Category Archives: Fan Fiction

Blaseball Mini Prompts: Fixing Each Other’s Clothes

It’s 3:45 a.m. when Knight feels Sigmund give them a stir.

Far left castle door. Baby.

The urgency in these echos is clear. Despite being on the opposite end of the castle, Knight books it. The clanging sound of his armor seems dampened, a barrier of soundproofing following them so as to not stir the other occupants.

Ruthless is standing at the doorway, xer back to Knight. Her shoulders are tense, his bag is slung on xer shoulder.

A lighter rests in her palm.

The only noise between them is shallow breaths, and hiss of gas and flame and Ruthless flicks the lighter on and off.

“Ruthless,” Knight’s whisper breaks the silence.

When Ruthless turns around, her brow is furrowed, his face is red. The feathers and hair that dance around the edges of xer face are a mess.

There are tears in Ruthless’ eyes.

Not very many people know why the Triumphants stopped talking. When Baby arrived in Chicago she was a burning flame, and people could only assume it was something horrible that severed the godslayer and their sibling apart.

This was not the case.

Though the only people who can recall the conversation are the siblings, and the castle which gave them a loving home, the words do not matter.

Their last interaction, for many, many decades, would be this conversation.

By the end, Ruthless would wipe the tears off on her jacket sleeve.

Knight would rest a metal hand on their siblings face one last time.

Ruthless’s jacket would be zipped up, and smoothed out by her sibling just like they did when xe was a kid.

Knight would say goodbye, tell xem they loved her.

And Ruthless would turn away.

Blaseball Mini Prompts: Calling Each Other Names

The pads of Rush’s fingers linger against Jode’s bare collarbone. Practice was done.

The showers were empty now, the lingering steam sticks to their skin.
“You were great today Lady.” Rush’s voice was…quieter than Jode was used to, but the moment was nice, she couldn’t complain.

“It was just practice, Rush.” She leans back into him, she recognizes the ware and tear cotton shirt. It’s hers.

“That’s my shirt, fucker.” Jode turns around, letting her arms snake around Rush’s waist.

“Listen, I think I just pull it off better.” Rush is smirking up at her now.

Jode rolls her eyes, “Oh yeah, wanna steal anything else from my closet next time?”

“Well, I’ll think about it,” Rush’s hands move up and down Jode’s back. “But, Lady, I could imagine a few pieces of clothes on the f–”

Before Rush can finish his sentence, Jode is whipping the shirt off from the hem. Rush’s arms are thrown back in confusion, and Jode takes off running.

Rush stands their dumbfounded and shirtless, before yelling after her with a wild grin, “You bitch!”

Blaseball Mini Prompts: A Photo in their Element

Photographers itch for the opportunity, journalists only hope to write the headline. Newspapers and television alike, they all clamor for a photo of Don Mitchell as the scene of a crime.

They call it his natural element, where the criminal is most himself, in the heat of a heist, under the rush of a chase, to say journalists have tried to capture the infamous bastard, was an understatement.

It was Sandford who took joy in clipping the attempts. It was one thing to follow his husband around, trial after trial, getting him out of any consequences just when he tries one last heist. But in a way, the newspaper clippings and photos kept as memories. The bank heist in New York was their first date. The art gala in L.A. was a getaway.

The list goes on and on, maybe Sandford was a hypocrite, that he knew. He enjoyed the rush of crime just as much as Don did, and defending the man heart and soul, again and again, was as exhilarating as any time the two got away for a weekend.

None of the headlines are accurate though, not in the slightest.

No journalist will ever lay their eyes on Don truly in his element.

In the back of Sandford’s pocket, always with him, always there, is a small photo printed off from Milo’s cheap Polaroid. They were drunk, they were dumb, partying after a post season they didn’t want to forget.

Sandy is forever grateful for Milo’s keen eye.

Don’s old hat rests on Sandy’s head, the man’s hand rests on Sandford’s face.

This is Don Mitchell in his element.

Absolutely in Love.

Speedboat Heading Towards the End of the World

Fuck.

