#we've got racketeering | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

atarathegreat · 3 months

Text

The Student Worker. Baji Keisuke

Baji, having not the best history with school and all things intelligence related, was having the worst time going through college. Of course, it was his ultimate goal to become a vet, but right now he just wanted to survive his classes with good grades and a high GPA.

"What books did you need?" And yet he still wished he hadn't brought Chifuyu along for book hunting. "Your papers should have the ISBN, right? Let me see."

Once again Chifuyu was acting like a father taking his kids to buy binders for classes, annoying Baji to his wits end. The wrinkled paper made a racket in the quiet bookshop as he pulled them from his pocket and passed them to Chifuyu. Every year he had the same problem with the books and finding what he needed for each of his classes.

Chifuyu rattled off the numbers to himself, searching the shelf in front of him as he cross referenced the numbers. His whispering blended in with the soft atmosphere of the bookshop, the other people who were also whispering and double checking numbers to be sure they had the right books. Writing, math, even chemistry books were being grabbed left and right by other young adults and even some seniors who grinned to themselves over the victory of finding what they were looking for. Baji hated them, nothing personal on his behalf, he just wished it was so easy for him to buy his materials without needing Chifuyu to hold his hand.

"Hello! Is there anything I can help you find?" The student worker appeared next to them. Stupid, Baji already knew he was stupid, but he'd have to be absolutely braindead not to realize how captivating the girl was. Beautiful hair and bright eyes as she flashed her sunshine and rainbows smile. Her kindness was part of the job, that much Baji was smart about.

"Actually-" "No! No, thank you!" Baji rushed, taking has papers back from Chifuyu, "He doesn't even go here, he's just helping me look for the books, but we've got it, thanks though."

Her laugh was sweet and thick, like Baji's favorite honey brand, "Alright, well, find me if you change your mind."

That wouldn't be happening, but the guys nodded and Baji felt like he could breathe again as she left. For him to be so flustered was strange for Chifuyu to see, especially around a girl. His friend had always been cool, suave even, though he was sure that Baji lacked the ability to make a girl fall for him.

"She's out of your league."

"I know."

"You're blushing."

"I know."

Baji went back to searching for the books listed on his paper, successfully finding three of them before giving up and dragging Chifuyu from the building so he couldn't ask the cute girl for help. It was more than obvious that the girl would know where the books were that Baji needed, but he couldn't take even the idea that she would think he was dumb. Or maybe she would find his idiocy endearing?

Unlikely.

The atmosphere of his home was much different from the campus bookstore. Lighter in the sense that he knew he didn't have to be quiet, and it didn't smell of paper and wooden book shelves. But he preferred the smell of books over the booze that currently tainted the air from his late night celebration of getting through another semester. Hey, he was allowed to be proud of himself for making it through more time in school, so what if he had a few drinks...alone...watching tv. Okay, so he wasn't celebrating and he was just day drinking. Baji felt better saying that he was ringing in the new semester than admitting to himself that he drank a twelve pack by himself. And ate two bags of family sized trail mix. And drank a whole gallon of coffee, or what felt like a gallon. Baji Keisuke was more than aware of his pathetic nature. Drinking alone, eating half his weight in the food in his kitchen, chugging coffee to stay awake, and all because his friends had moved on and had their own lives and families. Yet there he was, living alone and being in college while working part time with Chifuyu and Kazutora, all while needing help with something as simple as finding textbooks.

A light pinging caught Baji's attention, an email popping up on his phone screen from his advisor.

[email protected]: Hello, Baji! Just checking in to make sure you have all the deadlines still, and making sure the hunt for next semesters materials is being fruitful! Don't hesitate to use the many resources around the campus and even off campus!

The advisors cheerful nature only added to his annoyance. First, he rambled and made a fool of himself in front of the girl that he thought was insanely cute, and now he was faced with two links of deadlines that were coming up quick. He'd probably have to suck it up and risk having books late so he could order them online. And he would've risked it if one of his deadlines wasn't in a week.

So Baji sucked it up and took the long drive back to the campus. It was beyond embarrassing for him to walk back into the bookstore, even with his hood up so no one could see his face.

There she was again, her light pink painted lips pouting over her hand as she rested against the welcome desk, ocean eyes calmed from her boredom as she seemingly waited for anything to happen. Here Baji was to be that anything.

"Hey..." Baji slid the paper towards her, a little taken back by how swiftly she grabbed it and looked at his chicken scratch handwriting and scribbles, "I, uhm, need help finding the ones that aren't marked off..."

When she perked up, Baji couldn't help but think she looked like one of the birds at the pet shop. The ones that talk nicely when customers came by, saying, "pretty hair, pretty hair," or "wanna hug?" She was the prettiest damn bird he'd ever laid eyes on. "A couple of these are in our animal sciences, but they aren't on the shelf. I can contact our other campuses and have them here in a couple days if that is fine?" Her tilted head reminded him of the dogs, how they'd beg for people to pick them up and pet and love on them.

"S'fine, thanks." He mumbled with a slight nod. At least he would be getting them before his deadline.

Painted fingernails tapped the paper, "I can get you this one, though. Follow me."

He took the chance to notice her height. She wore flats, which for Baji meant she was practically barefoot, and couldn't hide how tall she was. Her pants were a little tight, accentuating her assets in a way he would only describe as alluring. What? He thought she was deserving of respect and he refused to think wow, nice ass.

Her fingers looked nice as she grabbed the spine of a book, leaning it out before grabbing it and looking in the cover at the numbers printed inside. "So, what are you in classes for?" The softness of her voice startled him a little, "All these animal science, anatomy and surgical books make me think vet, but maybe it's something more specific?"

Fuck, she was observant. "Vet, yeah." Baji grinned a little, his canines flashing at the worker, "Third year."

Chiming bells. That's what her laughter sounded like, "I admire the dedication. I'm going to classes for business."

"Business? Typa business?" Shit! He couldn't even speak properly?! "Business management." She passed the book to his hands, "I'm hoping to run my own shop one day!"

Baji was more focused on making his tongue from the words this time around, "What type of shop, if I can ask?"

"Arts and crafts type of things." And he never would've imagined that red looked so good on her cheeks, "I doodle and make things in my free time, so I figured I might as well make it profitable."

"That's real smart." Baji followed her back to the counter, reading her 'School Life!' T-shirt as she scanned the book.

"Why'd you choose veterinary?" She set the book close to his hand, her eyes trained on where the little receipt would be printed. Baji would have to sign a copy and she'd file it and then he'd get his copy. "I love animals." Was his simple answer that he wished was as deep as hers the second it left his stupid mouth, "I help run a shop with some buddies of mine, though I'm only working part time right now with college."

"You do? Is it around here? What's the name?" Her eagerness was cute, too. So he gave her the name and helped her find the address on Maps before signing the receipt and making his way out to his car.

Baji was many things, but he wasn't a gossip girl. At least, he didn't think he was until he was leaning backwards on the counter at the pet shop while telling Kazutora all about the pretty girl with brains that helped him get his books. Kazutora was rolling his eyes and chuckling, because of course it was Baji who had a crush on some girl that was just trying to do her job. "Let me get this straight; this girl helped you get your text books, you thought she was super cute but now you think she's even more cute?"

"Dude, she's gorgeous!" Baji leaned forward, "She's gorgeous and smart and dresses nice and she wears this really pretty pink lipstick."

"And she's here."

Baji whipped around at the girls voice, turning a deep and dark shade of red before ducking down under the desk to hide. Kazutora rolled his eyes, "What can I do for you, miss?"

And once again it was that chime like laughter that made Baji's heart flutter, "Well, Baji Keisuke was telling me that he worked here, and your website says that visitors can hold the animals."

"You can. I'm sure Baji-" Kazutora kicked him as he spoke, "-wouldn't mind helping you at all. I would, but I love to watch him suffer when he gets caught talking about someone."

She giggled and smiled more than Baji had ever seen before, then again he'd only ever seen her working and behind that counter. Who could smile a lot when they were at work, anyway? Scratch that. Baji would smile about work if it was paying for college, too. She pointed at the cats pen, "Can I hold the calico?"

"Her name is Katara. She can be moody, but mostly she loves scratches right under her chin and on her chest." Baji unlocked the pen and Katara started meowing loudly, "And she's very talkative."

To ignore the redness in his face and forget that everything he had said was heard by the same girl he was talking about was too much to ask of the universe. Because he couldn't get the tingling from his cheeks off his mind and the girl kept chuckling every time she looked at him, as if his embarrassing moment kept playing through her mind. Part of him was relieved she'd heard so know he didn't have to pretend that he was just some weirdo, but now she knew that he thought those things. She knew!

"I don't want you to think I'm weird or anything..." She used a soft voice no matter where she was, it seemed, "But I looked up your campus ID and got your number. I was going to text you and let you know but I thought that would be really weird and that you'd think I was strange so I didn't but I guess showing up at your place of work and telling you this is also kinda weird..."

She rambled just as much as Baji did, and that was almost enough to put him at ease. "It's cool. Just, uh, just text me whenever you want so I have your number, yeah?" Butterflies were flitting around like crazy in his stomach, twisting everything into a knot and pulling it tight.

"I'm Y/n." She pet Katara gently, her light pink fingernails scratching softly under the kitties chin.

#anime #manga #tokyo revengers #x reader #tokyo rev #tokyo rev x reader #fanfiction #keisuke baji x reader #baji keisuke #baji x reader #tokyo revengers baji

96 notes · View notes

pianokantzart · 5 months

Text

Some scattered thoughts on Mario Tennis Aces

Warning: spoilers ahead

I love that every time any of the characters talk about the stakes, they're like "we've got to save Luigi! ... and the others I guess..." Even in the finale when they're doing a big tennis match to determine the fate of the world, Wario and Waluigi are booed by the crowd while Luigi... despite still being possessed by Lucien... gets cheered for and talked about in a positive light by the announcers.

What's also interesting is that Wario, Waluigi, and Bowser talk and act very much like their normal selves while possessed. They're being manipulated in some part, with Bowser saying that the racket's power makes him "want to control things more than usual," but it's clear Lucien is exploiting preexisting desires. Luigi, however, never says a word, and is fairly expressionless compared to the others. He is not being manipulated so much as he's been entirely robbed of his senses, turned more into a tennis playing puppet than a minion. But if you think about it... that aligns with the goals each of them had that caused them to take hold of Lucien. Wario and Waluigi wanted the power to defeat their enemies in tennis, and were granted that desire to the best of Lucien's abilities. Bowser wanted to take over the world, and Lucien actually went so far as to fuse with him so they could conquer as one entity.

Luigi wanted nothing more than to hold the pretty tennis racket, and for most of the story... at the sacrifice of every other part of him... he got exactly that.

#I really like the idea of mind control that actually rewards a desire for power #allowing the victim to maintain their senses so they can revel in ''their'' victory #if you don't want power? if you don't want to hurt your friends? You get turned into an empty vessel as a twisted form of mercy #Again I'm looking way too deep into a game that is 99% tennis and 1% plot #but I'm in too deep in general #and this game sorely lacks a proper ending cutscene so... *clicks pen* time to figure out some character motivations #mario tennis aces #super mario brothers #mario #luigi #wario #waluigi #super mario bros

146 notes · View notes

subaerial-dweller · 5 months

Text

This is the final one of the night, I've decided it. Part four. OK! Here are my thoughts about Generation Loss characters, more specifically:

PART FOUR: CHARLIE SLIMECICLE

Charlie's a really cool character to think about, because he pops up in every single episode as a different character. Most of my other rants tonight have been theories, but this is more of a headcanon about how I believe Charlie came to be in Genloss and Showfall Media, but I'll be backing it up with evidence and things so don't worry about it.

Let's get cracking!

So the common belief, from what I've seen on Tumblr, is that we all seem to think that GL!Charlie grew up in that cabin from Episode 1, because it all looks very childish. Especially the bedroom. We've got a kid bed, a photo of Slimecicle as a child, the ducky thing on the desk, a small chair, a tennis racket, the whole thing. Anyway, so if Slimecicle was raised like that, damn. He lived his whole life to be that part, the Slime Demon. That's rough, Showfall Media. Even for you. Raising a kid for that?

My thought is, and this is where the heavy headcannoning comes in, so there will be little to no evidence from this point forward.

Have you ever read The Maze Runner? Spoilers up ahead if you haven't, so... yeah. In the prequel book, The Fever Code, the main bad guys (the morality surrounding them is complicated), WICKED, houses all these kids in a top secret facility to try to figure out a cure to the almighty plague thingy. These kids are all immune, except for some (*sobs*), and they're all special. And they form their own little bonds and it's all nice and sweet except for the unimaginable horror zombies and child experimentation.

ANYWAY.

That's what I'm imagining for Genloss. All these kids are in one facility, and they're being raised to be performers. I think GL!Charlie's one of these kids who lives in the dorms. But early on, I believe he was seen as a talented actor, so he was taken to live in his own little room, the cabin, so he could form an attachment to it. That's his main role, I believe, although he circles around in Episode 2 and 3 because Showfall thinks it's funny to see him there, but he's always the Slime Demon in Episode 1. And they raised him just for that, so that's why he has so many personal effects in his cabin, like the photo and the sports equipment. He even has his own portrait.

Anyway, I'm imagining him to still interact with the other kids, at lunchtime and break and stuff, when they're not working. I'd like to think that's how he meets other Main Cast, like Ranboo and Sneeg, as well as others like Niki, Austin, Frank (when he was still alive), Ethan, and Vinesauce. So he knows them as he's going into the show, but once they put him under, he forgets them and has no moral qualms about what he's doing.

