread the sterilized needle through the undamaged bits along either side of the slash, Faye began to recount her day and where it all went wrong...

@febuwhump prompt: came back wrong

***

The ceiling of the structure lay in broken slabs all around the red carpeted stairway. Metal beams, the steel skeleton of the ruined tower, clawed upwards alongside countless rebar ribs also exposed to the sky. It was like entering a decaying carcass of a whale washed ashore on the beach.

She felt engulfed by the creature despite the fact that the stars were glimmering into existence far over her head. It was quiet, no rats amongst the rubble this high up. Not that there was much life in the lower levels of the skyscraper either. It had been a haunting experience to make her way from the ground floor all the way up to this point... Spike's last stand.

Faye wasn't sure why she felt the need to echo his footsteps. To literally follow in the blood-soaked wake of a man committed to not just destruction of a crime syndicate but to his own annihilation.

The area had been cordoned off, of course. Useless trappings of a useless police force. She hadn't even bothered to break the plastic CAUTION DO NOT ENTER tape that encircled the building, she merely ducked underneath and made her way - unopposed - inside.

There had been no attempt to clean up. Not surprising, the damage to the building likely meant it would need to be demolished once it could be safely orchestrated. The bodies had been removed but the signs of agonized last breaths were everywhere. Hand prints along railings and walls and the floor, desperate fingers that had scrabbled for help that would not arrive. Pools of dried blood caked in debris from walls that had exploded from the force of grenades.

Blowing shit up was one of Spike's specialties. He had a particular affinity for causing widespread damage and for giving himself an edge over his opponents who would be half-blinded by the smoke and half-deafened by the blast itself. It had come in handy against bounties countless times in their months together. It had nearly proved his own undoing at the cathedral but the man was made of indestructible bones or something.

The breeze blowing through the gaping holes of the building was bitterly cold. Tharsis didn't experience winter, not the way Faye remembered the season from old Earth and not the way that Callisto existed in perpetual icy endless days and nights, but Tharsis excelled at being a city of chilly temperatures only exacerbated by the dampness wrought by the frequent rain.

Clad in her usual vinyl two-piece suit, Faye found herself glad that it was not raining at the moment. The sky was clear of any cloud cover. If anything though that made it even colder somehow. It was like the vast chill of the expanse of space above was reaching down through the man-made atmosphere of the crater city.

Shivering, she shrugged her red sweater up over her shoulders to don the garment properly. The move jarred her gun from its hiding place within the bright fabric and she automatically shifted to grab it before it could drop to the concrete underfoot. There was something disturbing about all of this... though she had not often bothered with exploring abandoned places or off-limit areas so perhaps it was just the absence of other humans that made it feel creepy to be here.

Still, having her gun in hand gave her a measure of relief that she hadn't realized she was seeking.

What was she seeking, anyway?

What had compelled her to come here?

Shadows stretched ominously out from every corner and hung down from every twisted girder beam. Dust, bits of wood from the paneled walls, and particles of insulation covered everything that she could see. It made the portions of the penthouse not drenched in black look grey at best, even the carpet had a darkness to it that discolored the red into something more like old blood.

Something scraped against the floor in the far off reaches of the upper level. She spun towards the sound with her weapon held at the ready, breathing faster than she wanted to be.

Cool. She had to play it cool. Be confident, be in charge.

Maybe some pigeons had thought to try roosting here? Maybe some curious cat had finagled its way up through the carnage to this point just like Faye herself had.

No.

Fear coated her like a second skin. It was no animal. It was a man.

Dragging steps brought the individual slowly towards the scant illumination offered by other taller skyscrapers that surrounded the shattered remnants of this one. There was no moonlight from Phobos or Deimos, not at the moment at least.

Faye swallowed hard, regretting her impulsive decision to venture to this graveyard. She hadn't even said goodbye to Jet... she'd just... left.

"Stop! I'll shoot if you come any closer!" She shouted, struggling to maintain her composure and striving to appear in control of the situation.

The man ignored her or was perhaps deaf to her instruction. The sheer number of explosions that had clearly racked this place could have certainly destroyed someone's eardrums. She held her gun poised to fire as the man got close enough to the landing above her where she could make out his silhouette if she squinted.