Fuck.

Qais has been steering this ship, they’ve been trying their best. Whatever immaterial bullshit that is fueling this death trap is pulling them one way, while the pulsing black hole pulls them right back in.

Every moment, every fucking game is the exact kind of nightmare Rush has been having for months–years now really. The bright light of the supernova makes his skin burn no matter how much he tries to ignore it.

Not a single one of them is faring any better.

They stay together, all of them, captain’s orders. Every moment between games they’re sitting on the deck watching the fucking world end around them.

At the center of it all is Jode.

For seasons, since the moment he met her, he’s never seen Jode let out any emotion that even suggested fear.

The moment she held a knife to his throat like he was prey, he knew Jode Crutch was a woman with a very, very strong will.

Even then, stress cracks even the strongest of towers, and he was watching her crumble right before his eyes.

Jode has been wearing his jacket for days. The iffey is clipped to her belt, but even without touching it, she’s radiating that same sickly cyan he saw when she picked it up the first time.

Himself and Jomgy are the only two people willing to get close to her now.

Jomgy keeps a pack of tissues in her lab coat at all times. How she keeps replacing them, Rush won’t ask. But right now, Jode is crying again, and here he is, staring down at the ground next to her.

“Jode, you gotta breathe–”Jomgy tries to be gentle, rubbing her hand against Jode’s back, but she only heaves harder and the tears roll down her cheek.

Jomgy is glancing at him now. The glance is demanding more than anything.

Say something.

Say anything.

“Lady,” Rush begins, “We–you’re gonna make it out of this, okay?”

The wretched sob that escapes Jode’s mouth is the last thing he hears before she storms across the deck.

Jomgy gives him one last disappointed look, shaking her head before running after her.

Rush watches them run.

He itches at his skin.

Sliding against the wall, all he can do is whisper a curse under his breath before he’s back to looking anywhere but the multicolored sky.

Rush Wakes Up

Rush wakes up.

Again.

Jode is long asleep next to him, the top of her breast peeking out of the duvet. She’s drooling on the pillow again, but he can’t bring himself to be too upset.

The longer he watches her, the more he lets himself relax. He counts the lines on her face, the creeping crows feet in her corners, even in the dark, the sunspots that dance across her cheeks are clear as day.

Rush lets out a quiet sigh.

He slides out from under the covers, cringing at the cold air that slams against his body. He moves as quiet as he can, picking up articles of clothing and shoving them on as he goes.

Suddenly, as he desperately slides his sock onto his left foot, Rushito scurries between his legs. At least the little beast understood what he needed.

He forgoes the helmet Jode begs him to wear, he can say he’s sorry later.

By the time his boots hit the gravel, Rushito is running in front of him, morphing, shifting–

His bike is in front of him now, the beastly purr of the engine rattles his bones just a bit, but he jumps on regardless.

Then Rush just drives.

He drives.

He drives.

Why he agreed to go with Jode on a hunt in the Florida countryside, he couldn’t explain why.

Qais asks, Liam giggles, Rigby and Fran roll their eyes.

He follows her anyways,

The night sky without the hell that is blood or peanut or eclipse weather is clear, nicer than most nights in the neon hellscape that is Miami, so eventually, as the stars roll by, he stops.

His boots hit the pavement and Rushito is between his feet again, it scurries off into the trees, in search of something to eat no doubt, and Rush takes the opportunity to lean against a thick oak close to the shoulder.

Reaching into his inner jacket pocket, he shimmies out a cigarette from the crushed pack. He feels around in the other two pockets–

He let Jode borrow it, didn’t he.

Rush sticks the cigarette in his mouth. Rolling his eyes, he snaps his fingers, and a purple flame engulfs his pointer finger. He lights the tip and takes a breath.

He moves his finger away, but does not put out the flame. Instead, he stares.

That’s right.

Why did he wake up in the first place?

It’s that damn bat. Rush knows its that fucking bat.

Every night it’s the same. Dream–vision maybe?