Continuing with the Maze-Runner-ish thing (this isn't an AU I swear), I think he might've been given away by his parents at some point. Because has the photo, it could very well be a headshot, like actors put on their CV, or it could be a school photo from when he was actually outside. I saw exactly One Video about the book It Was Just Another Day In America by Ryan David Ginsberg (I'm going to read it when I have it), and the idea of selling your kids because you have no other choice is painful and dystopian and exactly what I think would happen in this Generation Loss world. The outside world, the audience (not us), is failing and collapsing but everybody is buying buying buying and everything is getting very very expensive so some people, if they want their kid to live, if they want to live themselves, well, there's no other choice. Showfall Media conveniently swoops in with an offer and pressures them til they can't say no, and takes their kid for a hefty sum and hopes the parents won't recognise them when they end up dying on live TV.

Does this happen for GL!Ranboo? I don't know. I like this idea of him meeting GL!Charlie and the others in the Showfall dorms, but I also like the idea of them just going missing one day, picked up off the streets and flung into this whole mess. I don't know if that was confirmed by the pre-release short videos they put out, I can't tell anything from those other than a sense of "oh fuck", but yeah. For Charlie, I like this headcanon.

Maze Runner style.

If I were to substitute characters out (I'm doing this for fun now, it isn't relevant to the headcanon), I'd do it like this:

Charlie Slimecicle - Thomas. He's kept apart from them, but he still sees them. He's an outsider and he's particularly special.

Sneegsnag - Alby. He's the leader of them, he's dry and bored. He's not as serious as Alby, but he seems the most confident, so he's the leader.

Ranboo - Newt? I think so. He seems pretty timid when I think of him, but they're rather chill and definitely aren't a pushover when it comes to interacting with the other characters. I think Newt works because they also would be the one to help out Charlie (Thomas) when he first comes down.

Frank could be anyone, really. I have no idea of his character. Minho is a very core character, obviously, and Frank could definitely fit that. Happy, upbeat, childish, a strong bond with Sneeg which would carry on even after he stops talking (whether from psychological damage or actual death, I dunno).

That's it for the night, folks! I'll be posting more of these. If you're sick of me, I'm sorry, it's just my random thoughts at this point.

41 notes · View notes

mephinomaly · 5 months

Text

[TL] BIOHAZARD/Chapter 11

[ This post uses Ois~su ♪ ]

Koga: Whaddya mean…?

The hell, Adonis. You were the boss of those ‘vampires’!?

Adonis: T-this is really uncomfortable to listen to. I don’t remember that.

But I do remember the rebellion.

Oogami won’t forget. Some of the details differ, but this is what happened to us.

This is the story of how we came to be.

Koga: Yeah… I could never forget this.

Oh yeah oh yeah. ‘Vampire’ wasn’t a funny name though.

It’s true that those guys who called themselves Sakuma-senpai’s successors were causin’ a racket downtown.

But Sakuma-senpai had already left to go overseas, so I couldn’t tell ‘im—

If he’d got pissed at them, his devotees probably would've gotten scared ‘n quieted down.

’Cos he wasn’t here, us lot still in Japan hadta do somethin’ ourselves.

Rei: Quite right, and that’s what is weird about this. At this time, I wasn’t in Japan.

I don’t recall sneaking back home… My memory must be failing me.

Kaoru: Right? I don’t remember being your main point of contact either. I only started getting involved at a much later date.

Adonis: I agree. Wasn’t it that Hasumi-senpai caught wind of the no good doers’ rampage and began acting on his own volition?

Koga: Hmph. That guy was the vice-president of the student council, he was doin’ it for brownie points.

’Cos of that, everybody started thinkin’ the student council was the best thing ever.

On top of that, their authority increased and the scope of their activities got bigger too. That four-eyed bastard got so busy he cut ties with us.

But. The first thing he did was contact me ‘n Adonis and we started workin’ as Deadmanz.

Us, Deadmanz, are Sakuma-senpai’s real successors. That’s why we hadta shut up those losers who claimed they were.

We was mainly active in the livehouse, ‘n we got more ‘n more famous. Everyone down here supported us.

Kaoru: Compared to those hooligans wearing matching outfits, you guys were just doing your idol activities - you were pretty much harmless.

It would have been way better for us locals if you guys had said you were Rei-kun’s successors.

Maybe it was because I was always around you guys that people were saying I was a member of Deadmanz. It started to really annoy me.

And Hasumi-kun, without asking me, wrote my name down on the official documents and made me your guys' friend.

Maybe he thought that if he did that, it would stop me from skiving?

Rei: I’ll defend Hasumi-kun’s reputation and confess - those were my instructions.

That was my one condition. I temporarily returned to Japan, and told off those hooligans who were causing a ruckus.

Only those in Deadmanz were my successors, my comrades. Due to my authoritativeness, I was able to calm even those who were the most worked up.

Kaoru: Well, to your devotees, you putting your foot down was probably the equivalent of a divine message from God. You’re not exactly going to stand up to God scolding you.

Koga: Yeah yeah. His devotees got all depressed and fucked off somewhere else.

Rei: Quite. And with that, the case came to a close. Happy times ♪

Koga: I remember it took ages to get t’that point though. Prolly ‘cos you didn’t come back home for a while, Sakuma-senpai.

Rei: That’s because old me had grown to hate just about everything. Honestly, it was rather bothersome.

But the foundations of the UNDEAD we know today had been laid, so it was all worth it in the end, hm?

Whilst Hasumi-kun pulled out midway through, the main members of UNDEAD were brought together whilst all that turmoil was occurring.

Then, before any of us could say anything, Koga had changed the name to UNDEAD—

Deadmanz had been reanimated and was alive once again, as UNDEAD.

Kaoru: Look how far we've come.

Adonis: Umu. What we don’t understand now is how events that are taking place right in front of our eyes are inconsistent with ‘historical fact’.

Maybe because this is just a dream, so things are unfolding in ways we don’t understand—

If this is intentional, what’s the reason for all of this?

[ ☆ ]

Chapter 10

Chapter 12

#ensemble stars #enstars #translation #rei sakuma #kaoru hakaze #adonis otogari #koga oogami #undead climax #biohazard

20 notes · View notes

thatoneaceinthecorner · 9 months

Text

RQG Art Masterpost

Hey guys! So recently I've had a wave of notes on some of my old rqg art, and a few new followers. I got really nostalgic about rqg and decided I wanted an easier way to access my rqg-related art (other than the dumpster fire that is tumblr's tagging system), and I wanted other people who are just finding my art to have an easy way of looking at the rest, if they want to. So I dug through everything and made a masterpost! This post contains links to all the rqg art I've ever posted on tumblr, as well as a couple images that I couldn't find the original posts for, despite all the digging. It's loosely organized, emphasis on loosely, but I hope it should be fun to look through if anyone ever feels like it. Spoiler warning for the whole show, just in case anyone new isn’t done with their first listen. There's also stuff in here that's pretty old and that I don't necessarily love anymore, but seeing how my skills progressed over time is still pretty neat. This is a long post, so I've put all the links under the cut. Enjoy!

My top three pieces and why they're my favorites

General:

Shoin's sketch of London

RQG Inktober: Scars

Resurrection Ritual in the Ursan Village

Zolf Smith, cleric of what comes next (comic)

Alex's horrible Barret Monster with knife arms

Ada and Tesla in their lab with the Babbage brain

"Why didn't you do more" (it's all your fault comic)

Blue-veined arm in Other London

Zolf and Azu hear the hivemind

Sasha and Cicero leave Rome behind them

Apophis in human form

Party camping outside the Garden of Yerlik

Kantu!! Because I thought they were cute

Also these two drawings, the ones I couldn't find the original posts for. Azu giving Hamid a piggy-back, and a really old drawing of Azu in Carter's mind museum.

Sasha Racket:

Sasha hangs out with gargoyles (and sphinxes)

Sasha portrait

Goodbye, Brock

Goodbye, Grizzop

If Grizzop had lived and helped raised Sasha's kids

Sasha deserves bat wings, as a treat

"I so wish you could meet them"

My very first drawing of Sasha, post-Kafka fight

Wilde:

Wilde masterpost (yes he has his own)

"We're all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars"

His brain might've popped

Wilde looking pretty (plus bonus shitpost sketch)

"Oh Wilde, you must have been so scared"

Wilde with blue veins

Wilde gets his magic back (first time I ever drew him)

Zoscar:

Wild and Zolf in the rain, epilogue

"We've got this" "Yeah, we've got this" aka Parallels

Breath of Life

Wilde's first death

Peace and comfort (for once)

Actually some more peace and comfort

And a little more

Aaand back to some angst

RQG Zine Art:

The End of the World As We Know It

How Little He Matters

Rome Is Where the Heart Is

Animatics/Animations/Videos:

Hamimatic - Immature

Zolf is the sand guardian, guardian of the sand

Wilde and Zolf in the rain but animated this time

Sasha protecting Wilde in Paris

Time lapse of some of the "Breath of Life" drawing

Ben Meredith quoting Jenna Marbles (starring Toothbrush Zolf)

Doodles, sketches, and requests:

Messy busts of the whole party (plus Wilde, obviously)

Azu and Grizzop outfit/deity swap

Never wake a sleeping Barnes (comic)

Toothbrush Zolf

Azu caring for undead Sasha

Ada mourning Babbage AU

Fun sketch page of various PCs

Domestic Zolf and Wilde

Canon-compliant under-dressed Zolf (look he's posing like the coppertone baby from that one brand of sunscreen, i thought it was funny)

Sasha and Wilde bonding time

If Sasha and Cel met each other

Sasha and Zolf, amputee buddies

Wilde in a flower crown (Everyone Liked That)

More domestic Zolf and Wilde

Sasha playing with Hamid's twin brothers

Sasha looking after Grizzop's kids

Zolf and Wilde hugging

Sasha and Skraak, dynamic duo

Barnes and Carter hugging

Kobold in the kitchen with Zolf

Ada holding down the fort

Happy Hamid

Cel and Grag

Wilde and Hamid high-five

48 notes · View notes

dragonflavoredcake · 2 years

Text

Grian and Pearl: Sibling, sibling, sibling, sibling! Grian: This is my sister! Pearl: This is my brother! Both: We are siblings and we care for each other! Grian: Everything we own, Pearl: We always share, Both: Because we are siblings and we have the same hair!

Pearl: I like knitting Grian: And I like coins! Both: We both came out of the same loins! If you don't like siblings, give us a chance! We'll impress you with our sibling dance! [Dance break] Pearl: Who is that?! Grian: I have an older brother!!! Both: You thought there were two, but there is another! He's always busy and he has short hair, but he's one of us so we don't care! Both: Come on, Iskall, step out of that trance! It's time to do the sibling—! Iskall: Guys, guys, I can't focus, I can't read, I can't get any of my work done with you guys making all this racket about sibling dances! Grian and Pearl: *puppy dog eyes* Iskall: I'm sorry, I don't mean to be mean, it's just—we've lost a lot of people on our team, I've got to put out my next episode on Monday, and I've got to get this build finished, and I don't have time to do a SIBLING DANCE! [Dance break]

Grian: S̵̜̊ǒ̷̥m̷̦̓e̴̡̿t̴̺̅i̵̗͒m̴̠͛e̷̹͑ŝ̶̘ ̷͎̒Ï̷̞ ̷̦͛t̷̼̓h̸̘͐i̵͓̊n̴̻̾k̶͂͜ ̴̜͛I̶̘̾ ̶̦̈́č̸͔a̷͎͌ǹ̶̲ ̷̠͆t̴͖̏a̵̙͝l̴̦͊k̸̮̊ ̴̤̉t̶͙̉ó̶͚ ̵̧̇p̷͇̂ḽ̶̛a̷͍͆n̸͚̏t̴͓͂s̶͇̕!̷̛̰

All: Come on, let's do the sibling dance! Pearl:

✨The void of space is a vast expanse✨

All: Come on, let's do the sibling dance! Iskall: *offbeat knee-slapping* All: Siblings!!!

#this took too long #incorrect hermitcraft quotes #hermitcraft incorrect quotes #grian #pesky bird #pearlescentmoon #iskall85 #iskall87 #hermitcraft iskall #hermitcraft #hermitblr #sky siblings #sky duo #plus bonus iskall

204 notes · View notes

blackjack-15 · 4 months

Text

i have never found fak less charming than i do now. yikes

"do you think donna's gonna do something crazy?" donna being mrs. berzatto's name i'm guessing (mulaney calls her "Auntie Dee")? yeah she is.

nat trying to enlist carmy in getting rid of the alcohol and carmy is like "i have no idea i'm doing six things no one look at me"

the history of nat's nickname is so...mundane? like...we've all mixed up salt/sugar before. not in gravy, mind, but i don't make a lot of italian gravy. traditional gravy (meat drippings + roux)? yeah. not italian.

cousin steve going in on the baseball card racket b/c it sounds hilarious to him is the most relatable thing i've ever seen on tv. like it's not gonna end well but boy is it gonna be worth his money for the entertainment

gosh in every carmy/mikey scene every line of dialogue is a painful reminder of carmy's "i just wanted him to say good job!" from 1X08.