A gasp fell from her lips. It was impossible. And yet... that messy hair was unmistakable. That lean build was achingly familiar.

"Spike...?" Her voice was so hushed she could scarcely hear it herself.

The figure on the landing stopped. A hand withdrew from a pocket and brought a lighter up to ignite the flame just before and under his chin. The flickering flame gave a glimpse of a strong, sharp upturned nose... high cheekbones... impossibly black eyes.

Something clenched in her heart. Bile rose in her esophagus from a stomach suddenly churning with revulsion. There were no words to convey the horror that descended over her as she stared, aghast, at the creature looming above her.

"Who... who are you?" She rasped. Terror held her firmly in place.

A grotesque grin split the face of the nightmare looking right back down at her.

"What-what are you?" She tried again, mind scrambling to come up with an answer that made any sense.

It looked so much like Spike. Even the shuffling movements of a man pushing through pain... she had seen Spike hunched over, staggering, struggling to hold himself together and step up to whatever needed to be done - whoever needed to be slain.

A cold part of her conscious demanded if she was ready to do the same.

This was not Spike. Or if it was... if it was his body... it was no longer inhabited by his soul. His careless spirit was absent from those merciless eyes like twin voids sucking in all the hope she hadn't realized she was clinging to when she had come here.

Something evil was using his body like a puppet. Something unfathomable had consumed all the humanity left within the shell of Spike Spiegel. He had died and rather than reincarnating into a worm or something somewhere... either he had come back wrong, or some malevolence had taken the opportunity to come back in his place.

There was no time to hesitate. She might have waited too long, might have already doomed herself to death. But whatever her own fate... she had to try and stop this... thing... from getting anywhere further than this platform.

Faye pulled the trigger.

Spike/Faye for Relationship Week @bebopcrew

***

He liked to watch her hands. Partially to keep an eye on those mischievous fingers, set out to win whether it was cards or dice or knocking someone the fuck out in a fight, but he also liked to watch her hands because he had a very vivid imagination.

There was little doubt in his mind that she would willingly demonstrate the nimble capabilities of those warm palms and crafty fingers. All he had to do was ask. Or maybe arouse her temper. One thing tended to lead to another between them when it came to arguing... or making up.

He had learned over the course of the past few weeks that Faye was a very indulgent kisser. She liked to take her time and really work out his tongue. Sometimes he thought he could waste away an entire day just making out with her.

It was like she hadn't had the chance to leisurely explore someone else's mouth as a teen. Much like Spike himself. His own inexperience came not just of being preoccupied with survival as a youth but also of never having the time to devote to such foreplay when he finally did get involved with anyone else. With Julia it had always been straight to business and then afterwards they would just lie together quietly dreading the dawn of a new day where they would have to go their own separate ways. It was hard to find the impulse to kiss someone when you were both spiraling down into depression and clinging to the memory of shared intimacy as hard as they clung to one another in the cooling sheets.

For Faye... well, if she had an adolescence filled with admirers and a date every weekend... it's not like she could recall it. So whatever might have taught her how to tease and torment was lost to this version of Faye that Spike knew intimately well.

All the better for him, really. It had let them meet on a level playing field. Learning together how to climb to unparalleled heights of passion, teaching each other how to encourage the best responses from their bodies. Languidly kissing for hours under the stars, or under the ceiling fan, or anywhere they could find to escape to for a while.

Jet didn't care about their hookups except to gruffly demand that they stay the fuck out of the Hammerhead (jeez, get caught one time and it's the end of the damn world) and that they keep the PDA to a minimum when others were around. "No one likes to be stuck hearing you two suck face." Jet had complained. Faye had lost it laughing at the way he phrased it.

Ed either ignored it because she was too preoccupied doing her own thing on the computer or else she made it awkward by making up annoying little songs about sitting in trees or making kissy faces and kissy noises. If her goal was to embarrass them, it worked.

So they kept their shenanigans out of sight and therefore out of mind, mostly out of respect for their companions but also because it made it more hot to pretend like no one knew what they were up to if they kept it secret and hidden from prying eyes.

And that led to the casual way they'd tempt one another throughout the day. Like Spike working out and then parading past Faye on the couch to get a drink from the kitchen - a drink he could have easily had ready for himself on the bridge. Like Faye purposefully choosing to rub lotion up her smooth calves on the couch instead of in the bathroom after her showers, letting her hands trail up over her shins or else massaging the back of her ankles with such a firm yet tender grip that Spike could think of nothing aside from where he wanted to put those masterful hands to work...

