#felixranstromchat

felix ranstrom and roxanna rose @hxckedvxid

Roxy's place was never quiet. Felix didn't expect it to be. Hell, at this point, he'd probably hate it if it was. The boombox in the corner had been half dead for years, and always thrashed out something that was maybe hyperpop, maybe punk, maybe both. Graffiti glimmered across every wall, catching the light. The windows were open, but the place still reeked of bubblegum and vodka. Outside, traffic howled. Dogs barked. Someone was screaming about rent or revenge. Inside, she cackled above it all.

Usually but not tonight. The chaos was still there, undeniable and hers but Roxy hadn't laughed in twenty minutes. Not a giggle, not a snort, not even that deranged little hum she did when her brain was on fire and her heart was full of knives. She was pacing. That was the first red flag. The second was the nest of phone chargers on the floor. At least a dozen, maybe more, all coiled like discarded snakes. He hadn't even known she owned that many.

She was crouched near an outlet, jaw clenched, trying one charger after another like something had to work if she just jammed it hard enough. The burner in her hand stayed dark. Felix hadn't blinked in a while. He was pretty sure of that. The joint in his fingers had smoldered down to a ghost, but he still dragged the last of it before grinding it out in a neon pink ashtray that said SPANK ME in glitter letters.

"Rox. Babe." he said, voice steady as he leaned in a little. Just enough to hopefully cut through the spiral. Then, a hand reached out. Slow like he was trying not to startle a wild animal. And gently, he stopped her own hands as they untangled another charger. "I mean it, DJ's the best bet." the first time he made the suggestion, she told him to stop being stupid. The second, she gave him a look like she might stab him. The third, she snarled.

starter for: felix ranstrom and jakob ranstrom @ofwrxth

Felix had lost count of how many times in his life he had stopped, looked around, and thought...

How the fuck did I end up here?

The first time, he was small enough that awareness still came in flashes. Some overcrowded foster home with too many kids and the adults that cashed checks like they were raising livestock instead of people. He had been clutching some half broken toy, wearing the opposite color dino jammies to Jakob's. The microwave was beeping, there was shouting, something shattered in the next room. He had just stood there, blinking. How did I end up here?

It had been a persistent question ever since. But never had it hit quite as hard as it did right now. A simple collection had turned into a goddamn war zone. They had realized too late. Too many men. Too many guns. The whole apartment crawling with trouble. No way out but the window. Jakob had shoved it open first, hit the second floor balcony in a scramble of limbs and adrenaline, shouting, "I'm jumping!" before his feet even left the railing.

And Felix, because something in his brain just snapped into place like Twin Consciousness, had just gone after him. Which was how he ended up here. Fingers locked onto the back of a moving truck, legs swinging, the metal rattling under him like it wanted to throw him loose. The driver was swerving hard, trying to shake them, or maybe just trying to stay on the road because behind them, a car was roaring closer, shots firing, men hanging halfway out the windows with nothing but bad intentions and automatic weapons.

felix ranstrom and roxanna rose like a week ago @hxckedvxid

Unsurprisingly, Felix fucking hated nightclubs. What was there to like? A mass of bodies, drenched in sweat and bad decisions, jumping around to music that felt like a head injury. No thanks. The whole thing was a sad, desperate attempt at escapism. Neon soaked oblivion sold by the shot glass. It was funny, in a bleak way, that this was the acceptable kind of self destruction. The kind that had whole streets dedicated to it, lined with little glowing signs that might as well have read Come forget your mortality. Instead, they said bullshit like Paradise or worse, Mango Tango.

That's where he was now. Mango Tango. Because Roxy. Except, and this was key, he had actually come willingly. No dragging. No persuading. She just turned up at his apartment, nose stained with blood from a burst vessel, grin manic, determined, fucking evil. She caught a scent, latched onto it like the shark she was. Someone who could get her closer to Grim. Dom was working. Felix never said no. So yeah. Mango fucking Tango.

He hadn't touched a drop of alcohol, which was a miracle. He just stayed close to Roxy, the two of them blending in about as well as wolves at a petting zoo. His eyes skimmed the crowd, looking for any sign of the guy. Some low level dealer. Not even tough enough to hit hard, Roxy had said. That part shocked him the most. "I don't even know what he fucking looks like, Rox." Felix had to raise his voice over the music, flashing lights cutting jagged across his vision as he glanced at her. He caught the sharp gleam in her eyes, that singular kind of focus, a predator locked onto something.

His gaze swept over the crowd again. Nothing. Just a swarm of idiots, drunk on cheap thrills and overpriced liquor. "You're sure this is the right place?" another glance, another scan. Still nothing. Felix exhaled through his nose, the thudding bass making his teeth itch. "Think you got lied to." wouldn't be the first time. Some fucker probably squealed whatever nonsense they could just to make her stop whatever torture she was putting them through. He wished he could have been there to see it. But, still.

starter: felix ranstrom and roxy rose @hxckedvxid

Felix at a wake was a fucking joke. A bit. A comedy sketch where the punchline was always the same. His existential dread, now with added ambiance. He was already prone to overthinking mortality without being shoved into a situation that required him to sit with it, steep in it. And yet, here he was. Again. A tradition now. Respect, honor, remembrance. All that shit. But it never changed the fact that his eyes would always drift, scanning the room, wondering what his own would look like. Who'd be there?