"i don't need you acting all nice if you don't give a f//k" that's carmy, down to his bones. it's why he said nat was being gross when she pulled the Small Innocent Little Girl act on cicero. carmy lies, dodges, represses, stays out of stuff, sure. but when people ask him what he thinks, he tells them. and he doesn't want people to be nice to him if they actually don't care.

carmy wants to be loved so badly, wants to be loved without having to ask for it or claw it out of people. it hurts really, really bad. exquisitely acted.

gift giving! he has a knack for it -- the knife to tina is the most recent example, but very few people to give to right now. the drawing is so lovely, and carmy looks so boyish and happy when mikey says he loves it

oh mikey. he looks so lost and so unhappy and so worried when he's by himself. he's not doing well and he hides it through loud bravado, and especially looks like he hides it from carmy. the beef is a mess right now, and i think he knows he probably won't be around to open that restaurant with carmy. but his note makes even more sense now, as does the money. it really was the gift he felt like he could give. i'm hard on mikey as an older sibling, but he's got his own stuff he's dealing with on top of everything, and it really shows sometimes

this family is so full of desperately sick, unhappy, unhealthy people. and it seems like when they congregate, it just gets worse.

mikey's trying to set carmy up for life, in the role of father figure/older brother -- skills, money, even a romantic partner. but none of it is what carmy actually needs, present day.

"is it possible that you're the asshole" cousin steve can you come back we need your insights. i feel like him, syd, and pete would be Buddies

kind, sensitive, devoted, altruistic, empathetic, and commonly known to be adept at grieving -- characteristics of bears? characteristics of our titular Bear?

mikey sneaking out in full Joseph of Bethlehem regalia, richie noticing

cousin steve do not get eaten by the jaguar

i love when normalish people interact with Berzatto Insanity (like my beloved pete! where is pete? did nat not meet him yet?) and it's like...oh they're in another realm. right.

"no one lifts a finger to help me" as nat is down on her knees cleaning up. yikes.

suicide threats. wonderful. yeah i'm going back to the armchair diagnosis of HPD. my gosh.

RUN COUSIN STEVE that was hysterical

that is a hug that nat very much needed. thank you cousin steve

oh no what's donna gonna do. i know it's not gonna be suicide but it's def gonna be a Spectacle, and prolly traumatic

#the bear #liveblogging #2X06 #this is a hard ep to watch. about 20 min. left and i have no idea what else can go wrong #are the seven fishes gonna burn? is donna gonna burn the house down?#bad things are brewing and carmy's disappeared and i am Worried

19 notes · View notes

spiteless-xo · 25 days

Note

libido, passion, and another from the questions for all the boyz 😎

sexy selfship asks

hehehe ty for asking!! 🥰 im having so much fun with this

Libido - what is your f/o’s sex drive like? How often do they want sex?

jean is always horny--every day, multiple times a day. like i said in a previous ask, he gets really embarrassed about how much he wants sex! so he tries to downplay it and pretend like he's not super turned on, even though he is. 🥺 if he had it his way, we would just live in the bedroom--only taking breaks to eat or sleep

eren is also always horny, because he's such a gym rat. going to the gym every day and getting all sweaty and his blood pumping and his muscles aching turns him on so much that he's racing to get back home. he's very much a one-and-done kinda guy though, so we'll have sex and then he'll nap for like an hour, and then he spends the rest of the day just being a little baby

sex with suguru is an event, so it's a lot less often. 1-2 times a week, usually. he likes to draw out the days without sex with a lot of tension and teasing to make the days with sex feel even more satisfying. his thoughts are that doing it too often results in sloppy sex, and he always wants to perform at his best.

satoru is another every day, multiple times a day type of person. he's very rough though, so for me i need a break, and that just makes him even more insatiable and antsy.

Passion - is sex between you and your f/o fast or slow? Gentle or rough? Loud or quiet?

jean always starts out soft and slow and builds up speed and intensity the more worked up he gets. he tries to be gentle but when he's really turned on he gets pretty rough and nasty. but never quiet because of how much this man loves to babble and groan.

eren starts out fast and rough. sex with eren always feels like the first time after having not seen each other in months, despite the fact that we literally saw each other this morning and had sex the day before. he gets annoyed when his marks and bruises start to fade so he always makes sure we've both got fresh marks every day. he himself tries to be quiet, but he makes up for it by making a racket every other way he can--slamming the bed against the wall, the creaky mattress, the sound of skin-slapping-skin, etc etc.

suguru's preference is to be slow and gentle. as i've said before, he likes to make love as opposed to just fuck, so it's always really passionate and intense with lots of emotions. but he's good at reading my body and knowing when i want it rougher or faster and will adapt. he is very quiet in bed and if he does speak, it's always whispered in my ear or against my skin.

satoru is similar to eren in that it's always fast and rough. for him, sex is like a competition and he's trying to break me. he has no concept of slowing down and enjoying the moment, he just wants to see how many times he can make me cum before he does himself. also always soooooo loud and obnoxious.

Another - have you ever considered including someone else in your activities? If so, who would it be?

jean would absolutely never invite anyone. he's too jealous and possessive and he wouldn't want to see me getting pleasure from anyone else. but!! we talk about it a lot, theoretically. because jean is bi, we talk a lot about inviting another guy not to share me but to share jean, and he's more open to that idea but still feels bad that things would be lopsided. (lowkey he would love to include reiner or armin in the bedroom, but he'll never say those thoughts sober.) he's not interested in another girl in the bedroom because he thinks he'll be too overwhelmed and not be able to perform.

eren would absolutely want to invite jean because eren wants to show off, but then he'd be immediately furious when he realizes that jean is also good in bed. eren would get so grumpy and pouty about it afterward and never want to invite another person in the bedroom again. he would also be meaner to jean afterward and constantly get into stupid arguments with him. (meanwhile, jean's like, "i thought we had a great time!") he's open to the idea of bringing in another girl but him and i can't agree on someone so it never happens. in my selfship headcanon universe, eren and mikasa are like brother and sister, so even tho i desperately want to hook up with her, eren thinks that's disgusting.

including someone else in the bedroom is actually how satoru and i started seeing each other. suguru and i were already together and when the topic of threesomes or open relationships came up, satoru was the obvious choice, and now we're in a throuple lmao suguru had said for ages how similar satoru and i were but i refused to believe it because satoru was so bratty and annoying--and then he continued to be bratty and annoying by pushing all of my buttons and making me hate him even more, but suguru could tell it was more of a playful banter than genuine hate between me and satoru. me purposely saying i didn't want to do something that satoru did, just to piss him off. satoru doing things that i claimed i hated because he loved seeing me angry. stsg is enough for me, we have no desire to include anyone else.

#sleazymac-n-cheesy #aot #jjk #eren #jean #geto #gojo #tiff.ask #tiff.selfship

7 notes · View notes

nanjokei · 5 months

Text

last time i talked about vocal synth, it pissed people off, but like i said on my sideblog

everyone will regret cheerleading kanru's realism racketeering and this isn't want vocal synth is TO ME. everyone has completely lost the plot. everyone will realize in 4-5 years when we've traded personalities and quirks for "well... it can ALMOST sound like a human"

if this makes you mad you're welcome to unfollow or block. it's my blog and i'm gonna post what i think. makes me go away faster than harrassing me or hatefollowing me over it

gumi almost got me to change my mind because internetco care a lot and have been on the record that they want her to sound like GUMI and not megumi nakajima and that is clear in all her iterations. but like, kafu synthv just sounds like kaf, how am i supposed to take it? its just pissing to the wind really. of course the artistic vision doesn't matter to most people. just the pursuit of innovation for the sake of innovation. i think vocaloid2 had it right the first time

until kaf comments, i don't think i get what the hell kamitsubaki is going for

#rambles

14 notes · View notes

sabyfangirl16 · 10 months

Text

Alone

After the brothers had a huge argument, Chris accidentally fell out of the Tortuga and into canadian woods in the middle of a snow storm, leaving his guilt-consumed brother to go looking for him with the help of the team.

After another successful creature rescue, the Tortuga team had decided to head North America, Canada to be more specific. Unfortunately, the timing was not the best since there had been serious ice storms and blizzards in most of the areas, forcing the gang to stay inside the Tortuga for what they planned to be a "short period" of time, which quickly turned into days - driving the Kratt brothers insane.

"Martin, turn that racket down! Can't you see I'm trying to read?" Chris yelled from across the room. He was reading a book in his hammock - about science and biology - while Martin was playing the guitar on a floor cushion.

"Well I wanna play my guitar, I gotta do something to keep myself from getting bored!" Martin replied moodily, strumming even harder this time.

They both stared at each other angrily.

From the other side of the room, the girls watched as the tension between the brothers intensified.

"Oh, the storm outside is nothing compared to the one inside," Aviva sighed exasperatedly, Koki nodding her head.

"Yeah, I've never seen them fight before, like ever!" she pointed out with a disappointed tone.

"It's really not like them, we've been cooped up in here for so long it's making them crazy!"

After bearing the sound for one more minute, Chris had enough. "Will you stop playing for just five seconds?!" he snapped.

"You're not the boss of me, so no," Martin said with all of his chest.

"That does it," Chris slammed his book closed, "I'm going to the garage where I can be alone," he shot his brother a hard look from the corner of his eyes.

Martin, barely looking up, simply shrugged. "Whatever," he scoffed while tuning his guitar. Aviva and Koki shared unhappy looks as Chris disappeared out of sight.

"Enough is enough." Martin looked up to find Aviva looking down at him, Koki right beside her. "What has gotten into you guys?" Aviva started.

"You've been fighting over small things lately, and it's getting worse," Koki persued, a firm look on her face.

Martin layed down his guitar and got up. "Oh come on, he's the one who started it!" he said defensively.

Aviva and Koki gave him the uh huh look. He kind of felt as though it was his fault, but wouldn't admit it. He walked by the girls only to accidentally sit on a particular switch.

In the garage, Chris was looking for a good spot to read in peace. "Argh, why does Martin have to be so annoying," he let out with a frustrated tone.

He eventually sat down against a pile of boxes.

"At least he won't be bugging me here," he buried his face in his book... but couldn't bring himself to focus on reading. He looked up and sighed deeply.

"Maybe I should-"

Suddenly, the garage hatch opened right in front of him.

"Oh no!" Chris yelped as he got sucked in, his hands grasping the edge of the hatch as he held on for dear life, having let go of his book as it disappeared into the darkness.

Other objects flew past him, but just as he thought he was going to make it, he got hit in the face by one of the boxes, sending him falling out of the Tortuga.

"AAAH!"

"It doesn't matter whose fault it was, you gotta talk things out with Chris," Aviva insisted.

Martin looked away, arms crossed, but deep down he knew he had to do the right thing. "Okay fine, I'll go and apologize to him," Martin sighed in defeat as he reluctantly made his way to the garage, Aviva and Koki sharing delighted expressions.

"That's more like it."

"Chris," Martin called out as soon as he entered the garage.

No answer.

"I know you're in here somewhere, I just wanna talk-" he stopped short when he noticed the garage hatch was wide open, and Chris was nowhere to be seen.

His stomach dropped. "Chris!" He ran over and looked down from the hatch. It was like staring at a black hole, only being able to see endless snowflakes, but no sign of his brother.

"No..." He stood there for a moment, processing what had happened.

"NO! CHRIS!" Martin cried out, but it was pointless.

He then rushed back to the main room. "The garage hatch is open! Chris is gone!"

"WHAT?!" Aviva and Koki looked stunned.

"But how?" Koki looked over her shoulder. "Someone sat on the switch," she glared at him.

Martin's eyes widened as he realized what he had done. Just a moment ago he felt angry, but now he was consumed with guilt.

"And it's freezing out there!" Aviva paused and slowly turned her head to look at Martin. "...What was Chris wearing?"

The question caught his breath. "Nothing but shorts and a sweater..." Martin's voice trailed off as he gradually felt himself panicking on the inside.

Noticing this, Aviva grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard. "Martin focus, we gotta go back and find Chris." Martin took a deep breath and nodded.

"I'll go tell Jimmy to turn back and let him know what's going on," Koki dashed to the pilot room, leaving Martin and Aviva looking at each other with concerned eyes.

"Oh, brother..."

In a snow-covered forest, lay an unmoving body. Suddenly, weak moans started to escape him. The green Kratt was slowly returning to the world of living, the soft but horribly cold touch of the snow making it harder for him to get up from the ground. He gritted his teeth as he sat up and brushed the snow off his clothes before he looked around with blurry eyes; it was pitch dark, with nothing but the harsh winter wind howling in his numb face, snowflakes dancing around him. Part of him was actually grateful he had landed in soft snow. Cold but soft. Though he wished there was such a thing as warm snow, as silly as it sounded in his head. In a shiver, he wrapped his arms around himself as he tried to stand up, almost failing at it. He was so cold, acknowledging that his attire wasn't suitable for the weather. His skin felt like it could easily rip any moment. His teeth chattered so badly, the vibration could reach his brain. A thought suddenly came to him; he dug his trembling hand in his pocket...only to find that he didn't have his creature pod on him. He must've lost it during the fall.

Fantastic.

He squinted his eyes as he tried to spot anything that might be useful; the boxes that accompanied him during his fall were mostly wrecked, some were even sticking out of sharp branches, like marshmallow during a campfire. He swallowed hard as a chill went down his spine. It could've been him.

"This is g-great," he muttered to himself, trying hard not to panic. He had no clue where he was nor for how long he was out cold, all he knew is that he couldn't stand there for too long. "G-Gotta f-find sh-shelter." He picked a random direction and dragged his feet in the thick snow.

"Land the Tortuga right here, Jimmy!" Aviva pointed at a clearing, which could be seen thanks to their searchlights.

"Righty-o!" Jimmy landed the Tortuga, slow and steady.

With no time to spare, the gang got geared up and ready to go out on the search. They all headed to the garage and decided to take the Creetera - Aviva had modified it to make it move through the toughest of conditions, including snow. With Jimmy behind the wheel, Koki next to him and Aviva and Martin in the back, they took off to find their brother and friend... Before it was too late.

"We're coming, Chris."

