criimsoncloud - Tumblr blog

[criimsoncloud]

whoops.

so I may have disappeared again.

I don't have much defense tbh - long story short, shortly after returning to this blog, I fell into a very, very long depression spiral. I sought for counseling shortly after, and it was much more important for me to get better first before coming back ;; v ;;

sorry to everyone who saw I was back then never actually came back!

This is all I'd really say about this, though!

[criimsoncloud]

give this a like or reblog if you wish for a starter

[criimsoncloud]

       We are the stories we tell ourselves.                       The brave H E R O, the tortured S O U L,                                             the A L T R U I S T, the P R A G M A T I S T.

                                                                         They will tell you who you S E E                                        but you and you alone know who you a r e

independent final fantasy xiv multimuse penned by criim

[criimsoncloud]

I became very busy last week, whoops.

[criimsoncloud]

*insert eye emoji*

[criimsoncloud]

//  iron tears and groans of lead ( v: borderlands )

The Vault.

Vitaly knew of it, from the whispers his father would say when he thought the child was asleep. His father was obsessed - the Vault would give him power beyond his own imagination. He knew of the Vault, and all the stories of passerbys and travellers that would share. Those who sought the Vault were Vault Hunters… and his father, Vergil Sparda, was one of them.

When his father failed to return to New Haven, Vitaly figured that he suffered the common ailment of Vault Hunters that seem to plague them - death and dismemberment. There was no way Vitaly could follow his footsteps though. His health was poor and sickly, especially, for a child that was born Pandoran. He stayed updated with the current news of the actions of any and all Vault Hunters though, collecting and hoarding ECHOs and trying to hear news of a silver haired Hunter wielding a katana. Still, the only Vault Hunters that passed by New Haven were never his father.

And, when the Vault was opened, years after his father disappeared, Vitaly knew it wasn’t his father.

Vitaly gave up waiting for his father.

Well, he was forced to give up - once the Vault opened up, Hyperion swiftly invaded, murdering most of the population, and kidnapping the rest. It came to a shock to the residents of New Haven. Of course, word spread of Hyperion’s new CEO taking the reigns and deeming all residents of Pandora to be eliminated and experimented on, in either order and in various degrees. But the residents never expected it to be this quickly - only a few managed to escape into the train heading to Sanctuary that Helena Pierce prepared.

Unfortunately, Vitaly was one of the few who wouldn’t make it.

Weak, feeble, sickly… he couldn’t outrun the Hyperion army. No one was going to save him; Pandora, when it all came down to it, was a planet ruled by the saying ‘every man, woman, and skag bitten sonovabitch for themselves’. Vitaly expected a cruel and painful death.

He wished he received that cruel and painful death.

Because the next thing Vitaly knew, he was strapped on a gurney, and the sensation of something both burning and freezing his veins flooded in. Hoarse cries and the worst pain, beyond imaginable, became his every day. Slick, bloodstained yet utterly pristine walls was his ‘home’. Begging for the sweet release of death, moans of torment when throats were literally ripped out, all for the mad sake of science.

He lost his name, forgotten and wiped, overwritten by purple and pain. He knew himself as V - as Five. Subject Number 005, of the Angelos testing, to see just how much slag and pure eridium a human can take. Turns out, most of people can’t take direct injections of slag running in their veins, a good chunk become medically insane, a few either spontaneously combust or melt into puddles of human goo… and a very, very small percentage can take and assimilate the alien substance.

Turns out, V was that lucky minority, the 1%. And, he was even more special - turns out the Angelos Project wasn’t just to see what eridium does to a person. Maybe, by injecting pure eridium, Hyperion could create an artificial Siren. Sure, there was only six Sirens in the entire universe, but that was natural Sirens. Handsome Jack wanted to see if he could defy nature itself, because if anyone could do it, Handsome Jack can.

Subject #005 was his only success. And V’s powers were damned useful for Handsome Jack’s needs - mind control anyone who’s been injected with slag and eridium? Why not create a whole badass army to go with his robot legion? With Angel on his side handling the technology, and this Angelos Project siren handling the biological, Handsome Jack could save Pandora.

V ‘mourned’ when Handsome Jack died by the hands of the Vault Hunters. And by ‘mourn’, he celebrated. And by celebrate, V razed the Wildlife Exploitation Preserve using his fake Siren powers and  two other experiments - a fierce Skag known as Shadow, and an aggressive Stalker named Griffon. Once the entire facility was destroyed, the crazed artificial Siren imploded, shattering into dust and slag.

—

There’s a strange, black haired man who roams Pandora, mainly living in the wastelands that were the former Eridium Blights. Strange markings litter his body, but he’s definitely not a Siren - all Sirens were female, after all! Stop and talk to him, and he mutters odd things - of Blakes and innocence, of the insults that ‘friendly’ Stalker was saying, and of blue clad, white haired Vault Hunters.

