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annonmaly · 3 years

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Ok, It's Not Red. So What? (continuation)

Noé and his left eye

At this point, I'm wondering why I decided to do this. At first, I just saw this official artwork collection, and I'm like: "These are cool, let me post something short about what I think (cos' I got a lot of time). Some of these ideas may already be out there. But still, I may drag someone else in this 'what if' hole I'm in". I meant this to be one post with 500 words only. But lo' and behold! I'm now on the fourth part of this thought dump. My lazy brain is so proud of me right now.

These posts could be read separately. But if you have some minutes to waste and have nothing better to do. Check out the previous parts here:

Part 1: Regarding some of VnC Artwork

Part 2: Oh, It's Not Red

Part 3: Ok, It's Not Red. So What?

No promises that it's worthwhile tho'.

Hopefully for the last time, a friendly reminder that best in writing is an award I never received. I'm not the person who could analyze, explain, or theorize things. Please bear that in mind while reading. Photos are not mine, of course. Also, spoiler alert to be safe.

Now that I said everything I want to say. Let's finish this thing. This would be the last absurd idea that I want to share.

I read this theory a while ago that Noé's left eye was partially blind. This was the result of his injury during his childhood. As proof, Noé always received an injury on the left side. I totally agree with this theory. There's something wrong in that left eye of his. What if Noé's left eye lost its original power? Or What if it's not his eye to begin with? Sounds farfetched? Yeah, it is, but give me a break here. This was on my head for a long time now, and this needs to be out of my system.

Ok, first, let me tell you why I think his left eye is suspicious.

1. Noé had an eye injury when he was a kid. But after a while, it healed as nothing happened. This could easily be explained. It was healed totally by his vampire's power.

2. How and when he received that injury is questionable. (Actually, that whole story is suspicious) Did he receive it before or after being kidnapped? I don't much about slave trade in VnC world. But, if you're going to sell something you don't want it to have visible damage, right? (Sorry if the comparison sounds offending)

3. This may be for artistic purposes. However, there are panels where Noé's left eye was hidden by his hair or something. Most of them are when he is emotional. Or, more precisely, when it's about Vanitas. This is not always the case, and maybe I'm just reading to it more than necessary. But let me give you some examples:

(I had a hard time in this cos' I'm confused about what is left and right)

Let me briefly explain the picture from left to right

Bal Masque Arc: (It is not noticeable in this arc, actually. But when Noé is scolding Ruthven, we can't see his left eye.) The image above is when human Vani told Noé to leave him alone Then the one beneath is the moment when Noé declared that he will stay with human Vani.

Catacombs Arc: This is the time when Noé forgot to cut his hair. His left eye is hidden at about 90 percent of this arc. I only saw it again when Noé got angry with the weird doctor because he keeps calling human Vani by number "69". Even after the conclusion of this arc, his left eye is hidden.

Pre-Gevaudan Arc: We all know what happened the night before this. In the panel above, his eye was hidden when he was expressing his guilt. Then when he's being honest, Mochijun-Sensei showed his left profile.

Misha Arc: I know it's still fresh in your memories. To make this short, they are fighting to the death. The above panel is when Noé's reevaluating the events that happened. Then below is when he realized that he did not look at human Vani properly.

I'm a VaNoé shipper so I could go on all day, but I think I already get my point across. There's a pattern here when human Vani and Noé are having an issue. Or when Noé can't understand the former, his left eye is hidden. After they kiss and makeup Mochijun-sensei shows Noé's left eye.

I think I already established that Noé's left eye is weird, so let's move on. If you encountered my prior post, I assumed that Luna and Noé are twins. Let's ignore that notion. For now, I will settle with the idea that the blue vampire and Noé are related. They could be siblings, parent-child, or kinsmen. I'll believe that Noé is related to the blue moon vampire until Mochijun-Sensei says otherwise.

So, I emphasized Noe's hidden eye a moment ago. Who else out there that we don't see her left eye? Yup, the vampire of the blue moon. (I already mentioned this on my previous post)

This is not related but look at these panels:

After hearing human Vani's childhood story, Noé and Luna both asked the question about hating the vampires. Take note that Luna is on the right, the eye that was she's not hiding. Noé on the left profile, the hidden eye at times. I don't know if there's a meaning in this or what, it's just interesting.

Going Back,

If Noé is related to the blue vampire and the cursed book. (I think Grandpa DeSade won't ask him to observe the book without reason, he possibly be the real owner). Maybe at some point, his eyes are blue. Or maybe one of his eyes is blue. The left eye, perhaps?

So far, we only saw Noé gazing at the blue moon in the first chapter.

Left profile, left eye, interesting. (I'll say this again and again, Sensei is shady. Even that smile)

Well, it's his right eye. However, it's his left that noticed the moon first.

Next...

The whole sentence is "and see for yourself with your own eyes..." Is it just a coincidence that the panel with the words "with your own eyes" was a close-up of Noé's left eye? (He's still looking up the blue moon here)

Now, assuming that his eyes are blue before. What happened? As I said earlier, maybe he lost the power of his left eye or just transferred it to someone. Is there someone heterochromatic that is always with Noé? Oh, yes, Murr.

So, in a nutshell: What if Noé has the power of a blue and red moon vampire before the series' timeline started? (He's kind of special since it would only show when he's using his vampiric powers) Then, something terrible happened that we don't yet. And they had no choice but to transfer that power to Murr?

At one point, I imagined that Noé and Murr exchanged eyes, but dismissed it since I thought that Murr's eyes are red. But now that I changed my mind about Murr's eye color, I think this could still be a possibility.

I'll leave it up to your imagination as to how everything happened. This is just a half-boiled theory I had that needs to get out of my mind. I'll try to expound it furthermore when I found out more (or maybe I would already change my mind)

This scene would negate my thousand words post entirely. Because the injury Noé had is shown when he met Sensei for the first time. This means he should still be heterochromatic here. The old man knows that he's a vampire. So, it's either, Noé told them, or the couple saw his vampiric characteristics. They would tell Noé that his eyes was strange, right? But it looks like had no idea at all.

(I'll just copy and paste from my previous post)

I believe that Mochijun-sensei is keeping the timeline vague since it would reveal too much information. I mean, we don't know how long time passed from the day Noé was found by the old couple to the day Sensei brought him to the castle in the forest. Keep in mind that the vampire's growth differs for each person, as well. Also, is the story the Noé and Sensei told trustworthy? As far as I could tell, Sensei is shady, like really. Besides, Noé's memory is also not reliable. After all, someone out there may have the ability to manipulate memories. What if Noé was was born ages ago and was induced to sleep for a long time for whatever reasons?

(Copy Paste ends here)

I really love Noé and Murr. You see, the title of the series is The Case Study of Vanitas, but I'm more curious about Noé. My guts tell me that he would unexpectedly surprise us in the future chapters. Do you have any ideas or thoughts you want to share about VnC? tell me, I'm so bad at digging gold here.

That's the end folks, I warned you this might not make any sense. I'm just a person who has a lot of time on hand got bored waiting for the next chapter. Still, I had fun writing this. It's entertaining to crack our heads with the possibilities of what would happen in the story. But remember to always respect the authors. It's their work and art.

Note: I wrote this to indulge my over-thinking self. This is just a random theory, thoughts, assumptions, and/or head-canons. Thank you for taking the time to read and understanding if I made any mistakes or post whatever it is you don’t agree on.

#thoughts about vnc panels

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miraclekittyandbug · 3 years

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Ten Questions With A Twist Chapter 2

Hey guys! Here’s chapter two! I’ve decided I will be posting a chapter every other day. There are seven chapters on this story and they have all already been written, so you won’t have to wait for me to write them before they can be posted. Enjoy!

~Chapter 1 ~ This Chapter ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~

Adrien was distracted. Having had a fitful night of sleep, he was mostly focused on staying awake during classes, not necessarily taking notes. Once lunch rolled around, Nino pulled Adrien to the side.

“Hey, dude, did something happen with you and Marinette?”

Adrien responded that he wasn’t sure what he meant.

“Well, you’re really distracted, and so is she, I just figured you guys got into a fight or something.”

“No, I barely talk to Marinette outside of class,” he clarified.

“So…” Nino narrowed his eyes at his friend, “So you guys aren’t secretly dating?”

Adrien’s jaw hit the floor. “What!?”

“What do you mean ‘what?’, it is so obvious you’re in love with her!”

Adrien stuttered and flung his hands, grasping at invisible somethings as he tried to figure out where the hell this came from. “It can’t be obvious, because it’s not true! What even makes you say that?”

“Well mostly the way you look at her.”

“I look at her the same way I look at anybody else!”

“Nah, dude. If you looked at my girlfriend the way you look at Marinette, we would have to have a serious conversation.”

Adrien was at a loss for words. “This is ridiculous.”

“I’m just saying!” Nino raised his hands, signifying innocence, “You guys would make a cute couple! You like her, she likes you, it isn’t a far stretch to think that something was going on. And I think you’d make each other really happy.” Adrien could only stare. “Just think about it, dude.”

Adrien thought about it for around thirty seconds. Then he saw Marinette and Alya wave himself and his friend over to eat and, though he tried to push the thought from his mind, he suddenly couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He had visions of himself and Marinette. They would sit on the same side of the table, rather than opposite sides as they sat now. He would use that excuse to lean into her, just to be more aware of her presence. He pictured going to the movies with her again and using that trick they use in movies, pretending to yawn so he could put his arm around her and hold her close. His heart did a spin at the thought, but he found himself being drawn back to reality.

“Yeah, Adrien and I will totally sit with you guys.” Nino said, and Adrien nodded, mostly to shake those thoughts out of his head. For the first time, he had to remind himself that he was in love with Ladybug. Not Marinette.

Soon enough, the group of four friends were sat around a table, chatting absentmindedly about something random. (The exact topic of discussion was unknown to Adrien. Tired as he was, he was more concerned with pushing food around his plate and not thinking about Marinette).

“Are you okay, Marinette?” Alya asked her friend. Reminding Adrien that he still had to interact with the bluenette. They were friends, after all. “You seem really out of it today.”

Adrien looked up to see that Nino had been right. Marinette was also looking really tired and distracted. She was blushing and had organized the food on her plate according to color, but was glancing up at Adrien every so often. “Yeah, I just…” She looked up and made eye contact with Adrien before outright asking, “What’s your favorite color?”

Adrien just stared at her, wide eyed and slack jawed. A million thoughts went through his head at once. He finally settled on Wow, that’s a coincidence. But that isn’t so weird, right? It is a pretty common question, even though it was kinda out of the blue. “My favorite color is green, but I’m also rather fond of orange.”

Marinette smiled and the world seemed to shine brighter for it.

The warning bell rang, signalling that they had about five minutes before lunch was to end. Both students started shovelling food into their mouths, suddenly aware of their own hunger.

A few more classes went by when they heard a scream coming from not so far away. Phones started going off left and right, alerting the entire class that an akuma had been sighted a few streets down. Ms. Bustier reacted as she normally does, calmly asking everybody to move away from the windows, calling for each student as she did so. When Marinette failed to respond to her name, the class found that she was missing.

“Didn’t she just go to the bathroom?” Rose said, stress underlying her voice.

“I’ll go find her!” Adrien quickly called, leaving the classroom before anybody had a chance to point out the fact that it wouldn’t be proper for him to search for her in the women's restroom.

Once out of the classroom, Adrien rushed towards the nearest broom closet, looking up and down the hallway to make sure there was nobody to see him. He called for his transformation and immediately vaulted out of the nearest window, ready to assist his Lady in taking down yet another bad guy.

Soon enough, the akuma was tracked down and purified. Having finished up this particular villain fairly quickly, Ladybug and Chat Noir stood back for a moment admiring their work. Ladybug decided to let Chat in on a secret.

“His favorite color is green,” She said, blushing profusely.

Chat was amazed! “That’s my favorite color too!”

Ladybug threw her yoyo and made one more comment before zipping away, “Sure, but are you rather fond of orange?” And off she went,

Too late to see Chat’s very very VERY shocked face.

