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Murder for Dummies
So me being a Luke Booys enthusiast, decided to look for his works besides The Magnus Archives and found out he's part of the Casual Violence team. He's in a lot of their videos but recently they did this show on YouTube where he plays a character and it was great so I thought I'd share it here. Also just a general recommendation <3
#tma#tma podcast#the magnus archives#luke booys#michael shelley#michael distortion#casual violence#murder for dummies
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Canon
Michael Shelley's hair puffs up a little like a ghibli movie when he's angry
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People in Shibuya rn:
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I could stare at his eyes forever
#alucard#hellsing alucard#hellsing ultimate#hellsing#anime#manga#vampire#eyes#majestic#ethereal#glorious#beautiful eyes#spooky old man with stunning eyes#i'm whipped
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Chapter 2 here!
Scarlet Sky
[A recollection of the events preceding Spike Spiegel's "death" by Theo V. Morgenstern in the Red Dragon crime syndicate.
Set in pre-canon period where Spike avails himself of some time to spend with a friend away from the crimes of every day in Tharsis, Mars.]
Chapter - 1. One Last Drink
Throughout Tharsis, the one business that profited the most was anything open after 8 in the evening. The Conan was one such business, a rustic bar nestled between other small diners, cafes and homes. It didn't have much of a presence, blending into the street that held it, yet at the same time, it looked significantly different from the rest.
Compared to other, more flashy and bustling dwellings, it looked like a place running for its money but they managed either way because there was no place that served alcohol in this part of Mars that could go out of business, even when it looked like it was snatched right out of a century-old movie.
In spite of its eccentricities, or rather, because of them, Theo found herself sitting at one of the stools with a glass of Pomegranate juice, listening to music on her headset. It had been an hour since she walked in, so she would come to know when she glanced at her watch for the nth time. As if on cue of her adjusting her sleeve over the watch again, the doorbell tingled, bringing a cold breeze in the warm haven.
The familiar tapping of a pair of large boots soon followed. She didn't need to look back to make sure they made their way to her.
"Hey." The usual greeting. He strode around the rounded corner of the counter to the stool adjacent to hers.
"Took you long enough."
He exhaled as he sat down. There were other seats available to her left, it was a tranquil evening after all. But they naturally gravitated to the corner, sitting on the edge of each side of the counter.
"I was busy."
She didn't push it, this was the routine after all. She was always the one to arrive first. Their seating was also a result of her choice to sit at a secluded side instead of the centre of the counter which was more popular. He would always be late enough for someone to come and occupy the seats beside her, leaving only the seats to the side where the bartender's attention only sometimes went. That side was always empty though, leaving the seat to her right always available and even on days like this, where her left was free, he still preferred to sit to her right. She didn't mind it either as it was easier to see each other's faces this way, easier to talk.
"Juice?" he asked, loosening his tie after unbuttoning his jacket. "Don't tell me you're planning to stay sober."
She set the glass down. "No, I ordered it 'cause I didn't know how long you'd be. I am trying to be mindful though. I have a pretty big job tomorrow, can't afford to get plastered."
"Hmm." He pulled a cigarette out of his pack and held it between his lips as he searched for his lighter. She watched it quite mindlessly, attention still half occupied by the song playing in her ears. "Where did I put my lighter…?" he mumbled as he patted all his pockets.
She clicked her tongue before taking her lighter case out— a small, textured black cuboid that clicked open a push at its opening. Encased in red velvet cushioning was a gold-plated lighter which she lit in front of him.
"You seem out of it. Had a rough job?"
"Cut me some slack, will ya?" he said as he leaned forward, holding the cigarette between two fingers to the flame.
His cheeks hollowed breathing in the smoke, the circular end raging a bright orange. It was a little mesmerising, the fire— or what remained of it on the tip of his cigarette when she turned the lighter off. Shame she missed the reflection of the flame in his part-lidded eyes before he moved away.
"Want one?" He extended the pack of tobacco, to which she merely shook her head and put the lighter back in its case.
"You never smoke but carry a lighter all the time," he huffed, earning a light shrug from her as she stuffed the case in her pocket.
"What would you do if I didn't?"
A dry chuckle left him. "Fair."
He was silent for a moment, eyeing her headset.
"What're you listening to?"
"Hm?" She looked at him. "Just an old song from Earth. Wanna listen?" She took one of the earbuds out and handed it to him.