He’ll pay a great bounty if you give him what he wants.

And he wants that white haired Vault Hunter, dressed in blue.

Abilities:

Phasequell - Allows him to control creatures that have been inflicted with slag, as well as control any creature that has ingested eridium - most notably, he controls two creatures, a Skag and a Stalker, but rumours has it he could control a third one.

Phasespike - Creates various bright purple eridium-powered spikes that surround him, and home in on various enemies.

Phaseseize - Manipulates slag tendrils that immobilize enemies on the spot for a short time.

[criimsoncloud]

// v headcanon

Though V constantly calls himself weak and pitiful, it is all in reference to his previous strength as Vergil. He is stronger than an average human - he can easily grip onto Griffon without any issues, and he can support the weight of Shadow on his back. He is still able to do feats that normal humans could not such as fall from great heights without any strain. However, when compared to a half demon like Dante or Vergil, or Nero who is at least a quarter, V is certainly the weakest amongst the four.

V still falls into episodes of weakness though - the further he deteriorates, the weaker he gets.

[criimsoncloud]

hellstung​:

in a way maybe their actions to the familiars was polite. treating them like their own entities rather then a part of the other. but ah, when the both of them did get to the demon pack there was no wasted time as they picked up on what he was doing. taking the other ones on the right most group. 

in a weird way, Dev’s movements were… acrobatic. maybe a bit too fluid with the heavy weight of the hammer they seemed to easily move around. mostly using it to disarm or stun some of the closer demons. their arm burning more as what seemed to be red coils wrapped around it. it was the oppisite arm that they were using the hammer with ( so their left ). under the mask, they grimmaced with the burning. 

idly thinking, they allowed themselves to cave. thrusting the hammer into the ground and using their left hand to grip the throat of one of the scum that decided to idiotically tackle them to the ground. allowing this, swftly with a crunching sound they stabbed their arm through the entities chest. gripping and squeezing the life line of the creature before thrusting their arm out. consuming the sweet essence. before rolling on the ground and grabbing the hammer again before smacking one in mid air.  

the carnage might be enough to make a normal human sick to their stomach, or engaged in fear. but oddly not Dev. they had dealt with far more dangerous creatures and entities in their life from the crips and depths of beyond the barrier. rolling, they got back to their feet. their small five foot three form limber as they stuck the hammer back on their back, spinning on their heel and taking out their shot gun before firing blank range into the face of the last creature. 

the red coils on their left arm pulsing as it seemed to constrict, digging into their skin like a sickly vine. their hand squeezing a few times. as if pulsing with it like a odd heart beat. 

If his hunting partner was acrobatic, V was deliberate. Precise. Predatory. Though he no longer had the body of his cambion self, all the training and grace was still ingrained in him. Olive eyes observed; his partner was brutal, savage. A beast let loose from their shackles. The bloodthirsty smirk on his face nearly grew; oh, if only he could... what would Dante say? Let loose.

Alas, he was stuck in this pitiful mortal frame, with the closest object to a katana being this steel cane he had pilfered.

Griffon continued to cackle and evil laughter as he sent lightning bolt after lightning bolt to each of his demons, turning some of them into a sickly, ashen lilac, stumbling drunkenly awaiting death. Shadow continued to bowl through, transforming between razor blades, hammer heads, and spikes, relying on Griffon to lure the demons into the jaws of death. Each and everyone one of the demons struck by his nightmares morphed into that ash lilac, and V slowly counted. “Four... Five... Six...”

Eight demons in total rendered immobile by his nightmares.

V tore his gaze from his partner, twirling his cane idly in his hands. Yes, it was enough. He leapt in the air, a surprising amount of force in his jump for a body as frail looking as he. But as he leapt, the man disappeared, leaving only a shadowy image of himself at the ground. It was just a split second, but the tattooed summoner reappeared high above, arms stretched wide, an army of spectral canes behind him, poised to strike. “Mock on, mock on; ‘tis all in vain.” The spectral canes struck, impaling each entranced Hell Pride in the chest, before shattering each demon in a single blow. Sickly lavender particles glittered in the dark air where each corpse lie, and to the observant, towards V.

He disappeared from his spot above, warping next to the hunter. “Not just a fellow hunter, but one who enjoys a meal as I.”  A wry grin in their direction. “I’ll be sure... to let you have your fair share.”

[criimsoncloud]

Before I went on my long hiatus, I use to have so many William Blake poems memorized.

It’s all coming back to me now.

[criimsoncloud]

I can’t wait!

