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bonniepop · 2 months

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title: of rumors & wrong assumptions parts: 1 / 2 / 3 character: iwaizumi hajime words: 1,200+ warnings: violence towards oikawa's person. experiments in chem lab. notes: i think this is one of my funnier fics so of course i had to bring this back! (also i am not compensating for forgetting about this website at all!)

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life would’ve been so much easier if you’d ended up having a crush on literally anyone else instead, but noooo. you had to go and have a crush on oikawa's best friend.

oikawa's probably gay best friend.

“i’m telling you—iwa-chan is not gay,” oikawa insists with a hushed voice, leaning over the beaker he poured water into earlier, his face so near the bunsen burner it was giving you anxiety.

“what the fuck, oikawa,” you nearly cry, shoving his face away from the open flame. “get your face out of there!”

your palm presses over the goggles on his face and he yelps. “ow!” he pouts and pulls away his standard chem lab goggles, running his hand through the red marks pressed against his skin. “that hurt!”

“would you rather i let your face burn off in case it exploded?” you shoot back, grabbing a pen and writing down your observations. “also can you get back to work? this is a partner lab report.”

“that’s just water,” he snaps.

"there's an open flame!" you practically shriek, but he ignores you.

"—and i’ll read your notes later.” he says the last part dismissively, and you had to stop yourself from launching your pen at his face—like a gladiator spear through one of his eyeballs.

life would've been so much easier if you'd fallen for literally anyone else, because their best friend probably wouldn't be an insufferably annoying volleyball captain that you'd ended up being partnered with.

at first, it made you giddy. this was your chance—be friend the volleyball captain, make friends with iwaizumi, flirt, fall in love, and live happily ever after.

okay, you're thinking too far ahead. but it was a great setup. until oikawa'd said, "i need to talk to you about something," with that something being... righting... his best friend's reputation.

is there any possible way to get run over by a truck? while inside a laboratory on the third floor of a building?

“anyway, he’s not gay,” oikawa brings up again, louder than the last time, and you sink down against the table and groan.

you can feel your table mates look back at you suspiciously, and you pray to every deity out there. someone, anyone. just open up the earth and swallow me whole.

“oikawa,” you bark, peering over your shared equipment with sharp eyes. “can we not talk about this here?”

he shakes his head quite vigorously. “no! we need to discuss this. because you are wrong, and i am here to tell you that you are wrong.”

your face wrinkles into a scowl. “i really don’t wanna talk about this,” you grumble, looking away.

you don’t even know how he knows. as far as you remember, it was a speculation you’d mentioned to your group of friends in jest, and two days later, oikawa—who had sweet talked your previous lab partner into switching out, apparently; if you think about it, this was all her fault for agreeing—started pestering you about it.

“add the iodine and stir,” your teacher says, and dutifully, you grab the smaller beaker and add the brown liquid, noting the color change when you stir.

“seriously!” oikawa insists, “he’s not. believe me.”

“wh—” you point your pen at him and glare. “you know what, i will remove your name from this lab report if you don’t work on anything in the next—”

you watch him grab his pen and, without looking, scribble quickly on his notebook. “there, done.”

your jaw unhinges, unreasonable, murderous irritation flooding your entire body. “you didn’t even—”

“now get your second beaker,” your teacher instructs, and you use it as a distraction to stop yourself from lunging at your lab partner. “add the remaining water, hydrogen peroxide and fabric starch.”

you take a deep breath and reach for the materials—which were near oikawa’s elbow. when your reach comes up short, you glare at him. “maybe you’d like to help me?”

“oh, sure,” oikawa goes, plucking the materials and placing them on the center of the table. “there you go.”

you count to ten in an attempt to prevent yourself from hurling the second beaker at his head, opting to focus on the experiment instead.

“anyway, i—”

you nearly slam your hands on the table. “look, oikawa,” you tell him, leaning closer. “i don’t know how you found out about that, but it was meant as a joke. i didn’t mean it, and whoever told you that? give me their name. give me their name, so i can find them, break their phone, and burn their house down. end of story.”

he blinks. “so you don’t think he’s gay?”

you lean back. “if he is, it’s none of my business.”

“but he’s not,” oikawa whines. “what made you think that in the first place?”

you give him a bewildered stare. “what? why wouldn’t i think it? he’s obviously in love with you.”

his face morphs into one of complete and utter shock, and then he booms into laughter, which makes the class turn towards your seat at the very back. he sheepishly quiets down at the call of his name, your teacher evidently not as amused as he is at his new discovery.

“he’s not in love with me,” oikawa denies at a much softer, but not any less irritating, volume.

you ignore him. “he’s so scary but he turns sweet around you—”

“sweet? sweet?” he’s wide-eyed and appalled. he aggressively points to the back of his head. ��is throwing volleyballs at my head sweet?"

you defend, “i don’t know what you’re into—"

"do you know how many almost-concussions i've had because of him?! i'm basically a fall risk at this point!”

“now, transfer everything in beaker 1 to beaker 2,” your teacher calls, interrupting your argument. “note the time.”

he stares and shakes his head. “anyway. well, that’s not the case. at all,” he declares, leaning forward to continue the rest of the experiment. “we’re just friends. you note the time.”

“sure,” you say, signaling for him to go once you track the seconds on your watch. you scribble in your notes when the liquid changes color.

the bell rings, and students are shuffling to dump their liquids in the giant erlenmeyer flask at the back of the room.

your former lab partner smiles at you as you both dump your waste liquid. “seems like you and oikawa had a lot of fun,” she chirps.

not at all. “he’s okay,” you say before you part ways. when you get back to your desk, she notes that oikawa is waiting for you and that you walk out of lab together, bickering.

while the rest of the day went ahead as normal, for the next day at school, you were not granted that same luxury.

“hey,” one of your friends asks over lunch, “are you and oikawa dating?”

your fist clenches in surprise, and the juice sent ricocheting through the straw and into your throat makes you choke. “what?” you ask, coughing, and wiping at your mouth with the back of your hand. “where'd you get that?”

the rest of your friends meet gazes. “we heard you were really close in lab yesterday,” one of the girls says.

“yeah, like an old married couple,” another says.

your brain is going into overdrive. what? said who? “we are absolutely n—”

someone calls from outside your classroom. someone with very familiar and annoying voice, someone who you've, quite frankly, had enough of.

you look up to see oikawa, waving merrily at you. behind him, iwaizumi’s stony face is dark and threatening.

the girls around you giggle, and you flush, hunching over at your desk in an attempt to hide.

this cannot be happening, you think despairingly. not only was your crush probably gay, he also thinks you’re dating his best friend.

the best friend he was probably in love with.

“fuck me,” you groan into the wood grain of your desk. "fuck me so very much."

#iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime #hq x reader #hq fluff #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu x reader #x reader #x reader fluff #📝 — my writing #haikyuu fic #haikyuu x reader fluff

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syrikif · 7 months

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Gamer Etiquette

Kodzuken x Streamer!Y/N

Pairing: Kenma Kozume x Fem!Reader

Genre: SMAU, Written Elements, Strangers to Lovers, Romance, Fluff, Humor, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, Streamer/Youtuber AU

Upcoming content creator/streamer, Y/N, has gone viral for lots of things. Her infamous dumb moments, her blended cookie recipe (which tastes better than it sounds), the way she rages at her friends during games, and about a hundred more.

But her most recent viral moment? Accidentally knocking famous streamer, Kodzuken, off the Bedwars map and making him lose his two year winning streak.

Now with more attention (and hate) than she ever asked for, her only option left is to go to the source: the man himself, Kenma Kozume.

Previous | Masterlist | Next

Chapter 2 (a): Bedwars

Word Count: 2171

“Hey guys,” you smile at your webcam, “How’s everyone’s night been so far?” You adjust to get just a bit more comfortable, wrapping your favorite blanket around your legs as you observe their responses in chat.

“Oh my god you had sushi for dinner? That sounds so good.” You lean forward to get a closer look, “Awe thank you. I tried so hard to do my makeup today,” you inform everyone when you see a compliment fly past. “It took me like four business days to finish my eyeliner,” you roll your eyes at the memory.

You start humming softly as you read through chat, prompting everyone to start spamming for music and making you smile. “Okay okay, I get it guys I’ll put some music on.”

You pull open Spotify, selecting one of your favorite non-copyrighted playlists, “Is that loud enough? Oh- too loud?” You turn it down by about twenty percent, “Is that better?”

You grin, letting yourself relax against the back of your chair. “I don’t really have a plan for the stream; I just wanted to kind of chat for a little bit, explain why I was in the hospital and stuff.”

YOU WERE IN THE HOSPITAL????

You laugh when you see the message, realizing too late that you’d probably just dropped a bomb on everyone who doesn’t follow you on any of your other social media. “Oh yeah, sorry guys.” You suddenly snort, “Did someone just say I was in hospice for being dumb?”

You shake your head subconsciously, “Even funnier though is that they’re kind of right.”

You reach forward to grab the bottle of water resting on your desk, “Don’t worry it’s not anything serious. Like at all.” You pause to take a brief sip of the iced liquid, cringing at how cold it is when it enters your mouth. “Holy shit,” you shudder, “That was so fucking cold.”

You take a deep breath to regain your composure.

“Anyways, so basically I fell and hit my head yesterday and my friends just wanted to take me to the hospital to make sure I didn’t get a concussion or anything. And then it turned out that I was actually - like - super dehydrated so they wanted to give me an IV drip to get some fluids in me.” You lift your water bottle pointedly, “Hence the new addition to the stream.”

Normally you’d rarely ever have water during a stream, and if you did it was kept in a much smaller bottle. It’s different now though (your roommate made sure of that) since your current water bottle is big enough to cover your entire face if you were to hold it up.

“But now I am a-okay and in perfect condition. Well, mostly anyways.”

You spend some time just singing along to the music and responding to some of the messages you see in chat. You feel yourself relaxing as you talk with everyone, your tense shoulders loosening and your voice growing just a bit louder as you get more comfortable.

You’re always nervous to stream at first, despite having done it hundreds of times by now. You don’t think you’ll ever not be nervous to be completely honest. It was such a surreal experience, to be able to be so closely connected with so many different people from so many different places, that you were terrified of ever losing it.

“Oh my god you guys. So I made some pumpkin muffins with chocolate chips in them the other day and they are literally like the best thing I’ve probably ever baked in my life.”

Better than your blended cookies?

You roll your eyes, “Oh ha ha; you guys act like you’ve tried it. I promise you all that it’s literally ten times better than it sounds. I’ll have to post the recipe at some point because I genuinely think a lot of you would love them.”

I can attest to that ✋

“Sho,” you excitedly exclaim as you see your friend’s username. “You guys know Shoyo right?” You feel your head tilt, watching the varying responses flood your chat box. “Well if you don’t know who he is, he’s literally - like - famous for playing volleyball.”

I love Hinata! I met him once and he was so nice.

You nod rapidly in agreement, “Yes! He’s seriously gotta be the nicest person I’ve ever met.”

“Do you want to get on call with me?” You direct the question towards your close friend, subconsciously biting your lip as you await his answer.

Still at practice unfortunately 🙁

You pout, “Oh no.” With a small sigh, “I just don’t know what to do now. You got any suggestions, chat?”

You read as many messages as you can, eyebrows furrowing further the longer you sit there.

“I’m seeing a lot of minecraft; do we wanna play a bit of minecraft?” You hum in thought, swaying in your chair as you consider the idea. “How about Bedwars?”

Chat practically erupts at your words, capitalized letters and emotes flying by so fast that you don’t get any chance to read a single one. “Okay okay,” you laugh, “I get it.”

You set your water bottle back down, adjusting your keyboard to sit properly before grabbing your mouse. “Let’s play some Bedwars I guess.”

~~~

“Fuck you!”

You groan as you release your mouse, throwing your head back in annoyance as you die yet once again.

“How the fuck do I keep on dying? Literally what the fuck!” You chance a glance at your chat, hiding a smile at their reaction to your raging. You’ll admit it, while you are actually frustrated with the game, you’re definitely playing it up just a little bit for your audience.

You don’t wait for the round to end after you die, leaving the game and immediately running to join another one. You’ve been playing in teams of three, hoping that having the extra assistance would help you stay alive longer.

So far it’s proved to be completely futile.

“We’re definitely gonna win this one you guys,” you say just as the round begins. “Me-,” you pause to look at your teammate’s usernames, “PinkyFluff_22 and Kodzuken are going to absolutely demolish everyone else.”

What did she just sayyyyyyy 😳

I’m sorry you and WHO????

No way she’s playing with who I think she’s playing with

One in a million chance lol

Wtf

“What is everyone freaking out about?” You question as you patiently wait to collect some iron and gold, watching one of your teammates begin to cover the bed with a measly defense of red wool. “Kodzuken?”

You buy some wood and Endstone from the villager before purchasing a slightly better sword than the wooden one you were given. “Oh they stream?”

Girl 💀

How do you not know who he is?????

“Bro I don’t know,” you shrug, “I just work here okay.”

You sprint over to the bed, breaking the wool to replace it with the Endstone, layering the wood on top, and then finally placing the wool around it again. “I guess I’ll be bed defense then,” you say as you notice that you’re the only person left on the island.

“Oh shit someone’s coming!” You duck behind the giant cube of wool, watching the name tag get progressively closer to your island. You jump out as soon as you feel like they’re close enough, attacking the unaware oncomer and knocking them off the island within a few easy hits.

“Fuck yeah!” You jump around excitedly, proud of the way your plan was actually successful this time. “See that? I told you I’m not bad!”

You abruptly flinch as your character turns and comes face to face with another player. “Holy shit!” You release a sigh of relief as you realize it’s only your teammate, Kodzuken. “That scared me so bad. Oh my god,” you release your mouse briefly to place your hand on your chest.

While you’re distracted trying to calm your heartbeat, Kodzuken suddenly stops before you. “What is he doing?” But before you even have time to be suspicious he suddenly drops a pile of diamonds and emeralds on the ground.

You blink.

“Huh?” He looks pointedly at the gems then back up at you and back down, lightly tapping the block they’re floating on. “Is he giving them to me?”

You glance over at your chat, your character finally going into motion when you realize they’re all screaming at you to go pick them up. “Jesus, sorry. I got them, see? Look, I’m picking them up right now.”

You collect everything on the ground, crouching and un-crouching multiple times as a way to thank him. “Oh- shit,” you pause as a popup suddenly appears, “Stupid sticky keys!”

By the time you manage to exit out of the window, Kodzuken is nowhere to be found. “Well,” you look at your webcam, “That was unexpected.”

You quickly open game chat to send him a private message as fast as you possibly can.

“Thanks :)”

It’s the best you can do with the little time you have but you hope he appreciates it nonetheless.

“Okay, I’m gonna up our bed defense.” You repeat the earlier process all over again, only this time you add obsidian and make the outer layer made of wood. “Now that’s like literally impenetrable.”

You upgrade your sword to a bow and arrows before purchasing some TNT and fireballs and buying the Miner’s Fatigue trap. “Now the real question is whether I try to attack the bases next to us or not.”

Attackkkkkk

You’re gonna die

Kill them

We believe in you

“I guess it’s decided then,” you quickly shake out your hands. “Okay,” your voice fades as you run across the bridge you could only assume one of your teammate’s made.

You’re extremely quiet as you make your way across, keeping your eyes on the island next to you and turning back every now and then to check on your own. You’re biting your lip as you slowly make your way across the rival team’s bridge, crouching the entire time to hide your name.

You’re roughly twenty blocks away when you take the next step. Still crouching, you aim a fireball at their seemingly wool covered bed. “Yes!” You cheer as it makes its mark, blowing up the wool and revealing wood below it.

You know that you’ve alerted the players at this point (there’s no way you haven’t) so all you can do is run into the fire.

You’re panicking as you place some TNT around the bed, running away and into a player from the enemy team as it explodes. You use your mediocre sword to hit them away from you, mentally sighing as they get hit back enough for you to run away. “Oh my god oh my god oh my god,” you sprint towards the now revealed blue bed.

“Blue Bed was destroyed by Soft_Paws!”

You squeal out of both fear and excitement, adrenaline racing through you as you’re attacked by two of the blue players at once. You throw a fireball at them, shouting for joy when one of them is successfully knocked off the island.

“Holy shit!”

The next player is harder to kill, your health rapidly deteriorating as you battle with nothing but a stone sword and your adrenaline.

You have one heart left when it finally happens.

“Ecstasy.png was killed by Soft_Paws”

“Yes!” You kick your feet out, jumping up from your chair with your excitement before remembering that you’re still in a game. “Holy fuck I did it. I actually did it, you guys!”

She’s CRACKED

LETS GOOOO

WOOOOO

YEEEEESSSSSS

~~~

Roughly five minutes later, you’re still in the round. Everyone’s bed has been broken at this point but there are still three teams that are yet to be eliminated, yours included.

