#artis corbin

I just finished a very good book and so it’s time for fics and fanarts!

On the right there is the racist bastard that will not apologize for taking away your bodily autonomy rights but-that-secretely-loves-yall-very-much! And on the left the most precious im-gonna-die-and-im-totally-ok-with-it level 2 autistic coded genius mess.

Like, when he tells Rosemary - about her mistake - "it's not that hard", maybe he means "if you're supposed to be good at it, it's not that hard to be right every time".

here are my first impressions of the characters:

Btw I'm poking fun but I am enjoying the book!

Rosemary: Disney Princess learns how the poors™ live

Ashby: Dunno too much. Captain...

Dr Chef: THE MVP BESTEST AT ALL THINGS (I head-cannon him with french accent because chef)

Jenks: Halfling Bard

Kizzy: Undiagnosed ADHD

Corbin: Undiagnosed Autism (I like the guy, I feel a sort of kinship, too bad he's a space racist)

Sissix: Cool older cousin

Ohan: Diet mentat

Lovey: Tied with Dr. Chef in first place. I have a soft spot for robots in love.

Also this is the review that got me over the fence in starting to listen:

I don't get how Rich (I'm shocked its not white) guilt is true. To my knowledge humans aren't the hegemonic species.

Now… he doesn’t want to be alone in his lab.

Kizzy is gleefully showing Rosemary something on her scrib that he’s sure he doesn’t want to know about. Before he’d have complained about how loud Kizzy is being, now there’s something oddly charming about how she sprawls across the sofa (and Rosemary) and laughs loudly. He’s pretty sure he will never want that kind of friendship with this crew but they are his family. He’s learnt that now. Rosemary catches his eye and she gives him a small nod. He gives one back. She’d made sure his lab had all the right equipment and his room was comfortable for his return but when he’d thanked her, she’d simply shrugged as if it was no big deal and welcomed him home.

He almost laughs as Sissix enters the room and places a hand on his shoulder in greeting. A year ago it would have been like a star imploding but she’d saved his life. Stars, she’d saved his life again and again and he’d learnt. He was a scientist, he knew how to iterate and adapt and he’d managed to pull his head out of his ass and find common ground with Sissix. They still weren’t close friends, but they were family. He had a feather in his room now. About six months into her sponsorship of him, one of her hatch-parents had died and he’d booked the first shuttle to Hashkath and packed her bags for her. He may have been an asshole but he wasn’t cruel. She had given him family when she could have let him die. He wasn’t going to let that kindness keep her from her family when she needed them and they needed her. They’d talked a lot after that, something about it had broken the remaining ice between them and they’d come to a better understanding.

He sips at his tea and watches the stars go by, the chatter as background noise. It’s a welcome relief to hear familiar, happy voices after that brief captivity. He shivers and pulls the blue blanket up around his shoulders. Sometimes he is sure that cold had settled permanently into his bones. His thoughts are interrupted by Dr. Chef’s loud laugh from the kitchen. He was teaching Jenks and Ashby how to cook some Grum specialty noone could pronounce. Jenks didn’t smile a lot now but Corbin caught the quiet sound of his laugh too. Jenks is healing. They all are, slowly but surely.

“May we- I join you?” a low voice from behind him pulls his attention.

Ohan. Corbin almost doesn’t recognise him. He looks healthy, bright eyes and full fur. Corbin swallows. He’s still not sure how Ohan feels about him after what he did, but this is a good sign. Corbin nods and Ohan settles in a puddle of limbs into the couch beside him. They don’t touch but it’s clear Ohan derives comfort from Corbin’s presence. That is still a strange concept. Corbin offers Ohan a spare blanket and the Sianat tilts his head for a moment before nodding. Awkwardly, Corbin drapes the blanket around Ohan’s shoulders and Ohan purs in clear comfort. They don’t say anything to each other as they sit there and that’s okay. They’re not looking for conversation, simply the reassurance that they are not alone. Noone has to be alone here. Not even him.

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