[criimsoncloud]

To see a world in a grain of sand and a heaven in a wild flower                 Hold infinity in the palm of your hand                               And eternity in an hour

                                     rules & about                                         18+ blog

[criimsoncloud]

hellstung​:

when the male summoned, there was no hint of fear or shock from the face ( or what can be seen ). no infact their eyes watched with intrigue as the shadows morphed and moved and the raptor squawked with a new found freedom from his ( their? ) summoner. green hues went back to him and if he could see under their mask a matching smirk was on their lips. 

ah but they listened to ever word as well. giving the bird a small bow before looking to the other hunter. demons and summons. something that was their department completely. 

but they continuned to follow at the heels of their new found companion. listening more as he spoke. having a one sided conversation was more then delightful, there wasn’t silence that filled the air or an awkwardness that sometimes came with communication from the agent. what was even better was the fact he seemed eager once spotting the pack at that was up ahead.

like a good hunter, Dev moved their hand back to the hammer on their back and removed it with too much ease and single handed. almost as if they were just weilding a wooden bat then a heavy construction tool. their arm burning with blood lust on the scars that linned their pale skin. it was like a different entity at times, a parasite that feasted on their kills. a burning sensation they couldn’t get ride of that craved the taste of demonic essence.

“Ah, a polite one!“ Griffon chortled, his trisected beak clacking in joy. “At last, the respect I de-SERVE!” Another whoop of joy, and the demon bird flew high, patrolling the sky just above V.

V had wasted no time, and ignored Griffon’s little banter. Instead he pushed forwards, eyes roaming the alleys. The rest of the Hell Prides. Perfect. Conveniently separated into two distinct groups, and ripe for the pickings.

“Shadow, time to play.”

V skid to a halt once he reached the demons, thrusting forth his cane towards the leftmost group and leaving the right to his partner. The demon panther burst from the inky shadows they lurked, using the cane as a point to jump from, leaping into the fray with a fierce roar. It was evident that, despite his frail looking form, V sported a strength that was inhuman; what human could allow a beast as large and heavy as Shadow to use them as a springboard, and result in nary a broken wrist?

Shadow transformed mid-flight, a flurry of spinning razor blades digging into demon flesh, gouging and ripping all who dare stay in their wake. A shrill cry of ‘Barbeque time!’ rang from the skies, Griffon charging a flurry of electricity to mop whatever was left in Shadow’s wake. V would call the Hell Pride’s desperate slashes against his familiars quite idiotic. Not an inch of grace in their retaliation swipes against Shadow, ink reforming the panther’s body with every strike.

He kept a close eye on his partner, even though a large part of his attention went to his own foes. Small movements of his own hand silently commanding his familiars on where to avoid, as he stalked the perimeter, waiting for his own chance to strike.

[criimsoncloud]

hellstung​:

he wasn’t adversed in sign. in a way that didn’t surprise the agent in the least. it was hard to find people who understood them when they signed. let alone understood simple body language. so when he said he could pick up on that there was a nice weight lifted off their shoulders. at least they could communicate that way. they couldn’t work with someone whom they couldn’t communicate with. 

the way he looked at them, the half lidded olive eyes with something behind them that swirled into the abyssal darkness of the unknown. it was much like the gaze of something inhuman. a gaze they were all too familiar with in their line of work. as he asked his question though. Dev stood there for a second before raising their hand and giving a silent thumbs up. maybe it was comical, but it showed they could in fact work with someone none human.

they had before, so this wouldn’t be their first.

nor would this be their last.

and to say the least, even though they were human. they couldn’t be further from what they were.

The corners of his lips curled, a smirk forming; though if one actually did know V, it was a smile of relief rather than anything else. One less thing to worry about. “Good, so I trust you won’t panic then.” It took only a second after his last words that the ink upon his skin began to lift. The ink that left his skin coalesced into a thick sludge, before separating into two creatures; a bright blue demonic raptor, and a rather large panther.

The blue raptor shrieked in delight, spoken words slipping out of his strange beak. “Finally, freedom! Ya don’t know just how cramped it feels inside there, V, buddy! Now where are those demons, lemme at ‘em!”

V ignored Griffon’s eager squawking - it had been days since he had the opportunity to let the nightmare demon fly free - and he held out an arm for the bird to perch. “This is Griffon; he is apt with interpreting body language as well. If there is anything you need to tell me and we are separated by the demon scum, Griffon will pass the word.” Once again, V ignored Griffon’s snarky words of ‘Sure sure, treat me like your fuckin’ messenger pigeon, I really feel the love, pal.’

“I anticipate a rift within the bowels of these alleys,” he spoke as he continued to walk unhurried, leading his temporary hunting partner. “Whether a natural rift or a summoned one, I cannot be sure. Hell Prides are jailers, after all, not hunters. They wouldn’t come here unless bidden by their masters.”  Another smirk formed upon his lips, this time more predatory, before he pumped his arm to allow Griffon to take flight, a crackle of lightning in every beat of his wings. “Come, hunter, let us enjoy the dance.” He broke to a sprint once he spoke those words, the black panther, Shadow, slipping right behind V’s heels, before melting to the ground and following their summoner in the shadows.