He had to move closer again, owing to her persistent use of wired headsets instead of wireless ones like most people in this day and age. The song was already past its first chorus and halfway through the second one, slowly ascending to its finale.
Theo guessed it wasn't out of the ordinary that she felt a little more conscious of the song now that there was someone else who was listening to it too. Perhaps because it, in a way, represented her musical tastes to him, for the first time nonetheless. She wasn't one to do that with a lot of people.
Spike stayed mindful of the smoke emanating from his cigarette, making sure he wasn't blowing it right into her face. There was little need for words as the lyrics sufficed to fill the silence for now. He continued smoking and she continued drinking her juice and maybe just a little too early, the song ended. He handed back her earplug, leaning into the backrest of his seat.
"What do you wanna drink?"
The bartender had shifted towards them. She thought for a moment as she put away the headset, leaving her ears open to the ambience of the bar.
"How about a Whisky Mac?"
"Always sticking with the classics. Two Whisky Macs," he ordered.
"Coming right up," the bartender said with a knowing smile on his wrinkled face.
Theo pillared her arms on the counter and rested her chin on intertwined fingers, watching the seasoned hands of the bartender as they prepared two glasses of the cocktail while a plume of smoke hazed her sight.
"So, how's work been going for you?" Spike asked.
She inhaled, feeling a sudden exhaustion weighing down on her at the mention of work.
"Same old, same old. Collecting, coercing…" Her voice trailed, eyes losing their focus. It didn't matter. He wasn't too focused either as he put out his cigarette on the ashtray the bartender habitually put there each time he sensed they would stroll in.
"You said you had a big job tomorrow. What's that about?"
"We're closing a pretty big deal tomorrow. I'm representing our side." She leaned back as the bartender set their drinks in front of them.
He let out an impressed noise.
"Aren't you a whiz?"
Despite the nature of his words and the faint smile on his lips, there was a hint of something else in his demeanour that she couldn't quite ignore. He didn't seem uneasy. Maybe he was just tired. Either way, she brushed it off for now.
She tilted her head, acknowledging the compliment before he raised his glass.
"Toast to what?"
She mused for a moment. They didn't toast normally but sometimes, he just was in the mood for that sort of stuff.
"To whatever significance we think this moment holds three or four years in the future."
She said it quite simply as she raised her glass as well, no deeper meaning embellished into it, on her side at least.
He huffed yet again. "Ain't that poetic?"
With a light push forward, they clinked their glasses before taking their first sips at the same time. The faint thud from the glasses being set on the wood was lost in the beginnings of a song being played on the record player. That was late too. Usually, the music would start around the same time the bar opened but it had been long since then.
Theo jerked her arms in front of her to pull the jacket sleeves up a bit before resting her wrists on the counter, getting more comfortable as she picked up the ice-cold glass again.
"New watch?" His voice cut through the vague ghost of 'silence' they had amid the music-filled air.
He pointed to her wrist with a flick of his chin and she looked down at it.
"Oh, yeah," she lifted her hand and pulled the sleeve away a little more to see the dial fully.
"I got it a couple of weeks ago." She extended it towards him.
He pulled her hand closer to look at the watch better in the dim light. A low hum reverberated through his chest as his thumb brushed over the shiny, sleek glass; fingers feeling the black, full-grain leather strap.
"Neat." He let go and she retracted her hand.
"Cost me a pretty penny."
"M'yeah, looks like it."
They took their sips for a pause before there was more to say.
"So, how about you? I haven't heard from you in a while and you suddenly invite me for a drink."
"Yeah, I've been busy." He pulled out another cigarette. "But you know it has been a while since we met up, so."
He didn't thank her as she lit his cigarette again— he hardly ever did. He hardly ever needed to.
"That's strangely sentimental."
He laughed; a wry, throaty kind of laugh, the kind that suggested that he wasn't expecting to laugh, not now, not for the rest of the evening.
"Is it really that odd?"
She placed the lighter case on the counter and left it there, sure of the probability that he was going to need it again.
"Hm, I don't know, maybe."
There was a pause, Theo leaned all the way back in her seat, stretching her legs, dark eyes carrying thought.
"They say people who know they're about to die soon suddenly start acting all nice," she commented.