Every fucking night, he’s been waking up suffocating. It’s a blinding light. It’s a dark void. He loses the ability to breathe every single time.

It’s light.

It’s heat.

It’s Jode Crutch, and every night, she stands at the end of his world.

Sickly Glow

“You’re glowing lady.” Rush is staring at her with raised eyebrows.

Jode clutches the sawed off bat tighter, hoping maybe it would feel less heavy in her palm, “I don’t know if you can tell jackass, but I’m not in the mood to flirt.”

“I’m speaking literally,” Rush’s chuckle sounds more nervous than anything. He slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small metal square. Flipping it up, Jode’s eye catches the flutter of pre-roll papers.

“Look for yourself.”

Rush holds out a small mirror. Jode looks.

Then she stares.

The dark brown of her eyes she’s used to is replaced with a cyan hue. Scattered across her face are specks of the same glowing gamma, sickly neon freckles across her face and neck.

Jode’s eyes go wide, they meet with Rush’s concerned ones before they slowly move down to the Iffey in her hands.

Jode takes a deep breath. She closes her eyes. Even then, the glow shines through her eyelids.

She lifts her fingers, one by one, her skin sticks to the wood grain for fractions of a second before separating.

The useless bat lands on the carpet with a thud.

When she opens her eyes again, Rush is still holding the mirror. The glow has faded, her skin is still as sunworn as ever, her eyes are back to amber.

“Son of a bitch…” Rush lets it slip out of his mouth before he closes the mirror.

“Yeah…” Jode looks back down at the bat, Rushito is standing between her feet now, keeping its distance from the thing.

Jode gives herself a moment of hesitation, a moment to consider walking away, before she bends down and picks up the bat again. Rushito skitters away, crawling up Rush’s pant leg before climbing to his usual spot on his shoulder. Jode can see the glow, radiating off of Rush’s dark eyes.

“Whatever you had in that mirror, roll me one would you?” Jode turns around and begins to walk away, not wanting to see whatever emotions would come across Rush’s face.

“Yeah–Yeah of course lady,” Rush sighs, gives one last glance to the omen in her hands, and follows after her.

Life, Not Living at All

The Toy Soldier lies there, crumpled on the floor of the aging starship.

It did not move, it did not shift.

It was dead.

See, life does not have one exclusive definition. No matter how many philosophers and scientists the crew of Aurora encountered in the millennials they existed, they never could find an concise, universal explanation for life; being that they were “immortal,” putting a definition on the phrase wasn’t exactly a priority.

In a way, each member of the crew had their own way of understanding their lives and immortality, some pessimistic and doubtful like Marius, others unquestioning headstrong like Jonny. They all processed life very, very differently.

Except for their understanding of The Toy Soldier.

See, The Toy Soldier had been different, it always has. Brought to them far different than the rest, the wooden soldier was always a questionable anomaly within the crew’s dynamic, but regardless, since first activation they embraced it as one of their own.

Sure, each crew member did act differently around the soldier, and it’s occasional exclusion was never something that went unnoticed by it, but like with life, it’s vast experience with socialization and friendship only kept it more alive. Positive and negative experiences are a part of life just as much as anything else. Movie night, crew dinners, gunfire, a gentle push out the airlock, they were all a part of life, and all jolly good fun.

Each member of the Aurora can recount times spent with the soldier, through moons, planets and wars, as well as the passing day and night cycles on the ship. Their memories of the soldier are fond, personal, and inevitability, quite important.

Because life has no one definition, often it is up to the individual to decide what life is. We paint organisms, sensations and objects as alive and inanimate at our own leisure.

To the good doctor, to Jonny and Naysta, Ashes and Tim, Brian and Ivy, and Marius and Raphaella, The Toy Soldier was certainly alive.

Yet in the end, when life is made up in the mind, what is a simple wooden soldier supposed to do when there is no one to understand its life?

Well, it simply stops pretending.

It stops pretending for it’s friends who are no longer able to believe.

Ode To Swans and Love Long Lost

Siegfried

The Odette

Jonny remembers them well.