There was a pack of demons up ahead, and V was eager to fight.

[criimsoncloud]

@criimsoncloud & @whiiskeyandrye

indie v  && indie dante/vergil from the devil may cry series ．both written by criim ． rules ．dark topics  present ．    personals do not reblog ． follows back  via criimsoncloud   ．  

[criimsoncloud]

Another thing I would like to muse about; V’s reaction to Dante and Nero, and how I wrote (and intend to write) it.

With Dante, V is competitive - as much as he separates his identity from Vergil, there is no denying he is. He craves the fight with Dante - his brother. Its how they communicate, it’s their love language to each other. They fight to bond. Their familial connection with each other is forged through scrapes and bruises. And while V may not be as physically strong, he would still try and fight Dante in little, petty ways. Words are nothing to these twins - they communicate through action.

Nero on the other hand, this interpretation is solely V. Perhaps Vergil may feel this way too, but not as strongly as V. With Nero, it’s safety, it’s companionship. Its the feeling of never being left alone, never being abandoned again. Just listen to Legacy, and the hope it can evoke. Regardless of what sort of actual relationship evolves between Nero and V, it will be haloed by this feeling of safety, of being protected. (Though I cannot imagine any sort of father-son relationship, tbh. As V said in VoV, he is like a child when around Nero)

[criimsoncloud]

I’m sitting here rereading Visions of V again, and a lot of my headcanons prior to it being published are also established in canon.

Gonna put these all under a cut while I muse.

One of the headcanons and concepts I’ve always brought back was V’s hatred of Eva - he has a very strong hate for her. It’s not hate if you look past it - it’s bitterness that he was abandoned by Eva.

There was a heartbreaking section in VoV where Trish saves V, and it’s revealed that Vergil didn’t want to be the one saving his family with his power. No, what he truly wanted was his mother to save him - and when she never came, Vergil just assumes that he’s been abandoned.

I’ve written and referenced his fear of abandonment before, and it is multiplied by my divergence in which he co-exists with V - this fear drives my other headcanon that V leaves Red Grave once he returns to life, without telling anyone.

Another thing that I also write a lot about is V vs Vergil, and how they are both one person, yet two different existences, and it leads to V hating Vergil. I’ve always written V as a more open and “kinder” Vergil - a Vergil who would have embraced his humanity. But as a person, V is different from Vergil; he’s what I would call Vergil’s shadow, a facet of Vergil he never wanted to exist (please refer to the Jungian concept of Shadows, or for a contemporary example, the Shadows from Persona 4)

Griffon stresses in VoV that V is a dreg of Vergil - a cast off... and exactly plays into my headcanon of V being everything Vergil hated.

... also, just this.

This.

That is all,

[criimsoncloud]

hellstung​:

eyes watched his silent movements. their question oddly leg lingering in the air. it was clear he wasn’t going to answer them. now with how his interest was more so in the fine grains of ash. they gaze not fidgetting off of him for a mere second. they couldn’t tell what he was or who he was but that was none of their concern. it was more so how right he was when he finally spoke. and thus unraveling why they were there. to face another lovecraftian monstrosity. 

but nor did they move until a simple come was given. much like their training they seemed to follow. had moving from their handle. eyes staying on him until they passed him a bit. on their back with the hammer, the handle ( now closer ) was stained red with engravings that helped let the stain seep in with dried brown. almost as if new crimson blood had been added to old seeped up carnage. a shot gun was also connected to their back with similar patterns only engraved in the metal with could be a dull blade or whatever was sharp near by for carvings. it was a shady job at that. pausing, they turned to him. hands raising a bit as if debating before trying to sign out can you read this?

He glanced at the signs the stranger was making, frowning minutely. “I recognize those as... sign language, if I am correct. Regrettably, I lack the skill to interpret your words.” He lacked quite a lot of things, though with his unusual childhood, it was understandable. “Unfortunate, but I can at least interpret body language. I do not think writing at a time like this could be easy...” At least the only person that would be speaking much during combat would be Griffon.

V turned towards the stranger, olive eyes half lidded. Human in appearance, but the stare behind unnatural.

“Tell me, fellow hunter, in whatever way you can,” V began. “Can you work with a demon?”

A testing question, though of no consequence to V regardless the outcome. If no, he would just leave them, use Shadow to pick up speed to venture towards where he can sense what could be a crack between the human realm and demon, and seal it himself. He would try his best and pass straight to the heart; the hunter seemed to be equipped to fight themselves.

But if yes, it just made things less risky.

He was no longer infallible, after all.

(He never was.)