And that gut feeling from the night before was back, now, and stronger than ever. But this time it was telling him to think. He went back to class and proceeded to think hard. And here’s the thing. Adrien liked to consider himself smart. And no person with two brain cells could deny that that was more than coincidental wording. That was word for word what he had told Marinette earlier that day. A moment of clarity shone through the clouds of his mind and left him with one piece of information: Ladybug goes to the same school as Adrien. It all makes sense! She must go to his school because she overheard Marinette ask him that question earlier that same day! They’re even usually at the scene of an akuma at the same time so even that makes sense! It wasn’t until fifteen minutes before class ended that the next series of realizations hit him: causing his flat hands to slam against the desk, getting everybody’s attention.

Ladybug is in love with Adrien Agreste

Adrien Agreste is secretly Chat Noir

Ladybug is in love with Chat Noir

Lucky for him, Adrien is both of those people

The entire class stared at him. His green eyes wider than they thought possible. His arms straight with his hands flat on the desk in front of him, sweat starting to gather on his collar. He only snapped out of it when Ms. Bustier waved her hand in front of his face and asked him if he was alright.

“I-uh- I just remembered I have a photoshoot after school. Nothing else. I’m good. Sorry.” He picked up his pencil and put the lead to his notebook, trying to prove that he was ready to learn now,

Ms. Bustier saw right through his act, but decided it was close enough to the end of the class anyway. “Alright, well that’s as good of a stopping place as we’ll get to today, so I’ll just remind everybody to finish their homework and that there will be a quiz on Friday.”

Adrien let out a sigh of relief. After a realization like that, he was most certainly not ready to learn. He rushed out of the room and to his locker, desperately trying to get away from prying eyes. He needed to have a conversation with his Kwamii regarding what the FUCK to do about this! His lady was in love with him! This was amazing news! But also… kind of terrible.

Ladybug was set on them not knowing each other's identity, but what did he do now? He hadn’t meant to come so close, but he had! Now he was so close to finding out who she was and he couldn’t turn back. He knew what Ladybug would say. She’d tell him to not dig further, to let it go, and to move on without looking back. Adrien didn’t think that was possible though. It was like when he and his lady both de-transformed on either side of a door. He was on one side, lonely Adrien, and on the other was the love of his life in her everyday clothes. He wanted more than anything to open that door. To view his Lady in all her citizen’s glory. But she trusted him.

So now what? They were in the same situation, but with the door slightly open. They were both about to cross that line. He looked down and could see her feet. She was wearing flats, not tennis shoes. Her pants weren’t blue like his, but he couldn’t quite make out the right color. Directly across from him, her hair was visible. Just as blue-black as it had always been. Her hair was tied back in hair ties rather than ribbons like her superhero alter ego. Her eyes were deep blue and staring right back at him and the rest of her face…

That’s as far as he got. As he stepped into the back of the car with Gorilla at the wheel, he let out a breath he didn’t know he had been holding. That feeling was back again and it told him that he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t drop it when he was so close, just inches away from knowing who she truly was.