Everything around him felt cold, vicious, biting and blinding. The wind was roaring in his ears, he had snow in his hair and he was shivering badly. The black and brown thorns wrapped around the forest, almost like teeth waiting to tear at him. Each trudge felt longer and harder than the last. He was getting colder and weaker. He couldn't stand it anymore. All he wanted was a warm bed and a soft blanket, and to think that he had all that and more not long ago. He stopped and looked down at his hands: his fingertips were already turning blue.

Blue.

Martin.

Part of him wanted to blame him for everything, but the other just missed him so badly. He could even hear his voice echoing in his head.

Well I wanna play my guitar, I gotta do something to keep myself from getting bored!

The random cracking sound of wood suddenly snapped him out of his thoughts. His eyes danced around to spot the source of it, when they landed on what seemed to be... a hut.

Wait... A HUT!

Slowly but surely, he made his way to what he considered to be the perfect shelter, but when he got close enough, he began to have doubts; the hut was pretty small, so small that not even a horse could fit in it. It had no door, and even with all the snow, he could still tell it wasn't very solid.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

Without another thought, he bent his head to enter the hut. It was dark and he could hardly see, but at least he no longer had snow blowing at his face. He walked deeper into the hut, until he found a corner where he sat down. His numb hands touched the ground and he felt smooth, humid grass, which was more preferable than snow. A shaky sigh escaped his chest as he looked around him. A bit of dim moonlight pierced through the cracks and holes, creating a somewhat comforting scene. A weak smile crept across his face, but it faded as soon as he remembered his misery. He also remembered the moment he fought with his brother.

Will you stop playing for just five seconds?!

That does it, I'm going to the garage where I can be alone.

Alone.

Now he was truly alone.

He felt a small tear forming in his eye, but he held it back. He wondered if the crew noticed he was gone yet. He hoped they were already looking for him, having no idea how long he could possibly last out there. The weather was bad enough, but the lack of clothing made it far worse. He calculated the possibilities and the chances he had to survive. He felt his breathing getting faster as the realization hit him. He was freezing. His whole body ached from the cold. He already recognized the early signs of hypothermia; he felt numb, sluggish and his heart rate and breathing had increased. He knew that by staying completely immobile, his symptoms would only get worse. But just as he had the idea of getting up and walking around a little, he heard the loud booming sound of snapping wood right outside, then-

BOOM.

"Stop!" Martin cried out. Jimmy immediately smashed the breaks, and the Creetera came to a halt. Everyone turned to look at Martin who was pale as a sheet.

"Martin?" Aviva approached him, concerned. "What's wrong?

Martin slowly looked up at her, a petrified look on his face. "It's Chris," he swallowed hard.

"What about him?" Koki raised an eyebrow.

"He's hurt, I-I can feel it." He placed a few fingers on the side of his head.

The others exchanged worried looks. "You think you might know where he is?" Jimmy asked.

"N-No," Martin shook his head, still staring into the void. "All I know is that he's hurt." He then looked at them, distress painting his face. "We need to find him fast!"

"We will." Aviva placed a hand on his shoulder. "We promise."

"Uhh, guys," everyone's attention turned to the ginger guy. "What's that?" He pointed at something sticking out of the snow in front of them, illuminated by the headlights.

Martin was the first to hopp off. He went over and pulled the object out of the snow, letting out a loud gasp.

"Martin, what is it?" Aviva knelt beside him.

"It's Chris' book," he managed with a trembling voice, eyes fixated on the title.

"Wait, that means we're on the right track," Aviva said. "...Martin?"

You're not the boss of me, so no.

"Martin?" Aviva shook the blue Kratt. "Snap out of it!"

"It's all my fault," he muttered.

"What?"

Martin looked at her dead in the eye. "This is all my fault. It's my fault Chris is lost out here, it's my fault that he's probably hurt and it's my fault that-"

"Hey, hey, hey..." Aviva cut him off, her voice calm and gentle. "None of this is your fault, we'll find your brother." She grasped his shoulders in a comforting way. "Everything's gonna be okay," she smiled reassuringly.

With glassy eyes, Martin gave her a thankful smile.

"We better get moving," they heard Koki say from behind them. "If he landed here, Chris most likely would've taken...that path." She pointed with her finger, before heading back to the Creetera, followed by Aviva and Martin.

The ringing in his ears grew larger and larger...before it stopped. He gasped as his eyes flung open. The pain was so intense. He tried to move, but his body screamed in response. He put up a shaky hand to his throbbing head, and flinched... He looked down; blood. He felt crimson flowing from the side of his head. Cuts and bruises were all over his body, but he was in too much pain to notice. He then stared at both hands with wide eyes. No!

At that moment, tiny splinters of wood started falling in front of his face. He looked up to find, to his utter horror, a HUGE tree trunk that had burst through the roof, having completely destroyed half the hut. The damage was indescribable. And since the tree trunk was only a few inches above him, Chris used all of his remaining strength to crawl away from it. Oh, the pain was immeasurable. He finally made it to a safer corner, sucking in his fragile, frozen body. He couldn't feel his limps anymore. He then looked at his hands one more time...and his eyes filled with tears. It felt hopeless. He could feel himself slowly slipping into unconsciousness. He clenched his achy chest, his breathing shaky and unsteady. He just wished he could've seen his brother one last time, just hear his sweet voice, or feel one of his hugs.

"M-Martin," his voice was weak and stained with agony. "Help..."

Then the world around him turned black.

Help.

Martin gasped at the familiar voice echoing in his head. He clenched his chest. "Chris?"

"Jimmy stop!" Aviva let out as soon as she noticed. "Martin?"

"He's near, I can feel it." Martin looked around frantically. "Over there!" He pointed at a strange structure in the distance.

When the Creetera got close enough, the crew gasped at the sight. "A tree fell on this hut!" Koki exclaimed.

"Whoa, that's some serious damage," Jimmy let out in awe.

"You don't think...?" Aviva's voice trailed off.

"Only one way to find out." Martin hopped off the vehicle, not forgetting his bag. "You guys stay here, it's too dangerous for all of us to get in."

The crew nodded. "Be careful," Aviva said.

Martin took out a flashlight as he entered the half-demolished shelter. As he walked deeper, he noticed the trunk sticking out of the ceiling, the sky vomiting snow all over. Then, he noticed an unmoving form in the corner. His eyes widened as he held up the flashlight with a trembling hand. When his eyes landed on him, he felt as though he was stabbed in the heart.

"CHRIS!" he cried out, throwing away his flashlight and dropping on his knees. "No, no, no, no, bro, wake up, it's me, Martin!" his voice was filled with despair, holding his face close to his. He then grabbed him by the shoulders and almost shook him, but didn't. He had to remain calm for his brother's sake. He noticed the dry blood on his face, already getting an idea of how it happened. If the trunk were a person, he would've punched them so hard. He then noticed the state of his hands and gasped quietly.

Frostbite.

He gently leaned in and pressed an ear against his chest, holding him close with his arms as he closed his eyes. "Please, please, please..."

...

Thumb. Thumb.

A faint heartbeat. It was shallow, but very much there.

Martin breathed the biggest sigh of relief he ever had, tears welling up in his eyes. He felt like breaking down and sobbing right then and there, but he abstained himself. He quickly wiped his eyes with a sniffle, then dug his hands in his bag and took out a weighted blanket. He wrapped the fabric around his brother's delicate, frozen body, careful not to harm him.

All of a sudden, Chris gave a whimper which startled his brother.

"Martin, is it time to go to school?" his voice was inaudible, barely louder than a whisper.

Martin's heart ached. He gently picked him up bridal-style, his brows furrowing with inquietude. "No, bro, just go back to sleep," he whispered, but it didn't stop his brother from rambling, only making him even more worried. "Hang in there, Chris."

Back outside, the crew was patiently waiting for Martin to show up. Once he stepped out of the hut, Aviva and Koki gasped in horror while Jimmy let out a screetch at the sight of Chris hanging in his brother's arms, with his head all the way back, a sign of his body's complete and utter limpness, blood covering nearly half his visage.

"Is he okay?!" Jimmy cried out.

"His head's bleeding, he's ice cold and he's delirious," Martin said, almost mechanically, positioning his brother in the back of the Creetera, laying his head on his bag. Then he stole a glance at his hands sticking out of the blanket. "And his hands took a beating," he sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead.

He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned around. "Hey, he'll be alright." Aviva smiled warmly, Martin forcing a feeble smile in return.

"Step on it, Jimmy!" Koki earged.

Without a second to spare, Jimmy smashed the accelerator and the Creetera instantly took off like a bolt of lightning.

Soon enough, the team made it back to the Tortuga, the entrance wide open and welcoming.

Everyone burst in the emergency room, Martin carrying Chris behind them.

He layed him on the emergency bed, then rushed off to grab a piece of cloth to wipe off the dry blood covering his pale face. Koki took off his blanket and threw it away, then she opened an IV bag warmer to heat IV fluids up for Chris before administering it to him. Aviva filled up a recipient with warm water before placing it on the bed, then she slowly dipped Chris' hands in the liquid. He instantly let out silent cries, whimpering at the newly discovered pain. "Sorry Chris," Aviva said with a desolated tone, "I know it hurts but it's for your own good."

Just then, Martin walked up to him with a cool washcloth and knelt beside the bed. "Hang on, bro, this will only take a sec."

Just as he pressed it against the wound, Chris grunted, slightly moving his head to avoid the contact. Regardless, he continued the process. Just as he placed the bloody cloth away, Jimmy walked up with a pile of blankets, carefully covering Chris up as much as he could without touching the recipient or the IV needle. He was making a huge effort at hiding his discomfort from it all, being slightly hemophobic and all that. Finally, Martin took care of wrapping up the wound on his brother's head, finishing with the gentle brush of his hand against his cold cheek.

Dead silence. Everyone circled around the bed, contemplating.

"That's all we can do for now," Koki finally said. "We should all go get some rest, it's been a long night."

Martin pulled a chair close to the bed and sat on it. "You guys go ahead," he said, not taking his eyes off of his brother. "I'm staying."

"Martin-" Aviva tried to reason with him but was instantly cut off.

"I said I'm staying," his tone was harsh and intense. Aviva sighed in defeat, knowing there was nothing she could do to make him leave.

"Fine." She walked by him and sympathetically patted him on the shoulder, before exiting the room, followed by Koki and Jimmy.

They were alone. Just the two of them.

Martin looked down at his brother's face, his eyes were closed shut, almost in a lifeless way.

The memory of everything that had happened flashed before his eyes. He sighed heavily, rubbing his face. He hated himself so badly.

Just then he heard a timid knock on the door. It was Jimmy. He walked in with a mug full of tea in his slightly shaky hands. Martin turned around and tried to wear a small smile.

"Thanks, JZ." He grabbed the mug and the ginger guy made his way out of the room.

"No problem."

Martin looked down at his brother's icy face, the cold refusing to go away, and gently lifted his head before approaching the mug to his slightly open lips. Chris drank most of the tea which made Martin feel at ease, then he placed the mug on the side table and slowly lowered his head back on the pillow. He adjusted the blanket around his form as much as he could, his eyes twitching at his fingers dipped in the water.

Another sigh, this one filled with mixed emotions; he was scared, angry with himself, overwhelmed with relief. But mostly, he just hoped his brother would ever forgive him for not being there for him when he needed him. He wished he could've been there sooner, wished he could've done something to prevent this, but all he could do now was hope he'd recover and that his hands wouldn't suffer from permanent damage. The thought formed a lump in his throat. He reached out a shaky hand and brushed it against Chris' slightly warmer face, tears on the edge of his eyes.

"Everything's gonna be alright, I promise," his voice cracked. And before he knew it, tears were streaming down his face. He buried his face in his brother's chest, sobbing in silence. At some point, he drifted to sleep, a protective arm unconsciously wrapped around his brother.

Hours later, he woke to the sound of grunts, followed by a faint call. "M-Martin..."

Martin's head immediately flung up. He looked down at his brother's closed eyes. "Chris?" his voice was hopeful. "C'mon, buddy, wake up." He squeezed his shoulder.

Chris' eyes slowly started to open, not completely, but enough to look at his brother through half-opened eyelids. "Chris," Martin's voice contained a shred of relief, "Can you hear me?"

Chris stared at him weakly, before nodding.

At that, Martin sighed shakily then reached out to feel his temperature... A little feverish, but he was awake and that was all that mattered.

"How are you feeling?" Martin tried to fake a smile to bring comfort to his agonized brother.

Chris opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. Instead was a dry cough, followed by a shiver. Martin looked at him with sad eyes. Chris slowly looked down at his hands to find that they were in a recipient full of water, also noticing the IV needle sinking into his skin, like a snake's fangs. His eyes widened.

"It's okay, bro," he heard his brother say with a tender tone. "You're gonna be fine."

Chris looked at him for a moment, then smiled weakly. He then gave him a familiar look. Martin knew what it meant. He leaned in and gently wrapped his arms around him, trapping him in a long embrace.

Chris sighed as he snuggled in his brother's shoulder. If his hands were free, he would've wrapped them hard around him and never let go.

Sniff. Sniff.

To his shock, he felt tears falling on his back. "I-I'm so sorry," Martin sniffled between his words. "This is all my fault, I never should've gotten angry with you."

Chris pulled away from the hug, looking into his brother's eyes. "I-I'm sorry, too," he managed with an unbelievably raspy voice, tears on the edge of his eyes. "I was s-scared, bro... I-I thought I'll never see you a-again, I..." A single tear rolled down his cheek.

"Shh," Martin wiped off the tear with his thumb. "Everything's gonna be fine now, I'm not going anywhere," he smiled warmly, his voice soft and reassuring.