He laughed yet again, but nothing like before. He laughed, a genuine, light-hearted, out-loud laugh that left him with a wide, toothy grin plastered on his face.
"You're on a roll today, aren't you?"
She shrugged. "Aren't I always?"
He shook his head, taking a drag and sip.
"Well, spare me for wanting a drink with a friend."
"Alright." She swirled the liquid around before a sip. "I haven't been here since our last time either."
"Your partner doesn't take you out?"
She shook her head. "Roderick is too uptight for drinking." She paused. "Then again, he'd say the same about me."
Spike leaned forward, placing his elbow on the counter and resting his cheek in his hand. "Simply can't enjoy a drink without me, can you?"
Theo rolled her eyes. "You flatter yourself."
"It's a matter of admitting. I admit that a drink just doesn't taste the same without a good pal beside you." He made his appeal by moving his cigarette-holding hand around.
She couldn't help the tiny smile. "Okay. It doesn't taste the same without you. Happy?"
He nodded and leaned away again, giving his back a rest.
Another stretch of wordlessness settled between the two Red Dragon members. The alcohol drowned the light chatter around them, the clink and clatter of glasses and plates an ornament to the subdued jazz.
Theo's eyes watched; the golden reflections of the old-style lamps in the rocks glasses atop polished dark wood, the spherical ice bobbing up and down with each movement of the lemony, gingery cocktail, the long, slender fingers resting their tips on the wide rim, the wisps of smoke oozing out of the rolled paper held between said fingers. Quite commonplace for her. She always was focused on little things, things that most would say didn't matter.
What mattered, truly, was what she never looked at; the solemness in the eyes of her drinking buddy as they were lost somewhere ahead. He put the cigarette out in the ashtray, crushing it in a drawn-out, ruminative manner. His fingers, eager to stay occupied, opted to play with the slice of lemon wedged on the rim of his glass.
"You know, I wanted to get drunk tonight," he said without looking up.
She did raise her gaze to his face this time.
"Be my guest. Someone's gonna have to get you home. I'll do you the favour."
He stayed quiet.
Interrupting the slow symphony that the bar had established, a rumble was heard outside.
She glanced at the door. "Looks like it's going to rain."
"I hope it does."
She frowned ever so slightly before turning to him again. He hadn't looked up for a second, eyes glued to the glass. She would have to be stupid to not notice the dejection in his eyes now that she was seeing them. For a second, she didn't know what to say, however uncharacteristic that was. Although, that seemed to be a running theme whenever it came to Spike. But eventually, the intrinsic nature of analysing and formulating kicked in as was common in her more professional conversations.
"Is there something you want to say?"
Something told her his raising the glass to his mouth was an attempt to bail, even just for a second before putting it back down with a little smack of his lips. He gulped thickly before taking a deep breath and holding it in his chest like the weight he couldn't seem to let go of.
"I'm leaving." For a second, she couldn't tell if she even heard him, his voice nothing more than an exhale.
And for a second, time seemed to halt in its merciless stride, the music and prattle fading to absolute nothingness. Complete, stark, deafening absence of sound. She didn't know how long she sat there, still as a statue, staring at him agape. Despite the vagueness, she knew what he meant.
The slow ascension of the pattering of rain outside was what brought her back to reality. In an unwitting imitation, she inhaled deeply.
"That's what this was about…" she murmured, averting her gaze from him to glance at the ceiling to collect her thoughts.
And yet again, she was left scrambling for something to say. The difference this time was that there was so much to say, so many questions. Yet she couldn't bring herself to ask any of them. It didn't matter, after all— how? why? when?— he wouldn't answer. Even if he was willing to answer, there was no point in knowing. What mattered was that he was leaving the Syndicate.
Regardless, she shuffled in her seat, unsure what was the right thing to reply with. He was quiet too. He probably wasn't expecting anything from her. That was probably why he told her in the first place; because she rarely ever asked questions.
"Well…" she took another deep breath and opened her mouth just a second before speaking, "All the best for that."
Any other time, she would have slapped herself for something so generic but in the moment, there was nothing else she could think of. He nodded rather mindlessly, forcing a tiny whisper of a smile as he raised his eyes to meet her again.
"Another round?" he asked, making her realise both of their glasses were empty now.
She nodded and the bartender was at it again after an intimation. They didn't toast that round. Or any that followed for that matter. Not that things had soured or anything. It just didn't cross their minds. Perhaps it was better that way, sticking to the regular rather than trying to turn it into something special.