Inhaling sharply, he set aside the container of ramen he'd been eating - still more than half full - and got to his feet to march swiftly out of the room after putting a calloused hand onto Faye's shoulder and squeezing gently to remind her what his own powerful hands could do to and for her.

Ed's knowing cackle as Spike made his way briskly towards the sleeping quarters was easily dismissible when Spike could also hear Faye scrambling to her feet to follow him down the hall.

He had intentions for his hands and her own... but first he wanted to spend a good long while keeping that talented mouth occupied.

@febuwhump prompt: hostage situation

also Spike/Jet day of Relationship Week @bebopcrew

***

He wasn't sure why he cared.

Even as he crept around the warehouse, sizing up the situation, he wasn't sure why he was there at all.

Taking down the lookouts, he wondered at why he was bothering with all this work.

Sneaking into the sprawling storage area of the building, pallets loaded with plastic wrapped boxes of varying sizes, he casually incapacitated each and every thug he encountered without permitting a single one to make any sort of outcry.

It was uncharacteristically restrained of him and again he pondered at what that could mean.

Rushing in with guns blazing was more his style but that could have easily led to the gang simply killing their hostage. But truly what did that matter to him? Why was he going through all this extra effort to be inconspicuous? Why was he risking himself in the first place?

His conscience was not something he typically listened to and yet it had not let him stay aboard the refurbished fishing trawler. It had whispered of debts and of good deeds, it had egged him on from the moment the gang had reached out thinking their catch had someone worth exploiting to make demands of.

Spike wasn't a man of much money. From the little he had learned so far of Jet Black...neither was he. Nor did Jet seem to have many people in his life. As far as hostages go, their claim on Jet was all but useless. In fact it was a bit worse than useless... If only because it was going to be their last mistake.

He considered the chances that some or all of these criminals might have a price on their head. It would be worth looking into once he was done here.

Was it an obligation that he felt? Something owed to the scarred man who had his back in that tavern brawl on TJ? Could it be shrugged off as needing the other man around to help pilot the ship?

Technically it was Jet's vessel, after all, though if Jet wasn't around who could say it wasn't Spike's? He could have taken advantage of this unfortunate event and become sole owner of the ship currently docked at the space station nearest the asteroid colony.

But there was something compelling about Jet Black. Something honorable and admirable that Spike found peculiarly attractive. The character of the other man was something that Spike desired to emulate. That dogged pursuit of justice. That sturdy moral fiber. It was all so far removed from everything Spike had seen and revered while growing up.

Jet was a breath of fresh air. An outlier in a sea of selfish souls.

It would be a crime for someone like him to be a casualty of such a pathetic crew of assholes.

And it didn't hurt that he was easy on the eyes, Spike mused as he reached the hallway leading to the office where the last of the gang members must be holed up with Jet.

There were worse reasons to save a life.

@febuwhump prompt: unresponsive

***

She went from a hysteria so absurd sounding that Spike was convinced she was performing some sort of dramatic scene to full out collapse so swiftly he had no chance to make a dive to try and catch her.

It was just like with Jet, though Spike had privately worried that it was his concoction that had laid out the other man so abruptly. Here was proof that something more dire was afoot... an angry purplish blotch marring a good portion of Faye's right calf, so similar in color and shape to the mark on the back of Jet's neck.

He collected her into his arms, tender despite her unresponsiveness, and merely held her for a moment. Faye was so prickly when conscious, so standoffish physically despite the sexual allure she fairly radiated. The only exceptions were when she chose to initiate contact, brief flares of her hands on his shoulders or the whisper of their fingers sliding against each other when trading off cigarettes.

Her breathing was shallow but steady, the same again as Jet. But, Jet had briefly regained consciousness... Faye was exhibiting no sign of waking. It made him nervous. Faye's body had put up even less of a fight against the internal assault her immune system must be undergoing. Clearly whatever had... attacked? infected?... whatever had happened to Jet had claimed another unsuspecting victim.

Who would be next?