You’re sort of just hiding at the base, watching the chaos from afar as your one and only teammate left (Kodzuken) goes on a murder spree.

He’s running back to the team’s island when the incident occurs.

All you see is yellow leather armor and a yellow name tag, sprinting on the bridge connecting your base to the emerald island. You don’t even consider the fact that they’re currently being chased down by your teammate, you just aim.

Your aim is exceptionally good, so good in fact that the explosion knocks off both the yellow player and Kodzuken.

You freeze at the realization, your mouth falling open in complete horror as you piece together what you’d just done.

“I did not just do that,” you whisper, mostly to yourself as the events replay in your mind. “Oh my god,” you facepalm - forgetting (once again) that you’re still actually alive and participating in the game - and completely missing the person running towards you on the other bridge.

You hear the sound of something being attacked, echoing through your headphones and making your eyebrows furrow with confusion.

You abruptly gasp, but by then it’s too late.

You’re dead. And your team has lost.

Taglist: @crazy-people-are-here, @existential-traveller, @peachesncats, @royalz658

Any names in bold are unable to be tagged.

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cher-rei · 2 months

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afterglow- pt.7 [ T.A.A ]

pairings: trent alexander arnold x fem!reader

summary: young and aspiring marketing and business major jamie carter is privileged with working alongside the liverpool fc marketing and public relations team, while also getting entangled with their star player and right back, trent alexander arnold.

genre(s): friends to lovers, workplace romance, fluff

[wc: 4.6k] [part 1] [part 2] [part 3] [part 4] [part 5] [part 6] [part 8]

notes: it's the way that I've hinted at another fic in this chapter and then another one in chapter 8... I love interconnecting my series' ughhh

spamjam._. added to their story!

"here's one for you," jude spoke from his position on the hotel suite couch to gain your attention as you unpacked your things. "bro went from liking her posts to flying her over just for some moral support."

you rolled your eyes as he read out the tweets which he had been enjoying for the past ten minutes now. the way that twitter was rioting over the situation was utterly amusing— from your post on Instagram to jude stating that you were sharing a hotel room. they were having a blast by coming up with theories as to how this even came about.

yes, jude only happened to follow you on instragram at the beginning of the year but that was not the reason you knew each other at all. if it were then this situation would be very awkward. as he would say, "luckily for you, you had the privilege of knowing me before I became the equivalent to ryan gosling."

you wouldn't exactly call it a privilege but whatever made him sleep at night. funny enough, you two met at a football match when you were still in high school. it was strange to see a 17-year-old actively engage in conversation with some random 14-year-old just because he said she was screaming too much.

that wasn't the last of your accidental meetings, however, the next was a few weeks later when your parents invited some friends over from birmingham— and lo and behold who just happened to be the son of those friends.

so here you were at 20 and 23, closer than ever but keeping it as low-key as possible.

you proceeded to listen to jude comment on each tweet, each one funnier than the last. "I swear some of these people have got to be fbi trained." he shook his head and you hummed in response, nearly jumping up when jude yelled out in shock.

"listen to this one," he turned from his position on the couch to look at you in front of the bed. "in early 2023, jude followed jamie back on Instagram and 6 months later she got her job as liverpool's p.r manager. hours later after the announcement the entire squad followed her back, the first of them being trent. jamie and trent have been seen together a lot from then on and she's even tagged him in multiple of her Instagram stories. now what do we know about trent? he plays for england. who else plays for england? jude. where is jamie right now? in barcelona with jude."

you were left dumbfounded, jude staring at you with his eyes wide and obviously impressed. "well that's one way to connect the dots I guess." you shrugged your shoulders, "they're not wrong but they're not quite right either."

a scoff left jude's mouth and he got up from the couch to look out the ceiling-to-floor window looking out at the city. "trent's not the middleman here though. like dude you and I aren't dating so there's no need."

he was right, there was no need for a middleman. it was just pure coincidence but obviously people wouldn't think of it like that. "and I thank the lord for that every single day."

he pulled a face, "stop being dramatic. I'm not that bad and you know it."

you hummed out in debate, getting your things so you could go and shower. "I mean judging by your lack of female interaction--"

before you could finish a pillow was hurled straight at you causing you to yelp out, getting ready to days for the bathroom before he could throw another.

"I talk to woman!" he yelled out after you and you laughed a little louder than intended which prompted him to get another pillow.

"female reporters don't count jude!"

you slammed the bathroom door shut just as he threw the pillow again, a loud thud echoing through the room before it dropped to the floor along with jude's hands. he huffed out in frustration, complaining for a good few minutes before he came to a conclusion that made you double over in laughter.

"just for that, I'll be keeping my eye out for interns from now on! if I marry a reporter one day I'll make sure not to invite you just out spite!"

your first morning in barcelona consisted of nothing but peace. the view you woke up to was breathtaking, definitely the most beautiful sunrise you had ever seen. you took your time getting ready before breakfast and made sure to put together the best outfit you could manage seeing as it was rare that you got to wear summer attire.

jude shot you the most confused look to date when he saw your top. he hit you with the "woman stopped wearing corsets decades ago so I'm a bit confused as to why you're torturing yourself right now."

it took a bit to explain to him that you weren't suffering at all, but he still didn't understand and left it at that so the two of you could head to a restaurant for breakfast. every step you took your eye was caught by something more beautiful than the last, your heart strings tugging in the summer heat.

"I've made up my mind. I'm coming to visit you every three months."

jude didn't oppose the idea and instead encouraged it, saying that he needed a bit more company. everything was recorded, you had your phone out and your camera for double the footage, talking to the camera as you carried on with your day.

"do you really have to film everything?" jude asked from across your table at the outdoor seating area of the restaurant as you waited for your breakfast.

you made a sound at the back of your throat and continued to go through the footage you had so far. "unlike you, I have a social media presence and people enjoy the content that I put out okay?"

"uh huh." his eyes wandered over you silently until he was told to check your instagram story, and of course he reposted it being the absolutely amazing friend he was and not because he was in any way forced to do it...

spamjam._. added to their story!

"I don't think anyone understands how crazy it is to hear jude speak in spanish so casually." you turned your camera to look at jude opposite you, adorning an expression of offence.

you suppressed a smile. "this is the same boy who asked me if 'lethargic' was an actual word or if I made it up by the way."

that hit a nerve for him and he put down his fork, and pointed a finger at you while explaining the pointlessness of the word and just how stupid it was. "who uses the word lethargic jamie?" he raised his hands waiting for an answer.

your laugh could be heard behind the camera, obvious judgement in your tone as you teased him. "people who have a vocabulary level that exceeds year 6."

jude shot you an 'oh really look' clearly not buying your reasoning. "just say that you're tired," he grew a bit more defensive and you tried to speak over him but he continued on. "it's never that deep."

you laughed again, telling him that he literally just proved your point. you could feel the stares that you were getting from people passing by— just trying to enjoy their peaceful thursday morning without two idiots arguing about words.

the banter went on for a bit, the camera now set on the edge of the table so that both you and jude were in the frame, tension heightened as you debated. he shrugged his shoulders eventually, "lethargic is not that big of a word either. it's just unnecessary--"

your eyebrows raised, "--oh really?"

he nodded in confirmation, as to say that it was obvious and that he wasn't an idiot. so you did the only correct thing at the moment which brought a wave of nostalgia to wash over jude who couldn't help but laugh.

"spell lethargic then."

he hesitated for a moment, wondering if you were being serious. "go on then, prove me wrong." you urged him, and obviously, he took up the challenge because jude bellingham was not a quitter.

"L I--"

you cut him off with a proud smile, "wrong!"

"L A--"

"wrong!"

by now jude was dumbfounded, immediately reaching out for his cellphone to google the absurd word only to find out that it was spelt with an E. you hummed happily as he complained once again, saying that spelling it with an E didn't make any sense.

"jude victor william bellingham," you began with a smile and he shook his head. "one of real madrid and england's star players at the age of 20 yet he can't spell 'lethargic'."

the rest of the day played out smoothly— sightseeing, shopping till jude's entire backseat was covered in bags, a trip to the beach and using jude as your personal photographer and videographer. now that was what you called a vacation.

the last stop the two of you were going to make would be a small picnic to wrap up the evening seeing as jude would be at practice all-day tomorrow before the match later that evening. either way you wouldn't be alone because jobe would be flying down the morning, so you were more than excited to pick him up at the airport.

your picnic blanket was set down on the grass at a park, and once again the scenery had you gawking. the sunset was to die for, the atmosphere was chirpy yet peaceful and in all honesty if this was your last moment alive you wouldn't have any regrets.

you let out a content sigh, "if this is what being a wag is like then I might have to hit up victoria beckham for some pointers."

jude let out a laugh from beside you, watching silently as you pointed your vlog camera to the sky— moving it from side to side as you took in the scenery.

"I mean you have some good candidates, and you're already in the industry so it's just up to you." he nudged you on the shoulder. "make the move jamie."

a sigh escaped your lips at the fact that he was right. everything was played out in your favour and you needed to use it to your advantage. "I'll dm colwill when we get back to the hotel."

jude doubled over in laughter at your comment but you kept your attention on your camera, settling it down in front of the both of you. "he's younger than you."

you shrugged your shoulders to dismiss his note. "age is just a number or something."

that made you both smile but for two completely different reasons. jude found it funny whereas you were washed with an unfamiliar feeling, your mind flashing back to yours and trent's midnight mcdonald's run when he said the exact same thing.

that remembrance made you keep a mental note to call him later, just to see how things were holding up on that side.

the conversation picked up again when you shut off your camera. and of course, it took the emotional route at the hour of vulnerability. it hopped from family to work to comfortability in your respective situations in a matter of seconds.

it was nice for jude to have this time to talk about stuff like this, you knew he appreciated moments like this where he could express himself more freely without a language barrier or slight anxiety.

when he first left for madrid you remembered the five-hour conversation you had over the phone because he couldn't fall asleep, too unsure and unfamiliar with his surroundings to be able to settle in. with that, you made sure to check up on him daily before bed.

time zones didn't stop you and never would, especially with someone you considered family. jude and jobe were easily younger brothers to you— jude being the irritating younger brother who acted as if he were older than you and jobe being the sweet younger brother that needed constant affection.

you cared for them both dearly, making time to see each other whenever you could when you schedules were free.

"so you found the apartment?" jude asked and popped a grape into his mouth while he listened to you talk about your move out of your sister's house.

maya and noah were moving to london at the beginning of next year, which just so happened to be two months from now. which honestly was a great idea and you were super excited for them, but it was the househunting the was an issue for you because you were so picky.

you weren't too worried about the rent, the main issue was the interior so you took it upon yourself to do some drastic redecorating when you found one. and in four months it was ready, the only thing it was missing was you.

you nodded happily, "I can move in whenever I'm ready."

your answer made jude smile. be knew just how excited you were to finally move into a place of your own because all you'd been doing was saving up. "which is..."

"which is before christmas. and I have a little surprise on the way as well," you retorted in excitement but jude's thoughts immediately went to pregnancy and you could see it on his face, judging by how quickly his eyes dropped to your stomache.

the sun had fully set now, the air beginning to chill but not in a way that had you shivering, but in a way that made you feel relieved. basking in the atmosphere took your mind elsewhere, a glimmer of something in the back of your mind flashing.

your stomach dropped at the memory. one of the many that you've recently.

"we have to go to spain." the glee in your voice bounced off the walls of the bedroom, back to the bed where you and your boyfriend were lying.

he chuckled at your antics and the way that your grip tightened on his torso, his fingers lightly tracing your shoulder. "we'll go anywhere you like baby." he kissed the top of your head.

you looked up at him with doe eyes. "really?"

michael flashed an adoring smile, the same one that showed just how smitten he was for you. you felt a chill run down your spine at the touch of his fingers on your cheeks. "I'd do anything for you."

your throat stung at the memory, something that weighed so heavily on your chest. moments where you two promised to build a family together resurfaced, where you promised to always be there for each other, but this time accompanied by a bitter taste.

you'd accomplished so much these past few months and he wasn't there to witness it like he said he would. there weren't any flowers or handwritten cards with a hug that made you melt. you could still hear his voice sometimes and the way he would speak to you so gently.

at your graduation you could barely enjoy the moment because while being onstage you saw his face in the crowd, an unreadable expression and the words "I'm so proud of you, love" floating aimlessly through the air.

everything he ever said to you was now floating aimlessly through the air.

judebellingham

jobebellingham and 4 245 223 others liked this post

judebellingham had to go back to the hotel like thrice for her to get changed [tagged: spamjam._.]

see all comments below

jobebellingham please never take selfies again

→ spamjam._. agreed

→ judebellingham you're both walking to the stadium I don't care

vinijr ❤️🔥 [liked by judebellingham]

spamjam._.

liked by liverpoolfc and 2 345 234 others

spamjam._. 🌼

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jobebellingham it's like you couldn't have waited for me before doing all this 😃

→ spamjam._. we're going to be together all week bro chill 🙄

liverpoolfc jamie come back, the kids miss you 🥲

→ spamjam._. they're lying

trentarnold66 you owe me a mcdonalds run when you get back [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. yes sir 🫡

Ibrahimakonate 🙊❤️ [liked by spamjam._.]

curtisjr my gf says you're beautiful 🙄

→ spamjam._. gf?? curtis call me right now istg!!

levicolwill okay supermodel🙄❤️ [liked by spamjam._.]