And so, he had decided. And as easy as that, a plan started to form. A way that would bring him and his lady closer than they had ever been.

~~~~~~~~~~~

And there’s chapter two! I’m working on another fic after this one that’s a little similar, but that one is going to take a while, so feel free to leave requests in my inbox! I really look forward to writing for you!

Chapter 1 ~ This Chapter ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~

#10qwat #miraculous ladybug fic #miraculous fic #mlb identity reveal #adrientte

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braindeacl · 3 years

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Buzzkill | Eilidh & Vic

SETTING: Vic’s residence. TIMING: A few weeks ago. PARTIES: @natusvincere & @braindeacl SUMMARY: Vic has the angry-online-lady come over to help with her bee problem. But finds she knows the person knocking. WARNINGS: N/A

Getting rid of a phallic-shaped bee nest and it’s accompanying vibrating man in a place like White Crest really should have been simpler than this, but Vic was already annoyed. It could have been a simple exchange between her and the woman from the internet, until she tried to scold her with talks about bees and their moral superiority over the rest of the world, or something like that. As the inevitable knock on the door came that evening, Vic hoped that their exchange would be quick. Give her the nest and a nice glare for good measure, and hope to never hear from her or the bees again. She pulled open her front door, but who she met on the other side was certainly not who she was expecting. “Eilidh?”, she asked, bewildered. An old, regretful hook up- and possibly the most annoying person on the planet. “Why are you here?” She didn’t try to hide her disdain.

It should’ve been a simple exchange. Now it felt more like a rescue. That woman… the woman on the internet had no regard or respect for nature. Thankfully Eilidh had noticed the post and decided to extend a helpful hand, though with how the interaction spiraled, it extended to the bees and the bees alone. Plus she finally would be seeing the hive in person! She only had a faint idea with what she was dealing with—the shape indicating a specific and rare type of bee, despite her initial thoughts of mere coincidence. Coincidence wasn’t entirely off the table, but she eagerly ran straight for the tantalizing conclusion. She gave one loud knock against the door, a big bang on the wooden structure. Door opened, and she planned to keep it short, but definitely not sweet. Until... Until her name was spoken. Her chosen name. The one she rarely gave out. The pits within her boiled over, threatening to erupt from her. Throat prepared to growl, teeth prepared to snap. But then she looked harder. Recognition registered. The prepared growl lept out as a curt laugh. Teeth still considered to snap. “Ah, hell. Vicky! Should’ve known it was you.” A pyrite in the rough. Vic had certainly enchanted her, bundled her up warm. And left her out in the cold when she was done with her. At least the sex had been fun. Perhaps the only truth she knew of the woman. “Wanna give me your phallic hive, huh? This some long-winded way to say you wanna fuck again?”

Vicky. It was all Vic could do to not physically shudder at the ridiculous name. She’d pretended to tolerate it back when she’d gotten to know the other woman, but the ruse had died down pretty quickly when it became obvious that she was not a vampire like Vic had first suspected. She hadn’t needed her anymore after that, so she ghosted her, effectively. She was so glad to be rid of the constant need for affection and sickening smell of dirt that she barely felt guilty for hanging her high and dry. It was business, and Eilidh had no right to feel jaded. “I should have known this was you”, she said after a while, closing her front door with a force that could only convey anger and annoyance to her companion. She ignored her accusation of wanting more, choosing instead to cross her arms and lean back against the side of her house, waiting for Eilidh to show any semblance of decorum. Her father would have told her she looked like a child. She stood up straight almost instantly. “I can think of about 100 things I’d rather do”, she shot back, walking down her front steps and fully expecting the other woman to follow. The path to her shed wasn’t long, though it was surrounded by blooming, in season flowers. Their bright colors never matched Vic’s disposition. “I was rather concerned about someone who was both enamored with the offensive shape of the hive and also more obsessed with bees than their own self respect that I didn’t know who’d show up today”, she said as she walked. It was a total lie- most of her time before Eilidh had arrived had been spent on making herself look presentable- would this strange woman be pleased with how she looked? What a waste of time, now that she knew who’d showed up. She turned around as she led her, her innate curiosity taking over. “What are you even planning on doing with the hive, anyway?” She was not interested in old pleasantries or even apologies. Whether or not Eilidh understood that was not her problem.

Eilidh had spent so long leaving others, never giving them the chance to do the same to her—because they will, they always will—she had almost forgotten how it felt to be on the receiving end. Almost. That old wound sported a new opening, stinging in the spring air. She had to be quicker next time. She had to be the first to go. Like the injured animal she was, she bared her teeth. It almost looked like a smile. “Would say the same. But never knew you well ‘nough to know.” At least some satisfaction was found at the clear revulsion on Vic’s face. It made the almost-smile more genuine. “Oh, hundred! Finally learned new tricks.” She followed behind Vic at a distance, physical mirroring the emotional. It was weird. Finally being here. Flowers in bloom. Dancing under the moonlight, despite the looming frost. Those gentle petals had once adorned the nape of her neck, intertwined in her hair. But now they ignored her. As cold as the air in her lungs. As the woman before her. At the inquiry, Eilidh’s divided attention snapped back to the leading woman. She too was equally beautiful, shimmering under the stars. But so far away. “Gonna relocate them. Find a place where they can thrive. Deep in the woods.” Far away from others, far away from her. So no one would destroy them. People had a habit of doing that to powerful, mysterious things. Things they didn’t understand. Suddenly, there was a sound from behind. Ever curious, she turned her head, and after a beat she realized it to be muffled barking. A true smile twitched on her lips. “Can I say hello to Winnie? That’s the only bitch I wanna see right now.” Truthfully, she had missed that kindred spirit. But bitterness forced her tongue, and her chances were most likely shattered.

Eilidh wasn’t wrong. In their time together, Vic had managed to get a considerable amount of information from her companion, all without revealing much about herself. “That was intentional”, she said through a forced smile. She scoffed, forcing herself not to turn back and face the other woman, despite the urge to defend herself. “You say ‘finally’ like our time together wasn’t enjoyable for you. Did you keep coming back for more because you enjoyed the drive over, then?” They arrived at the hive almost as soon as Eilidh finished sharing her plans for it and Vic locked eyes with her, unable to bring herself to gaze upon it in the company of someone else. Bees could be heard vibrating from inside the nest, and a few buzzed around it as well. “Well...as you can see it’s very phallic”, she said, blinking awkwardly. “I suppose it’s best hidden away in the woods, that way no one has to witness such an atrocity.” Now if Eilidh would just take the hive and go, she’d never have to think about either of them again. Of course she wouldn’t be so lucky. She scoffed at Eilidh’s request, flaring her nostrils in annoyance. Winnie adored everyone and anyone, and she wasn’t afraid to show it, either. Of course Eilidh would want to see her. After a beat of staring at the other woman, she rolled her eyes dramatically, walking a few paces around the side of the house to open her back door. It wasn’t even a moment later that Winnie came bounding outside at lightning speed, panting and slobbering excitedly. She did an energetic lap around the shed before she ran right toward Eilidh, trying to jump up and get a lick at her face in between excited barks. “Winnifred, nej!”, she scolded, worried that her oaf of a canine would knock the other woman down. The last thing she needed was a lawsuit on her hands. Her words seemed to fall on deaf ears, or at least disobedient ones.

“Now, yes.” Eilidh stated plainly. While she could still at least enjoy the view—Was she wearing that dress just for me? Ha!—there was no more substance. At least, that’s what she told herself. But a wondering did linger—who was this woman truly? Did she laugh same as before, fuck same as before? The questioning caused negative emotions to simmer—brought a fog in her mind. But a comment, followed by a screaming thought, brought her back. It's not an atrocity! She wanted to scream, to go on yet another tangent. But they’ve had that whole song and dance before. And she had more than just mere words in her arsenal. A growl took the scream’s place. Feelings effectively summarized by that primal rumble in her throat. “Must be why you’re out here. By yourself.” Before Vic could register what she meant, Eilidh turned to face the hive. It truly was phallic. Much more magnificent than in the pages of that old book. She took a step forward, then another, then one more. Testing her luck. Testing their patience. With one more questioning step—snow giving a satisfying cruuunch—the bees started to stir, awoken from their stupor. Buzzing sounding more like a warning hiss. Her feet came to stop—let her eyes do the work instead. The hive seemed to be fixed on the exterior of the wall, entirely out in the open. There would probably be no need to remove any bits of Vic’s shed in the process of securing the hive. Though, she might—she will—just for the hell of it. The backpack resting on her shoulders slid across her arms, joining the ground with a muffled thud. Searching hands grasped at the needed supplies. But as these items were revealed, basked in moonlight, a familiar jingling entered her ears.

Fingers released, letting the supplies rejoin their brethren for now. Eilidh had more pressing matters to attend to. The swarm gave another eruption of noise as the canine came just a little too close. But it was softer, subdued, perhaps having already grown used to Winnie’s antics. One second, she was lost behind the shed; the other, she was barreling straight for Eilidh. “A bhobain!” Arms opened wide in preparation, and Winnie wiggled herself into that waiting embrace. Then she practically wiggled herself out of it, her excitement unable to be contained by herself or Eilidh’s grasp. All Eilidh could do was laugh—sound like a wind chime in a hurricane. The laughter quickly died, not for lack of amusement, but for Winnie’s tongue encasing her whole mouth. She did not stop these feverish licks and returned the affection with scritches upon the dog’s nape.

Eilidh’s flare for the dramatics seemed, somehow, even more annoying when Vic wasn’t putting on a front to charm her, and she rolled her eyes at the attempted insult, even if her companion could not see. Her looks were never an insecurity for her, at least not for a few centuries now. Funny that she seemed to affect the other woman so much that she felt the need to insult her. Again, she thought about how Eilidh had no reason to feel scorned or hurt. Even if it was essentially fake, they had had a good run, and Vic had treated her right. “I’m out here by myself to avoid running into people like you”, she shot back, though in White Crest, someone like Eilidh was the least of her concerns. Despite her annoyance with the woman, though, there was something fascinating about the way she explored the nest with such care. There was a newfound cautiousness and gentleness there, one Vic wasn’t used to seeing from Eilidh. Something sparked in her, too, when she watched the interaction between her and Winnie. “How’s Tulip?”, she asked, against her better judgement. Eilidh’s dog, who was maybe the pure opposite of Winnie in demeanor, always elicited a sort of soft spot from Vic. “I mean, is she surviving you?”

Good humors returned with each lick placed on her face, all Eilidh did in response to Vic’s retort was a simple laugh. The implied insult fizzled and died upon her ego—though the heat of its death did create some form of pride. Her simple presence—despite how literal the comment—could cause such a brash reaction? Funny! Momentarily distracted by the thought, she hadn’t noticed the shift of weight upon her body, until she was sent tumbling down under Winnie’s excitement. Upper hand secured, Winnie took upon the opportunity with vigor, making sure every inch of Eilidh’s face was marked with her tongue. More of Eilidh’s laughter filled the air in response. White vapors of breath clouded them in fog. Giving them some privacy. It was only broken with the mention of her own canine companion. Hands pressed and pushed into Winnie’s face—squishing those skin rolls into one—until her tongue licked the air in vain. “Thriving, actually. Been doing lots of swimming.” Warm weather drew the dog to water like moth to flame. Warmth that had slipped passed her fingers, same as Vic’s. “Well, had. Before a layer of ice blocked us out. Assholes.”

Winnie laid in wait, now frozen mid-lick in something akin to acceptance. But instead of allowing that tongue to return, Eilidh wiggled out from under her hovering form. As her feet found footing, she finally released that hold upon the dog, who gladly resumed those joyous kisses. Eilidh whispered something in her ear, gave a kiss of her own, then stood. The hive felt her presence once more, buzzing in welcome or threat or both. Those dropped supplies returned to her grasp, out into the crisp air, ready for use. “Time for a neuter.”

Vic wanted to continue to scowl, but Winnie pushing Eilidh down was quite a sight, and despite herself, a smirk came to play on her lips. “Winifred!”, she scolded with barely any gusto. She nodded at the mention of the weather, annoyed that it had taken such a turn, recently. “Winnie rather enjoys the snow. She thinks it’s Christmas in July.” She wondered, briefly, what it might be like for the dogs to get together to have a playdate. As annoying as she was, there was something sweet about watching the way Eilidh interacted with Winnie, as if they had been lifelong friends finally reunited after being torn apart.

She let out a shallow breath as her companion turned her attention to the bees, briefly wondering why the vibrating man never came around when she was outside. Was he afraid of her? He should be. “Will it hurt them?” she asked, eyeing the supplies curiously. “Where in god’s name did you get all those things, anyway? Do you just carry around supplies for bees just in case one of their hives happens to be shaped in a horribly offensive way?”

Eilidh shook her head down to the eagerly waiting dog. “Perhaps Cailleach brought you a gift, eh? Do we got you to blame for all this?” A finger booped playfully on top the canine’s nose. Winnie’s tongue slapped desperately across her own muzzle, trying to return the favor and lick that pressing digit—but reflexes were too slow and all that tongue met was crisp air. Despite Eilidh’s hand clearly returning to her side, that tongue continued a good few seconds before realizing defeat. At the sight, laughter burst out of Eilidh once more. Ripples of that giggle still ricocheted off her throat as attentions focused fully on the task at hand. Well, almost fully. “Won’t hurt ‘em.” Despite the smile that still clung to her lips, drops of aggression bled into her voice. Assuming the worst. Because she didn’t have the best examples to work with—and the better ones were lies. “Don’t be too disappointed.”