A flash of fear shot through him as he remembered Ed donning the heat seeking googles and taking off impulsively not long ago. She was so thin, so young... what would happen if she suffered the same fate as Jet and Faye?

Carefully hoisting Faye aloft in his arms, Spike considered bringing her to her bedroom but immediately dismissed that idea. What if she came to and needed help? What if she stopped breathing and no one was around to notice? His heart tightened at the thought of something happening that would forever quiet Faye's acerbic wit and smartass mouth.

Well, considering how deeply unconscious she seemed to be...

"Faye... I'll take my chances dicing with you... we can play a private game and I'll even let you win all my clothes if you think you can beat me without that anklet." He kept a sharp eye on her face as he spoke but not even the suggestion of shaming him or the prospect of a true challenge roused her. Faye was frighteningly unresponsive.

In that case, she wouldn't be entirely uncomfortable if he made her a bed on top of the coffee table. The chair was far too small and the couch was occupied already by Jet's comatose form.

It was a bit difficult, though ultimately manageable, to situate a blanket on top of the metal surface while still cradling Faye's dead weight - that absent thought made him shudder and he shook his head fiercely to dismiss it. She was breathing, she would be fine. Jet too... he would recover from whatever this was as well.

Gently he lifted Faye's head to put a folded up towel beneath as a sort of pillow. And then he turned his back on his ailing shipmates.

There was another crewmate at risk still. Well, two counting the dog which Spike did. There was no time to stand over these two worrying about what the future would hold. Besides, finding Ed would be the first step in figuring out a type of cure. The kid was brilliant, surely she could sort out how to help the others.

Capturing or eliminating the enemy was important as well - what if they needed to dissect the damn thing to discover how to thwart the potential poison or whatever was running amuck in their systems?

So the only answer was to get his shit together and go searching for the errant pair and the... whatever the fuck... was responsible for knocking out two of the toughest people he knew.

canon. the man likes cats.

Two cats ^^

dancing feet can really fuck shit up when he's fighting but it's so good to see him enjoying life and the tunes

“Okay, three, two, one, let’s jam.”

Inspired by the great Al Hirschfeld.

For Accompaniment

the confidence. the charm. the charisma

Bebop Man

Yeah boy! There's plenty more fish in the sea as they say!

Sorry not sorry ^___^

Spike: the glass is half full!

Jet: the glass is half empty!

(Faye, giving a wink and licking her lips, distracting the audience from the glass empty in her hands)

(Ein, snuffling at his water dish to indicate the glass is not a glass at all)

(Ed, pouring in kool-aid mix and entirely too much sugar, indicating that the contents of the glass are merely the base to build off everything else that matters)

Still getting used to my new tablet. Hating every minute of it, tbh

🎶

sin’s birthday celebration; 2024

@laneysmusings; 🎉 + spike spiegel

Hilarious and wonderful all at once

I'm really sor… oh wait, I'm not ^___^

Somebody had to start making cowboy jokes sooner or later, so why not me

Thanks I love it 😍😘

He always knows exactly what to say ^__^

Heritage post (right? Not entirely sure but I mean...why not?)

Let Spike love everyone/anyone! Faye, Jet, Green, Vicious, Julia, VT, Asimov, your OC, literally the world is so full of possibilities and love can be found in so many places... For that matter, let any of the characters match with whomever they please!

Love is eternal! Love is unbound! Characters are capable of growth and of rediscovering the power of love with brand new people they meet! It's a vast universe...have fun with it!

Dear citizens, our castle is under siege again

Flashmob idea: post Spike/Faye/Jet/Vicious/Andy/etc content using #see you space cowboy

Spike is for everyone. The smell of roses only should not block the scent of violets, daisies, lilies and other flowers

Not my story or art but I remember reading/seeing this before and being absolutely delighted by how gorgeous the art is and how heartfelt the story is! Check it out, friends!

A short comic I made based on @mangneov​‘s story “Sphyrniade Down” which you can read on Ao3, here!  This was so much fun to do, I really wish I could have done the whole story, but alas I don’t think I can make much time for it. If you enjoyed this comic, please go check out Mangneov’s work! 

And thank you for reading :”)

Lol, OP you nailed it with this chart

Please enjoy this silly art I spent way too long on today

The hour was late but the bar crowd was rowdy. Too rowdy to manage a game of pool given how many people were packed into the dimly lit establishment. Spike had tried to weasel some money out of a few arrogant looking university students - everything about them was obvious and awful - but after getting his cue knocked into too many times he'd given up on the easy money.