→ spamjam._. check your dm's

"there's my favourite boy!"

you had your arms spread for a hug as you watched jobe walk up to you with a sheepish smile. you could tell that he was a slight bit embarrassed, but gave in anyway and dropped his bags to embrace you.

he had grown a freakishly large amount since the last time you saw him— towering over you would be an understatement and it took every bit of you not to feel overwhelmed, but how could you when he was so freaken cute??

a shy chuckle came from jobe as you continued to hug him, your arms tightly wrapped around in torso. "you can carry on when we get back to the hotel, people have places to be."

that wasn't good enough of an excuse for you. "they can let me have my moment."

when you got back to the hotel, jude wasn't there as suspected but all your bags were already packed for tomorrow morning's early flight back to madrid. the rest of the day was spent just relaxing in the hotel room and catching up as usual because you didn't want to waste your energy and fall asleep half way into the first half of the match.

"I can't believe I'm about to watch barça and madrid play," jobe commented as he scrolled through his twitter feed.

you two were settled comfortably on the couch set with snacks and the t.v playing as background noise. when you didn't reply he looked up from his phone, only to see you glued to your own with a lopsided smile.

it was unlike you to ignore him, even if it were by accident so it raised some suspicion. he kicked your thigh in an attempt to gain your attention but it didn't work, your fingers typing away at the keyboard for whatever reason. he didn't want to be one of those brothers and take your phone right out of hand and see what had you so interested— that was jude's job.

so instead he resorted to kicking you over and over until you eventually got irritated and yelped out in pain. "jobe my leg," you groaned and began to rub your thigh that he'd been taking hits at.

when you looked at him again his expression had changed, his lips slightly parted in shock. you asked him what the issue was and all he could manage was a scoff of disbelief. there'd only been one other instance where he'd seen you act like this before, and he tried to forget it at most.

"who are you talking to?"

jobe wasn't one to pry and you knew that, and when he did it was out of genuine concern. you cleared your throat awkwardly. "just a friend."

his eyes narrowed at your answer, knowing he caught you. "you don't have friends." in no way did he mean to offend you by saying that, because it was true and as clear as day. he knew you too well, maybe you could hide things from jude for a bit but with jobe it was different because everything came out unintentionally.

a sigh of defeat escaped your mouth and you set your phone down on your lap. "this is a situation my friend is in right now. you're not going to ask any questions okay?"

jobe nodded his head eagerly and sat upright so he could pay more attention. and just like that, you found yourself lost in the explanation and you were sure you nearly namedropped at least thrice but jobe remained attentive and gave his word when needed.

"I mean if they aren't dating then there should be nothing wrong with you--"

you gave jobe a look and he immediately retracted his last word.

"your friend. your friend, not you," he corrected sheepishly and you nodded.

he thought the idea was dumb. you could've just said that you were talking about yourself and he wouldn't have bugged you... that much. "your friend isn't overstepping any boundaries by the sound of it. so she should just go with the flow--"

you couldn't believe that you were taking relationship advice from an 18-year-old right now. this was your lowest. "--whatever happens, happens."

whatever happens, happens.

his advice genuinely seemed to shift some gears in your mind, and you wanted nothing more than to wrap him up in a bear hug. so that's exactly what you did. "have I ever told you how much I love you?"

the question made him stifle a laugh, the boy tightening his grip around your shoulders as you lay on top of him. "I want to say yes but no."

you slapped his arm jokingly. "you're my favourite brother too. but don't tell jude."

"how can I not??"

#footballer imagine #fanfic #footballer x reader #trent alexander arnold fluff #footballer x you #liverpool fc #trent alexander arnold x reader #football imagine #liverpool x reader #trent alexander arnold fanfic #afterglow trent alexander arnold #jude bellingham #jobe bellingham #cherrei rambles #cherrei writes #writers on tumblr #trent alexander arnold imagine #trent alexander arnold

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whattraintracks · 2 months

Text

22. Puzzling - TMNT 2012

Don't worry, guys, that wasn't supposed to happen.

When the bit of Kraang tech he's examining (read: poking randomly in the hopes that something will happen) explodes, Donatello's not sure if he or Raphael shrieks louder. He thinks it's Raph. Which would be way funnier under different circumstances.

He blinks against sooty particulates. "Huh, well, that wasn't supposed to happen."

He's amid a cloud of unexpectedly thick, slightly pink smoke. Which is on-brand but frankly annoying. He waves at the air in a vain attempt to disperse it. Maybe he can move this operation to the kitchen, work under the exhaust hood. He should probably install one in here. He gives up flailing his arms, and backs away from the desk. Step one to solving any problem is getting some distance. Step two is—oh, that's weird. The cloud doesn't seem to have moved since the initial explosion. What kind of particles are these? He hasn't seen Kraang tech do this before.

The moment he remembers Raph is also the moment he trips over him. With a yelp, he hits the ground. Hard. Raph giggles. Rude. He's going to have at least two bruises tomorrow. And his scream was definitely louder than Raph's, so he's lost any right to make fun.

"Dude," Donnie groans, pushing to his feet. At least he's away from the Kraang smoke, "Why'd you trip me?"

"I don't know," comes the high-pitched reply, "Why're you so big?"

By the time his eyes clear, he's pretty sure it's a genuine question, not an insult about his height. It makes more sense once he looks down, down, down to find Raph miniaturised.

Donnie throws his hands to his head. "That wasn't supposed to happen, either!" Raph just giggles again.

"Leo!"

As far as they can tell, based on Raph's appearance and memories, he's about five. Donnie can't even remember being that young. Which he counts as a good thing because kids are weird. Or maybe that's just mutant turtle kids. He doesn't have experience with normal children to establish a baseline. Leo and Sensei do, though, and they seem unperturbed by Raph's behavior. Even Mikey takes the whole thing in stride. He is, in fact, absolutely thrilled and oscillates between gathering blackmail material and doing whatever Raph asks.

Donnie will admit he's having trouble making sense of it all. First, and he thinks he’s mentioned this, that was not supposed to happen. He can't figure out how a broken Kraang tech part without any detectable energy source could have caused something like this. Which naturally leads to the question of how he's meant to fix it. Raph has no idea what happened, either, so he's no help. Worse, he just might be the most confusing being Donnie has ever met. Take yesterday, for example.

He's not sure what time it is when he stumbles out of the lab for breakfast, so it might not technically be in the range of the day at which it is appropriate to call a meal breakfast. His brain is too full of viscous pink Kraang smoke to care. It must be some mealtime because everyone but Master Splinter is in the kitchen when he arrives. Leo is at the island supervising Raph and Mikey's mess-making by the stove.

Raph perks up, "Hey Donnie! I wanna tell you a question."

"Ask nicely, Raph," Leo reminds, hiding a smile behind the rim of his tea cup.

"Please, I wanna tell you a question." He barrels on, "How do you open your labrador?”

Open his what? Donnie stares at the space above Raph's head, trying to parse the question until a nudge from Leo resets his brain. "Say what?"

"Your labrador!" He flings his arms out, nearly knocking himself to the floor. Mikey catches the lip of his shell just in time.

“What Labrador? Raph, I don't have a—”

“Yeah, you do!” He's angry of a sudden. Of course, he is. But it's weird. It's not the first time Donnie's made him mad since the incident, but he's never gotten in anyone's face or stormed off with a huff. He just screeches until he gets whatever it is that he wants. It's Raph's anger, but it's not. “It’s how you get to the place you do all your smart stuff!"

Mikey swoops in, crouching to squeeze Raph gently, then translates, “He means the door to your lab, bro.”

“The door? Oh. Why would—?" Donnie sighs heavily, sinking into the stool next to Leo. “Raph, that’s the lab door,” he enunciates, “Not a Labrador. A Labrador is a dog breed."

Just like that, Raph's face unscrunches into something thoughtful. “So it’s not a labrador?”

Well, at least the exasperation is familiar. "I literally just said that. It’s a normal door.” Leo clicks at him warningly. Come on, what is he supposed to do here? Seriously, this feels surreal. Maybe this whole dialogue is a dream, and he's hunched over his desk right now. He straightens his shell to test for any worse-than-usual aching.

“Okay," Raph says. Then he turns around. Just like that. As if the entire conversation never happened. Never mind his original question or whatever he was trying to ask. He makes no sense, literally none at all.

But, you know what, fine. Donnie has to eat anyway so he can go back to the "place where he does all his smart stuff" or whatever. So he can figure out how to get his actual brother back, who at least makes sense most of the time.

Leo finishes his tea, returning Raph's enthusiastic wave goodbye, and then there are three. Mikey and Raph finally settle down to eat whatever noxious concoction they've whipped up as Donnie cleans his dishes. Freshly fed, his brain refills with extradimensional smoke and engineering.

"Well, that's boring!"

He fumbles with his mug at the sudden shout. A glance over his shoulder finds Raph, who had been eating quietly, now glaring at him.

“You should name that boring normal door Labrador so we can just call it that anyway," he says firmly.

He's not sure why he tries to ask, “Why would I—”

“Or or!" And it's like a switch again, anger suddenly dissipating. "We could name it something cooler! Like Thundoor from Crognard!”

“Thundarr,” He corrects. It's too late, Mikey's joins in.

“That’s awesome, little dude!" Mikey laughs buoyantly. "We should name all the furniture!”

“Yeah!”

And Donnie is so tired and so lost, and Raph is too much and too little of his brother at the same time it’s not even funny anymore. He doesn't think it ever was.

“Come one, Dee!" Mikey hoists Raph onto his shoulders, naturally content to ignore the messy kitchen. "Help Raphie and I name everything in the lair!”

Donnie tries to shake his head as Raph reaches for him. “Can you! Can you, please? Just for a little bit, please, Donnie, please?” Oh, now he recalls his manners.

"No, Raph." He bangs his mug onto the drying rack, ignoring Mikey's frown. "I don't have time for your nonsense questions and weird games. I'm trying to fix you."

It's not until he slams closed the lab door that the words trailing after his dramatic exit finally click. A puzzled sort of muttering from Raph: "Fix me? But I’m not broken."

So maybe he got a little too worked up, as tired as he was. But he's better now! He's eaten. He's slept five hours. He's determined to sit here until he cracks this thing.

And then someone bangs on the door.

He drops his head with a groan. How is he supposed to heroically solve all of their problems in these conditions? “Who is it, and what do you want," he shouts into the pages of his notebook.

"Once a second!"

One second, he mouths to himself. He listens to Raph struggle with the door for a lot of seconds and hopes he'll give up. He probably won't. Donnie better unlock it before he hurts himself. Or worse, starts screaming. Only because Leo would find some way to blame Donnie for it.

He shoves the door open, not at all irritated. Or vindicated either, when Raph falls on his shell and his sai skitter across the floor. Wait. “I thought Sensei took those out of your—Hey!”

Five-year-old Raph may not be much of a ninja but he is pretty slippery. He scrambles under Donnie's arm and launches into the rolling desk chair.

“Raphael." He glowers, summoning his inner Leo, "You are not allowed in the lab—”

“Without you,” he recites, spinning the chair so Donnie only catches glimpses of his cheeky smile. “But you’re here too! So it’s okay.”

It most definitely is not. Raph has no understanding of lab safety right now, so if Raph stays in here, then Donnie will have to keep an eye on him, and if Donnie has to watch Raph, then he can't focus on his work. He does not want Raph in here, and he says so.

“Donnie, I'll be so so so good. Please!” Oh, Mikey absolutely taught him how to do that with his eyes. Not cool, Mike.

“Raph," Donnie faux whines back. "I need to work. Go play with Leo or Mikey."

"Ugh," Raph flops onto his shell, letting his head and limbs hang. “But Sensei and Leo are medating, and Mikey’s with Red."

“Meditating," he corrects, "And I know you know her name is April.”

“Casey calls her Red.”

“Yeah, well, Casey’s a—” Raph looks at him with wide, innocent eyes. A promise on his face that anything Donnie says will be repeated. "It’s polite to call people by their name."

Raph hums, continuing to spin idly, “But I don't call you Donatello, I call you Donnie. And you call me Raph or sometimes Fai.”

Not a bad point. But what was that second thing? Fai? Oh. His brain retrieves fuzzy, forgotten memories. That's right. When they were both little, that had been his nickname for Raph. Just between the two of them. He can't remember when he stopped using it.

“Right," he says slowly. "But those are nicknames. They're a shorter version of your name.”

“Oh, okay.” Then Raph rolls out of the chair, clunking to the ground shell first, and wanders away to explore the lab.

Donnie retakes the seat, resigning himself to further interruptions. Part of his brain is devoted to thinking up better excuses in case this is one of those conversations Raph returns to without warning. The rest of his awareness is on Raph as he pokes and prods at books and equipment and even poor Timothy. It takes the better part of a half hour for him to realise he's still sitting at his desk not moving a muscle.

He growls, gripping his head. Raph is on him in an instant. "What's wrong? Can I help? Do you need a book? Do you want one of mine? I can get Leo! Or Sensei, or—"

"No," Donnie snaps.

He gapes as Raph's beak trembles and his eyes fill with tears. "You're crying. Why are you crying? Please stop crying." He slides to the floor next to Raph, "I'm sorry? It's just. I'm trying to focus! I need to fix you, but I don't—"

“I don’t want you to fix me!” He shouts, scrubbing his face and hiccupping. “I just want to play! Why won’t you play with me anymore?"

“Raph, I," Donnie looks down at his hands, "I don’t have time,” he finishes lamely.

“Yes, you do! You’re just being mean!” He runs out of the lab. Probably to someone who actually understands him. Someone who tries. Donnie wonders if he’ll ever stop messing things up for Raph.

Because as far as they can tell, this version of Raph went to bed one day, and the family he found upon waking was suddenly different. Of course, Raph is frustrated and confused and probably a little scared. He's not just normal Raph in a smaller body. Donnie might've realised that sooner if he'd spent more time with him instead of causing one mess after the other and then hiding from it all in his lab.

Donnie doesn't remember when he was five, but he's heard Sensei's stories about their childhood. The ones about his younger self hanging on Raph's every word. That one embarrassing retelling of the biggest fight Donnie ever caused by announcing Raph was his favorite brother. His father's memories of them doing everything together, at least until Donnie really got into science. So he steps out of the lab and locks it behind him. His brother, this brother, needs to come first.

He must look contrite enough that Leo only grills him a little before he points to Raph's room. After a single breath of indecision, he sits, shell against the door.

“Hey, Fai?” he starts, tugging at his fingers, “I’m really sorry. I have been pretty mean lately, haven’t I?” It takes a few moments, but a little thud echoes on the other side of the door.

Relieved, he continues, “I’m not as good at this as I used to be. I might need your help. But I’m out of my lab right now, and we can play whatever you want.”

Donnie hits the floor before he realises the door has swung open. Little Raph is looking down at him, eyes still watery but excited. "Really? Anything? Even Space Heroes!"