The aggression bled out, for the most part, leaving behind her usual humors. “Stole ‘em. Shhhh, don’t tell. Always gotta keep ‘em on hand. These fuckers are sprinkled all over town. Got a second bag for pussy-shaped hives, too. Can’t mix those two up. ‘Less you want ‘nother Clevesdale incident.” In that following beat, unwavering eyes stared at Vic—expressionless. But only for a beat, for soon a lip twitch betrayed her and she sighed an amused breath. But the truth remained on her tongue. The fuck did Vic think, she’d show up empty-handed? Not that Eilidh was particularly above brute forcing some projects—perks of her biology led to lack of need for safety precautions. So, the supplies she hoisted from the bag were for the bees’ sake. Not her own. They found themselves onto her hands, inching closer to the hive. The inhabitants stirred at the action, air taking on a quick heartbeat in their unified song. But frost lulled them back to sleep. Leaving her to her work. “Gonna help? Or just stand there looking pretty?”

Winnie seemed to be satisfied with her greeting, finally leaving Eilidh be in favor of giving Vic a quick, affectionate nudge before she ran off into the yard, darting past trees and zipping through flower beds and jumping into piles of snow, then circling the women quickly before doing it all again. She’d once heard someone refer to this behavior as the ‘zoomies’, though she’d never lower herself to call it such a thing. She didn’t know why she was relieved to know the beasts wouldn’t be hurt. They had, after all, offended her greatly with their hive. But she didn’t have too much time to think of it before Eilidh made her backhanded comment. She narrowed her eyes at the woman, crossing her arms over her chest. “Can’t be more disappointed than when you showed up on my doorstep, darling”. If she were being honest with herself (an annoying habit she picked up lately) it was a bit of a strange relief to have Eilidh there. Her companion, for all her bite and quirks, wasn’t a threat, and Vic supposed that was good enough for her.

“I never know when you’re being honest”, she responded, ignoring the rather large piece of irony that came with her saying such a thing. She pursed her lips with disdain as Eilidh continued, clearly unappreciative of her choice of words. “Can’t you find another word to describe them? P...ussy is so- crass.” The bemused twitch of her lips let her know that Eilidh thought she was being funny. Vic, for her part, let out another annoyed huff. Again, too, at the idea that she was meant to help. (She ignored the way her heart fluttered at being called pretty, the way it always did when beautiful women took notice). “I had you come so I wouldn’t have to do the work”, she muttered begrudgingly, despite walking closer to Eilidh and the hive. The bees buzzed around her at first, and she instinctively wanted to run away even though she knew they couldn’t hurt her. She looked at Eilidh expectantly, and then down at her bag, not quite knowing what she was meant to do. After looking between them once more, she hoisted it up, holding it out so Eilidh could rummage through. “I think you mentioned on the ‘online’ that you’d remove this for free, but I will be paying you. How much does one usually charge to remove offensively shaped hives?”

“Don’t be such a pussy ‘bout pussy.” The way the word struggled to release from Vic’s mouth—like sap oozing from a tree—sent chuckles freely from her own. Which quickly turned to a scoff at Vic’s protest. “I think ‘least you can manage”—words cut short as her idea came to life without any instruction, her bag brought up an easy arm stretch away—“… that.” Hands returned to the bag once more, confirming she had all she needed, though Eilidh no longer needed to bend as before. As they returned to the icy air, fingers brushed against Vic’s own. Despite the cold, only warmth pricked at her affected palm, up the connected arm. A reaction born of a time lost to a lie, she tried to remind herself. But the mind rarely won against the body, for it was one against all. So, she returned her gaze to the hive. She knew how to feel about that. “Not sure.” In truth, money was not something she put much thought into. The main reason it crossed her mind was to ensure the creatures that have come and gone from her life received satisfactory care. And Vic’s ignorance did present an opportunity to secure much funds for such care. But something else knocked at her mind, pushing out before it could supply an outrageous number value to her labor. “How ‘bout we trade in favors?”

The close proximity of foreign entities (What do they want? What will they do?) and of foreign tools (Will it hurt? Will it kill?) finally jolted the hive out of the winter stupor. A black cloud overcame the hive, phallic-shape lost under the swarm of small bodies. But what started as irregular began to form purpose. The lumps of the cloud elongated and quivered until something familiar was forged. Like looking at a fucked-up a mirror, Eilidh was greeted by the top-half of a humanoid body. Suspended in air, made entirely of bees. “There you are.” The being looked at her. Seemingly. The structure at the top, resembling a head, was tilted down. And the curve facing the shed was more pronounced, like where the skull met the back of the neck. Leaving the front pointed at her. Staring at her. A sea of many returned her gaze, a collective of eyes focused exclusively on her. Trying to meet one pair was fruitless—they weaved in and out of each other, blending into each other. Where one ended and another began was left unclear. But that was intentional. For they were more than just those of their parts. Not one. Not all. But both. And neither. And something new.

“There is a man obsessed with insects in town. Or- he inherited an obsession with insects, from what I’ve summarized. He wanted to come get the hive as well if I’m being honest. I agreed to let you come take it before your rudeness came out.” Vic watched the ground as she spoke, the way the snow glistened against the twilight of the evening made it look like a natural shimmer on the ground. She wondered what color paint it would take to achieve such a color. “I’ll ask him what his going rate is.” She narrowed her eyes at Eilidh, wondering if she was being serious with her implication. “It’s incredibly illegal in the United States to trade services for such favors”, she chided disapprovingly. “You expect me to behave like a depraved criminal?” The thought was appealing, even if she didn’t particularly want to admit it. Her bed had been particularly cold lately, especially since Marley found herself practically hitched. It would be easy with Eilidh, especially if she could find some good-quality earplugs.

Vic wanted to flinch as the bees swarmed, childhood fears of discomfort bubbling to the surface at the thought of being stung by the beasts. But then she blinked as the swarm became more concrete, not quite believing what she saw forming in front of her. “Oh. That’s the naked man”, she said, everything coming into place. “Perhaps this is why it appears he’s vibrating from afar.” She stepped closer to Eilidh and the bee man, realizing now that these bees were less natural than she thought. Phallic loving bees for sure, judging from the shape of the hive and the vibrating man’s apparent appendage. “Maybe he needs to earn your trust before they’ll let you cut it down”, she suggested, her voice a hushed whisper in Eilidh’s ear. “Naked man!”, she was shouting now, even though the bee man was barely two feet away. “You are not safe here. Or- you do not belong. I do not wish to look at your offensive, ugly hive any longer!”

Eilidh blinked. Only once, realization pushed away the confusion and forced out a laugh. Loud and brief—thunderclap of amusement. “For someone who can’t say it. You got pussy on the mind.” Certainly hadn’t been the main path her mind ventured. While Vic’s body had been a topic—and sex did find itself lower down on the list—it had focused more on humiliation than pleasure. Though for some, the two weren’t so exclusive. The latter especially took a run about in her thoughts. Caused a prick of rage, though left an aftertaste of craving. A craving she thought she’d been done with, after the abandonment set in. But anger and lust often paired, at least for her. She eyed the woman up and down, hands unsure if they wanted to slap or caress. “‘Pends. How desperately you want ‘em gone?” Those hands found an answer at Vic’s… attempt to placate the hive. Directed shout caused the amalgamation to flinch in its own special way. Form rippled as if struck by the sound waves. Solidity returned at the insult, though stillness did not. Vibrations shook its entire core—caused a buzzing unlike anything heard before. Before the situation could be worsened, those decisive hands finally found themselves on Vic. And gave her a blunt shove. Right into the snow. “Anyway. Wanna get away from this bitch? To some place nice and warm? Summer’s only a few miles away.” Stillness. Silence. The hive watched her with consideration, head tilting in thought.

Vic knew her face could no longer blush, but she was sure that the moment a laugh bubbled out from Eilidh, her cheeks turned a bright crimson. She didn’t know why she assumed Eilidh had been making such an offer, but hindsight made her utterly embarrassed that she’d said it out loud. “It’s just what I’ve come to expect from you”, she muttered out weakly, her hands traveling to smooth down her hair in an effort to keep themselves busy. “Desperately enough to invite who I thought would be a stranger over to take them”, she answered honestly, wondering if this whole interaction might be over by now if she had just let the insect man grab the hive instead. It certainly would have filled her with much less dread and guilt, that was for sure. Vic let out an equally surprised and offended grunt when she was shoved to the ground, and her hands barely caught herself in time to stop herself from landing face-first in the snow. The nerve of Eilidh pushing her down on her own property! As she picked herself up and brushed herself off, face contorted with a mix of annoyance and offense, she distantly heard what her companion was saying to the dickbees. “Bitch?”, she asked incredulously, clearly offended. “That’s incredibly rude. If you’re going to insult me, at least do it while I’m out of earshot like a decent person”, she huffed. The bees, for their part, seemed calmed by Eilidh’s offer, and their shape began to form less of a man with every passing second, as if their demeanor was calming. Despite all of the offense, Vic couldn’t help but glance again at Eilidh. “I think they’ll like their new mom”, she said dryly. Eilidh seemed to have some sort of special connection with stupid creatures, if her relationship with Winifred was any indication.

Eilidh smirked, eyes refusing to join the ground with the woman she addressed. “Then get outta earshot.” She felt a sudden pull for the amalgamation, at that quip of motherhood. Such a word always putting her in an odd sort of way, whether pleasant or distressed. But it passed just as the sourcing comment. A thought of apology was absent from lips and mind. Her attentions instead fully found themselves on the buzzing entity—though reaction would be mirrored if the two women had been alone. The two eliciting different reactions from the entity: buzzing turned chorus with Vic and trembling turned stilled at Eilidh. Both coursed over each bee unit as the legion’s gaze went back and forth. Overcome by waves of sound and silence. The silence won, revealing the hum of brisk winds in its wake, as the rocking head settled on Eilidh. Only turned to movement again to give a small nod. Almost simultaneously, Eilidh’s hands clapped together. That nod returned on her own head. “Lovely. Let’s get on it, then.” She began her work removing the hive as inhabitants watched with a curiosity. Even assisted when needed. Hands, both of flesh and of bees, worked silently for a minute or two. Until Eilidh broke it. “I’ll message later the payment. This was lots of work, you see.” The hive began releasing its hold on the shed easily, as if all it needed was a simple push. “Gonna need to really consider all the parts.”

Vic crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at Eilidh, sending her a look of scorn and distaste. “You get out of my earshot!” Although there was a feeling, deep and dark and desperate to be ignored, that she didn’t want Eilidh to leave at all. She watched with rapt attention and curiosity as the bees and Eilidh worked together to do their work, her companion seamlessly joining a computer-like system of workers who knew what needed to be done and when. It was so easy for them to join together, even as Vic had only moments ago been thinking how inconvenient and annoying they both were. She let out a huff when the work was done, unsure of what exactly she was feeling. An urge to call Morgan pricked at the back of her neck like a bee sting. “I’ll be waiting, then. Don’t know why everything has to be such a big production.” Eilidh, still in love with the theatrics, could have just told her how much she wanted here and get it over with. But Vic didn’t hate the idea of having to meet up with her again. As she watched her go, Winnie settled at her side, her breaths heavy and rambunctious as she watched with some longing her friend leave. Vic tried to ignore her own feeling of longing, but life was never so simple or kind.

#wickedswriting #buzzkill #chatzy #;— interactions #ft. vic m.

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withoneheadlight · 4 years

Text

Kinda want to make us happen (so stop smiling at me like that)

"Okay. What would you go for, then?"

"I don't know. Johansson, maybe? I like that one" says Steve, thoughtful, dropping down next to Billy, his back against the boiling side of the Camaro" Ooor-oh! Williamson! That one sounds good. Steve Williamson. What do you think?"

"Weird." Billy taps his cigarette butt with his thumb, blowing the ash, "I think it sounds weird. And I don't know why you want to change it, if all of those rhyme with the one you already have”

Steve rolls his eyes. The screams from the pool come gusty, like the wind that has risen from the east. The kids are already more than fifteen minutes late.

"Let's see. You try. I'm sure you'll have a knack for it"

Billy should get mad about his haughty tone, but what he feels instead is that tone describing a line that travels straight down from the hollow of his throat to just below his navel. The wind has extinguished his cigarette when he brings it to his lips. He throws it. Steals Steve's.

"Hey!"

"I don't know" he hits a puff, pretends to ignore him "I like the one you have. Sounds good. Ha-rring-ton. HaaaarringTON ”

"You only like it because you use it to harass me"

Billy can't help but smile. Wide. Cheeky.

"Maybe"

Billy shouldn't know about this last name thing. It's not like he and Steve have anything remotely close to that kind of familiarity. They are not friends or anything. Most of the time Billy only gets to see him like this, in passing. An almost daily coincidence. On days like today, waiting for the kids around a cigarette. On the days Steve stops by the gas station during Billy's shift to refuel the BMW. When he sees him in the distance, walking by, like those people you see only in the movies. Sunglasses on. White, pristine Nikes, a smile more expensive than all the money Billy will ever have in his hands. Million-dollar Steve Harrington, with his million-dollar smile. Completely unattainable for someone like Billy.