The night advanced, full of light discourse that got increasingly muddled with alcohol— more on Spike's side than Theo's. They talked for hours as the bar got emptier over time, the storm on the outside barely anything to consider. It served as another reason for Spike to keep drinking, and that, he did.
Before either of them knew it, it was already well past 3 AM. The closing hour was still a while away but Theo decided they had had enough to drink. She paid for both of them before dragging an absolutely hammered Spike out. She had him draped over her shoulders as they staggered out the doors and waited for a taxi.
He kept mumbling incoherent nothings as she held him up, the chill night air causing her hair to stand on end. Still, it was a scene she would likely never forget; a moment of calm and strange allure. The array of neon signs reflected on the damp concrete, the faint clouds that lingered in front of them with each breath, and the much-needed warmth that came without asking— all forever etched themselves into her memory. Perhaps because this could turn out to be their last drink together for a long, long time until someday, maybe, by chance, they'd stumble upon each other again.
Spike fell asleep in the backseat of the taxi, or so she thought until she instinctively turned to check on him, only to find him fighting his slumber, watching the flurry of lights whizzing past the window. Slumped as he was, he was awake, catching every glimpse of the familiar streets of Tharsis that he could, looking as if they would disappear if he didn't capture them in his eyes.
She was a little disappointed when the car stopped in front of his apartment. Too soon. But she knew no matter how long it took, it would always be too soon. She got him up to his flat where he fumbled for the key, muttering something the whole time.
She pushed past the door and stumbled into his bedroom, with remarkable ease in the dark, no less. She had been there before, though only a few times— times just like this when he'd get drunk to a stupor and she stayed just sober enough to get him home. Yet that was enough for her to know his home space like the back of her hand.
"Thanks a bunch," he slurred, "You're a real one."
He had the mind to shrug off his trench coat and jacket before dropping on the bed with a thud. He kicked his boots off afterwards. She pulled his blanket over him, making him melt into the mattress.
"Mmm… I'll miss you when I'm gone…"
She stilled for a moment, gazing at his drowsy face.
"…I'll miss you too." She paused, partly losing her focus behind the haze of thoughts and alcohol. "How will I ever enjoy a drink again?"
He wasn't listening, of course. The steady rise and fall of his chest and the peace that settled on his features alluded to it. She sighed before standing up straight. Each time she would witness this sight, each time she would be left surprised. Spike was a revered member of the Syndicate, the strongest perhaps but like this, stuffed in his bed with a light flush on his cheeks, sleeping like a baby, he was just another man.
Maybe this was what she had failed to see all along— the man he was deep down, the man Julia saw in him. He was lucky for that. If not her, he at least had Julia to see him for who he truly was, to love him. He deserved that, however hard it was for them to keep loving each other.
She walked across the room, holding the doorknob before she turned to take one last look at his sleeping form.
"Good night, old sport."
She closed the door, unaware of the subsequence that three days from then, she would receive the news of his death.
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Here it is!
#spike spiegel x reader#spike spiegel x oc#spike spiegel#cowboy bebop#anime#fanfiction#scarlet sky#writeblr#writing
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Scarlet Sky
Chapter - 2. The Red Dragon
It was when Theo was in her late teenage that she joined the Red Dragon Syndicate. Before that, she was involved in all sorts of petty business on the streets of Tharsis but had made enough of a name for herself to be recognised by the Syndicate. Of course, she was nothing but a tiny extension of the large, sprawling arms of the Syndicate that reached all corners of the Solar system; still, simply being in the Syndicate gave all its members, even the relatively insignificant pawns, some strong footing among the other gangs around— a sort of distinguished brand.
She didn't quite recall how it all happened but the clearest memory in her mind was that of waiting outside the door of a building. It was raining and she had found cover under the overhang above the door. She was drenched from head to toe, as was the boy standing next to her.
Tall and thin, he seemed to be around her age. His dark hair, which she would later find out to be curly and fuzzy, was slicked down his forehead and the back of his neck, constantly dripping water on his nose. He didn't seem bothered by it as he leaned on the wall, casually tapping his feet and fidgeting with his hands. His clothes were much like her own, dark and loose-fitting.