And Donnie almost can't believe it's that easy. He smiles with Raph's infectious joy. “Space Heroes? Who are you, Leo?”

Raph collapses into him with a laugh that banishes the rest of his tears as Donnie reaches out, tickling him just like he's seen their big brother do. He's still giggling when Donnie staggers to his feet. “Think I could use some bedding to build us the Dauntless?”

Raph cheers. Launching into an explanation of his favorite episodes and characters as he directs them around the lair to collect supplies. If this isn't blackmail material, Donnie doesn't know what is. Raph will never be able to deny that he likes Space Heroes ever again. Once Donnie figures out how to reverse this Kraang-smoke-induced de-aging that is.

He does still have to. They need Raph as he should be: their teammate, their protector, their equal. But if he were here in those roles right now, Donnie knows he would have heard a thousand times over that he needs to sleep, to eat, to take a break for at least five minutes, Don, come on.

So he'll try. He'll take breaks to hang out with his favorite brother. He'll get a lot of experience building sheet spaceships and pillow forts. And by the end of it all, Donnie will realise his little brother really does just want to play and ask silly questions that probably don’t seem so silly to him. He'll decide this little version of Raph isn't a puzzle of confusing emotions. He's the same pieces he's always been, unfiltered and untethered from all the pain and fear of their older selves.

And so, even after Raph returns to 16, whenever the thought creeps up on Donnie that he's not doing enough, that he needs to fix it. He'll lock his lab behind him and say, "Hey, Fai! Wanna play something?"

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astranite · 3 months

Text

Respite (Spun Glass and Golden Light)

Scott and John, or sky and star!

It's another long one at a bit under 5000 words! Tags copied from ao3 as look, I really should be asleep already.Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, theres a fair spectrum of emotions here, Brothers, Thunderbird Five (Thunderbirds), Nightmares, John is also pretty not okay here too as well as Scott but they are both working on it, space metaphors thrown in for good measure, Cuddling & Snuggling, because everyone needs a hug of course, another fic where John and Scott drink hot chocolate!, they are both also learning they can let each other in and Scott is realising this.

Many thanks to the fab @idontknowreallywhy for all the cheering on and wonderfulness!

---

“Do you want to come up to Five?” John asked.

Scott answered far too fast. “Yeah.” His voice broke in the middle.

John thought it would take more convincing, it always did to get Scott to accept anything approaching help. But this time…

He caught one last flash of blue eyes made bluer, meeting his and piercingly desperate, before the hologram shut off from Scott’s end and John was blinking away the after images in the suddenly dark comm hub.

Scott, in rumpled day clothes at 2:47am Tracy Island time, hair falling across his forehead in uneven waves of curls. Scott, whose dark circles under his eyes had startled John into thinking they were bruises, his sharpened features thrown in harsh relief by the dim lamp by dad’s desk. The hologram was fuzzy at the edges, all noisy static between him and his brother, but John couldn’t miss the way Scott looked over his shoulder like he expected something to be there. Or someone.

Ghosts of his past, John thought, then shook himself.

Scott had nightmares, they all knew it. But he always pretended he wasn't shaken by what he saw. Tried to carry on like they didn't happen, like nothing ever happened, and Scott was as invincible as the legend he’d built around dad was.

John saw, more often than the others. There was a reason he monitored the villa feed for movement outside of usual hours when the rescue alarms hadn't gone off.

He’d caught a few funnier moments for blackmail, namely Alan and Gordon attempting to steal storebought baked goods from the fridge and getting them mixed up with Grandma’s latest creations in the dark. Repeatedly, because they’d never figured out how Scott and Virgil conspired together to swap the containers.

But there were worse ones for all of their family. Nights Alan slept on the couch because being in his room, alone inside close walls was too much. Gordon making his subdued way through the halls, cheerful facade gone with gasps of pain unable to be stifled, going to get painkillers from the infirmary for his back. Kayo, prowling on silent feet, checking, triple checking security feeds for any slightest threat, not able to believe in the safety of their island anymore. Jagged notes of piano, near silent from keys barely pressed, while Virgil had tears on his face.

And Scott, of course Scott who had it the worst of all of them, who was the bravest of them but couldn't see it. Late nights, ending slumped ragdoll-like over endless paperwork from endless responsibilities put on his shoulders. Agitated pacing, wearing only socks so he wouldn't wake anyone, ragged breaths louder than his footsteps. The times when Scott was a trembling ball of tears, curled under dad’s desk where he barely fit anymore, hands over his head blocking everything out.

Sometimes John talked to them, offered company and comfort, other times he let the moments pass silently. He was used to witnessing things he could never speak of again; his own moments of pain rarely had anyone but he made sure his siblings’ did, just in case they needed someone reaching out for them.

Watching over Scott in particular to make sure no harm came to him was an unsaid duty John took as his own. Virgil was there in the day, with him on the ground during rescues, but John amongst his stars kept the nights within his reach.

He’d already sent the space elevator down and now he waited, marking careful timings as Eos quietly spoke them. Scott was suiting up. Scott was finishing pre-launch checks. Scott had reached the Kármán line, the beginning of space.

John drifted through a gravity-less Five, switching to lights that gave off a soft, golden glow. They filled the Thunderbird up like she was one of those ancient incandescent bulbs, long since obsolete. Like she was delicate spun glass as well as cahelium strength, two opposites the same, together complete where glass could break and cahelium bend. She was different from her sister ships, a different purpose and way of approach, but in the end she was the same. Rescue. Salvation. Pulling them all back from the void.

He couldn't take the nightmares away, the fear and pain scarred deep in his brother’s bones, but he could offer respite. Warmth and light and safety, with some distance from it all. A set of arms to hold Scott close and a shoulder to cry on when it was needed. It was something, it was everything, in the rare times Scott could reach out and take it.

And John needed it too. He could watch over Scott from afar, he always would, he couldn't not. But he also needed his big brother close enough that he could feel his heartbeat, how his chest rose and fell with each breath, not just as numbers on a screen, but here and real and close. Maybe he wasn't the touchiest person generally, but his brothers wrapped up in a hug or sides pressed together where they sat, their soft voices in the bubble of quiet, that meant safety. With only arm’s reach to check if they were okay, especially for looking out for Scott. There was a reason that otherwise he had to have all of the data. But right now he needed Scott.

John waited for the familiar clunk of the space elevator docking, for Eos to give the all clear for her checks for the airlock being correctly pressurised, before the doors opened.

They silhouetted Scott in their frame, stuck halfway between the warm lights of Five and the cooler, harsher ones in the space elevator.

Scott hesitated, like he always did here, a hand blue-gloved in space issue suit gripping the edge of the airlock.

John opened his arms, because Scott needed this as much as he did. They were the same this way.

He was met by a brother tumbling towards him, clumsy out of their element, in a crashing hug. For a moment, John almost expected it to be Alan, eager and young, those blue eyes— But Alan was nearly as graceful up here as John these days. And his eyes didn't hold the same nightmare bright intensity and John hoped they never would.

Scott hit him in a collision of bodies and John had to stop their combined momentum, a foot finding a wall to slow them until his shoulder slammed into a bulkhead cabinet anyway. Automatically, he wrapped himself around Scott.

“Just a bit of a bump, nothing that hasn’t happened before. You gotta have a lighter touch when you kick off in micrograv,” John said cheerily. Scott was still mumbling repeated apologies under his breath.

John took the moment, in spite of his words, to just cling to Scott, like Scott was clinging to him, burying his face at his brother’s neck. A moment, a minute, a respite.

Finding handholds on Five’s inner surfaces was as easy as it was familiar. John could find every one of them blind, oxygen-deprived, with no Earthly directions as a frame of reference. He had, before.

He shifted to get his fingers around Scott’s wrist, a quick tap on his hand to warn Scott first, then Scott’s locking around his own in a rescue grip, to pull them through a quietened Five as one.

To the galley. Hot chocolate wasn't quite the same when it came in a foil pouch with a straw as opposed to Earth’s ceramic mugs, but it was chocolate and you could still warm your hands around it.

John made up two, passing one off to Scott where he hung about against what was nominally the wall, though the orientation didn't matter without gravity’s bounds.

“Thanks.” Scott tried for a smile. He was still gripping the hand hold with the white-knuckles-beneath-gloves grip of someone unused to being without gravity and scared to drift away.

John settled on the ceiling in arms reach, with just his toes tucked under a bar.

Quiet lulled between them. John’s favourite type of quiet, with just the soothing hum of the life support systems, the ever-present undercurrent of Five, and their own breathing.

Technically, it wasn't hot chocolate, but nutritionally-complete chocolate-flavoured drink didn't have the same ring. It wasn't the same as a proper meal but a stressed Scott barely ate, John wasn't exactly sure how many hours had passed but it’d be too many if he counted, and right now Scott needed something sweet and calorie-dense and easy to get into him.

It was fine until Scott shifted, his hand slipping momentarily with a sharp intake of breath and that all too familiar flash of panic swiftly hidden. Except up here that split second where he flailed before freezing up and stopping himself sent him into a spin.

John caught Scott’s outstretched arm to steady him. He moved next to Scott with a graceful twist to be against the same wall so Scott could hold onto him. Taking the hot chocolate from him, John gently guided Scott’s hands, one to the grab bar, the other to his baldric.

“You can’t fall up here, not really. Even if it feels like it sometimes,” John said. Reassured. Because this was his sleep-deprived big brother he was talking to, not the perfectly put together Commander.

Scott’s eyes searched his face, latching on to John’s with the same unbreakable trust that let John lead on missions where he could see more from above and Scott actually listened.

“Okay,” Scott said, like it was that simple, like anything in their lives was simple. Because he believed John.

They were close enough that John could see how the strands of Scott’s hair were matted together by old gel not yet washed out. More grey was flecked around his temples, his hair surrounding his head in a floating halo from the lack of gravity and the way it caught the light.

Scott flinched at the soft click-rush-clunk of ventilation systems cycling as they should be, a sound unusual for Scott but not enough to normally be a threat. Scott’s fingers tightened on John’s baldric.

Both of them breathed slowly and carefully, to a steady rhythm of calm until the moment passed.

With how Scott was obviously still struggling with the lack of gravity, John quietly decided to make it easier for him when he wouldn't ask.

“Eos? Gravity back on please,” John murmured aloud to ensure Scott had some warning.

The lights around her camera blinked, flashing to a sunset tone in acknowlegement.

“Will do, John,” Eos said.

The gravity ring mechanisms whirred as they accelerated to the appropriate velocity, providing a force at what would soon be slightly less than Earth standard gravity.

“Hello, Scott Tracy,” she added in greeting. John had noticed they’d been getting on better recently, he was glad of it.

Gently, he guided himself and Scott until their feet touched the floor. Until they could sit next to each other on the ground, cross-legged with their knees bumping, to finish their hot chocolates.

When Scott slumped with relief, letting out a long, shaky exhale, John knew he’d made the right call.

They stared out at the stars now ‘below,’ stretching out into infinity. Always captivating.

Scott hadn't looked out there, eyes carefully averted until he’d shuffled even closer to John, and John had tucked an arm around him to hold on. Because while Five and her warm glow, her connection to everything meant safety like any Thunderbird did, for Scott the gaping void of space held only danger and the need for rescues. Only with John it became their sky again, like they were stargazing on the roof of the farm house on Earth, far beneath them and years ago.

“You want to talk about it?” John asked softly, an opening so that Scott knew he could share and he’d listen.

“Uh. I don’t know. Maybe?” Scott’s usually well hidden uncertaintly bubbled to the surface.

“I’m here for you. Either way it’s okay,” John reminded gently, because Scott needed to hear him say it aloud even though it was always there implicitly.

“Nightmares. It was the snow again.” It was a sign of how far Scott had come that he would talk about what was on his mind, instead of burying it deep inside in a misplaced attempt to protect them. John found Scott’s hand and gently squeezed it.

Scott shuddered, continuing, “Probably from the rescue the other day, the entire mountainside came down. But it was with all of you guys instead and it looked more like the skii slope from the avalanche and mum, but I was too late and I couldn't save you, there was nothing I could do, you were all gone and I was alone—” Scott’s voice rose, distressed.

John could feel him shivering against his side, had only to glance to see the tears building in the corners of Scott’s eyes, the way he had his teeth sunk into his trembling lower lip, the same as he always did when he was trying not to cry. John’s heart broke at that, it always did. He gripped Scott’s hand, tightened the arm around him in a wordless effort to make sure Scott knew he wasn't alone, John was here and he wasn't going anywhere.

Scott took a deep breath and went on. “I know it wasn't real, but it felt like it.”

John made a quiet, empathetic noise. In the moment, in the haze where the lines blurred between sleep and wakefulness, nightmares did feel real. And in the sick feeling after when you just couldn't shake it. He’d been there too.

John could imagine the warmth of Scott’s hand through their space rated gloves as Scott squeezed his. “No matter what happens I’ll always fight for you all and I know you’ll all do everything you can to make it back home to me. And we have systems and procedures in place, and better equipment designed for bad conditions, and everything to make sure that never happens. But it still scares me,” Scott admitted.

“It scares me too.” Usually he didn't say that part aloud though with the work they did and the consequences they saw it never hadn't been in mind. “But we hold onto hope and each other and never let go.” John’s voice came with a fierceness he hadn't quite realised was still buried inside him. They had to believe in it. Or they were already broken.

“We’re Tracies. We’re not going to stop trying to make it home.” Scott returned with a fire John had missed before he dropped quieter but no less determined. “All of us. Even— even me.”

John hung onto him because he knew how long it had taken, how much it still took for Scott to say those words. To mean them.

He pressed his forehead against Scott’s temple. The fear of losing Scott to his own sacrificial, heroic recklessness bit at John even now, along with the need to somehow protect him from the world.

But they both were alive, here and now, in spite of the odds so far.

Scott leaned into John.

The feelings, the fears were there, but together up here amongst the stars they lost enough of their power that they could sit with them and they would soften, the raw edged terror of nightmares washing away.

Five was a bubble of light surrounding them, sheltering them from both the void of space and all that was outside. He and Scott were wrapped up in their own little world, as tiredness itched at John’s eyes and Scott lay his head on his shoulder. John pulled his big brother closer, not that there was really any space between them anyway. They were safe as much as was possible in this big, vast world. More importantly, they were here together.

John waited, not wanting to break the moment for as long as possible, wanting in a childish way to stay here with Scott forever, until his legs were numb and achy from sitting on them, until his eyes were threatening to slide shut, until Scott’s weight against his shoulder was resting heavily against him. Even then he was loathe to move.

A gentle poke and repeating his name had blue eyes blinking sleepily up at him from how Scott was slumped.

“Bedtime, big brother.” John trailed a hand through Scott’s hair, brushing back the stray strands fallen over his forehead.

“Mmmph,” Scott grumbled, tucking his face further into John’s neck.

Scott’s characteristic instant alertness come online a couple of seconds later and he pulled away. All for that he hadn't been properly asleep, merely content and dozy, a rare sight John treasured.

