#muses-inn

"It's holding." The Hound's tone is grim, the weapon in his hand of Isore make. As such, the cardinal rule of dealing with Khazen applies- just because it looks like a gun, don't expect it to operate like one.

Karson Keda, a bottom feeder among the SpecOps unit he's been part of since reaching adulthood, is not treated as such due to personal failings. Rather, the misfortune of being Electric has trapped him in the endless bureaucratic cycles of hell any such government creates for those of its lowest castes. Intergalactic politics are hardly everyone's cup of tea, but to those in the know, an Electric in those clothes, bearing that title, is the outlier- a dangerous one at that.

"Motion sensors going off two corridors away. We have a few minutes before the next wave, if we're lucky." Minutes of breathing in smoke that, it seems, is not impacting the tall, skull-masked soldier in any way. (Fucking Khazen.) "I can hold it. If you're feeling ill and need me to take that over...just say so. You're better than me at what you're up to, that's for damn sure."

🌸 the blog/s that most inspires me

((I feel this is more of a cold take or a lukewarm take than anything else. But I sometimes feel like the community itself feels a bit more 'separated' from each other than it used to be. That there seems to be a bit more difficulty and anxiety over reaching out to one another.

Oh, man. I would love to list practically everyone I know that I'm mutuals with but I know I would just be here all day and I'd be stretching everyone's dashboards like no tomorrow; I'm going to go with fifteen people that I've known for some amount of time and I'm happy to have met. They all have wonderful blogs and characters too. I highly recommend checking them out if you haven't already.

@theotherrookie

@the-haunted-office

@icangiveyouanything

@foxedthecards

@divingdownthehole

@alabonshay

@schattenmagier

@bigspinachpuff

@leondxs

@fantasystrangers

@5mind

@smilingmxsk

@brokenbladesandfaces

@forestofforever

@tragictwinflames

Lunch was served, but Jimmy had lost his appetite. 

His eyes swept across the canteen and the various workers taking their breaks. Almost all of them were temporary, just here for preparations. They’d never leave Earth. 

But there. Sitting alone. Some brown-nosing tool, eager to impress the higher-ups with his checklists and tablets and paperwork. Apparently the guy thought it was fine to sidestep the rest of the crew to do his work. Curly and Jimmy had only received the news after the initial walkthrough, which had freaked them both out. 

Jimmy’s suspicions were high - it could be trouble if the maintenance guy said they weren’t fit to fly. That could mean months of delay for repairs, and it was likely Pony Express would put the crew on furlough, which meant months of no pay.

And Jimmy couldn’t afford to let that happen. He needed the money. (And more importantly, something to do. An escape from his life on Earth. A purpose.)

“Hey.” He promptly dropped his meal tray from a good height so that it clattered HARD against the table, then took his seat next to the man. So they were close. “I’m Jimmy. I’m the co-pilot of the Pony Express. Nice to meet you. I heard you got a sneak peek of the Tulpar today. Sorry the captain and I couldn’t make it, we’d have liked to welcome you aboard personally.” 

Jimmy was civil, smiling, turned to face the man. Internally, it felt as if his guts were twisting like snakes. 

Oh, the ironies of any being concerned with the flow of time. Paul's grin is a thin thing, all lips and no teeth. There are plenty of adventurous, rich CEOs who would gladly take a step into the stars. There are decidedly fewer of them so competent about it. The Shifter studies the vehicle and cants his head.

"No time at all." His hand raises and the world fractures into rays, a droning ring, and uncanny shimmers as the flow of time stops entirely around them. This takes a lot of concentration, and he certainly won't be able to maintain it for the full time he works, but the little display is meant to serve as a reminder. He can show off as well- just...more overtly. Paul approaches the vehicle and squats down with ease, heels raised (ah, Americans), eyes scanning the pneumatics exposed by the destruction of the exterior casing. No punctures, so there must be a leak. He considers what he can use for detection fluid that won't cause a reaction before grabbing a socket wrench to get started. The disrupted chronons snap back into place, time moving normally again. It's disorienting to most organic beings, causing nausea in those with weaker stomachs on the regular. He's hand-selected his personal guard for a reason.

Murderbot: Are you crying?

Russell: No, I’m having an allergic reaction.

Murderbot: To what?

Russell had been caught up in his thoughts for a moment. He really had no idea how he had gotten here, and his memory was a blank for the moment. His heart was pounding and his breath wanted to get out of control, but he was putting a lot of effort into keeping it steady.

But he blinked when he saw the candy bar being held out to him.

"Oh um, th-thank, thank you," Russell said. He slowly took it, almost like an animal that wasn't used to human contact, "That's, that's uh, that's very kind of, of you."

His sixth sense wasn't going off, oddly enough.

Stu grimaces, glancing towards Carver and fiddling with a zipper on the sleeve of his jumpsuit while he does so. It's a nervous tic, one that gives away when he's uncomfortable around other people a bit too well. Intimidating, surly types that could break him in half are high on the list of those he tends to avoid.

"That's C-Carver," he offers with a squint of the eyes eye sockets. "He's, ehm, he's a bit of a bastard. Supposed to be on the security detail pr-protecting us, but hasn't said a word to me since I accidentally spilled a beer on him." It was more than a beer. It was a beer AND an entire plate of nachos. To the face and chest. First thing in the morning. Not that Stu had slept- no, that was his first meal in about twenty hours, and he was so groggy and out of it from the meds and the exertion and the lack of sleep he tripped over his own untied shoelaces. Murdoc wasn't around to help him tie them, and he didn't care to wake Noodle for her help. "I haven't figured out how to apologize yet, heh...beyond the sorry I gave. And-and maybe he doesn't want one. Some people, they like grudges."

As usual, Russell had put his hand over the top of his drink when he had taken a moment to look away from it and to check his surroundings.

But when he noticed that the stranger had seen him do it, his cheeks turned a little bit pink.