Because, that’s it, people like Steve Harrington happen to people like Billy Hargrove only in passing. And he knows, he knows, but he can't help but force those coincidences a little sometimes, push them into happening, like dropping by the Mall to fetch an ice cream on the Scoops –even if it really does have the best stuff in town–, accidentally catching a conversation ("Dingus. I vote for dingus. That’s your new last name" and "Thank you, Robin. I'm glad you're taking it so seriously" and "I take it seriously. Steve Dingus. Think about it"). And Billy is curious now. As he always is, inevitably, about all things regarding Steve Harrington.

"And why do you want to change it?"

"I'm gonna-" Steve hesitates. Draws a long, curved line with his shoe, staining the tip with the dusty ocher dirt of the gravel "I'm gonna leave"

It's a curious thing. One moment it feels like there's plenty of air filling your lungs, and the next, you have nothing.

"From Hawkins?"

"Eh? No. No” Steve takes a deep breath, “Only from my parent’s house”

Billy doesn't know if when your heart skips a beat you can ever get it back, but if not, Steve Harrington owes him this one.

But he sounds cool, perfectly collected when he speaks again. A long, hard-learned ability.

"And the last name thing?"

“My father– He's always saying this shit,” he sighs, makes his voice even more serious, rounds it in an exaggerated imitation of his father “This –You're not worthy to carry the Harrington name– shit. So."

Billy knows a lot about asshole fathers and never meeting impossible expectations. If he could, he would erase every trace of Neil off himself, even if he's not sure how much would be left after that.

"Yeah"

He hands him the cigarette and Steve accepts it with a small smile.

"It will cost me almost everything I have. But, you know, is worth it"

Billy frowns.

"Don't you have like, a shitload of money?"

"Not if I leave" Steve shrugs, turns his head in the direction of the pool, throat working "If you leave casa Harrington, you leave casa Harrington for good. No car, no inheritance, no nothing. We’re not– in the best terms right now. My father and I"

Billy wants to know about that too–he wants to know everything– but it seems like too much to ask.

Steve's head lulls down. The wind picks up momentum over the curve of his back, ruffles his hair in a whirlpool. He puffs on the cigarette.

It's the closest Billy is ever going to get to his lips.

"Well, welcome then, to bottom of the bottom of the social scale. I’m sure you’re gonna enjoy yourself down here, surrounded by the poor and the unprivileged “

He means it as a joke, but realizes he has screwed up the moment the words leave his lips. Steve’s face twists into something sad and ashamed and Billy is a fucking asshole that needs to stop and think before opening his big, stupid mouth.

"I guess so," he says, lips pressed thin. And God, Billy is like a fucking elephant, stepping on every delicate thing. He should know better than making it worst.

Fuck.

Because is not as he can’t imagine the reason why Steve wants to get away from Robert Harrington. Why he needs to stop being someone so small under such a large shadow. Because Steve it’s not like that. It’s not some selfish and self-centered prick. Steve is caring and protective and so, so good.

And Billy is totally gone for him.

"You can have mine" he says, and immediately wants to smack himself in the head because though you were gonna start thinking before speaking, Hargrove.

Steve looks at him, curious and a bit confused. Billy inhales. Deep.

"Can what?"

"My last name" he says, because Steve is looking at him intently, and there’s nothing he can do now "I hate it. You can have it if you want”

And Jesus, he feels so stupid right now. It’s like he can’t control his fucking mouth when he's around Steve, like he’s still seventeen and trying so hard to impress him. Fishes inside his back pocket for the pack of cigarettes. He can see Steve’s smile growing in the corner of his eye. And ok. That’s ok. Billy is a big-mouthed asshole. But Steve is smiling now, so ok.

At least he made it better.

"I don't think Steve Hargrove sounds very cool either, truth be told"

But it does. It does. And Billy is turning red, warmth spreading through his face, burning on the tips of his ears.

"It’s better than Johansson"

"That’s true" He does this thing he does sometimes, this thing of fixing his eyes on Billy and instantly looking away, elusive, and Billy's body tightens as if ready to hunt him down, thrumming with the blind impulse of reach after him. In this distance, he can see all the moles that dot his skin, delicate and beautiful, the long to touch them hurts at his fingertips.

"How are you going to do it?"

“No fucking idea,” he shrugs. “I guess I can stay at Dustin's for a few days and try to come up with something from there. I don't really have anything planned. I just want–". He doesn't say it, like he’s not able to find the words. Like it’s less formed thought and more feeling. But there’s no need because Billy knows them all. He has an interminable list of them. It starts with freedom, with independence, with never again. He yelled them all at his father when he got away last year. Max is the only reason he hasn’t flown from Hawkins yet.

Well, not the only reason. Just the only that’s not a fucking dream.

“No fucking idea” Steve repeats like an echo, huffs a laugh that comes out ragged. Nervous. Like he’s caught up in that thought. How are you gonna do it?.

And Billy is an adult now. Shouldn’t be losing his self-control around a boy like this anymore. Even if that boy is Steve Harrington. Should be able to stop his fucking mouth for fuck’s sake.

But he asks, anyway.

"Wanna crash at my place?"

“Uh?”

Steve’s brow furrows. Most days it ain’t easy to tell apart the color of his eyes, irises so dark they mix with the pupils, but the sun is sinking low now, golden light brightening them lighter, a soft shade of brown. Billy tries not to think about how impossible he is, how out of reach even like this, so close to him, side to side, their bodies brushing.

"While you figure it out, I mean. Or, you know, I could use a roommate, share the rent, once you regain some money, I mean”

It's a stupid offer and he knows it, because people like Steve Harrington never really happen to people like Billy Hargrove, only like this, the luck to steal a few moments, a coincidence.

"Really?" Steve asks with something completely, disarmingly unexpected. Something like hope.

He gets up, looks at Billy like he’s trying to decipher something.

"No. Not really. Didn't you just hear me, Harrington?” He says, uses his best unrepentant asshole tone. Lights another cigarette “I'm wasn't by any means inviting you or something"

And Steve smiles smiles smiles. And Billy has never-ever wanted to kiss someone so much, and for so long, and be able to hold himself back.

"Jesus, Hargrove" Steve breathes out a laugh, and he's beaming, and Billy doesn't have the slightest idea how he managed to do that "Is there anything you are not willing to give me?"

And he’s kidding, of course he is, but the words hit like a blow, straight to his solar plexus and Billy is not fast enough, he wasn’t prepared. So when he lowers his head, he’s sure Steve has seen it all, right there in his eyes.

Everything.

He lights the cigarette, fills his lungs till he feels them burning.

"You take it or what?"

"I take it" he says. Low and soft like it is something intended only for Billy to hear "And, you’re right, by the way”

“Uh?”

“It sounds better the more I think about it"

(This is how it goes:

Steve never gets to change it.

He moves in with Billy. Needs the money because (“No, no, no. You’re not gonna pay for all our food ¿You want me to die of embarrassment? Wait. Wait. Don’t answer that") so he postpones it because, there's no rush, really (“And you keep calling me HAAaarrrrington, so feels a bit like a waste”) it was one those in-the-heat-of-the-moment kind of decisions anyway so (“No. It was no childish. You’re an asshole. Ok, well. Yeah. That I can accept. It was not the most practical) it ends up on undefined hiatus.

And then they start joking about it. Billy calls him “Mr. Hargrove” (“Good morning, Mr. Hargrove” or “Wanna go to the movies tonight, Mr. Hargrove?” or “You forgot to do the dishes yesterday, Mr. Hargrove, that's five bucks to the forgotten-dishes jar, Mr. Hargrove”) and Steve uses his, when replies, in a fairly accurate impersonation (“You owe like, twenty dollars to that jar, Harrington. So you are not to speak”) and keeps on using it against him on a regular basis (“Gosh, Harrington, you're such softie. And think that you used to be such a hard-ass on High School” every time Max convinces him to take her shopping).

And, truth be told, Steve never hated it that much. Kind of loves it, now that his father hasn’t power over him anymore, now that it's Billy who uses it, rides the letters like a wave, HarrignTON, piling up the syllables like in a roller coaster. When he says,

“I’m glad you’re here with me, Harrington” falling asleep against his shoulder on the couch.

When he says,

“I miss you, Harrington. This is so boring without you” that time Steve took the kids on a camping trip for a whole week.

When he says,

“I can’t stop myself from kissing you anymore, Harrington. So this is your chance to step away”

They hyphenate, at the end.

There are a lot of Hs and Rs and Gs, that they share, and Steve wants them all.

They toss a coin in the air.

“Are you sure you haven’t cheated, pretty boy? You look too smug to not be lying”

“Why would I? But we can switch, if you want to”

“Nah, I think it sounds pretty good, actually” Billy says. Kisses him “Better the more I think about it”)

#dumb boys being dumb #dumb writers being even dumber #harringrove #harringrove fic #steve harrington #Billy Hargrove #billy x steve #Steve x Billy #xharringrove

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puttingfingerstokeys · 4 years

Text

and we danced

I’ve had this one sitting around for a bazillion years. Sequel to Faraday Cage, though I think I started this one first. Oh well, that’s been happening a lot.

Faraday Cage

prevented timeline

Sunset in Beverly Hills was a time of peaceful winding down for some—very few, of course, but some—and for Johnny Cage in particular, it was a time to sit on his patio, crack a beer, and play with the new turntable Cassie had gotten him to replace the one that had been lost in the move. A few boxes of records stood about like milling party guests and he was going through them, deciding what to listen to first. There were albums of many genres, and not all of them were his. He held a Doors album that had belonged to his late ex-wife, Sonya Blade, and gripped his beer a little harder than was perhaps necessary.

The sun sank lower, casting red-orange hues over the expanse of his home and yard, staining everything a rust color while the sky ran through shades of pink, lavender and, to the east, blue, Stygian and star-dotted, though only for the moment. As night’s blanket fell, the lights of the city—the brazen neon refusing to relinquish its hold upon the evening—would drown out those points of light, irreverently casting them aside as if they were shards of glass, rather than precious diamonds. A lot of life’s like that, Johnny considered, choosing a record and placing it gently upon the turntable, lowering the needle with relish.

An almost muffled crack of thunder—how a lightning bolt could be muffled would forever remain a mystery to the aging actor—resounded across the yard just as night took hold and his hanging “fairy” lights came on, activated by the lack of ambient illumination. He looked up to see the protector of Earthrealm, Raiden, striding across the expanse of grass which marked his yard. He was glad his fences were high and his neighbors were, in all likelihood, out on the town.

“Whoa Raiden—somethin’ wrong?” He was immediately alarmed and set his beer aside to stand and face the deity. In his defense, Raiden walked everywhere with purpose, as if something urgent was happening someplace and it required his attention. Johnny chalked it up to being a god, though perhaps it was simply Raiden’s personality. Some people had a hard time differentiating between Raiden’s duty and personality; they so often coincided that even the god himself seemed helpless in the face of that gap—if indeed gap there was. But Johnny knew better. The gulf was spanned with firm ties, but there was a divide.

“No, Johnny Cage,” said the god of thunder with relief in his voice. “I am sorry to have alarmed you.”

“I wasn’t alarmed—just… y’know…” Johnny sat back down before realizing he should offer a chair. He stood once more and gestured to his.

“You were,” the god corrected, “because you rarely refer to me in that way unless you are alarmed.”

Johnny felt himself go red to the ears as Raiden took the offered seat and he retrieved another from the garden shed which was positioned off to one side of the patio. A push mower and a few lawn grooming implements were also placed therein, but for the time being, he was only interested in a chair. Grasping it with one hand, he lifted it and closed the doors behind himself, returning to the record player, the records, and the literal deity who had settled in his seat.

“Should’ve known,” Johnny amended, setting his own on the other side of the player so he could still manipulate it. “I mean you’re… not in armor, so I guess shit can’t be that bad.”

“An astute observation,” responded Raiden, regarding the machine, speakers, and vinyl disks. He touched none of these, knowing that even his presence could upset electronics, but wondering after their purpose. He was certain that the machine itself would be adversely affected by his lightning, even if the discs were not. Raiden was not ignorant of mortal machines or customs, just too busy to become intimately acquainted therewith. No one seemed to hold it against him.

Rather, they found it endearing. This, for some reason, did not upset him. It delighted the god of thunder to know people found him… approachable. Long ago, he had relinquished the cloak of aloofness, finding mortals and their lives to be far too fascinating and precious to loftily hold himself above them. The irony is in my tardiness; Fujin understood eons ago what it has taken me much longer to learn. I am a fool.

“So why are you here?” Johnny’s words fled his tongue before he could restrain them and he blushed once more as he reached for the beer he had discarded. “Sorry—not what I meant. What’s… uh… Up?”

“A desire to commune with a friend,” said Raiden simply but in his usual elaborate fashion that made Johnny wonder if he should also be speaking that way—it was like feeling underdressed at a gala or five-star restaurant, but with words. “I would have called,” Raiden added after a moment, “but…” His hands rose, palms skyward to indicate that he had no means by which to contact Johnny—e.g. no cellphone. Magic amulets, of course, were plentiful if one knew where to look, but there was no need to saddle Johnny Cage with such an implement when he could simply touch down in the man’s back yard and speak with him personally.

For Johnny’s part, the thought of Raiden texting sent a hysterical thrill through his body and he restrained the urge to laugh aloud. He made a mental note to say something to Cassie later, but for now, it was more important to focus on the fact that Raiden had come back after that weird afternoon a few weeks ago—or had it been months—when he had kissed him!

Johnny had been sure that would be the last he would see of the god of thunder, though he had hoped this would not be the case, and he had resigned himself to only hearing peripherally from the guy when Earthrealm was in peril. He had even gone through the “is he avoiding me” phase before the resignation had set in. It was almost thrilling to feel so young and stupid again. Next to him, I guess I am young and stupid.

“Well, I’m havin’ a beer and listening to old records—and I’m all outta beer. Lemme put this sucker on.” He did just that, gently laying a record on the turntable and placing the needle, standing with what he felt was a thunderous crack of his knees and then straightened. “You want one?”

“My body is a temple, Johnny Cage; I do not imbibe.”