Chris seemed to relax after that. "Thanks bro," he sniffled.

"You get some rest, I'll go let the others know you're awake." Chris nodded weakly and closed his eyes with a quivering sigh as Martin got up from the chair and headed to the door. He stopped, turned around to steal one more glance at his brother, smiling sadly...then left the room.

A few days had gone by, and chris was gradually healing; the hypothermia had completely gone away a few hours after his first conversation with his brother after the incident. His head injury was slowly getting better, and according to Aviva, he didn't seem to be having any internal issues that might've been caused by it, much to everyone's relief. All that was left was the frostbite. His hands stayed dipped in warm water 24/7, day and night, which was driving him a little crazy despite being told a million times it was the best way to treat it. He was mostly scared, however, that his hands would never get any better and that he would never be able to use them again. The thought always nearly brought him to tears, but thankfully he had his brother by his side to cheer him up and bring him hope, every step of the way. The older Kratt kept his word and never left his brother's side, he even went as far as reading him that book he had lost in the snow since he never truly finished it, and it always brought a smile to his little brother's face.

One day though, a miracle occured. Chris woke one morning, his brother sleeping beside him, his head resting on his bed, still sitting on that same chair. The sight always made a warm-hearted smile crack on his face. He always told him to sleep in his own bed but the stubborn sibling refused, not surprisingly. The green Kratt looked around the chamber, a bit of sunlight shining through the window and creating a golden string, his eyes following it until they landed on his hands. His hands. Something felt...different about them. He cautiously sat up to look down at his hands, still trapped under the water, and with slight hesitance, he slowly took them out, droplets of water raining on the cover as he approached them to his face.

He paused for a moment, gulped...then curled his fingers into a fist. His eyes widened, a short laugh escaping him, followed by a cry of joy and relief.

Martin suddenly came back to the world of living, he looked around frantically, still not fully awake. "Chris, wha-" He rubbed his eyes and noticed his brother staring at his hands with an exaggeratedly large smile on his face, his remaining sleep disappearing.

"Are you okay? What happened? Are you feeling worse?!" He shot him with a bunch of questions, Chris only laughing even harder.

"Martin, look!" He extended his hands for him to see; the frostbite was gone. Both brothers cried and hugged and sobbed for a while, they were just so happy.

"See? I told you everything was gonna be alright!" Martin cried, the smile on his face accompanied by matching tears.

"Yeah," Chris wiped his face, the amazing sensation of using his hands again washing over him. "I don't know what I would've done without you."

Martin gasped softly, smiling warmly.

After updating the others on what happened, Martin came back to Chris' room with some tea, his brother finally being able to hold his own mug. He then took out the book for Chris to grab.

Chris reached out his hands, but paused...then lowered them, seeming pensive. Martin looked confused.

"Actually..." Chris snuggled back on his pillow with his tea. "I like it better when you read it for me," he smiled.

Martin looked at him for a moment, then a smile spread across his face. "No problem," he chuckled.

21 notes · View notes

zingaplanet · 1 year

Text

It's fascinating to think of the future of tennis as a sport after this era is officially over (AKA all rafa, novak and andy finally retired for good). With the constant that is human progression, we always knew that sports are on the way up, getting faster, more competitive, more physically demanding and generally better, just look at the difference between olympics 50 years ago and now. But what if there is a limit with game-format restricted sports? Maybe there is a certain point where there is only so much racket development or match technology improvement we can make without transforming the sport into a whole different game entirely. Excluding physical human evolution itself, which might take a couple decades, the sport might have reached its peak in its most competitive form, and there is really no way of beating or even yet repeating this jackpot of golden era.

Sadly, if we're being honest the truest rivals of the big 3 in their dominance have only been each other and themselves. We've had a next gen, a next next gen, and a whole batch of new promising future players (we've even invented a tournament so they can compete AMONGST THEMSELVES only) but they never really did break the full dominance of these 30-40 year old veterans consistently, except for instances when they themselves are injured (e.g., Nadal pulling out of Wimbledon this year).

Tennis analysts have been criticised for being too judgmental, but they've also witnessed 20 something Federer taking the crown directly from Agassi-Sampras AND staying for the next 20 years at the top, as well as 17 year old Nadal beating the world number one consistently in his prime, and Djokovic doing the impossible and breaking into the Federer-Nadal duopoly.

The biggest worry is of course to have a whole generation of new players on the tour after the rest of the big 3 and their peers (Wawrinka, Andy, etc) retired who've never actually beaten (or pull the rug from under them so to say) the champions of the previous era consistently. This will mean that the sports have not transitioned to the better but has solely transitioned to the next era due to natural decline. Sadly, this seems more and more likely given that Nadal and Djokovic are well past their primes at this point and ARE STILL winning 2 slams in their late 30s, which means the opportunity to knock them off their crowns are pretty much expired as they're likely to retire on a high anyway.

The likeliest and most dangerous scenario is that we truly are living in a one-of-a-kind era, where the best tennis players that will ever be happened to be playing all at the same time. If that is so, it's time for us to realise the importance of enjoying the ride for as long as we got left. As it'll ever be this thrilling, this competitive, this mindboggling once, and we have the front row seats at the theatre of the gods.

#just some tennis op #this truly is sad i was a big fan of some of the next gens as well #it's just not possible to consistently beat the big 3 i guess they're aliens #any thoughts on why?#tennis #fedal #roger federer #rafael nadal #novak djokovic #andy murray #stan wawrinka #next gen #atp finals #nitto atp finals #casper ruud #carlos alcaraz #dominic thiem #sascha zverev

68 notes · View notes

lullabyes22-blog · 1 year

Note

we've got mel, silco, sevika, and jinx headcanons but how about some random crew headcanons? It doesn't have to be a separate post for each one maybe just one post with three per crew-member? or four? they deserve a bit of spotlight! just little things you haven't mentioned yet where it be from other posts of the fic itself.

I do have a handful from FnF - as well as a few chapters dedicated to the crew's antics c:

cw: drug use, abuse, poverty

Lock:

He's half-Shuriman, and Undercity-born.

He is the literal 'gatekeeper' of the Lanes: his tattoos are a map of the old Oshra Va' Zaun passages through the Undercity, and he knows every escape route and shortcut.

Half his income goes to his sister's son, whom he's taken under his wing in the absence of the boy's father. The kid is a real troublemaker, and Lock sometimes commiserates with Silco over the tough racket. Teens, amirite?

He's got a thing for Sevika, but she shot him down early on, so he doesn't push his luck further.

Out of everyone in the crew, he's the one Silco is most likely to have a "man-to-man" conversation with as time passes and they both grow older.

Ran:

They're full-blooded Ionian, and fled to the Undercity with their parents following the Void Wars.

Ran is fluent in a number of languages, including Vastayan and Va-Nox. They also have a good eye for details.

They have an older brother with a drug habit. Not Shimmer, but prescription pills. The two of them live together - and have literal knock-down drag-out fights that result in bruises and broken furniture.

They get along best with Dustin, despite outwardly snarking at him all the time. Secretly, they find him funny af, even if their expression is :|

They are Silco's go-to for jobs requiring mental finesse and secretive leg-work. They are naturally stealthy and very good at slipping in between the cracks.

Dustin:

His folks were actually middle-class, but fell on hard times. Dustin was kicked out by his father as a boy, and spent his days dipping in and out of his grandmother's house.

He likes H-bombs (that's heroin and mdma for the uninitiated), and was strung out and starving on the streets when Silco found him.

He's also absolutely vicious with a blade - which is why Silco bothered to induct him into the gang in the first place.

Out of everyone in the crew, he's almost slavishly devoted to Silco. When he was being 'dried out' and suffering withdrawals, Silco would seize him by the collar and pour liters of water down his throat. Sometimes he'd talk to him afterwards. It was likely the most sustained attention Dustin ever got from a male figure.

Out of everyone in the crew, he has the best taste in music.

He also has the record for most STIs - and a reputation for knocking up the ladies, then running to Silco and going "Mister S, I need help!" D:

#ask #arcane league of legends #arcane #arcane dustin #arcane ran #arcane lock #arcane sevika #arcane silco #silco #arcane headcanons #arcane headcanon #fanfic #forward (never forget)/xoxo #forward but never forget/xoxo

37 notes · View notes

typingatlightspeed · 7 days

Text

TF2 Fanfic - Someone Else's Song Chapter 2

A whole week of cracking away at N.G.'s mystery letter yields no leads, so Spy creeps out of his smoking room to put boots to pavement and do some more hands-on espionage. Meanwhile, Engie has some meaningful conversations about his chances.

Chapter 1 Chapter 3 Ao3 Link!

Really want a grilled cheese after writing this chapter tho. :/

---------

Spy awoke with a snort, lifting his head from the surface of his desk, a small piece of notepaper stuck to his chin by a patch of dried drool. He swatted it away and tugged the handkerchief from his pocket, using it to wipe his face. He checked his watch. Eight A.M. He sighed. He had fallen asleep sometime before late night had transitioned to early morning, it seemed. His eyes scanned the desk in front of him.

The surface was scattered with papers. Laying at its centre was original letter itself, which had been tested with every solution to reveal invisible ink that Spy could think of. Sitting around were several copies penned by Spy with different notes and marks calling out different letters, words, and turns of phrase, no definitive patterns to be found. Keys for every major cipher in common and uncommon use decorated the periphery. Several examples of the other mercenaries' handwriting were stacked up to be analyzed versus the two letters that N.G. had written, to try and eke out anything from the deeply opaque clue. Spy leaned back in his chair and stretched, having been hunched over for hours. With a weary groan, he took out and lit a cigarette. He puffed a long drag and looked dimly at his fruitless work.

It had been days of this, hammering away at a diamond with a chisel made of tin, no closer to an answer than when he'd picked the letter up in the first place. Staring bleary-eyed at his work wasn't about to spontaneously spawn epiphany. He needed to stretch his legs. And get a coffee. And a shower.

Engineer's work stool had been squeaking near-constantly for the past hour. He wasn't even aware of it, but it was doing it, and constantly. The heel of his boot rested hooked on the bar that circumnavigated the stool's legs, forming a footrest for the man perched atop it, and the toe of that boot was bouncing, making the stool squeal with each jerky movement. Engineer did not notice this. He was too engrossed in the project on his drafting table. Or more accurately, with what was churning away inside his brain while he pretended to be able to get any work done at said drafting table.

The slam of gloved hands on his workbench startled him out of his reverie, and he looked over to see Pyro glowering at him, an oxyacetylene torch clamped to the bench and lit, a small pile of cinders beside it. Engineer reeled back in spite of the good ten feet that separated them. "Somethin' wrong?"

"I'm trying to burn things over here, but bouncing your leg is making that chair sound like we've got upstairs neighbours that just learned what sex was! If you don't stop that racket I'm going to burn down this entire base, starting with myself."

A sheepish smile crossed Engineer's face, and he stilled his leg. "Sorry, Py. I'm just awful wound up."

"I couldn't tell," Pyro shot back, hands settling on his hips. "Spy, huh?"

"It's been a doggone week and he's been playin' it so close to the chest he may as well start coughin' up cards." He shook his head, setting his pencil down and pulling off his hardhat to scratch at his stubbly scalp.

Pyro took a moment to turn off the oxyacetylene torch and flopped onto a rolling stool, gliding over to his friend. "You think he's figured it out?"

"If he has, he ain't said a word about it." Engineer sighed, shaking his head. "Which feels about as good as just bein' shot down, if I'm honest. Maybe I should just be glad he was tactful enough to not just turn me down in front of everyone, or make fun of me for it."

"That's an awful thing to think about the guy you've got a crush on," Pyro chastised.

"It ain't a crush!" Engineer barked. "It's just...interest. Attraction."

"Attraction you expressed by writing him a love letter."

"It was your idea!"

"It's a crush."

"You make me sound like a damn teenager findin' out what love means for the first time."

Pyro tilted his head to the side. "Is that how Spy makes you feel?"

Engineer went silent, considering that for a moment. He sighed. "Fair enough."

A giggle bubbled its way out of Pyro's mask, and he gently clapped his hands in delight. "But here's the thing: Spy, for all of his class and charisma, is pretty forthright. He wouldn't just let things lie. If he wanted to reject you, he'd communicate it somehow , regardless of what level of cruelty he chose to use, right?"

"I s'pose."

"So that means somehow he still hasn't figured the damn thing out a whole week later. I think you covered your tracks too well somehow."

Engineer couldn't help but chuckle at that. "Spy's the kind o' fella who reads so far past the surface he drowns in the details. He'd cut a tree in half to count the rings without even realizin' he's in a damn forest. If I know him half as well as I hope I do, he's probably been burnin' the midnight oil when the answer's plain as day in front o' him."

"Is Spy really that dumb?"

"He ain't dumb at all," Engineer said warmly, a laugh threatening to edge into his voice, "he's too smart's the problem.

"I tell you this," Heavy said, setting down his bottle of oil and picking up a rag. "After you use mayonnaise, you will not use butter again. It is life-changer."

Sniper frowned, shaking his head. "I dunno, mate. Mayo for a grilled cheese?"

"I did not believe at first either. But it brown more even, make flavour more...," the giant searched for the right word, "rich? I think is how to say?"

"Yeh," Sniper confirmed with a nod, finishing laying out the pieces of his rifle on the worktable of the armory. "Right, next time you're fixin' one, throw one on for me. I'll try it. If I like it, I'll teach you my special grilled cheese recipe."

"Special grilled cheese?" Heavy asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"The secret is ham, apples, and a runny fried egg," Sniper said with a conspiratorial grin. "But you gotta poach the apples in cinnamon and sugar first, so it's almost like applesauce or pie fillin' without the corn starch."