There was not a word spoken between them for a long time, just the undisturbed thrum of the rain and the grumble of clouds until eventually, he asked for the time. That led to them having a short exchange introducing each other and having some small talk.
Looking back, she felt as though Spike was a completely different person at the time, much closer in character to her, owing to their similar lives prior. That all changed over the course of their stay in the Syndicate. Spike was paired up with Vicious, another newly joined member and they were both taken in by a man named Mao Yenrai. Theo on the other hand, was subordinate to Li Suming, a poised and stern lady.
Despite working under different people, they still saw each other frequently due to them being fresh members. They didn't talk much but stuck around each other anyway, in whatever free time they found between their 'training'. Growing out of the wings of their superiors though, they grew more apart. Their work varied and hardly overlapped.
But on some very rare occasions, they did work together.
The car noiselessly came to a halt beside the pavement, eliciting a nasal sigh from Roderick as Theo unlocked the doors. He stepped out a little less patiently than his partner, not out of sheer impatience but because of his rigid habit of wanting to get things done as quickly as possible. A habit Theo had as well but had grown a little more lax with. She looked on at the building as she shut the car door. There were other men from the Syndicate there already, waiting for her and her partner, scattered about near the door.
Some of them greeted her as she approached the front. "They're in?" She asked one of them. "Yes, they're in." He confirmed. She hummed in response as she sized the building again. The business would take place on the third floor as she was informed. Though the windows facing the street were large enough, nothing could be seen from there. Still, there was every need for vigilance since it was daytime and the Syndicate's activities were best suited for night. Not that they would ever get in any trouble, just not making a whole lot of noise was good for everyone.
This particular situation, however, Theo thought, would surely make noise. Another car stopped, right in front of the door. 'Discretion out the window.' The thought ran through her mind as she stood still with her head up and hands stuffed in her pockets. The car door shut closed with a thud and his voice cut through the front porch before his feet could.
"Hey."
She turned as he climbed the stairs. "Hey."
"Nice suit," he said, joining her.
"Thanks." She looked down at it as she held the lapels of her overcoat and gave it a fixing tug at the front. "You're alone?" she asked, noticing no one else stepping out of his car.
"I alone am enough," he said, lighting up a cigarette.
She didn't argue but gave him a blank stare which he chose to ignore.
"So, where's your partner, uh… what was her name, Alexis?"
She took a moment to reply, face unconsciously forming a slightly confused frown.
"Did you forget?" There was a pause. "She's dead."
He raised his brows, searching through the months of memories between the last time they met. "Oh, that's… yeah, that's right. My bad." He took a long drag from his cigarette.
"This is my new partner." She gestured towards Roderick and the man stepped forward.
"Roderick Miller. Nice to meet you." He extended his hand to Spike.
"Spike Spiegel." He shook his hand before resuming its position back to his cigarette.
"Well, it's time we go in. They've been waiting long enough," Theo said turning to the door.
Her partner and friend acknowledged and they made their way in. The job was pretty simple, they were supposed to have a meeting with a man, a representative of another similar organisation that had been on the wrong footing with the Red Dragon for a while recently, and a young woman who was a relative of the head of the organisation. The meeting was merely a facade, a way to lure two of the important members of the organisation in order to gain leverage.
The man was destined for death and the daughter or niece of the head, to be taken hostage. Of course, a rival organisation that had been bold enough to make brazen threats to the Reg Dragon wouldn't just come without insurance and that was where Spike came in. Being the enforcer of the Syndicate, the job of taking care of their security was his, most of which was already taken care of.
It was stupidly easy to buy off the guards they had spread all around the building. All that was left to deal with was the people in the lounge on the third floor. The lift chimed as it opened on the third floor and the agents of the Red Dragon walked down the corridor in a prepared stride.
"What room will you be taking her to?" Spike asked.
"Fifth room from the right down the hallway." He nodded in response.
They stopped before the large door leading to the lounge.
"After you're done, I'd prefer if I were left alone."
She looked up to him; that was unexpected, especially after each step of the way was planned and all.
"They must have at least 10 to 15 people in there," she said in an almost cautionary tone.
"Yeah, I know. I'd still prefer to do it alone. Having all of them with me will just be a distraction." He gestured tactfully to the group of gunmen behind himself.
"Alright. As you wish."
He gave a satisfactory nod.
"Oh, and," he added, "drinks after?"
She placed her hand on the door angle.
"Sure."