They walked, pressed shoulder to shoulder, to John’s tiny bedroom, tucked away on the nearer side of Five’s gravity ring. Reduced gravity made their footsteps lighter but the company did that too.

Scott hesitated at the door of the second cabin, mostly used on the occasions when Alan was up for training, put there because Five wasn't initially designed to be manned alone which John purposely didn't think about.

When Scott shrank a millimeter closer to John, John pretended not to notice the display of what Scott would call weakness in himself but never in anyone else, and nudged him with a casual, “C’mon. Puppy pile?”

“Does it still count without everyone?” Scott replied, following him though.

“Mmm,” John thought, “Yeah.” He knew he missed out on plenty on Earth too.

A hug pile of just them might be just what they needed. Both of them at this point. Memories of the whole family in a tangled, happy heap were some of John’s fondest and he knew that went for Scott too. But it was a lot and right now Scott needed calm and quiet to rest and not to feel as if he had to put on a brave face in front of everyone.

John pulled pyjamas out of his cupboard for them both, tossing an obligatory space pun t-shirt and pair of comfy sweat pants at Scott. Sharing clothes with Scott was easy given they had the most similar builds of their siblings, tall and slim, with Scott being slightly broader across the shoulders and John running more awkwardly lanky. IR space suits were comfortable but not the most for sleeping in, despite how often John ended up doing so.

They changed into pyjamas in silence, except for when John yawned midway through peeling his suit off, then Scott did too, causing them both to giggle in the way of the well past tired.

John smiled to himself while he put on a pair of socks, watching Scott poking about his room, trailing fingers over the spines of his paper books, then inspecting the stickers on his window and the handful of glow-in-the-dark stars John had up here because they reminded him of home even with the real ones right outside. His big brother’s curiosity even over these tiny details of his life, a facet he didn't often see with John up in orbit so much, made him warm inside. Especially with the way Scott was so relaxed up here in what was John’s space, a stark contrast to earlier and the staticky comm feed. The dark circles beneath his eyes remained though.

With a jaw-cracking yawn, John tipped backwards to lie on his bed. He wriggled his galaxy patterned duvet out from from beneath him where he’d landed on top of it, unattaching it from the side of his bed where it fastened to formed more of a sleeping bag to prevent him from drifting away when he left the gravity off. Which he probably did too often when the days blurred together, rescues and downtime without separation.

Stars, he was tired. Too many rescue calls, not enough sleep for— he no longer kept track of how long, but that was another day’s problem. Right now, he was here and Scott was here, so John could believe everything was going to be okay. Provided they both got some shut eye sometime soon.

Shuffling over to the wall made more room for Scott, even if John usually curled up right in the middle. The bunks on Five were larger and far more comfortable than the narrow and too short for anyone who wasn’t like, Gordon height, ones he remembered not so fondly from his NASA days. Still, not exactly sized for two people both over the six foot mark but they could make do.

“Promise I won’t push you off,” John joked.

Piling all of their siblings, because if one person was getting cuddles everyone suddenly wanted them, onto beds and couches definitely not designed for so many had led to the occasional person falling off the side, usually facilitated by shoving from the victim of a grievous crime such as ate the last sweet.

Scott rolled his eyes and repeated John’s motion of flopping down onto the bed, long limbs all everywhere, complete with tossing an arm over John’s chest and a foot over his ankles. He let out a dramatic sigh, looking to John out of the edge of his vision for his reaction.

John couldn't even pretend to be annoyed. This was Scott messing around playfully and John had missed this even as he still didn't take breaks from monitor duty and all his emotions were bubbling up in his chest until he was laughing, until there were tears in the corners of his eyes.

And Scott was laughing too, John could feel him shaking with it. Nothing was even that funny but here they were, giggling like a couple of careless, carefree kids, the sound echoing off of the walls. Five filled up with their laughter, contained it in a cocoon of light and air and protective walls between the vacuum outside where no noise could travel.

They were both left grinning exhaustedly at each other as the world came back to the reality that it was well past 3am, they needed to actually sleep especially with Scott having come down from the adrenaline crash of a nightmare and rushing up here. John rubbed at his gritty, tired eyes.

A word to Eos in addition to a goodnight had the lights switching off, the room only illuminated by the stars outside the window. Shutters would automatically close when Five’s rotation would put them facing the sun, but for now John could look out and marvel that he was here as he used to do every night, reaching up to touch one of his glow in the dark stars, a familiar green on the wall.

Scott watched him and John gave a half-shrug before shuffling closer. And he wasn't alone.

John shook his head to clear it before rolling onto his side, holding out his arms to Scott.

Big brother immediately went in for the hug, burying his face at John’s shoulder, clinging to him with maybe a little left over fear or maybe just because John was near. He wrapped his arms around Scott tightly. Took a moment, another moment just to be.

Wondering how long it had been since he’d been part of a cuddle pile with any his siblings, instead of an outside observer in holographic format was not something he wanted to waste time on right now. Or how it still took a horrific nightmare for Scott to seek respite from all the pressures of the world that seemed gathered around dad’s desk. Or for John to get respite from falling on the wrong side of the distinct divide between solitary and alone. Not that he could ask for it, he and Scott were too similar in that way. Instead, John let himself sink into the hug.

“You alright, John?” Scott’s concern was not unusual, he always found a way to check up on them.

“I’m really glad you’re here.” It could be interpreted in several ways, glad for Scott, glad for himself. That’s all John had, the rest he couldn't possible articulate but it was enough for now. He tucked his nose into Scott’s hair.

The sun shutters slid over the windows exactly as they were supposed to. They were left with the green glow of his own stars.

Scott’s chin was digging into his collarbone. Neither of them would likely have slept enough to be safe to fly tomorrow with the hours they were running to.

He shifted, making a quiet noise. Gently rearranging them was easy when Scott willingly followed through with John’s actions, guiding him to lie with his back to John’s chest instead. John wound his arms around Scott, ending up with his hands resting over Scott’s stomach, able to feel the rise and fall of it with each breath. He bumped his forehead against the back of Scott’s neck.

“‘M not the little spoon,” Scott protested even as he snuggled against John.

“Reality would suggest otherwise,” John returned, an observation, with the edges filed off as his deadpan humor had turned accidentally cutting these days.

It was rare that their positions were not reversed no matter the little brother involved. This made sense on a surface level, Scott’s height was greater than anyone else’s, long arms to pull them close, wrapped up safe. He was big brother, the eldest, their leader, he was the one who protected them from the world.

But John could also be there for him. Usually that meant from afar, a hologram projected from a wrist comm they always kept on them or beside flight controls, a voice in his ear, an extra set of eyes. All the data at his fingertips and a Tracy’s determination to keep their family safe. He didn't know whether anyone realised how many crises he averted before they became problems. He protected Scott, and it was far easier now he would let them in.

Scott was warm and something tightly wound inside John loosened. They were there for each other, it was a balance, this was how the world worked. Now that Scott let them take some of the weight instead of carrying the whole universe on his shoulders, it was easier to lean on him too because they shared things like this. To not follow Scott’s less than stellar example of hiding struggles, but from a big brother who tried to do and be everything instead of the little ones, because John couldn't bear to add anything else to the pile. Scott trusted him, he could trust Scott too.

John was just about to drop off to sleep when Scott suddenly tensed up.

“I don’t want to go to sleep. I don't want to have more nightmares.” The words came out jagged and scared, whisper quiet.

Scott was exhausted but the fear was stronger, unpredictably resurging just when everything seemed alright. John had seen how Scott would try to escape it before passing out into uneasy unconsciousness. He found Scott’s hands, sought them gently and linked theirs together.

“I can’t make them stop but I will be right here if you have one,” John said, “I promise.”

“I know.”

Scott settled again, letting out a deep breath.

John felt Scott fidgeting with his hands, carefully curling and uncurling his fingers, tracing over his knuckles, pressing their palms together, as the fear ebbed again.

The sounds of Five washed over them, humming softly as if breathing with them too. Familiar and home. John’s family was also his home. He needed them too. They needed him. He and Scott were rest and safety for each other as much the Thunderbird was for the world.

John made sure to give an, “I love you,” to his big brother while he was still awake to hear it because these things were important to be said and to be heard in reply.

Slowly, ever so slowly the grip of Scott’s hands relaxed, remaining loosely entwined with John’s as sleep finally came.

John kept holding onto Scott. A Scott who knew he could come to John for anything and had come to him tonight. Scott was here, they were both here together on Thunderbird Five amongst the stars. The rest of John’s thoughts trailed off at sleep’s approach but they were filled with a quiet hope.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #john tracy #scott tracy #sky and star #astrawrite

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seas-storyarchive · 2 months

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Lens Flair - What if

Note: this has Angel and Alastor friendship; could be seen as Radiorose (if not in one-sided)

[[MORE]]

It started as a taunting gift from Angel.

Hmm.. no, can't kill him. Valentino would call for war. Not to mention Charlie would be angry with him. No, no, that simply wouldn't be do.

He was hesitant, at first. He had his monocle, his vision was leagues better in death than it had been in life. So..

"Angel Dust?"

"Yeah, Smiles?" Angel was sitting with the others, most likely for cover from whatever Alastor would potentially do to him.

"Why on earth did you get me.. these?" He showed the item, they were red glasses with black rims.

So, he didn't sound mad? Well, not yet anyways. "Oh! It's cause yous like ta read, and ya squint a lot when yous confused at somethin', and I thought it'd be a nice way not ta strain yer lookin' at all dhose small prints or gettin' lost in da mental sause or whatevah's up dhere." Angel waved an arm about to illustrate his point. "Gotta keep dhem doe eyes looking wide, afta all. Let me know if dhey work alright, or if ya need a prescription pair, I got a guy dhat owes me a favor."

He looked at the glasses in his hands, feeling conflicted. "Hmm..." Dare he put them on? In front of others? Well, he was no stranger to glasses.. but..

"Here, lemme help ya." When the fuck did Angel get up and come so close!?

"Hmm!?" Alastor was frozen, like a dear in headlights, when Angel pulled the arms of the glasses open and carefully slid them onto Alastor's face.

Despite how having human ears anymore and the constant hair products, Alastor's hair still retained enough thickness to hold the glasses in place along with his nose.

Seeing the world through red lenses? Hm.. wonderful! Oh, if only they had these in his time! What a world of difference it would have made!

"Hey, Smiles." The snapping of fingers in front of him made him blink and his ears twitch.

Alastor looked up to see Angel had backed away a bit, one lower hand holding the elbow of the upper hand that wasn't in his face, trying to decide if he liked the image.

"How you feelin'-!?" A hug. A fucking hug. Initiated, by Alastor. Angel hesitantly hugged him back, as Alastor wasn't known for his hugs and- was that a tail that was brushin' against his lower arms! Holy hell!

"Wonderful, my fine fellow." He pulled back to smile at Angel. "One would even say.. enriched."

"Well, let's see." He turned to the others on the couch and chairs, watching. Al's face mostly blocked by Angel, so they weren't seeing much. "Nifft, can I see the book Al was readin'?"

"Okay!" Niffty grabbed the book and hopped off the couch, making her way over. Her eye widened when she saw Alastor's face, gasping. "Oh, Alastor sir! You look great!" She said as Angel took the book from her.

There was a very soft noise of something brushing against fabric - oh yea, the tail - as Alastor smiled at Niffty. "Why thank you, Niffty! I feel, well, simply nifty."

"Don't count it yet, let's check dhat readin' ah yours." Angel opened to the first page, mindful of the satin bookmark halfway through, holding it up. "Can you read dhis?"

Alastor tried, and found out he could - the noise getting louder as he made a 'happy deer noise' as Charlie and Niffty joked once. "Ho ho! Why, I haven't been able to see this clearly since 1931 when I got a new prescription! I'd venture to say that this is the clearest that everything has ever been!"

"Ignorin' dhat littl' tidbit for now- you ready ta put on a show?" Angel asked with a smirk.

"I suppose..?" Alastor tilted his head, squinting - nope, glasses seemed to only make this funnier. But Angel wisely kept it quiet as he turned around.

"Alright, yous mugs! Get ready fer a surpise.." Angel paused, and turned to Alastor, "wait, Smiles, do the creepy neck thin- yea, that.." creepy eyes on the back of his head bitch. "Oh, wait! Can you strike a pose - oh dhere's da money maker baby!"

Angel turned back to the crowd, clearing his throat. "Now, please give a round ah applause fer Smiles and his new eyewear!" He stepped away from Alastor.

They saw the back of his head, nothing new, while his body was in a performative pose.

"And- turn, baby! Show off dhat money maker!" Angel encouraged, his hands held up to form a square to 'focus' on Alastor.

Turn Alastor did, a wide and friendly smile on his face, to show off his new eyewear.

Husk spat out his drink. Vaggie's mouth dropped open. Lucifer cut himself while carving a duck. Charlie and Rosie - she'd helped Angel pick out the glasses, of course she was there - were silent.

Charlie was the first to speak, seeing the slow deflation of Alastor's face. "Oh Al! You look amazing!" She stood up with a smile, walking towards him and taking his hands.

"Y- you really think so?" Alastor asked, with a stutter, embarrassed. "I uh.. I have a face meant for radio and all, so I never truly considered getting a new prescription in death.."

"Uh, yeah! You look amazing!" Charlie turned to the room. "Right, everyone?" She squinted her eyes a bit in warning.

"Uh, yeah.. nice eyewear." Husk said, in fear of his life, before quickly starting to chug his beer.

"Not bad, Antlers." Lucifer said, finally mentally saying 'fuck it' and summoning a first aid kit.

"It suits you, truly." Ah, Vagatha.. always so curt with him.

And now, always time for the honest opinion of-

"Why I must say!" Rosie was fanning her face and - was she blushing!? "I wasn't expecting those to be such a perfect fit."

Oh.. oh, Alastor could work with this.

"Really? How so?" Alastor grinned at he moved away from Charlie to prance about - also testing his spacial awareness with the glasses.

"Oh, you know! I just.. glasses, and you, and your.. your immaculate image! I didn't want to up end-"

Alastor was suddenly in her face - nose to nose, for lack of a comparison, good ol' Alastor and ignoring boundaries - and all words died in Rosie's mouth. Oh, oh no - he's hot!

"Up end, how?" Alastor grinned as he asked her - breath of death be damned. "I think these make me look more, hm, articulate with my facial expressions." He batted his doe eye lashes at her. "Don't you think?"

Fuck! Fucking fuck! Rosie had trapped herself, the sound of sharp nails gripping and tearing into upholstery was heard.

And then - this little moment was ruined.

"Yeah! Get it, babies!" Angel whistled and started to whoop.

Alastor pulled away too quick for Rosie's liking, but at the same time she was also relieved.

"Well! If you'll all excuse me," Alastor backed up from Rosie, a smile of - oh, so triumph was what he was going for.. that bitch, "I must prepare for a radio broadcast!" And then, he vanished into shadows.

"Um, Rosie?" Charlie's voice made Rosie snap her head towards her. "Are.. are you okay?" Was she.. smiling?