"Is sandvich really still grilled cheese at this point?"

"Dunno, but what I can tell you is that it's delicious."

"Will keep this in mind," Heavy agreed with a nod. If making Sniper a normal sandwich got Sniper to make him a fancy sandwich, he wasn't about to turn it down. Especially if ham was involved.

Spy suppressed a sigh. He stood, cloaked, leaning against the door to the armory as his teammates chatted sporadically as they maintenanced their guns. Everyone made time to clean and work on their weapons at some point every few days, though Heavy was a fixture, pampering his darling Sascha as a daily ritual and making him easy to find for anyone seeking him out. It was one of the rare times one could catch the giant for a casual conversation.

Apparently this time, Sniper had seen fit to use his time with Heavy to talk about food. It was one of the universal languages, Spy supposed.

It didn't help him at all in his effort to eavesdrop on the team for clues, though. At least, not until...

Sniper looked back over his shoulder, and Spy froze, invisible and silent and far enough away that any lingering scent of smoke on him wouldn't be detected. "So, you think Spy's cracked the code yet?"

Heavy chuckled. "Don't know. There are many common ciphers used. He has lot of work to do to eliminate them all."

"Probably spent the whole week neck-deep in cryptography for nothin'."

Heavy shook his head. "It is funny. Spy is too smart to be so stupid sometimes."

Spy frowned at the insult, trying not to let it bother him too much. Heavy didn't know enough English to speak delicately.

"Look how his kid turned out. Apple don't fall too far from the tree."

"You are mean to Scout. Thought you are Scout's friend."

Sniper shrugged with a laugh. "Mate, if anyone's qualified to rib the little gremlin it's 'is mates. I'd expect no less from 'im in turn."

Heavy shook his head, realizing that perhaps he'd spent so long only socializing with his family that the urge to banter had grown rusty. Certainly, he remembered teasing his friends in college mercilessly, and laughing when they did the same in kind. "This is fair."

"Either way, I hope all of this gets figured out soon, else N.G.'s gonna 'ave a heart attack from waitin' on tenterhooks." Sniper took up the barrel of his rifle in one hand. "Pass that brush?"

Heavy handed his teammate a brush with a nod and a grunt, and silence fell as they worked.

Spy lingered a little longer, but soon slunk away with a silent sigh. It seemed like Heavy and Sniper had an idea of who this mysterious N.G. was, that it was neither of them, and from the way they spoke, it was an obvious thing to them. He didn't know whether he should be insulted or not, stymied in the search as he was. The way they talked, it was clear that he was looking too hard , which only frustrated him more. Had he wasted all of his time on a line of thought that lead nowhere?

Fine.

If cryptography would get him nowhere, he would do things the old-fashioned way: pure surveillance. Already, skulking him in the shadows had gotten him that much, a half-step closer and Sniper crossed off the list, so perhaps it was time for a bit of the human touch.

Coffee. Medic needed coffee. Those chupacrabra kidneys weren't going to be used to filter irradiated echidna blood on their own, and Medic just knew his hands weren't going to be steady enough for the suture work he'd need to do after an all-nighter unless he had at least a little more caffiene to keep him going. Once he had the data he needed he could finally crash out and sleep. Just a little longer.

With a yawn, he pushed open the door to mess, a little surprised to find Spy there, leaning against the counter on which the communal industrial-sized coffee maker sat, an overlarge mug in his hand. He looked almost as tired as Medic felt, and judging by the dark circles under his eyes, he, too, had been neglecting sleep in the pursuit of knowledge. Medic smiled fondly and waved as he approached.

"Spy! It is nice to see you outside of the battlefield for the first time this week," he teased, snagging a mug and dumping an unconscionable amount of sugar into it before filling it with coffee. "You've spent so much of your liberty time working in your office, I was worried you'd turned into me!" He tittered, then added milk enough that the beverage began to match his skin tone, and snatched a spoon to stir it with.

Spy tried and failed to not make a face as he watched Medic mangle his coffee. "It is a smoking room, but you're not incorrect. I have been working, though the way I currently feel, I can no longer say it is tirelessly."

Medic grinned at that, a soft, "hoo," of a laugh puffing out of him. "So how does the search for your secret admirer go?"

"Secret admirer; you make it sound like we're children."

"You received a love note from someone with a crush on you."

Spy pouted in reply.

Medic tittered. "It's sweet, really. Romance is childish, isn't it? At it's root?"

"Your idea of romance is very different from mine, then."

"Think about it: Naked emotion making your heart race, your palms sweat, your brain positively swim with oxytocin, manifesting as giddy delight? Your body's reaction is as brazen and free of guile as children speaking plainly, 'I like you,' wouldn't you say?"

Spy eyed Medic for a long moment, waiting for some unhinged or dismissive follow-up. When none came, he shrugged a shoulder. "Fair enough, I suppose." He sipped his coffee, sneaking a sidelong glance at his companion, a bit disarmed by the fanciful soft side he had revealed.

Was he wrong in discounting Medic so swiftly? What if it was him? Would it be so bad, to be loved by a man who could heal your every wound, every ailment, make you stronger, faster, better, more healthy and hale than nature could ever offer of its own accord?

In sickness and in health indeed.

But Medic was married to science. It was his husband, his work his wife. His greatest passion could never be devoted to a mere man, no matter how extraordinary. A lover would have to be satisfied always being the runner-up in Medic's heart and life.

Spy couldn't imagine being satisfied with that. Even he had tried to put his work aside once, his love of a woman far stronger than the love of his life's calling. Sadly, that calling was not about to be so quickly turned aside.

But he couldn't blame Medic, either. Brilliance often brought with it a certain single-mindedness. Medic and his experiments. Heavy and his guns. Only Engineer seemed able to pull himself away from his hyperfocus, powerful and self-destructive as it was, still taking time for playing guitar and cookouts and nights sitting under the stars, enjoying the quiet beauty of nature when he thought the rest of the team had gone to bed and he'd been left alone to his own devices, unaware that Spy would often rest against the wall beside the door to the porch, cloaked and sharing in the moment of peace. Each man contained multitudes, but only Engineer could pull himself away from his work with enough regularity to place that fact on display. And rustic though he may be, Spy couldn't deny that there was a bucolic charm to his non-work interests.

Spy looked back to Medic, who was smiling at him over the rim of his mug. He realized that he'd been caught spacing out for a moment as his brain churned away. Medic tittered as their eyes met.

"I almost forgot: there is also the telltale rush of blood to the capillaries of the face, causing erubescene," he teased, "or blushing , as you might know it." He gestured gently to Spy, who realized to his own dismay that his cheeks had grown hot as his mind had drifted.

Spy cleared his throat, straightening his posture like it would hide the pink peeking above his mask from the taller man. "Yes, well, thank you, Docteur. But I should be getting back to it. Mysteries do not solve themselves."

Medic took another sip to contain his giggles. "Of course! Good luck, Spy, and I hope the real thing turns out as lovely as your fantasies!"

Spy grumbled out a vague thanks as he set down his empty mug and slunk out of the room in a small huff.

N.G. definitely wasn't Medic. He got far more enjoyment out of needling him, both literally and metaphorically, than any romance would offer.

Scout sat back from his drawing, pen tapping against his lip as he regarded the shape of the car he was sketching out. Something wasn't right, but he couldn't place what. Then again, he also wasn't used to drawing at a forty-five degree angle. "Draftin' tables are weird," he said, looking past said drafting table to where Engineer was seated on a rolling shop stool, hunched behind a dispenser, its wires spilling out as he went at something inside with a pair of pliers.

"Takes some gettin' used to, I'll admit," Engineer replied absently.

"Yeah."

Silence fell for a long moment as Scout scratched down a few more lines onto his notebook. "So, you bend Spy over the workbench yet?"

Engineer dropped his pliers, sputtering in surprise, his face going red in an instant. "What the hell is wrong with you askin' somethin' like that?"

"Seriously? No? Don't tell me 'e still ain't figured it out! Shit, man, you might as well just tell 'im at this point, if 'e's too dumb to pick up on it after a whole-ass week."

"He ain't dumb."

"Yeah okay," Scout snorted.

"It also ain't your business."

"Why not? Man, if two 'a my coworkers're gonna be all kissyface an' shit all the time an' bangin' in the off hours in the base where we all live which ain't got soundproofin' , that's gonna turn into my business at some point. What if Spy's a screamer? Especially with what you're packin'!"

"...what I'm packin?" "We all shower together; ain't nobody not noticed you swing pipe, Engie."

"You little pecker checker."

"I was scopin' out the competition."

"Competition for what?"

"I dunno; not Spy though, I'll tell you that. He's your problem. Least, he will be once you just go nut up an' tell 'im."

Engineer set down his pliers and stared hard at Scout. "Like how you told Miss Paulin'?"

Scout stammered a bit before crossing his arms across his chest. "This ain't about me."

"First time you've ever said that about anythin'," Engineer shot with a smirk.

"Look, I don't get why you're into 'im, but you are. A guy don't write another guy a freakin' love letter if 'e ain't down bad for 'im."

"The letter was Pyro's idea. Said 'e was sick of watchin' me pinin' away in silence. And now I'm in this mess."

Scout smiled a little at that. It explained a lot. A love letter didn't really seem Engineer's style, which probably wasn't helping Spy solve things. "What, were you just never gonna say nothin'?"

"Spy's a refined fella. He wouldn't go for a country boy like me if I just up and said somethin' to 'im."

"You kiddin' me? You've got more PhDs than there are guys on base! You can play guitar! Chicks dig smart artsy guys."

"Scout, Spy's a man."

"Do guys who like guys dig smart, artsy guys?" Scout asked, rolling his hand like he was waiting for Engineer to catch up with him.

Engineer stared for a long moment, unable to argue. "S'pose so."

"See? Look just 'cause you're all yee-haw an' axle grease don't mean that ain't what 'e's into, Eng. Like yeah, I bet he'd totally wanna bang a dude just like 'imself, but maybe that ain't all, yeah? Maybe he likes a guy who's stronger an' more manly than 'im, yanno? Hold 'im in 'is big arms, make 'im feel safe..."

Engineer lifted an eyebrow.

"I mean girls like that, so maybe guys who like guys do?" Scout recovered, gesturing broadly with his arms.

"Maybe they do," Engineer huffed out with a laugh. Scout was right. It was entirely possible that Spy would be interested in what he had to offer. He was aloof, but that didn't mean he didn't find anything attractive in any of them The man maintained a standoffish facade with the whole team, buts it was his own brand of professionalism, likely to make up for what an immature little shit he could be on the field when he thought nobody was looking.

Engineer was looking, and what he saw made him laugh. It was endearing, really, to see the cool, aloof cat of a man doing voices and chucking insults the same as the rest of them. He wasn't really above it all, in spite of how he tried to play.

"Look, I ain't got a dog in the race, Eng. So I can tell ya square: anyone with eyes can see you're a catch, man. You're built, you're handy, you play guitar an' sing an' know how to cook. Plus, you're rich. Like crazy rich. Like not just built yourself up rich but Daddy's Money rich on top 'a that. Fuck around money rich. If you were into girls they'd be tearin' each other's hair out tryin' to get to you! An' I bet Spy sees that too. Guy sees everythin', yanno?"

Engineer chuckled at that. Scout wasn't exactly great at navigating it, but the spirit was there, and he appreciated being hyped up a bit. "Thank ya kindly," he said demurely, laying a hand over his heart. "But him seein' everythin's why I ain't piped up yet. I want 'im to figure it out, act on 'is own initiative. Ain't the same if I confront 'im with it, feels like. Plus, the man loves his ego stroked. Bein' able to solve the puzzle'll go toward that, I reckon."

"I don't get it. Figured with guys you could just circumvent all that pussy-footin' around shit. 'Hey, gorgeous. We both got dicks; wanna do it?'"

"And that's why you ain't had a date of any gender long as I known you."

"Man, I ain't had a date 'cause we're stuck livin' in a base in the middle 'a fuckall nowhere!" Scout barked, indignant. His expression turned to a pout as the only reply he received was Engineer's signature wheezy chuckle.

"We're bloody terrible at this game," Demoman huffed, watching his horseshoe land a full foot away from the stake.

"You have no depth perception, of course you're terrible!" Soldier barked, lining up his shot. He let his horseshoe fly, only for it to overshoot the stake by at least two feet. "Too much mustard on that one."

"And ye can barely see out from under the brim o' that helmet," Demoman huffed. "I'll have ye ken me aim's close enough. Can hit a runnin' Scout with a pipe at twenty paces nae danger!"

"I thought close enough was supposed to work for horseshoes and hand grenades! You're one for two, maggot!" "Shut it!" Demoman's lip curled up into a snarl as he lined up his next shot. He swung his arm and released the horseshoe, which fell limply to the dirt just barely inside of the pit, two and a half feet from the stake. "Crud!"

Soldier hacked out a laugh, doubling over to brace himself on his thighs to keep standing.

Demoman stood there pouting at him, arms crossed over his chest. 'I'm too sober's the problem. Nae had a drink in almost an hour. The double vision's the trick, ye ken."

Spy watched from the porch, posted against one of the supports holding up its bockety, sun-rotted roof. He was getting fidgety from spending a while without cigarettes, trying not to get made by scent, but he kept his shaking hands hidden in the pockets of his trousers. The last thing he wanted was to jitter so much that the motion of his cloak could be seen.