The door opened to a spacious lounge, a full-length window along one side while the opposite held a classy bar (without a barkeep at present), and seating close by the window, which was sealed off for now. Distributed across the room were suited men carrying guns, and the day's dealers sat at the sofa facing the door. They didn't seem delighted with their rival emissaries.
Theo seemed to take the lead naturally, walking in the front and sitting across the target followed by Spike and Roderick on her side. A few words of disinclined formality were shared before getting down to business. They were made a deal, to sign a contract handing over one of their armoury units to the Red Dragon in exchange for the latter overlooking the animosity. Needless to say, they did not accept and a few threats had to be made.
The man, whatever his name was, held a freshly pale face as his wide eyes stared between the girl's forehead and the barrel of Roderick's gun. A cacophony of clicks echoed through the hall and a dozen guns were pointing at Roderick in turn, one or two of the rest focused on Spike and Theo.
"Choose wisely." Theo leaned forward while Spike stayed still, relaxed even, with his legs crossed and arms resting on the backrest of the sofa. "The armoury or the girl."
Everyone knew where the priorities lay and after less than a minute of thinking, the man picked up the pen that was placed in front of him and signed the contract. With a satisfied tap of her foot, she got up and wordlessly signalled Spike with a look, although he didn't need to be told anything.
"Right. Now that that's done, we'll have you come with us," she spoke to the young woman who had fixed her with a glare for who knows how long.
"What for?" the man questioned, slight panic slipping through the attempt to hide it.
No more words were spoken besides the man's questions as the woman was forced to stand and start walking under the steady imposition of the gun. Roderick led her out and Theo followed with all their own gunmen in tow as Spike had asked, leaving him alone with the rival gang. She closed the door behind herself and walked to the room as promised.
All there was to do now was to wait.
"You played me!" the young woman hissed at Theo whose attention, divided until the moment, turned to her.
"I'm sorry." The comment was hollow, or at least her voice was. And maybe so were her eyes, or maybe that's how they appeared.
They had sat the girl down and arranged a chair for Theo as well but she stayed standing. There was no need for any kind of worry knowing it was Spike dealing with the case but still, despite all the stories she heard about his commendable, unmatched work in the Syndicate, she wasn't used to actually being there while he did it.
Muffled gunshots served to soothe the gash the silence had left but she grew uneasy either way, tapping her foot away, staring out one of the windows. She couldn't tell how many minutes passed before she decided she had to go and check on him. The gunshots continued growing louder until she reached the door and there was a loud bang on the other side.
She threw the door open to find the hall in an expected disarray. The metal shutters covering the windows were dented, the lights blown off, throwing the hall into darkness, and the furniture was littered with holes. She tried not to mind the blood splattered practically all over the place or the bodies lying about and made her way through it all to the bar. Sure enough, Spike had taken cover behind it.
"What're you doing here?" he asked as he sat up from his crouching position. "I told you I'd handle it."
"What was that blast?" she asked even though she knew the answer.
He pulled out a little hand grenade from his pocket to show her. She looked around the room to assess where exactly he had thrown it. Not 20 steps away were the signs of the explosion, smoke, char and a pile of human remains. He was lucky the bar was sturdy enough to protect him.
"Are you okay?" She looked back down at him, a note of stun in her voice.
"Of course." He stood up.
He was right. Besides looking a little ruffled, his suit was clean; shockingly so, given the sight of the room.
"Come on, you promised a drink. Don't back out now." He walked past her to the door, leaving her staring at his back.
Theo had been in the Syndicate for long enough to get used to this, guns and explosions and violence but she always found it hard to believe how Spike functioned— how he could walk away from a room full of dead, machine-gun-wielding men without a single scratch.
The Syndicate didn't house the most peaceful of people and each of its activities dripped with red. But Spike was… something else. A monster, some called him. She always thought that was an exaggeration but now, she began to see it. Somehow it left a strange taste in her mouth, a sense of unfamiliarity with someone she was supposed to know.
Cleanup was in progress as they stood outside and in the meanwhile, Theo made a call to HQ to report the success. Her work for now was done when she hung up but that signified the beginning of war between the two organisations. Or perhaps the 'annihilation of the Red Dragon's enemy' was more accurate.
She heaved a long but quiet sigh as she replaced her phone in her pocket, watching over as Roderick ushered their captive to their car. She went and handed him the keys before returning to Spike's car where he sat waiting.