"Y- yes. I'm.. I'm fine." No, she was not. She stood up, retracting her nails from the chair. "I, have some business to tend to in Cannibal Town! Fair well for the day, all!"

And, she was gone. After a minute..

"Damn, Smiles got a way wit' da ladies!" Angel said with a grin as he laughed. "Did you see dah way dhat chick looked at Smiles? Looked like she was ready for some bow-chicka-wow-wow!"

"Angel Dust, please!" Charlie scolded.

"What? You heard how she grippped Smiles' chair!" Angel laughed. "Oh! Oh man! At least now, I don't gotta teach Smiles how to charm someone! Kid's doing fine on his own!" He was now doubled over.

"Didn't think he had it in him." Husk said, before going to down another drink to get rid of the images the first one disgustingly left him with.

"Guys.." Charlie was trying to get them to stop.

"Seriously. Stop it." Vaggie had to agree with Charlie.

Angel kept laughing. "Hey- hey Luci? What you think? Smiles on top?"

Lucifer gave an ungodly snort. "Guy is definitely a power bottom with her."

Angel was now on the floor. "That's even funnier holy shit!"

Niffty's eye widened. "New lore.." She then rushed off to go write her stories.

"Charlie, let's just leave them be." Vaggie said, guiding Charlie out of the room.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel what if #radiorose #could be #one sided radiorose #also could be #hazbin alastor #hazbin rosie

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angelbirdo · 3 months

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Incredible Observations made in my DMs by a friend who Doesn't watch Hazbin Hotel

I keep rambling at them about this fucking show trying to be funny but no matter what I say, nothing I say will ever be funnier than saying that because "Lucifer likes rubber ducks and Blitzo likes horses, they Almost have a griffin". I will Never be as funny as @osbob-the-existent please

We assigned Blitzo as ADHD because I was talking about Lucifer's autism (I want to make a post about that Eventually if someone else doesn't beat me to it) and rubber duck hyperfixation and this mfer pulls a

Just like him SAY IT LOUDER. COWARD. WE ALL KNOW THE ONLY PERSON BLITZO HAS EVER TOPPED IS STOLAS. VEROSICA ABSOLUTELY PEGGED HIM.

Anyway sorry to anyone who followed me for Other Reasons, Hazbin Hotel is my reason to breathe air and drink water rn

#hazbin hotel memes #hazbin hotel #helluva blitzo #heluva boss #autism headcanon #adhd headcanon #they're both sad dads doing their fucking best okay

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jameswrites · 5 months

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I want Bugs Bunny, but in the Batman universe, I want him to move to Gotham. I want him to just be doing his thing, as a large talking rabbit who goes about his day buying carrots, only oh gosh look at this, carrots got poisoned today. The only non-poisoned ones are too expensive.

He pulls out his wallet from...a void pocket in his skin, don't think too hard, and he empties it and little moths fly out, one carrying a dollar he tries to catch, but he can't. They don't carrot all about his predicament.

He feels dejected, walks out of the store, sans carrots, sans the real reason he lives each day. Lo and behold, he sees an electronic shop with those old timey televisions in front that are massive and all facing the glass window and he peers in and sees that the JOKER of all people poisoned the carrots, in some dumb bit to make Batman laugh.

That's just rude, he recognizes the place the Joker is though, because he's a rabbit and they go all sorts of places they shouldn't, so he goes there to give this guy a piece of his mind.

He gets there are the Joker is locked in a battle of verbal wits with Batman, manages to get the Joker to pay attention to him, manages to chew the Joker out, and then get the Joker into one of those battles he gets into with Daffy Duck, "rabbit season" "duck season!" but about who is funniest in this town, Him, or the Joker this hack.

"Bugs!" Bug shouts at the Joker, poking him in the chest.

"Joker!" Joker screams back, jabbing right back.

"Bugs!" Bugs continues.

"Joker!" Joker shouts.

"Joker!" Bugs leans in, louder than before, right in the Joker's face.

"Bugs!" Joker screams, "And Batman agrees!" poking Bugs Bunny in the chest and turning away from him, looking hopefully away from his strange large senitient rabbit he's being harassed by, and looking to his Dark Knight.

Who laughs. At him, not with him.

Instantly the Joker realizes he's been had, and his shoulders slump as the Batman continues laughing, mocking him, while he puts the big damn bat-shaped titanium cuffs on the Joker. He absolutely could get out of these, he operates on a similar logic to this awful rabbit he's just met, but that's not the game and he hates it, but knows when he's beat.

But now he has an oversized rodent with wings AND one without he very much wants to defeat and show all of Gotham just who is the best comedian.

But he knows, deep in his heart in his most sane minutes in Arkham, he knows he will not ever win in this. What's funnier than a giant talking rabbit getting Batman of all people to laugh at the Joker's expense?

#batman #joker #bugs bunny #fanfic

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clara-aeri · 4 months

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Love how you handled the different Zeldas in your Advent fic. And how you write Link in Rootsverse, it's exactly how I see him in this era. Do you have any thoughts about the other Links in other games? How they compare/contrast with botw/totk's Link?

Oh thank you!! 😊 Glad to hear that!!!

Boy do I have thoughts.

I guess- I should say that the way I wrote Link in Roots is definitely not how I’d imagine him to be in cannon. If only because I feel Nintendo values the self-insert aspect of the Zelda games too much to let the character stray very far from the “stoic hero” archetype. If anything, the Link I wrote in Undertow is the most similar to how I’d imagine his canon self to be- largely just due to how he doesn’t outright reject his responsibilities (pre calamity at least. I do subscribe to the idea that he’s much louder and funnier after losing his memories).

Agh- but anyway lol see my rambling below.

Starting with Ocarina of Time (OoT), that version of Link is definitely sadder than the others. He had a pretty good childhood, but his adult life fell apart in much more profound ways than the others’. He’d be as quiet as pre calamity botw Link. There might be a hint of the mischievous fairy kid still left in him, but very little. Lots of longing and disillusioned feelings that would maybe be best replicated in pre calamity Botw Link, yeah?

As for Twilight Princess (TP) Link, he’s a country guy 110%. I imagine he’d be too restless to go back to farming though- not after the world got so big. I assume he’d be a great guy to talk to, best with kids/animals, probably one of the most well adjusted after all his trials and a good pen pal to Zelda. He wouldn’t be as lively after losing Midna, definitely, but he’s doing leagues better than OoT Link. Probably has a much more dry, sarcastic sense of humor than Botw Link’s “He has a dumb belly” absurdist comedy.

Wind Waker (WW) Link- at a glance I’d almost say he’d get along with Botw Link, but after more thought I think WW Link would despise him. Botw Link would willingly eat rocks or stuff himself in an explosive barrel for jokes, but WW Link would either have to be tricked or forced into it. He seems… high anxiety. But also irritable. He has the most common sense out of all the Links and that is probably exactly what his problem is. I don’t know why, but I get the feeling that most animals would attack WW Link on sight because of his constant bad, exasperated energy.

As for Skyward Sword— lol I think he’s so funny. I think growing up with Zelda “the Goddess turned teenage girl” would have had an impact on him. By far he is the most stable, most extroverted version of Link, but I think there’s something about him that would make him unknowable. He’s so relaxed but upbeat at the same time, seems like he’s always up to something but nobody ever knows what since he’s always asleep. He doesn’t have a thought in his head but he’s so perceptive too just- he’s just odd. But cool. Botw Link’s extreme stoicism pre calamity and crazy behavior post calamity would both stand out a lot next to SS Link. Yet his relationship with Botw Zelda most closely resembles SS Link’s with his own.

I’m not very familiar with the other 3DS Links etc so I can’t say much about them. These are also the vibes I get from how I remember all these Links after 10 years of not playing their games, so I could be wrong in how I’ve described them for sure.

Lol either way thank you for asking! I was a fun question to think about! It makes me want to write a reverse Advent featuring all of them ugh 😭😂

#claraaeri #botw fanfiction #anon asks #ao3fic #the legend of zelda #botw #zelink #totk #twilight princess #ocarina of time #wind waker #skyward sword

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wickedsrest-rp · 10 months

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Name: Jade Bloodworth Species: Hunter (Slayer) Occupation: Delivery Driver Age: 29 Years Old Played By: Mary Face Claim: Yasmine Al-Bustami

"If I couldn't eat garlic bread again, I'd want a stake to the heart too. What’s the big deal?"

Being the fifth-born child to two prolific slayers gave Jade an unique upbringing. The hands-off approach from her eternally busy parents shielded her from the soul-crushing duties and expectations her much older siblings were burdened with, but in turn, the parental guidance and love (albeit misguided) the rest of the Bloodworth clan experienced growing up were absent from her life. She was the outlier. An afterthought, and though never outwardly articulated, an accident.

Jade took her first steps amid blades and wooden stakes, always in the shadow of her siblings, who, on top of everything, shouldered the responsibility of raising her while their parents took on hunting responsibilities. It didn’t sour her personality; rather, it made her louder, funnier (and yes, a little insolent). Desperate to stand out.

As the appendage in the abundant Bloodworth lineage, her training was delayed compared to her siblings' and only began because she was too much of a nuisance to keep at home. She tagged along with her oldest brother and sister, accompanying them in the odd hunt here and there. Less like an active participant and more like a caddie to a golf player. But they showed her the ropes, and sooner rather than later (she had a penchant for picking up weapons faster than the rest) she was allowed to hunt like them.

Although she didn't get her parents' love nor interest, she yearned to impress them. Gain their respect. If not as a daughter, at least as a slayer.

Hunting was fun, Jade loved it. Despite her parents' flaws, she always believed their morals and principles were worth upholding. Ridding the world of the undead. Protecting those who couldn’t protect themselves. Preventing innocents from becoming monsters. And unburdening said monsters from their horrific fate. For the Bloodworths, mercy was the goal.

Unsurprisingly, her talents didn’t earn her progenitors’ esteem.

Until her father came home injured, incapacitated, and forced into retirement. Questions emerged about the future of the Bloodworths without their patriarch, though many qualified options were willing to rise to the occasion. For Jade, it was an opportunity for action. Impulsive thoughts spun too fast in her head. She’d take over his territory, exterminate the monsters faster and more effectively than he ever could at his old age. And when she came home with the news, her parents would finally shower her with the adoration she deserved.

Her plan? It was a hot mess.

Not at first, though. Not the first half hour, armed with her mother’s crossbow, and the cemetery at large like her favorite playground. She was at the top of her game, ruthless but merciful, making her siblings proud.

What came after? so not ideal

Adrenaline overrode red flags, inexperience made her smug. And the abnormal chaos in the cemetery awoke a different kind of beast. She saw it—her? It? Amid the shadows, looking every bit the tales she grew up scared of. The claws, the wings, the feet. Ew. A monstrous creature. How could she have known? Her father spoke a total of ten words to her throughout her adulthood, not one of them about an elder vampire who apparently hid in his turf. Worse of all, the beast fled, sparing no glance at Jade, but sending an extra horde of creatures to take care of her.

It should’ve been the end of her, really. The cherry on top of her insignificant life. Miraculously, she lived. Saved by her siblings, who knew better than to trust the youngest of the bunch. Because they knew her limitations, knew she wasn’t capable of taking the mantle. As if her ego hadn't already been bruised, having to come clean about an elder escape was even more humiliating.

Any attempt to rectify her mistake was in vain, the elder’s coffin long gone when she returned the following night, the place wiped of any signs it had been infested at all. (Small…victories?)

She fled town before word could get out to her parents. She didn’t need a lecture on the dimensions of her screw-up. So she wrote a letter, and set off on a path to fix everything. When her siblings called, and boy did they blow up her phone, she assured them she was alright and would return shortly. And when she faced her nemesis? she’d call for assistance. Her siblings had her back. Her parents? Well, they had four other kids to spare, they didn't try to find out about their youngest's whereabouts. She got it, they were old. They were always too old for her. She forgave them long ago for their shortcomings. All water under the bridge. Yep.

Tracking an elder vampire? Oof, all kinds of hard. No one ever asked her to track anything before. Too young, too green, too…open, ready to spill secrets and locations to anyone who asked. But she kept her head down and got to work, learned the skill. Went through archives, records, compiled evidence of this monster’s presence across country. Found patterns, conducted even more research.

Jade jumped from place to place for almost a year, until a tip of an elder causing some commotion near Maine led to the east coast. She was hot on her tail, but still had a long way to go.

One extra problem? Wicked’s Rest didn’t suit her. Even when she was unhappy, she never showed it. It was her whole schtick. But the town sucked ass, especially the weather. And the food. She wasn't too fond of the people either, though she would find a way to make friends. Besides, she wasn’t here for pleasure (though she was so heading somewhere sunny when she’s done). She was getting closer to coming head to head with her biggest screw-up again, and she needed to let those small grievances go. Get her head in the game, like that one philosopher once said. No matter the cost, she won’t fail twice. Because… how would she explain that to her parents?

Character Facts:

Personality: Charming, jealous, easy-going, impulsive, uninhibited, irreverent, clever, deceptive, daring, self-indulgent

What she may lack in physical prowess she makes up for her weapon mastery and people skills. Unfortunately, the “people” in Wicked’s Rest are unlike anything she’s dealt with before.

Knives and other blades are fun, but her preferred weapon is a small crossbow she stole from her mother’s vault. Other than that, she has an old set of stakes she had customized back in the day. There’s one named after each member of One Direction. Nowadays, it’s hard to keep them all in one bag. Plus, she keeps losing Zayn.

She has reached the last available level on Candy Crush. Constantly sends messages asking for more levels.

Roxie, a Triumph Street Twin, is her most prized possession. It belonged to oldest brother, Onyx, who gave it to her before embarking on her elder hunt. She traveled across the country with her, as she’s terrified of planes.

Loves singing (can carry a tune too) and will always be down for karaoke. Though her go-to song is nothing melodically challenging, instead she prefers the beat of Eminem’s ‘Lose yourself’, which she can rap to perfection.

Other than vampiric creatures and adjacents, she has limited knowledge of the supernatural world. She knew they existed, but couldn’t tell you what’s a squonk or a cu-síth. Wicked’s Rest is proving to be more than she bargained for.

#bio #taken #taken human #human #hunter #taken hunter #yasmine al bustami #pandora

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lariyats · 3 months

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something something my haikaveh pokemon au

the NOTES. for people who don’t have much knowledge of pokemon.

if you have NOT been linked here from the fic, the fic is here.

KAVEH’S TEAM

Pidgeot, Reuniclus, Mehrak (Porygon2)

ALHAITHAM’S TEAM

Braviary (Hisuian), Metagross, Pichu

they each have a big bird, a stage 2 psychic type and a baby (mehrak is a baby) bc they’re cringe and matchy matchy mirrors of each other. etc.

i forgor the brush i was using so that’s why they look different oops sawry

FAQ (but not really)

Q: why does alhaitham have a metagross?

A: ‘i’m just a feeble scholar’ headass. i wrote that not many ppl know he has one but after the coup this changes and everyone finds out. they both hate it

Q: mehrak porygon and not rotom?