As expected, there wasn't much to eavesdrop on with Demoman and Soldier, the two of them spending most of their words to roast one another with the sort of viciousness only close friendship could elicit. It did warm Spy's heart a bit, in spite of it all. At least that whole business with the BLU Soldier hadn't dulled this friendship or made things awkward. Though he suspected neither man had the emotional intelligence to realize why it could get weird. Ignorance may truly be bliss after all.

Either way, while it was certainly entertaining to watch, it wasn't really getting him anywhere. He suspected as much, but due diligence made it just seem right to see if two of the most loose-lipped men on the team would let anything slip. Given Demoman's known interest in men, it could make him more prone to gossiping about the base's newest potential homosexual romance.

Assuming Spy was right and he hadn't written the letter himself.

With a sigh, Spy pushed off of the support, deciding to cut his losses and go try to see if he could talk Pyro in enough circles to spill something. The arsonist clearly knew something, or at least liked the drama enough to be working on figuring it out as well. Either way, it was likely to be more fruitful than watching the most tragic lawn game he'd ever witnessed.

A creak sounded from the old, dry-rotted wood. Then the roof groaned . Spy's head snapped back to look up a moment before a rotten chunk of the structure fell. He leapt, rolling across the concrete paddock of the porch, and narrowly missed the rain of wood and shingles as the whole corner of the roof gave way and collapsed with a clatter and crunch. His cloak sputtered and dropped, leaving him on one hand and his knees, staring wide-eyed at the wreckage.

"Oi! Spy! Ye alright?" Demoman called, jogging over.

"Y-yes, thank you," Spy replied, climbing to his feet and dusting off his trousers.

"Knew that thing's days were numbered, but I didnae realize just how close tae the end it was," the bomber mused, looking over the damage.

"Why didn't Engie fix it?" Soldier asked, ambling over, utterly calm.

"'Cause he fixes everythin' else on this bloody base, and he cannae be everywhere all the time," Demoman reasoned, a bit shamefully.

"He's reliable and capable, but even he is but one man," Spy mused, taking out a cigarette and lighting it with relief. If his hands weren't already shaking, they definitely would be now.

"We need two of him," Soldier concluded, slapping his fist down into his open palm.

"How're ye gonnae do that?" Demoman replied with a smirk, egging Soldier on.

"He could make a clone of himself! I bet he could reprogram Respawn to do it!" Soldier grinned broadly, proud of his idea.

"Aye, that's definitely how that works." Demoman rested his hands on his hips and had a chuckle. "So Spy, ye out here eavesdroppin', or was that," he gestured to the wreckage that was the corner of the porch, "just a wee coincidence."

Spy sighed. Demoman was too canny for his own good sometimes. "If you're accusing me of dropping eaves, I assure you, that ," he, too, gestured to the destroyed porch roof, "was not my intention."

Demoman whooped out a laugh at that. "Ye should banter more, Spy. Ye got the touch!"

A soft, self-satisfied chuckle left Spy, and he took another long drag. "I've spent the majority of my liberty this week slaving away at that love letter. Some fresh air would do me good. At least, I thought so, until the porch tried to crush me."

"Ach, what's a bit o' mortal danger? It's good for the blood," Demoman dismissed with a laugh. He hopped up on the edge of the porch next to where Spy stood and patted the concrete paddock, inviting him to sit. Soldier climbed up on his other side, kicking his legs in the air.

With a moment's consideration, Spy shrugged and settled in beside Demoman, half-facing him with one leg up on the porch, the other hanging. "I assume you'd like to chat."

"Aye, aye. Surprised you're of a mind."

"Like I said, I've spent the entire week with no human interaction outside of combat, slamming my head against a puzzle." Spy took a drag and exhaled, looking off to the side. "Don't get used to this."

That made Demoman snort. Spy was ridiculous, preening like a cat and pretending to be above it all. It would be infuriating if it weren't so transparent. "Sure, aye, nae danger."

"So, have you figured out who it is, yet?" Soldier asked.

Spy sighed, thinking it obvious. If he had, why would he be here, sneaking around and almost dying to faulty construction? "No, I have not."

Soldier replied with a soft, "Hm."

"Dinnae let it get ye down," Demoman offered, clapping Spy on the shoulder then swiftly removing his hand after clocking the look of utter disdain that it elicited. "Honestly? A whole week o' radio silence after a note with barely a hint? It's strange, it is."

"Perhaps, but when presented with a mystery like this, what am I to do?"

"I ken ye've nae conclusion, but any theories?"

Spy took a long drag. "A few. Some more attractive than others."

Demoman chuckled at that. Fair enough. "Which ones're more attractive?"

"Fishing for compliments?" Spy teased with a smirk.

"If I'm still in competition I'd be more concerned about yer qualifications for wearin' that balaclava, mate. Ye ken me style, and sneakin' love notes isnae it."

"Didn't you and the BLU Soldier get together at a gun show?" Soldier asked.

"It's where we met and struck up a friendship," Demoman explained. "Wasn't 'til after we hit the bars, got good 'n liquored up, fought the cops, and laid low at a motel outside town that I kissed him. Was ready tae write it off as adrenaline until he kissed me back, and started slidin' his hand down me trews." He sighed fondly, as painful as the nostalgia was.

"Wait, you fucked on the first date?" Soldier asked.

"Did we have time tae consider there'd be another one?" Demoman reasoned. "I'm nae some blushin' flower, mate. I've got a braw lad askin' me tae blow his back out, I aim tae do it."

"You can't aim for shit," Soldier snorted, then fell into laughs as Demoman pushed him off the porch.

"Yes, well, I suppose the speed at which you move isn't quite compatible with writing notes," Spy said, rolling his eyes and trying to expel the mental image of Demoman fucking the BLU Soldier from his mind, even if it did answer the idle curiousity he had as to which of the bombastic, competitive men had been the bottom.

"Aye, aye, but still's tae the point: any o' those theoretical authors actually have a chance, mate? I imagine yer nae gonnae throw yerself at a lad just 'cause he's wrote ye a love note. So what's the best case scenario? Who'd actually have a shot? Who d'ye hope it is?"

Spy sat with that question for a long moment, taking a thoughtful drag of his cigarette. The pause was so pregnant Demoman fancied its water was about to break.

He hadn't really considered that. Not in earnest. Sure, he thought about the pros and cons of who it might be, whether it was preferable. But what would he really do once he discovered the answer? And what if it was an answer he didn't like? What if it was an answer he did? What was an answer he did? Who was he kidding? He hadn't gathered the thoughts in a cohesive manner, but in his gut, he already knew who he wanted it to be. His own wandering mind had taught him as much.

"Engineer," Spy sighed, looking away so as not to meet Demoman's eye. Out of the corner of his own vision, he caught a smile crossing the bomber's lips anyway.

"Good, you can get him to fix the porch," Soldier announced.

"Engie, aye?" Demoman said appraisingly, giving a little nod. "Ye've good taste, lad. Broad, braw bloke like that? Muscles for days and a bit soft? That voice? "

"Do I have competition?" Spy teased with a soft laugh, grateful that he hadn't been teased immediately for a rare moment of candidness.

"Ach, nae. I'd nae dare stand in yer way."

"In my way?" Spy asked, eyebrow lifted.

"Look, lad. It's clear ye want him tae be the answer. Which means yer sweet on him. Which means nae matter who this secret admirer o' yours is, what does matter is ye've yer eye on someone already. The matter's been breached, in so many words. Why nae just make a move?"

"And if he's not the author?"

"Then yer nae interested in the author anyway," Demoman reasoned. "Right?"

Spy nodded slowly, admitting it to himself. Any other candidate just didn't capture him the same way, didn't set his heart to racing and his mind to distraction like thoughts of the short Texan with his warm voice and strong hands and eleven hard-science PhDs. "Which leaves the question of whether Engineer would be interested," Spy pointed out, gesturing vaguely with his cigarette.

"You will not know the answer to that if you do not ask," Soldier said plainly. "If he did write it, then he is interested. If he did not, you can not know if he is interested unless you ask."

"Hate tae say it, but the lad's right," Demoman agreed, jerking a thumb at Soldier. "And say he's nae the author, and someone else's feelings get hurt: lad wrote ye a note so opaque even you o' all people couldn't crack it, and never followed up, dropped any other breadcrumbs, just sat back and let it lie. Can he really blame ye for followin' yer heart?"

"He snoozed, he lost!"

"Aye, exactly!"

Spy chewed on that thought for a moment and took another long drag to finish his cigarette, stubbing it out on the concrete porch as he exhaled. "Fair enough, I suppose."

"I ken the direct approach isnae yer wheelhouse, but sometimes, the only way out is through!"

"Yeah, go get 'im, Frenchie!"

Spy snorted out a soft laugh and shook his head. This was where he was getting his romantic advice? Still, he supposed, they weren't wrong.

#tf2 fanfiction #team fortress 2 #tf2 fanfic #TF2 Napoleon Complex #TF2 Engineer #TF2 Spy #TF2 Scout #TF2 Soldier #TF2 Pyro #TF2 Demoman #TF2 Heavy #TF2 Medic #TF2 Sniper

4 notes · View notes

jadeee · 7 months

Text

Vendetta Ch. 12, Part 1: Cloudy Days

📰 read chapters 1 - 11 here!

Warnings: angst, slight swearing & mentions of murder

Word Count: 3.9k

"Oh my God!" You squealed as you hovered over Nicky's shoulder. He spent the last five minutes reading MJ's published piece about the two of you:

While the world gawks at the Valentinos and their upcoming case, the pair find safety and shelter in each other. Most importantly, love which is the greatest comfort of all. They continue to curate a happy home and lovely life in which they celebrate the good, the bad, and the ugly.

"We should frame this."

He set the paper aside "You wanna hang it up in the hall?"

"Why not?!"

"Okay, I've got an idea. How about we get out of this house?"

"Hm.."

"Oh c'mon," he got up from the couch and took your hands in his "we've been hermit crabs until last night."

You chuckled as he pulled you off the couch and into his arms.

"Don't you want to come out of your shell?"

"Okay," you said with a hint of defeat "where do you want to go today?"

"How about the tennis court? I haven't exercised in ages."

"You went for a swim in the pool a few days ago!"

"It's not the same!" He pouted playfully "C'mon, I'll get the rackets and everything else. Just get ready."

He kissed your forehead again before disappearing up the stairs.

Agnes stood outside of Martin's office, "Sir?"

"What?" He asked with an underlying annoyance.

"Your wife is on the line. I told her you were busy but she knows I'm lying."

"Of course she does." He took a deep breath as if bracing himself for a punch from a heavy hitter "Put her on."

"... yes, sir."

His hand rested on the phone in his office and immediately picked it up when it rang. The speaker rested near his lips but he was quiet, timid, and scared all at once.

"Martin? Martin, I know you're there." The woman said on the other end "How are you?"

He licked his lips to wet them since they were suddenly dry, "How do you think?"

She sighed "You can't keep doing this. Why don't you just come home?"

"Why haven't you signed the divorce papers?" He spat back then wiped his lips regretfully.

The line was suddenly silent except for the soft breathing of the woman on the other end.

"Teddy, sign the damn papers."

"You haven't called me that in months."

A crimson red blossomed on his cheeks, "I-- I know."

"I'm surprised you still remember my name."

"Oh Theodora, don't get smart with me!"

"I'm just saying!"

"Just stop it, alright."

"Okay..."

They enjoyed a comfortable silence until she broke it "So--"

"No." he found himself picking at a chip on his wooden desk.

"Sweetheart..."

Tears stung in his eyes as he continued to pick at the spot and held the phone to his ear. He didn't want to hang up but he couldn't bear another second. "Teddy, please."

"What happened.. it's not your fault. We can still be a family. I can turn the nursery into a room for a dog." She chuckled half-heartedly and sniffled.

Martin wiped a fallen tear from his eye "A dog isn't gonna fix this."

"I know but it's not your fault."

"Then how do you explain it? If I didn't take that case, you wouldn't have lost the baby," He shrunk back at his outburst. Hearing the words bounce off the walls made it real again and he felt himself start to crack.

"Martin," she sniffled again and went silent "the doctor said it was only a matter of time."

"Ted-- Theodora, I can't do this. I don't want to put you in danger and you can't be in a stressful environment. That's all this job is and as much as I love you, I can't leave it."

"I don't want you to."

"... just sign the papers, please."

He moved his hand an inch away from his face then brought the phone back to his lips. "I love you. Truly, I do." As his lips stringed together more to say, the sentence fell apart so he hung up the phone. Whatever he felt for his soon-to-be ex-wife, he pushed it deep down to focus on his work.

"Agnes, I don't want to hear from her unless it's an emergency! You got it?"

"I understand."

He fished something out of his shirt pocket then looked at the golden ring before putting it in his desk drawer.

Flo led MJ towards her surprise with his hands over her eyes.

"Flo, what is this?" She laughed with each slow step forward "Why does it smell like..."

"Surprise!" He lifted his hands and she saw the dinner that was spread out on the table.

"I remember one day you said 'when I make it big I want a big boss dinner with lobster and potatoes' so..."

He laughed at his poor impression of her as he gestured to the exquisite dinner he made for her and gauged her reaction. She was silent and unmoving until finally, she turned around and hugged him tightly. The impact nearly threw him off his balance. He grabbed onto a nearby chair to steady himself then hugged her back and smiled.

"Thank you," she muttered against him.

"You deserve it."

She let go of him and recomposed herself "Now, let's eat!"

The two had already shared more than a few laughs as time went by.

"So now that you're a big shot, are you going to forget about me?" Flo teased as he ate a bread roll.

"No!" Bea shook her head "You're one of the few people who believed in me. Besides, who else is going to visit my office."

"Is it still bring your own box to sit on?"

"Actually, I have two chairs now." She grinned and Flo's brows jumped up.

