bright and vibrant with the sun in his smile (8489 words) by cosmoscrow
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Bakuten Shoot Beyblade, Beyblade
Rating: General Audiences
Yeah, this blog is dusty as FUCK, but. I recently reminisced over Beyblade again, and brought up some of my older fics and was uh, mildly horrified how my writing used to be. Or is. Who knows. Either way; I thought it fitting to revise my personal favorite Beyblade Fic!
Honestly, there aren't major changes, just some much needed grammatical revisions, and sprinkling some of my personal headcanons in again, hehe! I hope y'all are well!
Summary: Snippets of the Alexeyev Household – the home of teenage disasters, petty arguments, russian yelling and boisterous laughter all in-between.
It was almost ironic how time seemed to slow down when disaster was about to happen – infuriatingly more so, when you can’t prevent the said disaster in time. So, with a painful sounding thump!, Bryan slid another few inches forward on his belly over the wooden floorboards, arms outstretched as the expensive looking ming vase shattered into, what he felt like, a million of pieces. He could even feel the impact on his very finger tips, it made him both angry and irritated because oh fuck, that particular vase was Boss Lady’s favourite.
They’re so dead.
“We’re so dead,” he muttered horrified, wide eyes still glued to the pathetic heap of shards in front of him. Behind him, Spencer made a sound between a terrified squeak and pained groan. The two teenage boys proceeded to look at each other with various levels of fear and Bryan was sure, Spencer’s face journeyed through the entire stages of grief in a span of 10 seconds. He would’ve laughed if he wasn’t so hellbent on trying to convince himself that all of this was a fucked up nightmare – Boss Lady will ground their asses well into the next century.
“What was that sound?”
Speaking of the devil. They had to act quick if they wanted to keep their generous outdoor life privileges, so Bryan quickly heaved himself onto his knees and hastily tried to scrape the shards together, mindful of the sharp edges. He threw a panicked look over his shoulder.
“C’mon Spence! Help me, it was your fault anyway!”
To his confusion however, instead of helping him, Spencer’s face went somber as the telltale sound of footsteps ascending the nearby stairs rang through the house. Slowly, Spencer backed away from Bryan, regret in his eyes as he shook his head. Bryan gaped at him.
“Spencer. Don’t you dare–”
The blond stood within his room he shared with Ian, slowly closing his door, face hard.
“Long live the king, Bryan.”
“Spencer, I swear– did you just quote The Lion King at me?!” Bryan hissed, “Spence– Spencer, get your ass–”
The door clicked close and he could only stare at the door in absolute disbelief – betrayed, in cold blood, by his very own brethren. Was this how heartbreak felt like? He couldn’t mull over it too much when a shadow fell over him. Bryan cringed.
“Is that my favourite vase?”
Oh man, and he was really looking forward to that Friday Sale at the local Arts & Crafts Store.
Sasha lifted off the rattling pot lid, mindful of the hot steam emerging from underneath. She took a good whiff, smiling contently at the pleasant smell of food. Swiftly, she picked up the ladle she had put aside previously, stirring the contents in the pot. Attempting a taste, Sasha scooped some of the curry out of the pot, free hand clawing at the countertop next to her. After coming up empty, she furrowed her brows, finally looking away from the pot.
“Huh,” she mumbled. Weird, she was sure she left the fork from before right there. Shrugging, she turned down the heat, checked the rice cooker and then opened the drawer where she put all her cutlery. There, she fished out another fork, only to blink, stunned, again.
Where did her wire whip go? She could’ve sworn it wasn’t missing before, she didn’t even use it today. Now suspicious, she pierced a potato within the curry, blowing on it to dispel some of the heat before eating it. Deeming the curry ready, she went on to get the plates. To her surprise, when she opened the plate cabinet, she was greeted by the sight of the electric hand mixer.
“What on earth–” Sasha muttered, taking the utensil out of it’s wrong spot, only to notice how much lighter it felt than normal. Then, as if on cue, one of the surrounding plastic shells dropped from its unscrewed position, allowing Sasha to discover that the entire motor was missing inside.
A beat of silence. Then, she turned her gaze towards the ceiling.
“IAN!”
Snickering, Bryan took in Tala’s dismayed look and the split lip the other was sporting. Meanwhile, Sasha was busy brewing tea and fussing at the same time.
“I can’t believe you punched that kid at the festival!”
Tala grunted, “He deserved it.”
The woman gave him an unimpressed look.
“Well,” Bryan drawled, “the guy did try to kiss Astrid without her permission, he had it coming.”
“He deserved more than a punch,” Tala grumbled further, leaning his head back against the couch. The Alexeyevs had decided to visit the local festival for a fun day and a chance to meet up with one of Sasha’s former daughters Astrid Rundström, a sweet but incredibly shy young scandinavian woman, who had left the household to attend her scholarship at a prestigious art school abroad. She had been the first ‘sibling’ the boys had met, and though the woman towered over almost half of them, her personality was meek but kind. And despite initially low-key teasing her constantly how her looks didn't match her character, Tala had taken an incredibly protective stance on her – sure, the other boys did too, Ian was even ready to deck the guy at the festival after Astrid had broken into a fit of anxious tears, but Tala had always been the one to fend off unwanted attention.