Caught up in a worthless war that was constructed for the same shitty lust for power wars are always made for.

Frankly, Jonny was damn tired of wars like this, and the crew almost skipped it entirely.

The they saw her. The Odette, a silver glowing starship that had the most radiant wings.

The crew, captivated by her beauty, did not register they way she turned towards the Aurora, nor did they realize the rumble of their own ship.

It was only a loud, blaring transmission that brought them out of their stupor, “Are you Imperial or Confederation!”

It was Aurora who answered for them, confirming their disinvolvement with the whole affair, then another excited voice, shouted out from their transmission system, “She’s like me!”

Jonny sighs, the pencil he was unconsciously chewing on dropping from his lips.

“Aurora?” Jonny spoke just above a whisper.

On the wall Jonny’s desk was pushed against, a panel flipped, revealing a holo-screen.

[Yes, Jonny?]

Jonny lets a tired smile grace across his face, “You remember Siegfried and The Odette, right?”

The screen blinked a pregnant pause, [Of course I do.]

[It was such a shame.]

Jonny had met Siegfried on the bridge of the ship, Odette and Aurora were docked in tandem, currently talking in whirling excited rounds.

He stuck out his hand, “Jonny d’Ville, captain.”

Their grip was tight, “Siegfried, I suppose I’m captain as well.”

Jonny shook their hand and grinned, “It’s not too often we encounter ships like this.”

Siegfrid laughed, letting his hand go as they walked to the bridge, “Same here, friendly faces are a rarity.”

Jonny nodded, “You did ask if we were imperial or confederation, what was that all about?”

Sighing, Siegfried sat down in the captain’s chair, “Well, I’m sure you’re aware of the current war going on—” Jonny chuckled bitterly, “Unfortunately”

Siegfried continued, “I am an ex member of the confederate forces. I was a general, a high ranking one if that, so the imperials weren’t exactly fond of me.”

Jonny walked around, pulling up a bridge chair as they speak, “I was escaping a rather bloody battle. My ship was shot to all hell, I was convinced I was dead, ready to accept my fate even…”

“And then you saw her.”

Siegfried looked to Jonny’s pleasant smile, “And then I saw her—I ejected from my ship without really thinking. She was beautiful. I didn’t even know she was still alive yet, but from the moment I saw her I felt overwhelming peace.”

“But Odette was still alive, right?” Jonny prompted.

Siegfried nodded, “That’s right. The imperials were always well versed in biomechanics. Apparently, Odette was abandoned by her original crew, but once I interacted with her screens, she woke up.”

“You’ve been together ever since, I’m guessing?

“Of course!” Siegfried beamed, “She was thrilled to have me as her captain, she protected me without a doubt in her mind. I didn’t want to part with her & I tried to return home—“

Siegfried’s face shifted, their brow furrowed, “The leaders didn’t trust her, said her brain was too dangerous, the risk of her being a spy was too high. They split us up & I was honestly inconsolable.”

Jonny watched as their face shifted into anger, “They tried to give me another woman, make me think it was Odette so I’d settle down. It was a fucking lie, they had locked the real Odette up & they planned on hurting her. I couldn’t stand it anymore!”

Finally, Siegfried let out a tired sigh, “I broke her out, left our base, & we’ve been on the run from both parties of the war ever sense.”

“But you still have each other,” Jonny spoke.

“That’s right,” Siegfried spoke softly, “She’s my ship, I’m her captain, we go together.”

“Lovers.”

Siegfried grins at him, “Yes, how’d you know?”

Jonny laughs, nostalgia filling his brain, “Experience.”

They cock their head with a grin, “So you & Aurora then?”

Jonny’s eyes go wide & his face shifts into an awkward disgust, “No no no no no-“

Siegfried puts their hands up in a panic, “Did I get something wrong?”

Jonny sighs, knowing what he has to explain next, “You’re fine, it isn’t your fault.”

He takes a breath, “Aurora’s partner, her engineer, my—“ Jonny swallows the lump in throat, “my sister, she left us some time ago.”