A: yes. bc someone has to be! ancient artificial pkmn thats been a little bugged out from age etc. i think its funnier like this too (running joke)

+relationship chart if anyone's curious. ignore that its in the notes app i wrote it while i was on vacation.

protip: birds were picked on vibes (pokedex entries), psychic types on vibes but also how they can help with their day jobs (actually only kaveh) and their babies on both vibes and helpfulness (you can probably guess who). check the dex entries for more information. what can i say.

reshiram is the dragon of truth + zekrom is the dragon of ideals - why theyre paired with haitham and kaveh respectively should be self explanatory. i think.

not mentioned, but the other competitors teams.

in this au, the structure of the competition rounds is the same as canon, but they can also pick one pokemon partner to help them each round. battling is prohibited except for in the final round, where some is allowed for purposes of gaining the diadem. kaveh picked mehrak in all three rounds.

- faruzan and golurk

- layla and abra

- tighnari and breloom

& of course, wanderer and silvally, cyno and lucario, and nahida and shaymin! nahida also takes care of a 1% zygarde (a little squishy guy)

ENDING SCENE COMMENTARY

in my idea of hvkh. hthm is kind of a ‘and then i’ll keep these feelings inside until i die’ kind of guy but also not really. he knows he’s in love but he doesn’t want to say it out loud bc he also knows that saying it when kaveh isn’t ready for it could end badly.

so what he does is show it in other ways. he bickers like usual. he goes to pick him up from the tavern and pay his bill and take him home, take off his makeup and his accessories etc. making little accomodations for him that he wouldn’t for anyone else. that’s the kind of love that he shows.

kvh on the other hand is the …. hmmge…. dunno how to word it properly but the ‘if i let myself be loved then i let myself be known.’ kind of guy. or something. it’s not that he doesn’t return hthm’s feelings! or even not know what it means! but he doesn’t want to accept them for what they actually are bc… if he does, then it also means confronting the fact that someone actually Cares about him [jawdrop.jpg]. and that person is like. the most annoying person you have ever known but also like the only person who perfectly matches you beat for beat and makes you Feel. feelings. horrendous.

so bc of that i did Not actually choose to put in words the big L word . Yes they do Confess, but in the theme of things, it’s more Actions speak louder than Words. it is also more wow. both me and alhaitham would probably break out in hives if he straight up said it like that. i would much rather let the two of them be the ‘act’ and the ‘react’.

i also think that kaveh is someone who loves romantic gestures and even though what happened was romantic (kind of) lots of things happened that made it also. really weird. so while its p much acceptance of feelings he also wants to have a chance to properly convey things and have a heartfelt romantic dramatic speech etc. after he's prepared. that's the proper answer part.

it’s a tale of two idiots who both have acts of service as their giving love language but the extent to which their receiving (acts of service) differs. bc kaveh probably has receiving (words of affirmation) and haithams is. idk. receiving (knowing that the person he loves knows he is loved and that he is taking care of himself and knows his own worth). bc as cute as physical affection hc is it do think that it’s not really something he absolutely needs or wants. whoa i am rambling ok ill stop myself there for now. whew.

#yatsu writes #equilibrium resonance #pokemon au #genshin #kaveh #alhaitham #haikavetham

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day0walkersdrafts · 1 year

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It’s such a small comment, but for Xavier it feels so big. It swells up in his head, pushes everything out. He loses the flow of conversation immediately.

The bar is loud, oppressive in that way these settings always are. They’ve snagged a good spot in the corner, but the music is still decently loud and the people are louder. It’d been getting to Xavier, even before this conversation went south. Social meter drained; his sister had once told him, you just run out, dude. Sometimes, you’re there and all of a sudden you get that look that says, oh fuck, let me leave.

Xavier taps his beer bottle against that chipped canine he got in the army.

“Don’t say ever say that again,” he interrupts, before the conversation can move on. The sound tech startles to be the sudden focus of his attention. It’s brutally direct—Xavier can do that to a person, make them all his focus, blur out everything else around him. Figures thats why people like him so much sometimes, but in this instance, it just has the tech sweating.

“What?” he says it, in a laugh and it’s a little high pitched and nervous. Xavier taps the beer bottle again. Tap. Tap.

“You called Benji a slut,” Xavier laughs too, but its not high pitched. And it’s not nervous. It’s not even really a laugh. His sister had said, you just got a real mean look about you too, when you get fed up with someone. You look scary. “Don’t fucking do that.”

Someone else beside him laughs, awkward—and Xavier realizes, it feels nice not to care. That he’d ruined the vibe, or the mood, or whatever. That he didn’t let the comment roll off and the conversation continue. He doesn’t care that he’s making this other man nervous, doesn’t care that they’ll call him an asshole as soon as he leaves. Xavier puts the beer down and folds his arms over his chest. Leans back a little in his chair.

“It’s just a joke—man, relax. Like, Benji kinda slept around before you, right?” The techs name starts with a J, but Xavier’s forgetting it momentarily because his vision is dancing a little red on the edges. He sets up the sound for the group, and maybe he’s bitter because Benji doesn’t do sound check for his drums, or rather, he does it himself. Maybe, it doesn’t actually matter, so long as Xavier can impress how important this is.

“Look,” Xavier stands slowly, the chair scraping behind him as he goes. All the men at the table slowly seem to lean back. “I’m telling you. I’m not asking—and I don’t care if it was a joke. I’m telling you.” He flattens a hand on the table. “Not to fuckin’ do it. Benji—”

“Benji, what?”

His accented voice cuts through the volume of the bar. Makes Xavier’s chin fall over his shoulder and look behind him. He’s standing there, hood flipped up, all those wild black tangles of hair poking out. Makes Xavier immediately want to go about stuffing them back under. Xavier glances back to the tech—Jason. And he smiles.

“They’re getting tired of all my fucking jokes, is all,” Xavier says, laughing. “Yeah, Jay?” He slaps one of his giant hands on the sound tech’s arm. He jumps but laughs too, in that shriek of a note and nods.

“Yeah—Xavier’s got—got fucking awful jokes.”

“Funnier than you fuckin’ lot most of the time,” Benji replies, loud enough to be heard over the music. “You need a cig break?” He asks pointedly of Xavier. Cig break is code for people break. He can feel his sister, in his head. You just look like you need a break sometimes, from the crowd. Xavier puts his back to the crew, slides his jacket off the back of the chair he’d just stood up from.

He can’t stop himself from pushing some of those curls back as they walk away.

—

“What was the joke?” Benji’s lighter strikes a few times before catching. He cups a hand around it as he holds it up for Xavier to lean over. When the cherry catches, Xavier drags in and then leans back to exhale. The smoke swirls up into the air above them, outside the bar. They’re so blessedly alone; everyone crammed inside, sweltering and yelling over each other.

“Doesn’t matter,” Xavier says, wrists falling to rest on Benji’s shoulders as they face each other. Benji’s cigarette sits firmly between his lips, one of his handsome brows arched. Looks unimpressed with Xavier’s avoidance, but doesn’t press in either. Xavier leans in as Benji pulls the cigarette from his mouth, shoots the stream out to the side.

His lips catch on his jaw, nuzzle down into his neck. Breathes in the smell of him mixed with the nicotine.

“Nothin’ I haven’t heard ‘fore, Xavier.”

“Not gonna hear it again, can assure you fucking that.”

Benji’s head tilts back, but before he can laugh, Xavier is sealing his mouth over his lips. They kiss, for a moment, both their cigarettes burning low and the sound of that awful bar music in the background. And when they pull apart, Xavier yanks the hood down so he can see that tumble of black, curly hair.

“We’re goin’ back to the bus, now.”

“Ooooh, hah, for what?”

“You fuckin’ loon, you know what.”

#xavier #benji #xavier x benji #band au

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mortemoppetere · 11 months

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TIMING: later tonight LOCATION: an alley outside a bar PARTIES: @rhythmicmeow & @mortemoppetere SUMMARY: after a night of drinking, emilio and leticia do what any pair of buddies would do: talk to the dead. CONTENT WARNINGS: alcohol consumption

Drinking with Leticia had become a normal thing. He met her at the bar, they talked, she paid. It was a pretty good system, all things considered. Tonight, they’d stuck around until last call, had been practically shoved out the door by the tired bartender who’d come to know them well enough to know that they’d try to talk their way into staying until sunrise if he let them. The streets were dark and fairly empty as they stumbled down them, Emilio’s hand in his pocket gripping the hilt of his knife absently. Always better to be prepared, especially lately.

He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was that had been bothering him these last few days. It was like… a tingle in the back of his mind, like the tickle you got in your throat when you needed to cough. He could have sworn he’d heard someone in his apartment before he’d left to meet Leticia, and there had been the odd voice in the bar he couldn’t quite place. But it was easy enough to push to the side, simple enough to ignore. If it was something worth worrying about, he’d figure it out later. For right now, he just wanted to get home and pour another drink.

But then, something caught his attention. Louder than anything else in his head had been all night, echoing. A scream, so sharp and present that he was sure it must have come from the nearby alley. “Did you hear that?” He grabbed Leticia by the arm without waiting for an answer, tugging her to the empty alley. “Someone — You heard, right?”

—

Leticia should have called it quits hours ago. Her mind was swimming, and she had turned into a drunk giggler. Everything was funnier at this hour, but even moreso when she could only remember the last few words of the story. But Emilio didn’t seem to mind. And she was too far gone to care about them staying past their welcome. Her mother would have been horrified, but even the image of her mother’s scowl pulled a small snicker from her.

The laughter abruptly stopped when Emilio broke the silent night air. She flinched, jumping as she was grabbed by the arm. “What the fuck?” She blinked a few times, letting the tight control she had on the balam loosen just enough to heighten her senses. Her senses were quickly overwhelmed. The chill in the night air felt stronger now, sobering.

“I didn’t hear anything,” she whispered, her hand coming up to his on her arm, gripping his wrist tightly. Whatever Emilio had heard, Leticia hadn’t. But in the alley, there was an apparition. Swallowing hard, Leticia tried to pull the balam back in, but the figure looked at her. The hairs on the back of her neck stood up. Wherever there was a ghost, there was sure to be someone armed with salt around the corner — and that was a dance that Leticia would prefer to avoid.

But if she left this ghost here, she would be leaving them to that same fate. A forced exit from this world. Unable to look away from the ghost, Leticia cleared her throat before whispering again: “What did you hear?”

—

She didn’t hear anything? How did she miss it? Maybe it was the alcohol; Leticia had certainly had plenty to drink in her ever-present quest to ‘keep up’ with Emilio, and he had her beat in both size and hunter physiology. Maybe she hadn’t heard the sound over the rush of blood in her ears, or her jumbled thoughts, or her drunken giggles.

Or maybe he was just fucking losing it.

It had been loud, after all, and no one else had come running. And the alley it had come from was empty, looking as though it’d been empty all night. There wasn’t any sign that someone had been there in hours, much less seconds. Emilio furrowed his brow, taking a quiet step into the alley to investigate.

As Leticia spoke, he turned towards her, confusion still etched into his face. “There was… Someone was screaming.” He sounded lost, like he’d taken a wrong turn somewhere and was trying to puzzle out where he’d ended up. There was something itching at the back of his mind, a quiet murmuring growing louder. A voice, he realized. It didn’t belong to him or Leticia, but there was no one else here. Emilio took a step back, peering into the dumpster only to find it empty, too. And yet…

“How much blood should I drain? Until he’s dry? We won’t need all of it, but that’s okay. Some is just for me.”

It sent a shiver down his spine, and he whipped his head around towards the noise only to find the alley just as empty as it had been when they’d first stepped into it. “Something’s wrong,” he said quietly. “Leti, something — I keep hearing someone.”

—

Her eyes flickered to Emilio’s face. The confusion was clear, and the fear was creeping up Leticia’s spine. He hadn’t heard the ghost. Whatever he was hearing was something else entirely. But what? And why did he lead them into this alley if he couldn’t sense ghosts? Did people stumble into abilities like this at their age? Or had he been suppressing it and they had just had too much to drink and caused him to lose control?

And another question crawled its way to the forefront of her mind: did he know what she was?

Emilio took a few steps away from her, searching for the source. It hadn’t been the ghost; it couldn’t have been. He was standing there in silence, staring at Leticia. “What did they say, Emilio?” She forced herself to look away from the ghostly man and focused on Emilio. Reaching out, she placed a hand on his back. “I — I don’t hear them. They’re not speaking to me. But I can see them.” The confession felt heavy on her shoulders. Of all the people she had known, as close as she’d let herself appear to them, she had always kept her true nature to herself.

“I… The person I can see is dead. They’re not speaking. I’d hear that too.” Tomorrow, he’d hopefully forget all of this. She could blame it on the alcohol and laugh it off. Whatever Emilio was experiencing was real. Emilio wasn’t the kind of person to fake this encounter to extend what had been a fun night — and what were the chances that he stumbled into a haunted alley completely by chance while claiming to hear someone screaming?

She had no reason to doubt him. The only hesitating that clung to her was revealing her true self to him — would he believe her? Would he think her a monster? Would he betray her?

“What are they saying to you?”

—

For a moment, he thought he was well and truly losing his mind. He’d always figured it would happen eventually, if he was being honest. After Mexico, he’d started slipping down a slope so steep that there was no real hope of climbing back up again. If Rhett hadn’t found him in the days after the massacre, he doubted he would have made it out of Oaxaca without losing his mind alongside his life. Maybe he’d been living on borrowed time since, mind bending a little more each day until breaking was inevitable. It was a terrifying thought. What did you do with a hunter whose mind had left him? The same thing you did with a rusted, broken knife, Emilio suspected. Get rid of it. Replace it with one that worked.

But then Leticia spoke, and the relief of it was overwhelming. She didn’t hear what he was hearing, but she saw something. Maybe this was some Wicked’s Rest trick — an alley that made one person hear and the other person see? Only Leticia didn’t seem surprised by whatever it was she was seeing, didn’t seem to feel it was unusual. And what’s more, she seemed to understand more about it than Emilio did. The person she saw was dead, and she said it with enough confidence that he understood that seeing the dead wasn’t unusual for her. Was she a medium, then? An exorcist? She’d never mentioned it, but he’d never told her what he was, either.

He swallowed as she questioned him, shaking his head. “They’re not speaking to me,” he admitted. “I hear — I think I’m hearing what they’re doing. What they’re thinking, or what they’re saying to someone else? Not to me. They’re…” He felt a little sick in a way he tried to convince himself was just the alcohol. “I think they’re hurting someone. Draining their blood. Jesus.”

—

The more control she passed over to the balam, the less Leticia felt like herself. It was like a fog was covering her mind, thicker than anything the booze could have done to her. The more control she handed over, the more the ghost felt real. He looked at her, and for a brief moment, she thought she was staring at her father. Her nails lengthened and she curled her hands into fists.

Blood? What blood? There’s no blood.