“Could be an amusement park, Sparky,” came the reply, but as he had never forced his alcoholic preferences on Liu Kang or any of his other White Lotus or Wu-Shi friends, he did not press and headed inside to grab a second beer and maybe breathe a little. In the background of his retreat, Jim Morrison’s voice filtered through the air and filled his back yard.

Johnny’s fingers closed on the handle of his refrigerator door and he pulled it open, feeling nothing other than casual affection toward the strange being on his porch. As he reached toward the next beer, however, his mind began racing along, out of control. It felt as if casual affection was morphing. He needed the alcohol and the comfortable haze it promised.

His hand closed about the chilly bottle and he stood, regarding the singular illumination provided by his refrigerator and realized that he’d forgotten to turn any lights on. Sunset had come and gone and here he was, standing in his dark kitchen with the god of thunder relaxing on his patio and listening to the Doors. His heart began to pound and he fumbled with the bottle opener magnet. Casual affection was, indeed, quickly giving way to something which scared him.

When he finally managed to free his bottle of its troublesome top and return to the door, intent on gaining the patio without fumbling anything, Raiden had once more removed his hat and cap and was running his fingers through his hair. Johnny wasn’t sure the guy knew he was standing there, hand poised just above the handle of his slider, watching that silvery-white stuff flow and wave, catching the warm illumination of his yard lights. Once more, he was assailed by the desire to see it spread out upon a pillow beneath him.

Johnny shook his head to clear that thought, swallowed hard and tugged the door open. Raiden straightened and shifted, softly glowing eyes turning toward his host. In the back of his mind, the actor wondered if Raiden could read minds. He had never asked, but he certainly hoped this was not the case.

“I apologize for arriving unannounced,” Raiden said, inclining his head. His hands had dropped from his hair and were poised almost demurely in his lap. Johnny shrugged and remembered that he was supposed to walk out and join Raiden on the patio, rather than standing in the doorway, frozen by the man’s divine beauty.

Fortunately, the possessor of the divine beauty in question did not seem to notice and as Johnny uprooted himself, he turned, politely, and resumed his relaxed position on the seat. Johnny could not help noticing, with offhanded curiosity, that the seat didn’t sink much with the god’s weight as it did with his own. Weird.

“It’s fine,” Johnny assured him, raising a hand. “Really. It was just gunna be me and this record player.” He reached over and turned the volume dial down so they could converse without difficulty. Raiden’s voice, he had noticed, was firm, but gentle—except when he was pissed. The commanding tone doubled his voice, amplifying it to the point where it seemed to come from everywhere and rattled in Johnny’s ribcage and skull. He was glad this was not the voice he was hearing. “I’m glad you’re here, actually.”

Once more, Johnny’s words were getting ahead of his brain and, as usual, he could not retract what had been said. It wasn’t a lie, of course, or an exaggeration, but some things were best left unsaid. He lifted the beer to his lips defensively, but the statement was already out there, hovering in the air between them.

Raiden watched him with a Mona Lisa expression, almost half of a smile, certainly relaxed, and knowing, as ever. Johnny prayed he would not ask why the mortal was glad to see him. He did not have the energy for that explanation, short though it should have been. Just tell him you wanted to see him again because you’ve got a thing for him, simple as that. Liu was right. Better to get it out in one go and see what happens. Worst he can do is vaporize me.

Johnny decided that was an unkind thought and busied himself digging through his records; better to do that than prolonging the awkwardness of the utter lack of conversation. Fortunately, Johnny was the only one feeling awkward, as Raiden seemed content with the musical quietude and had settled back in the provided chair, inscrutable eyes focused on nothing in particular, and then falling on Johnny’s back as he crouched near a box, having himself a trip through memory lane. A warm wind began to pick up, coming off the ocean and bringing with it the smell of salt.

“That you, big guy?” Johnny, as usual, broke the silence. Raiden shook his head.

“No,” he responded. “I am the god of thunder, Johnny Cage, not wind.”

There was humor in his tone and a levity that Johnny had come to appreciate, even to crave. It was so rare, even now, when everything seemed to be at peace. Shifting from his crouched position to one of kneeling, Johnny clutched a record in one hand and reached for the turntable with the other. Raiden could not see what was on the cover, but even if he could, it would be insignificant. In all his time and travels, he had rarely taken the opportunity to sit and absorb the music of Earthrealm—or any other realm, for that matter.

“Raiden I—”

“Johnny Cage—”

Both men paused as they began simultaneously and then that strange, utterly human embarrassment settled over them like the blanket of night which had tucked itself in for the evening. Johnny turned to face Raiden, still half-crouched. The god of thunder was sitting forward, elbows on his knees, glowing eyes meeting Johnny’s without reservation. There was something in those eyes; right then they were not as inscrutable as they had been in the past. Or maybe I’m just getting better at reading him, Johnny thought, unsure if he was comfortable with this.

“Please,” ushered Raiden finally, extending a hand toward his mortal companion. Johnny shook his head.

“Age before beauty,” he insisted, attempting to introduce humor to a situation in which it may not have been appropriate, a very on-brand move for him. His heart was seizing and then hammering and then fluttering, as if there was some kind of small bird within, fighting desperately to escape. Johnny was not even clear within himself just what it was he wanted Raiden to say, or what he himself was attempting to express. He had been content simply allowing his mouth to run away with him, to see where it would take this situation. Now, faced with the reality of what a runaway tongue might cause, he was terrified. To busy his hands, he gingerly switched records as Raiden conceded.

“Very well, although I have heard on the breeze that some mortals find me to be… exquisite.” This, too, seemed to be an introduction of humor, so Johnny didn’t feel as silly as he might have done otherwise. Raiden sat back, looking almost impish, and certainly amused.

“Fujin promised he wouldn’t tell!” Johnny’s tone was jesting, but his heart continued its staccato tattoo. He had not, in fact, spoken with Fujin in quite some time—like Raiden, the man was busy. If he had, it certainly wouldn’t be to confess some kind of high school crush on a celestial being’s equally divine brother. Twins, he reminded himself, they’re twins—Thunder Cat told Cassie and me recently. Weird.

They were night and day, Fujin and Raiden, but Johnny assumed that twins among gods did not operate the same as mortal twins. Or perhaps they did and he simply had no firsthand knowledge. The only twins he had ever encountered were a pair of actresses in one of his films—notably not the Ninja Mime franchise. The music began, but it was secondary to the melody of Raiden’s voice as he spoke.

“He did not have to,” said Raiden, his tone warm, almost inviting—or maybe that invitation was a misinterpretation of Johnny’s fevered mind as he tried to lose himself in a swig of beer and an ‘80s power ballad whose title was lost in the cyan pools of Raiden’s eyes. “I know it is not an appropriate custom,” he continued, “to leave someone for long periods of time with no contact, but the nature of my—of what I am—dictates that I must. Forgive me for that, if you can.”

“Anything,” Johnny breathed. He realized that he had not yet been able to return to his seat, so enraptured was he in Raiden’s gaze. The soft, warm illumination of his backyard lighting fell upon Raiden’s statuesque face and, rather than making him look ghoulish as it might do to just about anyone else, he became an older Adonis, still painfully handsome—beautiful, even—but no longer pretty in that fleeing way of youth. His face lacked the innocence of a younger man and Johnny realized he had come to appreciate this, craved it too, along with much else.

“Your kindness does you great credit, Johnny Cage,” Raiden said.

It ain’t kindness. This is so far beyond that, Johnny thought, his mind losing itself in that strange warm haze of beer, good music, and good company. Without thinking, Johnny shifted once more, moving closer to the god of thunder and reaching out toward him, laying a hand upon his knee. There was a low buzz when he did that, not a sound, but a feeling under his palm and fingers, dancing up his arm. He squeezed, feeling his heart clambering in his throat and wondering if Raiden’s was doing the same—or if he even had a heart. What operated within the body of a being like him?

Was it all clockwork, or maybe ethereal light? He had seen Raiden bleed and the blood was red, but when it caught the light, it was clearly shot through with veins of gold, unless his eyes deceived him all those years ago. When it hit the ground, it clattered as if solid. He did not understand this, but all the times he witnessed this, Johnny had been more than a little preoccupied. Gods were not supposed to bleed; it was anathema to their nature. Yet Raiden and Fujin could bleed and, more than that, they chose to bleed for the peace and safety of Earthrealm.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Johnny advised, speaking low, loud enough to be heard, but not to drown out the music. He was responding to a look on Raiden’s face that suggested he was searching for words. His smile was more tentative now, leaning in the direction of the Mona Lisa, inscrutable and ethereal. He clearly wanted to relax, to allow whatever was happening within him simply to happen. The mortal could almost see the fight in his eyes. It broke Johnny’s heart and he wanted, all of a sudden and more than anything in every realm, to help Raiden move past whatever was slowing him down, whatever strange barrier stood between the god of thunder and his happiness, his own desires.

The deity had no trouble being decisive, even vicious, and dropping one whopper of a hammer when the need arose, but that need was never his own; always, it was someone else’s burden, though he would remind Johnny Cage that it was a responsibility he had chosen and for which he would fight to the death—maybe beyond. This scared the actor, sometimes. He didn’t know if he had ever, or COULD ever, dedicate himself to something with such vehemence. Had he expressed this aloud, Raiden might simply have pointed out his daughter, Cassandra Cage.

“I do,” rumbled the god of thunder. “My silence has done damage in the past.”

“Everyone’s has,” Johnny reminded him, moving so he was crouching before Raiden, both hands comfortably on the man’s knees. His connection with the ground seemed to be strong enough that the current was running harmlessly through him. Raiden’s corona of electricity was not arcing or dancing about, seeking to harm him. It simply flowed, rather like water, from the eternal battery that was the thunder god, into Johnny Cage, and down through the earth. Whence beyond that was anyone’s guess. “But this isn’t silence, is it?”

Raiden reflected that it was not, in fact, silent in that yard. There was music, and there was the two of them, and they were capable of conversation, of healthy discussion, and of much else. He moved with a deliberate purpose that froze Johnny momentarily, both hands finding either side of the actor’s head, a motion he had seen turn healthy muscle, bone, and gray matter into so much electrified pulp.

Rather than lightning from Raiden’s fingers, however, he felt the soft press of lips on his own, not urgent, but hardly tentative. This, he realized, was a version of Raiden who knew what he wanted, even if part of him was still unsure he should want it. Johnny would like to flatter himself—it really would be hubris at that point—and think that Raiden had spent all that time away thinking about him, about how to do this. If no one disabused him of that little flight of fancy, he would gladly go on pretending it to be the case.

To that end, Johnny returned the gesture, pressing into it and forcing Raiden back into the comfortable seat. The beer spilled somewhere in the grass and its memory was lost in the haze of heat the actor had found between the two unlikely beings—and between Raiden’s thighs.

Johnny’s hands were now gripping these, firm and powerful, through the strange material of his pants. He had in the past made a mental note to ask Raiden of what his clothing was made, if it could be manufactured for himself and the SF “kids” (when you were old, everyone was a kid). Right now, that thought was not even in the same galaxy as the rest of his mind. Right now, he only felt that heat; he was a being of pure sensation and would be more than happy to drown in it.

Slowly, gently, his hands slid upward. His thumbs soon found Raiden's hips through the fabric of what Johnny considered his "habit". His grip tightened briefly, testing the waters. The music hummed on, but Johnny heard nothing. His focus was solely on Raiden, whose grip had shifted to the front of his shirt, grasping the lapels of Johnny's button-down. He seemed content to keep the Hollywood superstar as close as he possibly could. Johnny's hands traced the curve of Raiden's waistline which, though offset by leather and cloth, was pleasantly molded, almost perfectly to Johnny’s grip, like the narrow portion of an hourglass.

He heard himself moaning quietly into the kiss while the epiphany of his attraction to the thunder god’s shape washed over him like an ocean wave. His heart's rhythm had regulated itself and was thudding along steadily, if a bit strongly. Blood was rushing to all parts of him and he felt himself break out in a sudden sweat. Maybe he's frying me and doesn't realize it; isn't this what radiation poisoning feels like? He had to remind himself that Raiden was not, in fact, radioactive.

“Dance with me,” Johnny heard himself say suddenly, breaking the kiss with plenty of surprise, but no reluctance at all, eager to share this next, utterly unforeseen desire. Raiden, too, seemed more than a little astonished, glowing eyes widening momentarily, before softening. In fact, his entire countenance softened, assuming the look of something more accessible than merely a benevolent deity which, Johnny reflected, he was. He’s seen some rough shit, thought the actor as he stood, hearing his knees crack once more as he did so, pulling Raiden with him. So have I. Now I want some peace and quiet.

Raiden stood willingly, unsure of what was next. It was a refreshing feeling. In all the eons of his life, he had rarely felt unsure of something and also been very comfortable with it. Lack of information had often led him to make poor decisions. This was not one of those situations, however. He was not really making any decisions, save to follow Johnny’s steps as the mortal pulled him close, wrapping one arm about his waist and taking his other hand.

Johnny was surprised, as he had been when noticing the lack of weight upon the chair, at how easy it was to heft the god of thunder, so to speak. He was not picking the man up, yet, but even the act of moving him from a seated to a standing position was utterly without strain. It felt natural to draw Raiden to himself, pressing their bodies tightly together, all potential awkwardness draining away in the notes of the song coming from the speakers attached to the turntable.