A part of him felt all wrong for telling them this. He barely knew them. He barely mentioned it with the crew, let alone strangers.

But here, with Siegfried, he felt safe.

Siegfried closes their eyes & nods their head, “I’m quiet sorry to hear that.”

Jonny only nods in response, and for a moment, the pair is silent.

It’s Jonny who breaks it again, “You know Siegfried, I’d love to hear more stories you have to tell.”

Siegfried smiled, “Oh I have plenty!”

The pair chatted for some time, when Aurora & Odette joining in to add to their tales, one moment Siegfried was explaining a battle & near getaways, the next Jonny was talking about the crimson rose war.

Jonny had just finished recounting the tale of dear Briar Rose & the efforts they went through to save her, as Siegfried glanced at one of the holo screens.

“Jonny,” they spoke, “I truly loved spending time with you, but I think it’s best that we be going.”

Jonny turned his head in confusion, & then Odette’s voice came through the speakers,”We’ve been stationary for some time, it’s been alright so far, but we don’t want to risk being caught by another fleet.”

Jonny nodded & stood up, “We don’t want that at all.”

Siegfried walked him to the bridge, & he shook their hand again, “It was nice talking to you. If you never need us, feel free to call.”

They laughed, “How am I supposed to call?”

Jonny paused for a moment to think, “Ah! You can broadcast a code, if we pick it up, we’ll know it’s you.”

Siegfried nodded, “And what should that code be?”

“Swan.” Jonny smiled, “Let’s go with swan.”

They smiled softly at that, “Sounds perfect to me.”

Soon after, Jonny departed, the smile on his face slowly fell as his mind filled with memories.

They really did remind him of Nastya.

He thinks Aurora felt it too, as she rumbled differently as they disconnected from the Odette.

The crew was waiting for him to get back, his first sight being Marius grinning at him.

“Well that seemed awfully nice~“

Ashes looked at Jonny’s face and elbowed Marius as Jonny walked past, “Not the time genius.”

Jonny left the room, ignoring his crew, consumed by the same feeling of nostalgia he felt before.

Not two months after their encounter with the pair, Aurora started to go haywire.

Jonny awoke to banging on his door, rushing out of the bed, he was greeted with Brian’s worried face.

“Aurora is freaking out. She just keeps screaming about the word swan and I have no idea what’s going on.”

Jonny’s eyes went wide, “Oh fuck!”

Jonny nudged Brian to the side, and went taking off towards the bridge.

Once he made it there, he could see the panic across Aurora’s screens, attempts at location tracking and messy broadcast transmissions.

“Aurora, Aurora! What’s going on?”

Instead of a screen, he only head the panicked noises of an unknown language. Jonny cursed himself for never learning it from Nastya, but the tried his best to work with what he had. Tapping the holo-screens, he could see the transmission they had been getting.

Broadcasting through a ticker, he watched as the word SWAN rolled by over and over. The location they could track was in reach, but still far, and with determination and anxiety bottled up into one, Jonny spoke, “Aurora, get us there as fast as you can.”

They were too late.

By the time they arrived at the Odette’s last known coordinates, they were already lost.

Rubble and dust floating through the cosmos, Jonny stared out in object sadness.

Aurora was rumbling now, low and pained.

This—death, Jonny had to actually call it that this time, clearly felt all too familiar.

Jonny walked out of the bridge then, his fists clenched. From a distance, he could hear Tim and Ashes shouting about searching the debris, but Jonny couldn’t bring himself to join in. Instead his shaking form walked to the engine room. He greeted Aurora with the softest of voice. Her heart was aching, the rumbling clearer now; so Jonny sat down near her, and without interruption, the pair mourned.

[They deserved better.] Aurora’s screen came to life in front of him after an aching period of silence.

Jonny sighed, “I know.”

Pencil back on the paper, Jonny had been writing.

Thoughts of the pair, accompanied by the memory of experience and story, he set out again.

Aurora helped where she could, recalling what her and Odette had shared.

He knew what he wanted to do.

There was another story to tell.

Do you remember when we first met?