"It doesn't really make sense why she came," he said, his eyes fixed on the young woman Roderick was handling.
Theo sat down in the passenger seat. "I asked her to come." She shut the door.
He turned to her with narrowed eyes.
"I went to dinner with her a couple of times, asked her to come along, and she agreed."
There was a pause before he huffed and started the car. "You're terrifying."
She knew he said it in light fun but there was truth to it, a truth Spike didn't quite realise. He would if he were to care enough to really look at the things she did, but for that, he would have to look at the things he did. In comparison, he was far more frightening than she could ever be. And she was somewhat grateful for that— but not at the same time.
The drive was spent in silence, a welcomed break from everything for the murkiness in her head to swirl and sway and gradually settle at the bottom to rise another time. When they reached the Conan, it had cleared a bit and she was feeling like herself again, whatever that meant for her.
The bar provided some comfort, as it often did, as an escape from it all. Maybe they built it with that intention given how isolated it felt, a capsule of tranquillity. No matter the circumstance, the ambience it held was always the same; the same notes of slow jazz, the same soft chatter, the same face behind the counter.
The barkeep smiled at the newly acquired customers as they sat at their usual place, bringing a faint smell of metal into the house. He never brought it up as it would wash away soon enough.
"I had a feeling I might see you today," he said, his beady eyes wrinkling at the corners. As proof of his words, there was that specific ashtray placed on Spike's side of the counter. "What would you like to have?"
She looked to Spike as he was the one who wanted a drink. He blew a puff of smoke after having lit his cigarette and turned to her.
"I don't really have anything in mind." Noting the blankness in her face, he addressed the Barkeep, "What would you recommend?"
He hummed and scanned the shelves behind him in consideration before speaking. "We recently purchased some good wine. I was thinking of opening one of the bottles today. I wonder if you'd like it?"
"Wine…" Spike didn't sound sure but he didn't sound opposed either.
"I'm okay with wine," Theo said.
"Okay, we'll take it."
The bartender disappeared into the back for a while to get said wine and poured it out in two tall glasses. After serving it to them, he moved on to other tasks. They rarely ever ordered wine there but they were also unusually early that day. The Sun had barely begun to set, it was no time for hard liquor, which was probably why Spike agreed to something so mild as wine. It was good; perhaps if her mind weren't so crowded, Theo would have come up with better words to describe it.
Before they could start talking, the barkeep returned; curiously, with a camera in hand. He said they were trying to decorate the place a bit, put up some picture frames and all, and for that, they planned on hanging up photographs of their regulars, which naturally led the man to Spike and Theo. Neither of them knew how good of an idea it was to have a photo of two members of the biggest mafia on the planet hanging on the wall of a bar outside of said mafia's jurisdiction, but neither refused.
At the moment, the thought barely crossed Theo's mind— well, it did but she brushed it off as she combed her short hair with her fingers to look more presentable. It got her thinking, had they ever shared a photo? Most likely not. And the chances of that happening anytime soon were slim. Of course, there was no need to have a photograph taken together but she had a feeling that they might as well, just to serve as a reminder down the line that they were there. In a small, odd bar, they were there.
They were left alone when the barkeep was satisfied and resumed their drinking. But once again, they had hardly started talking before her phone rang. She answered, it being from a higher-up, and much to her dismay, it was about another job.
"We've barely even sat down," Spike grumbled when she told him, "Can't your partner handle it?"
"He can but…" she placed the half-finished glass down and stood up, "I'd rather not leave it up to him. Roderick's a bit irritable and impatient."
"What's that got to do with the job?"
"Negotiations don't work when your social skills are anything less than perfect. That's how I've kept my neck intact all these years." She gestured to her neck, a hint of pride in her eyes.
He let out a grunt of annoyance, both at her leaving and her performative arrogance.
"I'll make it up to you soon. Put your drinks on my tab," she said, putting her coat on.
She couldn't tell if he would. She couldn't be sure if he would even stay there for long after she left. She didn't know why he had asked to go there either. It had been a while, yes, but she could not understand what he got from her being there to accompany his drinks.
They never did understand each other, she had come to realise. She knew there was so much she never told him about. Thinking about it, she never actually told him anything of substance, in the sense of kinship. All they ever talked about was superficial, or a minute, heavily masked bit of what lay beneath the surface. And there always was an ocean worth beneath the surface.