When he held out his hand to receive Raiden’s, the god of thunder offered it with no hesitation or complaint. When Johnny pulled him close, he did not protest. When they began to move to the ebb and flow of the music, it was very much as if they were made for this. When the mortal manipulated the deity’s movements and body into a deep dip, he felt Raiden bend and ride along with the motion.

When he kissed the god of thunder, both men held tightly to the lifeline the other had become.

#mortal kombat #raiden #johnny cage #faraday cage

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ayamari-no-goshi · 3 years

Text

Verboten 16 | (T)

ff.net | AO3

Fandom: Danny Phantom (DP)

Summary: AU. When Danny was five years old, he went missing for 2 weeks. In the years that follow, his family tried to make sense of what happened, only for the truth to be discovered years later.

Warnings: rated T for violence, mentions of death, language. Be prepared for some very weird things

Parings: Danny/Sam

Notes: originally uploaded to Ff.net. Cross-posted to AO3 and tumblr. This fic is very heavily inspired by folklore surrounding mysterious wilderness disappearances

Chapter 16

As Danny waited outside with the rest of the guests, his parents and Vlad met up with him. After they handed him a bag filled with one of his favorite Nasty Burger meals, he gave them a quick rundown of what he knew, save for the appearance of the ghost. While frustrated, his parents shuffled him into the RV so he could eat and warm up a bit. It was a chilly fall day after all.

As he ate, Danny vaguely wondered how his parents managed to convince Vlad, the man with the limo, to go across town with them. His dad’s driving prowess… well, lack thereof… was famous in the area. The townsfolk and even the police steered clear of any known Fenton vehicle. In actuality, he had no idea how his dad hadn’t lost his license.

After a couple hours, the fire department cleared the building with the exception that rooms on the second floor could not be used until the police preformed an investigation to verify whether or not arson occurred. The rooms on that floor would also need cleaned. Thankfully, little damage ended up being done from the fire: a few pieces of furniture and some scorch marks. The majority of the damage ended up being from the hotel’s sprinkler system.

After collecting their items, his parents drove to a large house on the outskirts of the housing plan where Sam lived. After asking what they were doing there, Vlad matter-of-factly stated he just finalized the payment on it. Danny’s utter confusion had to be evident as his parents explained Vlad recently decided to purchase a house in Amity Park since he would be around more to help with the research.

Well, it explained why it took his parents so long to get food. While the act itself didn’t seem that strange for Vlad, he did own a castle in Wisconsin after all, something about the timing bothered him. With the rare exception of a day when there was a major experiment malfunction, Vlad tended to stay with the family upon his visits. Exactly how long would he be in town if he needed to buy a new house?

After getting a quick tour of the house, Danny retired to his temporary room and called his friends. The three way call ended up being hectic as he explained what happened. “Guys, I’m telling you, I saw a ghost, and then somehow the hotel caught fire.”

“Calm down, Danny,” Sam instructed. “I know you’re telling the truth, but geez, how in the world did you end up being the center of so much trouble in two days?”

“My mom said something about me possibly attracting paranormal things now.”

“Makes sense, in a weird sort of way,” Tucker agreed as typing could be heard on his end. “I’ll see if I can dig up any stories of ghosts like what you saw this time.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tucker. You’re already looking into those files.”

“Nah, this’ll be easy. It’ll only take a couple minutes at most to set up a search and have it run in the background while we talk. Any specific things that stood out?”

“Other than the blue flaming hair?” He sighed and collapsed on his bed. “If she hadn’t been a ghost, she would have looked right at home in one of those bands Sam likes. She said she wanted to make people remember she still exists.”

“So she looked like a goth?” Sam questioned.

“Yeah, but with some, uh… I think you’d say she’s more punk.”

“Woah! That’s weird,” Tucker stated after something on one of his tech devices beeped in the background. “So, apparently there have been a series of spontaneous fires that seem to occur about every ten years, but they started after the death of a local girl. Some people think it’s her ghost that causes them. I’ll send you the articles.”

It took only seconds for the article links to be sent. Danny nearly dropped the phone when the picture of the mentioned girl appeared on the screen. With the exception of the hair, the girl’s face matched that of the ghost. “That… that’s her! Wow, she really doesn’t look that much different as a ghost.”

“Wait, you’re serious?” Sam hummed as she reviewed the information. “Says here while she was unpopular at school, she was in a local band. She was found dead after her house burned down mysteriously. The police thought it might of been an arson, but officials were never able to verify anything. After her death and around its anniversary, there were reports of fires in the city. Sometimes, entire buildings are engulfed, but other times the words ‘you will remember’ appear burned into buildings.”

“I kinda remember hearing my dad mention something about ghost fires growing up, but with it being my dad, I never put any stock into it.”

“My mom said something about it once.”

“I have no idea why I keep forgetting your mom works for 911,” Sam interrupted. “You know, we might be able to use that to our advantage.”

“I mean, you can try, but she refuses to talk about anything other than the occasional funny call. The one about the ‘bambulance’ still brings me to tears.”

“Tuck, you’re getting distracted.”

“Right. Anyways,” some typing could be heard on Tucker’s end, “my mom thought the fires were from the girl’s bandmates. They had just recorded a song called ‘Remember’ which got some local play before she died. Since I know asking Mom for anything else is pointless, I think I’m gonna see if I can get into the files of those fires. The news articles all have explanations, but some of them seem a bit over the top.”

“How long will that take?”

Danny snorted. “Sam, it’s Tucker. Knowing him, he’s already looking at them.”

“I’m hurt, Sam. Do you really have that little faith in me?”

“I know you’ll be able to get them eventually. You’re track record hasn’t been all that great recently. You’ll still working on those files you got from Plasmius, after all.”

“Oh, I’ve finished the review on those. Some of it isn’t pretty, but I wanted to verify information directly from Vlad Master’s companies. That’s been slow going ‘cause he has some impressive firewalls, and I’m really trying not to get caught. As for this,” Tucker briefly shouted in triumph, “I’ve already gotten what I need. Hmm… that’s weird. The official investigations regarding the ‘Ember fires’, as they’re called, all state there was no known cause of the fire. There wasn’t even evidence of an accelerant… which is…?”

“It’s something used to make a fire go from a few flames to a roaring fire. Think of what happens when you add gasoline to a fire,” Sam explained as tapping could be heard on her end. Was she at the computer too? “Most arsonists use one. If they don’t, unless the flames start where there’s something like tissue paper, sawdust, or something else really flammable, the fire usually takes a lot of time to grow and become a problem. Tuck, is there anything about flammable materials?”

“Hmm… no, not really.”

Danny sighed as he got off the bed and paced his temporary room. “Great, now there’s a fire starting ghost on the prowl, on top of Plasmius, that thing… and possibly whatever is wrong with that girl. Tuck, do you have any updates on anything?”

“On the Plasmius front, no. Like I said, I’m trying to cross-reference those files against the files from VladCo and DALV, but that’s taking a while due to his security. For the creepy thing that attacked you, I have a notification set up for any potentially related attacks. I think that’s all I can do for now on that… As for Maura, I got distracted a bit when Plasmius had that chat with you, but I can tell you she stopped posting on social media right after her disappearing act. That’s pretty weird for girls in her clique. Give me a couple days to get her medical chart.” Something beeped in the background. “Oh, it looks like I might have a pattern for our fire bug ghost.”

“At least that’s something. Can you send them to me?”

Sam snorted. “What, you’re gonna try to figure out where she’ll be and talk to her?”

“I mean, it’s worth a shot. Maybe she knows something about Plasmius or that thing? And… maybe I can nicely ask her to stop lighting fires?”

“I think you’re just gonna end up with your ass kicked, but go ahead.”

“Thanks for that wonderful vote of confidence,” Danny deadpanned. The ghost was nice enough to give him a warning so she couldn’t be all bad. “I think if I open up with a ‘thank you’, she won’t outright attack me.”

“It’s your funeral.”

“Actually, Danny, can you die?” Tucker hesitantly asked. “I mean… your situation is kinda weird.”

He thought about it for a few moments. “I think so. Clockwork told me I’m alive, so that’s good enough for me. But, to be honest, I don’t really wanna think about it too much.”

“That’s fair.”

…

Danny’s conversation only lasted a few more minutes after Tucker asked the awkward question as his parents called for him over an intercom system. Uncertain if the correct response to the intercom should be to cringe or be impressed, he pushed it from his mind as he meandered down the hallways to attempt to find his parents.

Something about the décor of the mansion seemed familiar, but Danny found it difficult to place it. Vlad loved the Green Bay Packers, and he commonly used their colors of green and gold for accents. He stopped in his tracks as he glanced around. Plasmius also had green and gold splashes in his home. It had to be a coincidence.

Not wanting to think about it more, he raced down the halls and eventually came to the main foyer. His dad shot him a questioning glance as his mother stood and moved towards him.

“Hi, sweetie! How are you adjusting? It’s been a hectic couple days.”

“I’m okay. I’m just a bit tired,” he told her as he dodged a hug. “I let Sam and Tucker know we’re fine. I’m not dealing with Jazz until after you guys talk to her.”

“I trust the room is to your liking?”

Danny jumped as Vlad’s voice came from behind him. How did he miss him? “Yes. Thanks for letting us stay.”

Vlad waved his hand dismissively. “It’s no trouble at all. My house is yours.”

“Vlad, you mentioned you had a workshop we can use?” His mother asked as she abandoned her attempts at hugging her son.

After staring at her for a second, Vlad shook his head and regained composure. “Surely that can wait until tomorrow, my dear. You’ve been through quite a lot in the past twenty-four hours.”

“No can do, Vladdy!” Jack boomed as he excitedly stood. “You heard those policemen. They want a Fenton product, and I can’t sit still when that spook is still a threat to my family. Say, do you want to help?”

The billionaire grimaced before forcing a smile. “I must politely decline, but I will gladly look over any blue prints in the morning.”

“Don’t worry,” Maddie told him while giving her husband a fond grin, “I know how… enthusiastic Jack can be when he has a new project. I’ll also make sure he sleeps tonight. We don’t want any accidents.”

“That would be greatly appreciated.”

Danny glanced between Vlad and his parents. There was some sort of story he was missing. “Should I ask?” he hesitantly questioned.

“I was badly injured when we were in collage when an experiment went wrong,” Vlad explained as his expression hardened. “As a result, I’ve made it a rule to not be in a room when someone is actively making experimental items or preforming experiments. However, I’ll gladly double check procedures, blue prints, set ups, and results.”

“I… yeah… That… that makes sense. But you’re okay now?”

“Absolutely, my dear boy. You could say I gained a different outlook on life as a result.” Vlad gave a predatory grin which sent shivers down Danny’s spine. “Why, if I hadn’t gotten into that accident, I probably wouldn’t have ended up so successful.”

“Right…” His mother must have caught something off in Vlad’s tone as she furrowed her brow in confusion. “It’s gotten pretty late. Danny, will you be alright?”

“Huh? Probably. I mean, I could use a snack.”

“The kitchen and pantry are just down that hall.” Vlad pointed towards the hallway opposite of the way Danny originally came. “Will you be alright to be back to your room once you’re done? If you wait, I can escort you back once I’m done showing your parents where the lab is.”

“Thanks, but I think I’ll be alright. ‘Night everyone.” Chuckling as his father couldn’t contain his excitement anymore and bounded down the hall followed by his amused mother and wary Vlad, he just made his way to the kitchen. It thankfully was easy to find, and after making a sandwich, he meandered his way back towards his room.

….

Around midnight, Danny decided he would attempt to sneak out of the mansion. Luckily for him, Vlad put him in a room on the ground floor, saying something about how the upper floors weren’t ready yet. Luckier still, there were no bars on the windows. Sam’s parents tried doing something like before due to how many times she snuck out, but it was struck down by her Grandma Ida, who still had control of the deed at that time.

Escape ended up being a piece of cake. There didn’t seem to be any type of security system or guard which seemed strange, but that would probably change once the mansion was officially finished.

He had an idea of where the ghost might end up appearing thanks to the articles Tucker forwarded to him earlier so he booked it in the direction of an older housing plan near the city’s boarder with Elmerton. The majority of buildings in the area were row houses in disrepair. While there were still a few low income families in the area, most of the houses were considered condemned. Danny remembered hearing talk of tearing the houses down at one point, but either the project was shelved or abandoned.

As he approached, he decided to shift to his ghostly form. While it seemed unlikely he would encounter anyone, the area did have a reputation for crime. While he didn’t know what sort of protection being a ghost would give him, it seemed a better option. And, if that thing tried attacking him again, maybe he could float to safety. He really hoped that thing didn’t appear; his trust in his abilities honestly was non-existent.

The soft glow of his ghost form provided the majority of the light as he silently found his way to the road where the girl used to live. The few street lamps were either broken or burnt out, and some even seemed melted.

His destination, Garnier Avenue, seemed worse than the surrounding streets. At first he thought the houses were just gutted, but a second look said otherwise. Most of them had some evidence of fire: melted windows, ash marks, and collapsed roofs and walls. Ash and dust could be found on the road as well as the sidewalk, and in some places, they almost looked like outlines of people.

The area seemed dead. No noise. No sound. No movement. As he continued to move forward, his hair stood on end and his breath misted in front of him. It was almost as if he walked into some sort of wall of static electricity.

“So this is what you actually look like. You’re not that bad looking after all,” a curious voice called to him, making him jump. Danny spun around to see the ghost from earlier materialize in front of him. Her appearance hadn’t changed, but she seemed more solid. Even her voice seemed closer and more natural. “Do you know how many of us would kill to be able to blend in that well?”