“So you just break a guy’s nose?” Sasha’s voice brought him back from his reverie.
“He also lost a tooth,” Bryan informed unhelpfully her, which earned him a scornful glare from Tala. Realising his mistake, Bryan shrugged as if to say ‘my bad’ and ducked out of the living room, back outside.
The traitor.
Tala heard Sasha sigh and he watched how she craned her neck to look out of the window – no doubt trying to see if the others were still outside. Spencer and Ian had taken up the task to calm Astrid down, the youngest pelting a joining Bryan with snowballs in an effort to make Astrid smile again. The redhead prepared himself for a long lecture, when a small bag of special festival-only dried chocolate-covered strawberries was shoved under his nose. he looked up to see Sasha grinning down at him.
“Don’t tell your siblings, Pretty One,” she said, winking, “good job on that jerk.”
Tala snorted, taking the bag and opening it eagerly – he had a taste of them before and they were absolutely delicious.
“You’re so full of shit, Babushka.”
He got another bag from Astrid later, who smiled down at him serenely.
“Bryan, you absolute piece of shit!”
Tala’s screech greeted the entire family seated at the table in the morning as he came thundering down the stairs. Sasha, halfway through her usual morning tea, immediately looked up, appalled and ready to rip her second eldest a new one. That was, until she saw his face.
“Ay, Pretty One, what happened to your face?” she blurted out, causing the rest to finally turn around. Ian snorted into his cereal, immediately cackling loudly as he pointed at Tala, whose usual clear skin was now mottled with what looked like green paint. Spencer avoided eye contact altogether in favour of trying to conceal his twitching lips. Bryan, however, unabashedly grinned at Tala’s misfortune while taking a huge bite out of his peanut butter-strawberry jam toast. Icy blue eyes immediately zeroed in on him.
“You,” Tala hissed, “you did this!”
Bryan only shrugged, finishing his toast.
“Dunno what you’re talking about, Red, but I hope that teaches you not spill nice on other people’s sketch books.”
“Oddly specific for someone who doesn’t know what’s going on,” Spencer muttered behind his mug before taking a gulp. Sasha put her hands on her hips, ready for a lecture but Tala interrupted her as he leaned forward, glaring at Bryan with such ferocity, the other actually started sweating a little.
“I shall piss on everything you love,” he threatened and Bryan would’ve laughed if he didn’t know what Tala was truly capable of. Ian sniggered again.
“Kinky,”
Spencer choked on his drink.
“IAN!”
“Guys, this is a bad idea.”
“Spence, you always think it’s a bad idea.”
“Yeah, because that shit usually blows up.”
“Hey, you gotta sacrifice some things for innovation!”
“Well, your innovations always catch fire, Ian.”
“Uh, no they don’t.”
“The automatic potato peeler.”
“Self-serving coffee pot.”
“Automatic can opener slash jellybeans dispenser.”
“Oh god, that one was a mess.”
“You guys are all shitheads, you know that, right?”
“Shut up, pipsqueak, and fire it up.”
“Don’t tell me what to do, Bryan!”
“10 bucks says it’s gonna blow up.”
“You’re on, Red!”
“Oh, fuck off, guys.”
“If you ain’t moving, I’ll do it myself then.”
“I– wait, Bryan, no! That– ouch! That is very sensitive, you can’t just–!”
“Eh, what could go wrong?”
“I really hate when you say that.”
“Zip it Spencer. Bryan, turn...whatever that is on.”
Sasha sat at her desk in her workshop, sketching up a new watch design, when a sudden explosion shook her room. Not a minute later, a barrage of angry russian floated through her open window, followed by roaring laughter. She shook her head, chuckling slightly.
My, what a handful they are.
She left her seat, sticking her head out of the window.
Snippets of the Alexeyev/Blitzkrieg Household – the home of teenage disasters, petty arguments, russian yelling and boisterous laughter all in-between.
crossposted my recent fic a loud house to my FF account – if you happen to have had gross formatting while reading the fic on tumblr mobile (im still crying, i swear it looked okay when i posted it) now you can read a much cleaner version.
also; should i continue this fic into a multi chapter/collection?
i have too many fics going on and i needed some inspiration to get out of my stupid block so have this silly little thing, goo d b y e–
Title: fight club
Characters: Bladebreakers + Blitzkrieg Boys
Summary: There’s tension going on in the dojo, and it sure won’t end pretty.
Tension hung heavy in the air, thick enough to be cut with a knife and it honestly made Tyson sweat a little as his russet eyes nervously flitted between the two bladers in front of him. Next to him, Max fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat at the dinner table.
“Look, guys, can’t we just–” he started timidly, only to get interrupted by a single raised hand.
“You stay out of this Max,” Kai said lowly, lilac eyes narrowed, “let Ray say what he wants to.”