Try as she might, she could never get a read on him. It was as if he wasn't even there. He never cared for anything; just humming along as he did the daily, almost against his will. But somehow he was interested in drinking with her. He was interested in the idea of her, sitting beside him in the corner of an old, quiet bar, filling the silence with empty words so he wouldn't be left alone with his thoughts. And in a way, so was she; having a hollow shell of a man listen to her say nothing at all and add nothing at all with his smoke-muddled words.
That was the way it was before he met Julia. But even after that, even after she found that tiny spark of life in his eyes, there was no him in any of their conversations. He wasn't himself with her. He was no one at all.
She wondered if that's what he found her to be as well— nothing. Thoughts like that would bubble up in her head the longer they went without seeing each other until they would have a run-in on some job or at the HQ and he would ask her for drinks again and she would agree. And somehow, it did feel good in the moment; chatting about this and that, drinking their wines and bourbons and cocktails.
In the moment, it did feel like friendship—two old companions of almost seven years lost in the music of meagre conversation, free of deceit or judgment. Then the alcohol would run out the next morning, and all would be back to ground zero—back to forgetting the other existed for a while until the thoughts began to emerge again.
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#spike spiegel#spike spiegel x oc#spike spiegel x reader#spike spiegel & oc#cowboy bebop#anime#fanfiction#writing#writeblr#creative writing#writers on tumblr#mafia#mafia fanfic
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Your writeblr coffee shop order is ready!
Boba: What's something that your character keeps hidden? Does anyone know about it?
Fear. Fear of love specifically, fear of loving someone, fear of being loved by someone she doesn't love back, fear of never loving anyone, fear of loving someone who doesn't love her back. She hides just about everything that goes on in her head behind a mask of ego. And she's good at it too, so it takes a good while for just one person to figure it out and it's the person she fell in love with.
I don't wanna reveal the character because I like to build these things up in the writing itself but it is one of my recent characters :)
#thanks for the boba!#writeblr village#writing#writeblr#creative writing#writer#reading#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#original character#character talk#fanfiction#ask
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🧋
Writeblr Coffee Shop Menu
Step up and "order" an ask from the menu!
Reblog this post with an emoji for a corresponding mystery question in your inbox!
☕️ Coffee
🍵 Tea
🧋 Boba
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It seems that the Alucard I drew doesn't seem so unhappy in solitude...
P.S.
By the way, how do you like organ music? Do the strings of the soul tremble?
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Spoilers! [for Hellsing Ultimate]
Almost cried watching this episode wth
#anime#hellsing#hellsing ultimate#alucard#hellsing alucard#count dracula#nosferatu#i don't even know what to think#alexander anderson
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The Spiral
My guilty pleasure right now is watching luxury hotel reviews and I found this british guy who keeps accidentally clipping into the backrooms.
He's unintentionally making the best liminal horror content on youtube
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Alucard is my newest obsession btw
How I look every time I add a semicolon to a sentence:
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How I look every time I add a semicolon to a sentence:
#semicolons#i love them#sorry for the jumpscare#writing#writeblr#creative writing#anime#writer#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#alucard#hellsing#hellsing ultimate
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oh and people who write fanfics are not "less talented" than people who write original works as their main source of income, by the way. fanfic writers aren't "all children going through a phase". they're writers who put in time, efforts and dedication just like any other writers, the only difference is that, instead of making their writing a career to earn themselves money, they write for free, out of pure passion, because they love the characters they're writing about so much that they're writing novel-length fics about them. you look uneducated af by using "fanfic writer" as an insult to imply fanfic writers aren't as valid or talented as writers who earn money from their works, especially when I've read so many fanfics that are a lot better and more professionally written than some best-selling books out there.
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I am reminded day in and day out that just because someone's older than you, doesn't mean they're wiser than you.
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Grrrgrhh *bark* ghgrr The Magnus ghrgh Archives grrr grrrrrhg *bark bark* ggrrrrhrhrh *bark* grhrhrhhrrrr
#convincing you to listen to The Magnus Archives#tma brainrot#i'm going insane#send help#the magnus archives#tma podcast#the magnus pod#jonathan sims#martin blackwood#timothy stoker#sasha james#elias bouchard#gertrude robinson#gerard keay
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