Would he go first, or Jakob? Would he be watching his brother get lowered into the ground, or would Jakob be watching him? What about Roxy? Would he be standing over her grave, waiting, half-expecting the coffin to shake, for the wood to splinter, for her to claw her way back up with some unholy cackle because she punted Death in the dick and stole the scythe? Or would it be her watching his? His thoughts spiraled, dark and fast. He didn't know how to pull himself out of it. Never did. Not even the fact that Jakob was still eyefucking Ines Alvarez. Not even the fact that Roxy was draped against him, perched in his lap. Probably with a scythe.

Then. A sniff. Felix blinked. Confused. There it was again, small, wet, and completely unfamiliar. His brows furrowed. Another one. His first thought? Someone was doing cocaine in Santiago Alvarez's house. Bold. Maybe even admirable. But if that was the case, why the fuck weren't they sharing? Then another. Too snotty to be a coke inhale.

Felix shifted, tilting his head just enough to throw a glance at Roxy only to watch her flop slightly as he moved, revealing red-rimmed eyes, a sniffly nose. His head cocked to the side. What the fuck? He had never seen her cry. Not once. Ever. So, naturally, the first thought in his head was that she wasn't crying. Because that made more sense than the alternative. "Are you allergic to dogs?" his voice came out flat, not unkind but completely at odds with the situation. His face? Baffled. Tiniest flicker of amusement.

starter for: felix ranstrom and jakob ranstrom @ofwrxth

Felix found it funny. Not the wake itself. That wasn't funny. Not even a little. But he had prepared himself for the atmosphere. The kind only the Alvarez family could pull off. Grief never sat heavy in the air at these things. A Saint's style wake. Warm, half wake, half family reunion. And while Felix fucking hated the phrase celebration of life, that's exactly what this was. That wasn't the funny part, though.

The funny part was that halfway through tracking Roxy through the room, Felix felt it. Like the same energy was...beside him. The same thing happening in two places at once. Something intense, instinctual. Except, the only thing next to him was his brother. And Felix couldn't remember the last time he'd seen that exact look on his brother's face. Probably when he got his hands on the Samurai sword, the exact one used as reference for the Sword Slinger artwork. A religious experience. Apparently.

His gaze followed Jakob's and he didn't see it at first. Just a blur of movement, laughter, shifting bodies. Until he looked down. Half a fucking foot down. And there she was. Ines Alvarez. The flick of her eyes, the slight tilt of her head, the set of her mouth. He looked back to Jakob. His brother was smirking. His brother was eye fucking Ines Alvarez.

felix ranstrom and cordelia edwards @hxckedvxid

Considering Felix had just seen his brother at the diner, there shouldn't have been a single sound in the apartment. But there was. A faint shift, something deliberate. Metal nudging against metal. The subtle give of something being tested. His eyes flicked toward the noise, confused and scanning the space on instinct. That was when he saw the evidence he missed earlier. A dented Red Bull can, crushed slightly at the center and few cigarettes stubbed out in the ashtray, ones he definitely didn't smoke. All the tell tale signs that Cordelia had decided on the condo for her place to crash again.

felix ranstrom and astra harland @hxckedvxid

Felix was sat at a picnic table, barely taking notice of the jubilee unfolding around him. Noelle had already made it clear where she wanted to be. No hesitation in the way her little legs carried her off to Oskar and Thea, like she instinctively knew where was better for her. Even though she knew him, knew he was her father, she still seemed to be sorting out where he fit. Every time she called him daddy, there was a pause, a fraction of hesitation before the word left her mouth, like she was trying it out. Saying it to a man instead of a photograph, instead of a voice on the phone. Felix didn't blame her. He was still trying to figure it out himself.

He didn't know what made him look up. The music, maybe. It dipped for a moment, softened into something distant and muffled. Or maybe it was the feeling of eyes on him. And then, there she was. All wild curls, slow drifting steps. Someone so out of place in this fucking town, this ranch, that Felix almost laughed. But he didn't. He just sat there, watching her, his plastic fork half way to his mouth as he sensed something like recognition before it had any right to be there. She was beautiful. The sort of beauty that felt otherworldly. A face you had to watch to really understand. Felix saw it. How the light caught her cheekbones, how her features were delicate and sharp in the same breath.

She wandered through the crowd like she could part it. That was when Felix realized, not only was he staring but, she was walking straight toward him. There was a deliberateness in the way she moved that made his gaze dart around as if he needed a second confirmation. Did she think she knew him? He glanced over his shoulder, quick, skeptical, half expecting someone behind him. Nothing. And yet, by the time he looked back, she was already closer.

felix and astra @hxckedvxid

Coffee and a walk in the park. It was hilarious, really. The only thing Felix could even think of suggesting. So simple that he may as well have just said. Please let me see her. Please let me see you both. It felt ridiculous, the way something so small could carry so much. Astra agreed without hesitation like she had been waiting for him to ask. And now here he was, sitting beside her and Nova, and there was nothing simple about any of it.

Nova was quiet. Felix didn't expect her to be any other way, not after Grand Central. But quiet didn't mean absent. There was a spark behind her eyes, a natural curiosity that was already making him see everything with a renewed vision. His daughter. No denying it. Not with the way everything felt more real with her so close. He sat watching them, Astra and Nova, the way their chatter filled the space between them while he stayed on the edge of it all. His eyes flicked to Astra now and then, catching those freckles scattered across her nose, the ones he used to trace in his mind long after he left New Orleans.