But on the ghosts neck there were two clear holes. The bite of a vampire. “They’re draining their blood?” Leticia’s gaze never left the ghost, her head turned away from Emilio while still keeping a hand on his back. Keeping them both anchored in the alley. The ghost shook his head before holding his neck.

Why can no one hear me? What happened? I’m cold.

“You’re dead,” she whispered. “We can’t help you, you’re dead—“

No. I can’t be. I’m not dead, I just finished my shift! I always take this way! Why are you lying to me?

She took a step closer to Emilio, as if he could protect her from the spirit. When she was younger, she had seen her first ghost in her hometown. Her mother had told her to show them respect, but to not engage. Balam were not the shepards of the dead. But the distance taught her nothing about the nature of spirits — what made them haunt their former homes? What made them malicious? Would her words make things worse?

“They’re here,” Leticia finally whispered to Emilio. “They… they don’t know they’re dead. But on their neck—“ her voice hitched. “A vampire.”

—

Emilio’s brow furrowed as he listened closely to the distant voices despite every instinct screaming at him not to. He knew that acknowledging a spirit might make it stick to you, but if someone was hurting people, wasn’t it his job to stop that? Wasn’t that what he was for, wasn’t that the only purpose he’d ever been given? To die so that other people, more important people wouldn’t have to. To take the hit himself so that no one else had to feel that pain. Someone had died here, and he couldn’t save them, but maybe he could still find a way to help them.

“Drink till you’re full, then drink some more. Who’s going to stop us? We’re the dominant species here, the head of the food chain. People like this are just dinner.”

“Yeah,” he confirmed hoarsely, nodding his head. He’d heard a lot worse than this, of course, but there was something deeply unsettling about the one-sided conversation happening inside his mind. Like they were his thoughts, his opinions, his feelings. It made him feel nauseous and uncomfortable, but he could persevere. If it meant he could help whoever it was Leticia was looking at, if it meant he could do what he was supposed to do, he could handle a little discomfort.

Leticia’s one-sided conversation with the spirit was nowhere near as unsettling as the one in his head, and he didn’t move away as she stepped close to him, let her put her hand on his shoulder. She was doing it for herself, but it was helping him, too. Reminding him what was here, what was real. There was no one else physically in this alley. The confirmation was good to have.

On their neck… Part of him had already guessed as much, though there was some surprise that Leticia knew enough to jump to vampires. Maybe there shouldn’t have been, though. She was talking to a ghost in a tone that said it might not be the first time she’d done so, so why wouldn’t she know about the undead, too? Emilio swallowed, nodding his head. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Sounds like…” He paused, listening again.

“Tomorrow, I do it again. How many can I take? Same place, same time. Will they learn better?”

“The alley. It’s their… Fuck. It’s their goddamn buffet table.”

—

He was all but gone, and Leticia feared she wasn’t going to be much help in pulling him out of his own mind. She had never done this before, not in this capacity at least. Seeing ghosts was one thing, hearing them another, but they had never been drawn to her and she, in turn, had never been drawn to them. This was… new. And she had never heard of anyone hearing the past as if it was unfolding in the present.

Then again, she had never known the power the words thank you had held until she was in Wicked’s Rest. This town was a truly twisted place.

“You—“ The question died in her throat. Emilio had agreed with her assessment without hesitation. Like he believed in vampires. No, like he knew they existed. Leticia’s mind swam with a new found confusion, mixed with the pressure of the ghost standing so close to them, she wasn’t sure which direction she should turn. Toward Emilio? Toward the ghost? The exit?

“Buffet table?” She looked toward the nearby roof and then the ends of the alley. No one was there, but the chill in the air reminded her that nothing was what it seemed here.

I’m cold.

“You’re dead,” Leticia repeated. “It was a vampire. You weren’t the only one they murdered. I’m sorry.”

A vampire… I remember teeth. I remember… The ghost put a hand over the wound that had killed them. Agonizing silence filled the alley as it put together its thoughts. How many others?

“None.” Leticia wasn't sure if she could claim that no one had been killed since this man had died, but she looked at Emilio and nodded her head. “We know this place exists now. They won’t be able to use it again. Not without having to face us.” Letting out a slow breath, she tipped her head toward the ghost, knowing Emilio couldn’t see him. “He can hear you. One way message?”

—

Did it matter if he outed himself here? Leticia knew about vampires and ghosts, so it stood to reason that she must have known about more than that, too. She wasn’t undead, so it was unlikely that she’d have a specific issue with slayers. Hell, he’d outed himself to Teddy already. If they hadn’t taken a shot at him, he doubted Leticia would.

Still, he offered no explanation beyond the fact that he, too, knew of the existence of vampires. Maybe he’d tell her more later, and maybe he wouldn’t. But first? They needed to figure this out. There was a ghost in this alley, someone who’d died when they shouldn’t have. A vampire had been the one to do it, and that made it Emilio’s job to fix it. Even if he couldn’t hear the past unfolding like an auditory map, he’d still want to solve this one. It was his job, it was what he was for. It was the only thing he’d ever been good at.

Leticia was talking to the ghost again, and Emilio felt a nausea creeping up from his stomach that had little to do with the killer’s voice in his head. Did the dead know they were dead? Was Leticia having to remind him over and over again because he was unaware of it? He thought of Juliana, of Flora. Of his mother and his siblings. Were they like this now? Ghosts who didn’t know they were ghosts, dead things that still thought they were alive?

Looking back as she addressed him, he nodded. “You want to stake it out?” It wouldn’t be hard. Based on what he was hearing in his mind, the vampire or vampires who had done this came back at least every other night, if not every single night. Finding them wouldn’t be hard. Glancing to the alley that still looked empty, he nodded again and cleared his throat, stepping forward to address the ghost. “I, uh… I’m sorry this happened to you.” His chest ached with the words. Maybe it wasn’t just this ghost he was talking to. “We might not know exactly who did it, but we’re going to find them. We’re going to make sure they never do it to anyone else. Tú será vengado, ¿vale? Whatever happens, I promise you this. I won’t stop until they’re dead.”

—

Leticia nodded her head at the question, not wanting to say anything in front of the other man. She didn’t know how long this man had been dead or when they had last used this alley for their meals, but the worst that would happen is that they found it had been long abandoned. The best? Maybe they find the killer and spare anyone else from this same fate.

The ghost wandered closer to the dumpster and then back to where they had been originally standing, looking at the ground as if they had dropped something. His hand was still on his neck, covering the holes that had been left behind by the vampire. His gaze remained turned downward when Emilio started talking, doubling down on her offer to stake this place out. The promise itself didn’t feel so strange, Leticia had led with that same offer — but the way he said it?

You’ll be avenged.

Emilio might have been a private investigator, but he wasn’t an avenger. That kind of promise was personal and came from a place of hurt… of anger. “Avenged?” The word was just a whisper, but it had been enough to pull the ghost closer to them. The sluggish movements came to a stop a few feet in front of Emilio. Blinking a few times, Leticia could have sworn he was fading. He reached for Emilio and she gripped his shoulder as the hand went through him.

“You don’t have to stay here.” Leticia’s voice was gentle, careful not to push too hard and turn the ghost toward anger. Had she been anywhere else, she might have laughed. She had never been at a loss for words, anyone who had ever spent a moment around her would have known that — but here? She doubted each syllable. Scared to say the wrong thing and turn the victim into a monster.

He can’t hear me, can he? The ghost sounded sad at the prospect, looking at Emilio, trying to reach him physically and verbally. Tell him thank you. For finding me. Vengeance could have turned to anger, turned to hatred — it could have burned someone from the inside out. No one else?

“No one else,” Letitia repeated with a nod. The air around them felt thinner a moment later. It only took a blink of an eye, and the man was gone. Inhaling deeply, she took a step back from Emilio. “He’s gone. He said thank you for finding him.” Fumbling her words, she pulled back her control, opening her palms to assess the damage from the claws, her blood dripping from her hands.

—

Leticia seemed thrown by his words, repeating them quietly enough that he could pretend he hadn’t heard even though he had. He supposed her confusion made sense. They were friends, Leti and him, but there were so many things she didn’t know about him still, so many things he wasn’t sure she’d ever know. He didn’t know how to say them, didn’t know how to put a voice to the things that had made him this way. He’d avenge this unnamed ghost in the same way he’d avenge his family, because that was what he did. That was all he knew how to do. He couldn’t promise to save someone who was already dead, but he could offer retribution. Justice, maybe, even if his definition of it didn’t always fit what everyone else thought it should be.

A shiver went down his spine and, given where Leticia was looking now, he figured the ghost was probably close to him. Were they happy with what he’d promised, or did they want more? Was vengeance enough for the dead in a way it never could be for the living? Emilio had killed so many of the vampires responsible for the massacre in Mexico, and he still felt empty. Was it stupid to think that the ghost in this alley might feel different?

Leticia was speaking again, and it didn’t seem as if she was talking the ghost down. Emilio took it as a good sign. Maybe his promise had done something. Maybe, for once, he could help the dead in a way that mattered.

And then, it was over. The ghost was gone, Leticia said, but the voice in his head didn’t quiet. Emilio’s brow furrowed. The ghost thanked him, the ghost moved on. So why was he still hearing the killer’s awful thoughts? “I still hear it,” he mumbled uncertainly, tilting his head to the side. “Just repeating the same things.” Had he been less distracted, he wouldn’t have missed the blood on Leticia’s hands, would have wondered where it came from. As it was, he found it harder and harder to focus. “I think I want to leave here. They won’t be back tonight. We can come back tomorrow, see if they’re here. If they’re not, I’ll find them on my own. I meant what I told him. I’m going to make sure they pay for what they did here.” And maybe then, the voice in his head would go away. Maybe that was how he got rid of it.

—

She had hoped, despite herself, that when the ghost vanished that whatever had pulled Emilio into this alley would also resolve itself, but instead, she was left wanting. Chewing the inside of her lip, Leticia shook her head. “I still don’t hear it.” A silent apology lingering in her tone. They wound on the ghost, the things that he had heard, all of it added up to a thousand more questions that left Leticia unsettled. This town, her mother had told her, was a place where supernatural beings gathered. A community in which she could be safe and instead… this was their reality. If you were strong, you were safe. If you killed the other person — or thing — first, you were safe.

Rubbing her palms on her dark pants, she tried to remove the leftover evidence of her partial transformation. “Yeah,” she mumbled in agreement. “I… I didn’t want to say it in front of him, but are you sure this place is still active?” How often do you hear these voices? Is what she really wanted to ask, but considering his state, Leticia doubted he was in a position to answer in a way that wouldn’t make both their heads spin. Too much alcohol and one too many ghosts.

Her heart was pounding, she knew the balam spirit she shared her body with wouldn't be so easily convinced to leave this realm of existence, but talking a spirit out of staying was enough to jumble her mind and turn her stomach. The buzz of alcohol no longer relaxed her muscles and made her dizzy with happy thoughts, instead, it fed the underlying anxiety of her current existence. All the secrets that she kept. All the things she knew she couldn’t share.

“I meant it too. No one deserves to die like that.” Suddenly. And without remorse. Both here parents would have told her to keep her head down and to stay out of it. Survival was most important. But with one dead and her mother in the wind, Leticia found it impossible to divorce herself from this. “I want to see this through.” She faced him, shaking her head and waving at the empty alley. “I — I don’t know if I can kill anyone, but if I can help you lure them out or find out who they are, I’m with you. I don’t want to walk away from this.”

—

Leticia didn’t hear it, and Emilio wasn’t surprised but he was a little disappointed all the same. It was lonely, he realized, being the only one aware of this strangeness, being the only one who could hear it. He wouldn’t wish it on her — it was unsettling in a nauseating kind of way — but it might be nice to feel a little less lonesome in it, to feel like he wasn’t carrying this burden on his own. “That’s all right,” he said, a spoken response to her unspoken apology. Whatever was happening, he doubted it was Leticia’s fault. It was the town, probably. Like most things, it’d probably fix itself sooner or later. Or it wouldn’t. He tried not to think about that option.

Hesitating, he shrugged a shoulder. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly. “I don’t know how… how long ago any of it happened. Or if it’s happening now, or if it isn’t. But if the vampire who did this is still out there, I’ll find them. I know what their voice sounds like, at least. And I know they like to… drain people. That’s not the kind of thing that goes without somebody noticing.” He’d check the papers for any deaths that fit the MO, maybe ask Arden if she knew anything. He was a decent enough detective to crack this case, even if he was cracking it too late to save anyone.

The experience had been sobering in the worst kind of way. That comfortably familiar numbness that came with a night of too much drinking seemed to have left him entirely, replaced by the old paranoia that always lurked beneath everything else in his head. The new addition of a stranger’s voice was doing him no favors there; the fact that, if he listened closely enough, he could hear more voices beneath the one tied to this alley was worrying, too.

But… Wouldn’t it be worth it if they helped someone? His mother told him once when he was young that hunters were blessed with their mission to save people. It’s what we’re for, she’d told him. To be the ones who fall so others can stand. To die so others can live. Self sacrifice was etched into Emilio’s DNA, driven by his father’s death and intensified by his oldest brother’s death years later. He hadn’t needed the extra push of the massacre to know what he was meant for, but it had certainly taken away any reason he might have had to fight it. Whatever he had to sacrifice to take this vampire down, it would be worth it. He could handle a few voices in his head.

Turning to Leticia, he regarded her hesitantly for a moment before offering a slight nod. “Okay,” he agreed. “You don’t have to kill anyone, but you can help if you want to.” She was just as invested in this as he was now.

—

The last words that Emilio spoke were harrowing. She didn’t have to kill anyone, like this was a done deal — a simple fact of the agreement they had made. Someone was going to die. What else did she think would happen if she was involved in stopping them from hurting anyone else? Ask them nicely to stop? The implications were clear in her own words, and yet hearing it put so plainly made her stomach turn.

And now Leticia was looking at Emilio like he was the one who would be the person to fulfill the promise she had made. But he didn’t push her to accept what was about to happen, didn’t even demand that she participate. He was looking at her and maybe he understood that she wanted to have some kind of closure.

There were other questions that lingered under what had just happened, but Leticia didn’t think pushing Emilio to talk about how he knew about vampires or why he was so… comfortable with the idea of killing one, murderer or not, was a good idea. Maybe if she didn’t ask any questions, he wouldn’t ask any either.

Maybe she could pretend a little longer.

“Tomorrow, then,” she confirmed, telling herself that if her father had been in her shoes, he wouldn’t have walked away either. He had always been kind, always put others first, always done his best to leave something good behind. And if she could hunt down his killer the same way she was helping this man now, would she be hesitating? Leticia knew the answer, but she still pretended like she would err on the side of mercy.

That was always easier with a degree of distance.

“Let’s get you home,” Leticia said, refocusing herself on what she could do and the people she could help. Even if Emilio didn’t need someone holding him up until he was back at his home, Leticia needed this. To make sure he was safe. To know she had done something outside of feeling entirely useless.

The rest of it would be a problem for tomorrow.

#rhythmicmeow #leticia: time for peace #wickedswriting #alcohol tw #s1 writing #season 1

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