If there was another bar nearby, he'd probably have bounced from this joint already. Hell, if there was even a convenience store nearby he would have been able to stock up on supplies and retreat to the comfort of the Bebop. Unfortunately, due to a rash of arson (that coincidentally led to the cousin of the owner of this establishment) this was the only place to get intoxicated for miles and miles.

Spike briefly lamented the fact that his zipcraft was down in the belly of the Bebop waiting for Jet to have the time and parts necessary to get the sleek craft back in action. Without his baby there was no way to fly off to other colonies near or far.

The fact that the arsonist had also had a penchant for heavy artillery such as rocket launchers had been a minor annoyance at the time but now it merely highlighted the struggle that faced the out-of-cash and desperately thirsty bounty hunter.

He glanced around and immediately dismissed the majority of the crowd gathered within the small liquor-soaked space. No rich and single (or willing to be swayed) women anywhere in sight. No dart boards to dominate (the chances of hitting an innocent bystander were a lot more tolerable than the guarantee of getting his pool cue jabbed off course, but without a board there could be no game).

At last his frustrated gaze settled on the sole option he had for quenching his thirst.

Perched upon a bar stool as if it were a pedestal and she the goddess statue atop it for all lesser beings to admire and appreciate, Faye Valentine was a sight for sore eyes. She was a queen within this realm and even if she'd managed to squander her portion of the bounty already (considering his was long gone, the odds of this were good) there was no shortage of fawning fools gathering around Faye that would likely fall all over themselves to see her sated.

It took a bit of doing, but Spike managed at last to push through the throng of attendees to reach Faye's side and he gave her a saucy leer that made her roll eyes.

"Hey gorgeous, buy a guy a drink?" No point wasting time on small talk.

Faye snorted. Her sharp eyes briefly weighed the men in her vicinity but it seemed the calculations fell flat for she dismissed them all summarily with her next move. Leaning over into his personal space, Faye reached into the interior breast pocket of Spike's suit jacket and retrieved a crumpled pack of cigarettes. At her brazenly intimate action, most of the gentlemen around her that had been vying for her attention began to look around for other prey to target.

One daring soul tried to light the cigarette she knocked loose of the pack but Spike glared at him as he provided an already lit flame for Faye himself.

Inhaling with clear relish, Faye let her sultry gaze meander from Spike's face down to his lower torso and back up again as if considering what he had to offer. Ignored and defeated, the last of her hangers-on wilted even further into the background.

"Why should I?" She queried coyly as she brought her eyes back to meet his.

Spike casually retrieved the pack of smokes from the hand not occupied with a lit cigarette and tucked it back into his pocket without lighting one of his own.

"It's my birthday," he cajoled.

Faye gave a sharp laugh. "It is not."

Spike smirked and shrugged. "It could be. Dunno when it officially is... any day could be the big day."

At his words, Faye's eyes got bright. "You don't say..."

"So..." He waggled his brows at her and gave her his best grin.

She laughed again. "Sorry, Spiegel, you're shit outta luck. I'm already broke too. But..." and here her eyes darted around the assembled alcoholics until she caught sight of a worthy goal. "Seeing as how I don't know when *my* birthday is either... I say let's celebrate both of our birthdays today! And what could be more kind than to include dear Jet in our festivities? Surely a man of such integrity would be delighted to buy booze for his birthday-sharing companions..."

It was Spike's turn to chuckle now.

Faye slid off the stool and Spike eased an arm behind her back to help keep her at his side as they began to maneuver towards the third member of their bounty hunting team. The arsonist they'd caught earlier that day had been a decent bounty, not great but enough to split four ways (the Bebop always counted as a person, if only so they could ensure the vessel had gas, working parts, and food in the fridge if any woolongs were left over after the rest of the bills were paid) and of the three of them only Jet ever seemed to make his payout stretch beyond a handful of hours.

Spike knew it was a long shot that Jet would actually buy his partners drinks but it was currently the best chance they had!