"Did they give you an office?!"

She nodded as she ate some more of her lobster.

"Holy-- that's amazing!" Flo smiled "Does it have those big glass windows?!"

She laughed as she went on to explain her recent promotion at work and what her new life was starting to look like.

As the night progressed, you were playing a game of cards with Nicky and losing horribly.

"Ah, damn!" You threw down your hand after seeing Nicky's winning one.

"Let me give you some tips or something. I'm starting to feel bad."

"Be honest, you're actually loving this right now."

He threw his hands up while you continued your banter. It would've carried on but the phone rang and Nicky offered to get it.

"Yeah, give me a chance to prepare for a rematch."

"You do that!" He teased.

The smile he had lingered on his face as he picked up the phone, "Hello? Who's this?"

"It's Martin."

Nicky's smile started to drop "What's going on?"

"They found a body in New York. It might be Maurizio. They're doing the testing now. I just thought I should let you know."

He nodded, unsure of what to say next.

"If this is it, then we got Floyd. I talked to some people and Maurizio may not be the only one."

"What?"

"You ever heard of Umberto Gavassi?"

A sudden pit had formed in Nicky's stomach "Yeah, I know who he is."

"Y'know if he's still alive?"

"I have no idea. I tried to forget about New York and everything with it. We see how that turned out."

"Hm.. my work's just getting started over here but things are looking up for us."

"Did you get in touch with his mother?"

Martin went quiet for a moment "I'm waiting until it's confirmed. I don't want to waste her time if it's not him."

"Right..." Nicky glanced at the floor then back to the distant room you were in.

"I'll call you when I know the results."

"Okay."

Martin and Nicky hung up at the same time. Both were thankful for the end of the conversation but unwilling to know the truth. He walked back into the room with a solemn step. You rearranged the cards in your hand "Alright, I'm ready this time. I laid everything out."

You glanced up at him and the light in your eyes dimmed. "What happened?"

"That was Martin." Nicky sat on the couch near where you sat on the floor. Where you two were happily playing cards moments ago.

"They found a body in New York and it may be Maurizio's. They're testing it now to see." He looked right past you.

"Hey," you scooted over in front of him and rested your hands on his legs. "Nicky?" you crossed your arms over his thighs and rested your head there. "We'll wait then, okay?"

He focused on you, as if he were coming back from some dark place he was visiting in his mind. He nodded and caressed your cheek. You took his hand in yours and joined him on the couch. Stella traipsed down the stairs and sat at your feet. He bent down to pet her and relished in the comfort he had between you both.

The phone rang for a milisecond and Martin picked it up "Hello."

"Martin Alonso?"

"Yes."

"It's been confirmed. It's Maurizio Botticelli."

Martin hung his head as his heart dropped to his stomach.

"You still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here." Martin said with his eyes still shut as if he were silently praying.

"We'll fax the papers and everything over to you. One of our staff is on a plane now for the court case. We're also contacting the family."

"Okay, thank you. I-" he cleared his throat "I may have another location for you to dig. I'm getting a lead now."

The person on the other end sighed "Okay, we'll be here."

Martin hung up. He was unmoving, like some creature frozen in ice. After a moment, he found the words although he'd rather not speak. "It was him, Maurizio."

Agnes solemnly nodded while her boss rubbed at his face.

"Let's give the family some time to process. I can take care of the rest of this, just go home for today."

"But sir--"

Martin waved his hand. His tall frame walked around the desk "Get a good night's rest. Forget about this case for a few hours, if you can."

Agnes stared at him for a moment then decided to follow instruction. She stood by the door "You do the same."

Martin found himself frowning and locked eyes with her. His mouth tried to form a response but he nodded instead.

You jumped up at the sound of the phone ringing yet Nicky beat you to it. Despite how close you were, you couldn't make out the words. It wasn't until you saw the color drain from his face that you knew. It was Maurizio, the teenager. The boy who's peach fuzz had barely grown in before his life was snatched from him.

Your husband's eyes were cast down at your floors. His words were low, a mere whisper "It's him."

Without thinking, your hand found itself rubbing his shoulder. Before you could speak to offer any comfort, he spoke again.

"I should tell Chris and Rocky." He picked up the phone and dialed the number.

"Nicky, do you need a minute--"

"For what?" He glanced back at you while holding the phone to his ear.

You blinked at the obvious answer "To process this."

He only shook his head "There's nothing to process."

The corners of your mouth turned down at how he slightly mocked you, whether he knew it or not. Your hand shrunk back to your side. There was nothing else to talk about. He was already talking to the other person on the line. His voice grew more concerned by the second.

"What do you mean he's not there? Where is he?!"

Your fingers reached for him and he brushed his own hand against them but didn't fully take them in his. He spoke another word then hung up and picked up the phone again to make another call.

You were a shadow standing next to him. The hallway seemed to shrink with each second he spent with his back slightly faced to you. Every now and then he'd turn to his side, allowing you to see his pinched brow and bitten lip.

"Do you need anything?" Your voice was barely audible but he heard you nonetheless.

"No, I just need to make this call."

The half hearted smile he gave you provided little comfort. You returned a sympathetic one then walked off, unsure of what to do while you waited for him.

A few minutes later, he joined you in the living room but he stood nearby rather than sit beside you on the couch. All it took was a glance. The way his hand sat in his pocket, the small twist in his lip, his pinched brow and the far off look in his eye.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"I'm fine."

Your lips tucked in on themself to prevent you from saying anything else. Those two words made you retreat into the farthest corner of yourself. You, his heart of hearts, could not fix this. You could not do anything and furthermore, he didn't want you to. It felt like you could choke on your heart in that moment but you simply said "Okay."

The silence crept in and made itself at home in your company. Every time you sought to challenge it, it felt.. wrong. You went back and forth in your mind on what to say, how to say it, if you should say it. It wasn't until you felt the heat on your skin, that you realized you'd been turning your wedding ring round and round on your finger. Nicky noticed it, then approached you.

"Don't worry about it," he kissed the top of your head then disappeared into the kitchen.

That small gesture made tears gather in the corners of your eyes.

Nicky busied his hands with whatever he could find in the kitchen. He was cooking. What? He couldn't say since his body was on autopilot. Funnily enough, he remembers when his mom would do the same thing. After her umpteenth spat with his father, she'd often find refuge in the kitchen. Mumbling incoherently to herself in her mother tongue, only to be humming a happy tone moments later.

"Why do you do that?"

"To remember the good times."

He rubbed the seasoning over the meat he'd been working on. Images of Maurizio seeped into his mind. As he continued to work with the meat, he tried not to cringe at the sight of the blood. It was a soft pink like a cherry blossom or a bow on a baby's head. Maurizio's had to be red. An unforgiving crimson splattered across concrete or marble like a nosebleed or busted berry. His hands caressed the meat once last time, unlike Maurizio's mom who didn't get the chance to hold her son one last time. Tears filled Nicky's eyes as he put the meat into the oven.

The doorbell rang and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He heard you shout something but he wasn't entirely sure what it was since he was miles away. "What'd you say?" He shouted back as he walked to the sink to wash his hands. Bits of meat fell off his hands and down the drain. Soft pink, crimson red, death and decay.

His hands were still wet when he shouted "I'll be right there!"

He ran up the stairs to the bathroom where he shut the door behind him and suppressed a silent sob for Maurizio and his own lost youth.

The doorbell rang and you were oddly thankful for the unexpected guests. "I'll get it!"

You were glad that Nicky was busy cooking but also wished he would talk to you. Yet, you knew not to push no matter how loud everything in you was screaming.

A smile spread across your face as you opened the door to see Chris and Rocky. "Hey, you two. Come on in!"

Chris gave you a small smile then tipped his hat before taking it off. Rocky kissed your cheek as he enetered your home. Stella greeted them both and they gave her customary scratches.

"Sorry Stella, I'm afraid I came to see your parents and not you this time." Rocky patted her head.

Chris looked around the house "Where's Nicky?"

"Upstairs, I think." You shut the door behind you and asked the obvious question "So you heard?"

They both nodded solemnly.

"Damn shame," Chris said.

"I was hoping it wasn't true." Rocky added.

"I just hope this gets Floyd for good and we can all rest now."

"Especially his family... poor kid." Rocky shook his head.

The room went silent as you all stood around.

"I'm gonna go look for Nicky. I'll be right back." Chris headed up the stairs leaving you and Rocky.

Rocky noticed the savory aroma filling the air "Oh, what are you cooking?"

You waved your hands "Oh, that's Nicky's doing. Not mine."

Rocky nodded and followed the smell to answer his own question. You trailed behind him.

"Actually, can I talk to you about something?"

"Sure thing." He poked his head in the oven to see what Nicky had been up to.

"Nicky kind of shut down after he got the call, and understandably so, but what do I do? I asked him if I could do anything but he said he was fine. He's clearly not but I don't want to push him."

Rocky closed the oven and looked at you with wise, tired eyes "So don't push him."

"But he's not okay."

"Obviously not but he doesn't want to talk about it." Rocky leaned against the counter "Just give him time. This is heavy stuff, kid and all he wants is to be with you, but it seems like everything in the world is pulling him back."

Your brows pinched as you marinated on his words of wisdom "Thanks. I didn't think of it that way."

"When he's ready, he'll talk to you." He patted your shoulder "Okay?"

You nodded and Rocky looked past you at the two men descending the stairs.

"I'm looking forward to this meal, Nicky. It's hard to find a taste of the motherland in this place."

Nicky gave him a half-hearted smile "I hope it tastes as good as you make it sound."

There was soft talk of this and that while the news of Maurizio's confirmed death hung over everyone's head like a cloud. Every now and then, your eyes darted to your husband and you noticed how his food looked untouched. His glass was half full and the only time he sipped from it was when someone started to talk to him. As if the wine would silence him forever so he wouldn't have to utter a word.

His hazel eyes were currently fixated on the oak table. Chris had just asked him a question.

"No, no new projects now. There's just too much going on."

"I know that. I asked if you had any ideas for an upcoming project."

"Oh," Nicky wiped his brow and smiled softly "no, I'm afraid not."

"I'm sure we'll have plenty of ideas after everything settles down." You chimed in.

Chris nodded his head "Y'know, I wouldn't blame you two if you took a break from the business."

"You deserve it." Rocky added before polishing off his glass.

The corner of your lip turned up in a suppressed smile. A knot had formed in your stomach. It didn't feel right to talk of vacations when you'd found out hours ago a teenager was murdered. "We'll see," is all you said.

The rest of the dinner was quiet which was unusual. Chris and Rocky took their leave but not before giving you and Nicky tight hugs. Then just like that, you were left alone with Nicky who said he was fine but obviously wasn't. Your hands were drying off the plate he'd just passed to you when he said "I'm going to bed early."

Your throat tensed and you tried to say "Okay," like you normally would but it sounded forced. It sounded candied with a sour center. He dried off his hands and kissed your temple then walked upstairs to your shared bedroom. When you were alone, you sighed and studied your reflection in the window.

About ten minutes later, you walked upstairs. When you made it into your bedroom, it looked like Nicky had already fell fast asleep. The room was a dark, icy blue. His mishapen figured was buried under the comforter with Stella at his side. You didn't feel steam from the bathroom nearby so he must've changed straight into his pajamas and climbed into bed.

The knot traveled from your stomach to your throat. It only multiplied with each step forward and it felt like a six ton weight when you sank into bed.

"Nicky, are you sleeping?"

"No."

You turned to face his back and tried to find your words but it didn't matter because he spoke for you.

"I really don't want to do this. Not right now."

You took a deep breath and exhaled softly. You patted the space between you then got up to get ready for bed.

It seemed like you were fighting sleep that night. Meanwhile, that was all Martin could think about. He and Agnes caught a red-eye to New York for several reasons. The first being to speak to the family of the bereaved. Seeing the mother's face twist when she heard the news was something he'd never forget. He remembered the sister being still as stone, a single tear falling from her eye. They interviewed them and thought they wouldn't get much except they were wrong. The sister had a small booklet of notes she gathered on Floyd's crew before he brother's untimely death. It was that small stack of yellowed, tattered pages that got them where they were now, looking into the trunk of Umberto Gavazzi's car. If you tore away the fabric, you saw a stash of keepsakes. The most noticeable being Maurizio's string bracelet which matched his sister's. Martin only saw it moments ago so when he noticed the red string, he felt sick.

"Sir," Agnes tapped Martin's arm.

"What?" He snapped back to the present.

"It's Cliff's baseball card." She pointed to the faded card peeking out behind Maurizio's bracelet among other keepsakes.

Martin and his assistant had made the most of their time in New York by interviewing Cliff Wallace's family as well. His father told a brief anectdote about how his son carried a baseball card with him everywhere. He got it for his eighth birthday and claimed it was good luck.

Martin dropped the fabric so the items were covered again. He approached one of the officers standing nearby. He locked eyes with Umberto himself who only stood a few feet away with an officer watching him like a guard dog.

"This man is under arrest for the murder of two children and God knows who else. Test everything in the trunk and send me the results as soon as you get them."

The officer nodded and looked back at his coworker and simply nodded. The man read Umberto Gavazzi his rights and clasped the metal bracelets around his wrists.

Author's Note: Martin may be my new favorite character. How do we feel about him? Fun fact, 'Death & Decay' was actually a perfume sold at my old job - not my favorite though lol.

< Previous Chapter | Next Chapter >

#nicky valentino vendetta #nicky valentino fictif #fictif nicky valentino #fictif nicky #nicky valentino #fictif #fictif nix hydra #nicky tatw #fictif tatw #fictif two against the world #madebyjade

8 notes · View notes