Across from him, standing at the other end of the table, was Ray, glaring fiercely at the other, while effectively flashing his fangs. Kai remained unimpressed at the show of undisputed ferocity.
“Waiting for me to trash talk?” Ray growled, golden eyes fierce, “I wouldn’t stoop as low as you, captain.”
Kai shot back, “Look who’s talking.”
Ray let go of low noise, sounding terrifyingly similar to a snarl as he rolled his right shoulder. Kai copied him, slightly squaring his two own, never breaking the intense eye contact – their audience were convinced, that if one were to hold a piece of wood in between their angry gaze, it would catch fire faster than Dranzer performing a Blazing Gig. Somewhere, Kenny whimpered behind his laptop protectively held up against his face. Then, there was a sound of creaking wood and the mechanic nearly burst into hysterics.
“Guys, knock it off or at this rate you’ll break the table!”
He was met with twin glares burning as hot as solar flares and for a heart stopping second, Kenny feared for his very life, internally lamenting on the fact that he has yet to complete his will. Luckily for him, Hilary chose the moment to re-enter the kitchen, disapproving frown quickly taking place on her face as she put her hands against her hips.
“Are you two seriously still going at it?” she groused fearlessly, almost daring them to glare at her, “It’s really just a piece of cake, you don’t have to arm wrestle about it.”
Sure enough, the table beneath Ray and Kai creaked pitifully again as the both of them applied newfound pressure, biceps bulging and the clasped hands shaking slightly at the sheer amount of strength they pitted against each other. Neither was willing to give in, not if it meant to lose the privilege to eat the last piece of strawberry cheesecake.
Listen, it’s very good cake. And Kai just happened to very much like strawberries. But unfortunately, so did Ray.
“Are they still fighting?” someone called from the living room and Hilary heaved an exasperated sigh. She stuck her head out of the door to yell back.
“Yes, Tala, they still are,”
“Cool, just making sure,” the redhead responded, “I have a bet going on, so keep me updated.”
Oh great, Hilary thought, why was everyone being so childish. But it seemed like the two combatants ignored whatever was going on around them.
“Ready to give up yet?” Ray hissed, slightly disgruntled at the growing feeling of soreness in his arm. But he won’t give in yet, not until he sees Kai’s face as he slams down the arm of the other teen into the unforgiving surface of the table.
“You wish,” Kai growled back, just as vicious. He was no quitter, he really wanted that cake and he will get it – losing was not an option. Especially since he knew that Ray would be absolutely smug about his victory.
“What’cha doofuses squabbling about?” a new voice asked and Kai immediately recognised the nasal tone as Ian.
“It’s about cake,” Tyson answered for the two, leaning to the side a bit to look at Ian, only to grow pale. Max let go of a fearful squeak and Kenny half-wailed something about “we’re all going to die!”.
“Oh,” Ian said thoughtfully, “well yeah, it’s pretty good cake.”
Kai sighed internally and turned his head slightly to give the younger the stink-eye to chase him away, just in time as Ray but they both stuttered to a halt when the caught sight of the boy, who stood nonchalantly in front of them.
Eating cake.
Arm wrestle now completely forgotten, the two teens disbelievingly stared at Ian and then at Hilary, who stood not far off, arms now crossed as she inspected her nails, having grown bored of the nonsense. Sensing eyes on her, she gave them a quick look before shrugging.
“He was asking if there was any more, so I gave it to him,” she explained loftily. Ray’s face immediately fell, looking almost heartbroken.
“I give up,” he muttered, slumping over the table and smushing his cheek against the wooden surface, looking absolutely defeated. And sad. Kai on the other hand, stared hard at Ian.
“You’re dead to me,” he whispered to the boy in harsh russian, startling Ian, who gave him a dismayed look. Then, he pouted but there was a mischievous glint in his eyes and suddenly Kai felt like he just walked into a trap, because the next thing the boy did was to open his mouth and scream. Albeit short, it was enough to shock the entire kitchen, but Kai knew what was coming.
“Ian, you little–!” he began as the boy snootily stuffed another forkful of cake into his mouth, but was interrupted by the gut wrenching sound of a claw hand clamping itself around the doorframe of the kitchen. Not a second later, Tala appeared in the entrance behind Ian, face stony and gaze icy as he stared down the entire kitchen like a papa wolf ready to pounce. Externally, he seemed indifferent, but Kai knew better as those icy blue eyes zeroed in on him.
“Ian what, Kai?” Tala asked calmly, ready to brutally rip his former teammate a new one. Behind him, Spencer appeared with a queasy expression on his face as he brought up shaky hands, ready to pull the redhead away if necessary. In front of them, Ian discreetly gave Kai the finger. New tension rose into the room and Kenny looked lie he was ready to faint on the spot, when Bryan waltzed in, fork hanging from the corner of his mouth as he leaned against the doorframe next to Tala, empty plate in his hand. Disinterested, his eyes flitted from person to person, until the settled on Hilary. His face brightened then.
“Oh hey,” he grinned, holding up his plate, “got any more of that cake?”