Forever in love with everything this artist creates 😍😍😍

a bit of summer bebop

First one is from 6 or 7 years ago. Still one of my favorites ^___^

it's been... too long since I last wrote! gonna try to light the inspirational fire with another round of Beboptober :-) feel free to join us! make some art, graphics, explore and discuss head canon, write a poem or essay or some fanfiction... you do you!

Join @bebopcrew for Beboptober! For each day of the month, there will be a different prompt to keep you writing. Each day has at least two options, so feel free to choose whichever you feel the most inspired by! If you're feeling extra inspired, you can do something for each prompt or even combine them.

Remember to mention us @bebopcrew in your posts and we’ll reblog your work here! You can also add it to our AO3 Collection if you prefer.

You don’t have to complete all 31 days if you want to participate. Feel free to pick and choose! If you have any questions, check out our FAQ or drop a question in our ask. We can’t wait to see your work!

Introduction

The quiet thrum of the engines at work. The subtle tremor of the ship as it passed smoothly through the Gate. The hiss of wet ingredients being heated on a frying pan over the burner.

Sounds and smells and the vibration under foot... all these things slipped beyond Spike's notice into the category of "miscellaneous inconsequential background bullshit" as he worked his way through the sweat-provoking movements of his Jeet Kune Do workout.

Even now, after three years on the behemoth repurposed fishing trawler, he hadn't quite gotten used to the peace that lay heavy on the battered old ship.

Long years in the syndicate had kept him on his toes constantly. Before that, there had never been serenity while he exercised. The commotion of life on the streets, no place of his own, and then the boisterous years undergoing ruthless and exhaustive training... there had always been shouting, jostling, distractions aplenty. That had been half the point, to be fair. For the rough-and-tumble upstarts taken into the Red Dragon it was crucial to educate them on how to function while life went to shit all around them. You had to be able to concentrate your focus. To be aware of everything happening. To take in the whole picture and then filter out the parts that could be ignored. How could you be trusted to handle yourself under enemy fire in a public situation if you couldn't roll with the punches from a gaggle of feisty and anxious adolescences constantly looking for someway to prove themselves.

There were moments, few and far between, where his mind would cast itself back to those riotous days and he would wonder if he genuinely missed any of it or if nostalgia was just designed to fool oneself into misremembering instances of hellish struggle as something cast in a more favorable light.

Certainly this was an improvement. Right?

No racing down a narrow hallway, elbows digging rudely into his ribs, bare feet shooting out from either side as other kids tried to trip him out of their way towards the kitchen. They had been treated like rambunctious puppies, encouraged to nip at one another, literally kicked around by burly syndicate soldiers who were required to be as tough and mean as possibly. Fight for meals, fight for a place to drop into a fitful sleep, fight to be the first to draw blood. Everything had been a competition.

Now he had a room of his own. A thin mattress with a threadbare blanket. A stack of milk crates where each level was designated as a different "drawer" for his few pieces of clothing.

Spike Spiegel was a simple man. He didn't need much. Though whether that would still be the case if he hadn't been raised in such a minimalist fashion, who could say? Food in his belly, even if there was no assurance of more on the plate in the future. Clothes on his back, even if they stank of sweat and were stained by splatters of blood. A roof overhead and at least three walls of protection against the elements - shit, the more he recalled of his beginning days as a Dragon the more he realized they were basically kenneled like hounds.

And now? A place to live that could sail around the solar system and bring them wherever they needed to go to make money. Clothes on his back, and in crates, and a washing machine to get it all clean in between wears. A stalwart partner with no interest in learning about Spike's past or about divulging details of his own. Even better, for the first time in his life Spike had a companion capable of creating meals. None of the rabble he'd been raised with had any culinary skills. Neither had Vicious. Neither had Julia.

So, he'd embrace the quietude of the ship as he went through the motions of his preferred flow of martial arts. He'd be grateful for the vessel that gave them a home so suited to their way of life. He'd cherish the fact that food was about to get into his belly and that the fridge often held ingredients to become future meals too. What comforts! A life so rich!

Later, digging around his plate with his chopsticks and half-ignoring Jet's voice droning on about some new bounty they should pursue, Spike felt his earlier jubilation sink back down to where his mood typically stayed. No meat. Not even a morsel of protein. This was no divine existence after all. Just another level of survival only marginally above the previous ones he'd endured and escaped.

Life would always be a struggle. Of fucking course.