“Uh… I really wouldn’t know. This is really new to me,” Danny relied as he held up his hands in what he hoped was a submissive manner.

Her eyes narrowed. “So why are you here, baby pop? Do I interest you?”

He gulped at the undertones of her applications. “A little? I mean, you were nice enough to let me there would be a fire, and I wanted to thank you for that. And maybe ask a couple questions?”

“You just happened to be there at the right time,” she responded offhandedly though her satisfied smirk suggested his thanks was welcome. “It would be a waste to see someone like you get destroyed by accident. But, I would like to know how you found me.”

“I mentioned you to a friend of mine, and he was able to find out about your legend.” Danny hoped he sounded genuinely curious and not creepy. Wait, was it possible for him to not be creepy? He was a ghost after all.

She nodded. “I like to come back around the anniversary of my death. It helps strengthen me.”

“You do seem… I think stronger is the word I want.”

“Glad you noticed, and that makes you more observant than most of the guys I’ve met over the years. Call me, Ember.” Grinning again, she walked around him almost as if she was examining him.

“I’m Danny.”

She snorted. “Bet that’s your real name. Don’t met too many ghosts who remember theirs. You really must be new. Anyways, you had questions?”

“Yeah. I was hoping you might know something about this thing that’s been seen around the town. It attacked me, and it’s caused enough trouble to get the police interested.” When she didn’t immediately respond, Danny took that as a sign he could continue. So, he quickly explained his interaction with whatever the thing was. When he finished, Ember expression turned stony.

“You’re telling me something like that has been seen in my town?” she demanded. Her hair, which had been gently waving in an invisible wind, suddenly blazed in a blue flame. “Are you telling me one of those things have been seen here?”

Danny gulped and nodded. “Like I said, it attacked me! What are they? Plasmius doesn’t know what they are either.”

“Plasmius? Plasmius is here too?” The temperature around them spiked as she shrieked. “Are you working for him? You better answer me, Dipstick.”

===

Notes: ghostly fire is usually considered insubstantial and doesn't tend to cause damage. Actual paranormal fire damage is usually associated with poltergeists, and more modern theories classify poltergeists as creations of psychokinesis (PK) agents (normally living people) instead of spirits.

Ember's background is directly taken from information provided by one of the show's directors.

"Bambalance" is a reference to an old but hilarious 911 call. You can find it on YouTube under the title "the guy, the deer, the dog, and the bambulance." There is some foul language in it.

Also, there is a very subtle 'Phantom of the Opera' reference in this chapter.

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thelittleredheadedmusician · 3 years

Text

First Lines

So @klaineharmony @wordshakerofgallifrey and @radioactivepigeons all tagged me to do this so uh here it is. This is NOT including academic stuff. But it IS including original work.

Rules: List the first lines of your last 20 stories (if you have less than 20, just list them all!). See if there are any patterns. Choose your favorite opening line. Then tag some lovely people!

Hitch Hiker - my book:

It’s raining, hard enough to hit the windshield in fat drops though he can still clearly see the wet road ahead. Oliver isn’t speeding, in high school he would’ve flown around the curves out of town. But now? Coming home and in bad weather? He manages to stay just below the speed limit. And a good thing too.

I don’t want to linger any longer - DCU, Batman, Green Arrow:

Alfred was leery of the summer camp. Bruce went to public school partially because of Martha's pointed remarks regarding democracy and public education, partly because of her pointed remarks regarding Thomas's own time at boarding schools and prep schools surrounded by equally rich and entitled boys. Alfred never said anything at the time, it wasn't his place, and would never say anything now but, he whole heartedly believed both. Especially after his own childhood in private schools, even if the times and the British and American systems were very different. Regardless, Bruce was remaining in public school with all the trials it entailed. Including the socializing problem.

untitled post final chapter short for Hitch Hiker:

“I’m so glad I get to be here for this,” Eve practically flung herself onto the couch, bouncing slightly before settling. She’d just gotten dropped off after rehearsal and was miraculously still teeming with energy.

Give Me the Stars - an original short story:

Morgan leaned closer to the mirror, shifting her hair so she could examine the new growth near her scalp. It was a dark, almost dull brown and the scalp itself didn’t seem red or irritated. She half combed her fingers through it while she shook her hand loose of the strands. Where the few centimeters of brown ended, a shifting cascade of colors began. A swirl or wave or reflection of green and blue and purple with notes of black and pink and sometimes silver. Like an oil slick made tangible. Except, after two months it’d lost its glimmer, its shine. Which didn’t really matter since Morgan spent about seventy percent of the time tucking it up under one hat or another.

glitter and gold - DCU:

She hadn’t been expecting the second explosion. None of them had been expecting the second explosion. Luckily, they were all clear of the debris but Steph’s ears were ringing. A gut feeling said her comm had been knocked out but it’s not like she’d be able to tell right now anyway. She swayed, unsteady. But Batgirl had to worry about the people around her, not herself. A cursory glance looked as though the block’s residents had gotten back far enough before the blast hit. Leaving them covered in dust but unharmed.

five phones on the table - DCU, Titans:

The long table with its numerous chairs was, by proximity to the kitchen, a dining table but due to the nature of the building it occupied doubled as a meeting and strategy table. The small net, paddles, and light plastic balls stored in an innocuous box in the kitchen meant it tripled as a ping pong table.

Adulting Fail - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

“RICHARD JOHN GRAYSON,” Donna says and for an instant he wonders how a woman who has never met his mother can sound exactly like her. But then again, Donna has always been and will always be his older sister, never mind the fact neither are sure if it’s by three months or three thousand years.

Seventh Floor Walkup - DCU, Titans, Nightwing:

Dick may slightly regret asking his friends to help him move. See, he didn’t have the funds for real movers but had promised pizza if they helped. Except Roy and Garth could each eat a whole pizza, Donna could eat two, and Wally half a baker’s dozen. Which left Dick carrying eleven boxes of pizza to his seventh-floor walkup.

Et tu Brute - DCU, Flash, Batman:

“What the-?” Barry shifted his momentum with ease, turning from where he’d been running towards the Batcomputer and Bruce waiting there for him to instead run towards the metallic object low to the ground and glowing a dull green he’d spotted out of the corner of his eye.

you were shunned and burned your cradle - Newsies:

Being a changeling in New York City hurts. It makes his skin itch and his lungs burn and his eyes water. From the iron that surrounds him, fills the very air along with the smoke. If he’s not careful when he reaches out or brushes against something his skin comes away with a sharp, searing scar.

The Devil Wears What? - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“What is this?” John slurred, arm flopping towards the television screen.

The Hattrick - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

There is a strong possibility that Mia is in hell. It’d be vaguely poetic and certainly fitting if her personal hell were an empty warehouse. The fact John Constantine is here definitely sells the idea.

Inhouse House Party - Les Miserables:

“I thought we agreed that we weren’t doing Halloween this year?” Enjolras half grumbled, half called up the steps. “In light of the fact that there is a global pandemic and we’ve been responsibly quarantining and social distancing this whole time.” Despite his complaints, he still fixed the ridiculous headband he wore as part of his costume. The halved wiffle ball glued onto it made pretty decent looking fly eyes, but the weight was weird and the whole thing kept slipping as a result.

Second Time is Coincidence - DCU, Green Arrow, Hellblazer:

“Oh c’mon,” Mia groaned, slumping against the bonds that currently had her suspended from the warehouse ceiling. “Not you again!”

Three Musketeers - DCU, Batfam:

Bristol was technically in Gotham City limits. Though the gilted mansions and private woods with pastures and stables seemed like a whole other world in comparison. The residents liked to think so too, especially because – despite Gotham’s robust public transportation system – it was almost impossible to reach the rich suburb from the city proper. It was because they lived in this separate world that Bristol’s wealthy residents often fought to receive special treatment or even secede from the city all together.

Deal? Deal. - DCU, Hellblazer, Zatanna:

“No,” John whined, drawing it out into about six syllables. He stretched his arm out, nearly falling off the couch in the process, but Zatanna just pushed the half-empty glass of whiskey further away from the edge of the coffee table and out of his reach.

Pumpkin Guts - Les Miserables:

There had been strange noises coming from the kitchen all afternoon. Combeferre was staunchly ignoring them because he’s trying to finish reading this journal article before anyone else came home. Having Courfeyrac in the vague direction of behind him and doing who knew what all is more than enough of a distraction. Besides, Ferre can fairly well ignore the sounds coupled with Courf’s slightly off-key humming of Nightmare Before Christmas.

Sunrise Shadows - DCU, Batgirl, Starman:

It was late, or early depending on your perspective, and Steph was that bone deep tired that came after a fight to save the fate of the world. Which was fine, they’d won, but she didn’t really know where in the world she was and Steph really just wanted to crawl into bed. Maybe take her suit off first. Possibly slap some Neosporin on her cuts and scrapes. But mostly sleep.

The Good Stuff - Newsies:

Kath pulled her favorite armchair into the doorway of her apartment. The antique wingback her friends had helped her liberate from a thrift store in Queens and then clean and reupholster. It was, undeniably, too heavy to be shoved across the hardwood like that but Kath wanted to be comfy. And there were the little felt things on the legs to protect her floor.

Salt and Iron - DCU, Batgirl:

Steph pried her bedroom window open before slipping in and closing it firmly behind herself. Then locked it for good measure. Sure, she’d seen some weirdness since first putting on a mask, and just a few months into her time as Batgirl she’d even fought off some Segway riding vampires with Kara. But this was different. For one, they weren’t real vampires but Dracula from an old film brought to life. For another, it looked like literal hell had overtaken Gotham.

Well, I either have really long opening lines or my understanding of what constitutes opening “lines” is skewed. Also my formatting didn’t always past so poo on tumblr for that. Hmm, this is mostly Halloween fics but also fairly indicative of what I write which is nice. I like that I start with dialogue so often, it’s weirdly fitting for me as a person. The cold open musing on Gotham’s social, political, economic structure at Three Musketeers isn’t my favorite but I am obsessed with it. I think Second Time is Coincidence is my favorite because Mia’s response to John is the only response anyone should ever have to John Constantine.

All of my friends have already been tagged~

#long post #writing #own writing #my fic #original writing

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etlunainmorte · 4 years

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My friend @dreaming-gamer sent me an ask about the Devil May Cry crew's reaction to a haunted painting, and I uploaded it in my main blog, @thedyingmoon but, for some reason, it didn't show. The askbox was even empty, meaning it was answered successfully. But, still, no post.😰😰😰

So, I'm uploading it here, instead. ><

Tagging @ceruleanworld and @yepps , and a special thanks to @lilttlechicken for helping me with the Spanish translation.

***

Warning: This may contain disturbing scenes with themes of horror and mystery that might not be suitable for some readers. Please, proceed with caution. Thank you!

***

Morrison told them that the former owner of the painting went missing over a month ago.

Now, the incident was, or can be considered, purely coincidental had it not happened to the five people who pre - owned La Pintura De San Gregorio. Even the people who knew those unfortunate souls said that the painting seemed to change with each passing month. Like it was somehow alive. They were even convinced that these poor people would never be found again.

And so, the others forlornly watched Dante bring the very same painting inside the shop. This may, very well, be only a coincidence. Of a regular case involving missing persons. However, in this world they live in, anything could be possible.

It might be the work of Demons, and it was Devil May Cry's duty to get to the bottom of this mystery and find those poor innocent people once and for all.

At first glance, no one would be able to tell what's wrong with the wonderful work of art. The painting, itself, was a marvel to look at. Taking up most of the wall facing the main room of the shop, the painting depicted a calm and very soothing scenery of a lush garden in the dawn, or twilight. The many flowers in the garden that were, rather, realistically made, with bright and vibrant hues of red, blue, green, and yellow, were a complete contrast to how the sky was depicted. With soft pastel colors of pink, purple, and powder blue, and with clouds and birds dotted here and there, the sky could make anyone stare at it for hours on end with its dream - like atmosphere. A simple country house, softly lighted with candles, could also be seen in the painting, and within it, a family of six happily gathered together for a sumptuous feast. On a white, rustic gazebo covered almost entirely by rose vines, there was a beautiful black - haired woman in white looking at the distance, a letter, probably from a lover who was away, in her hand, pressed to her chest. And lastly, a man in black, who may or may not be San Gregorio, himself, could be seen staring at the beautiful woman from a distance, his cold and stoic facial expression the only damper in the, otherwise, gorgeously made painting.

However, should one take a good long look at it for an extended period of time, they would notice the trance - like vibe the painting was giving off. Like they were being seduced by its dream - like scenery. Like they were being pulled inside it.

The first few days and nights of them taking turns in watching over the painting was quite normal. In fact, none of them could feel anything weird or paranormal in it, whatsoever.

It was on the third week of the month where things began to change.

The owner of the Devil hunting agency, a man in his forties named Dante Sparda, has just returned from his investigation of the missing persons when he noticed,... something odd in the painting. It could be easily missed but, if one has a sharp eye, they would immediately notice the change in it.

At first, Dante thought it was a trick of the light, or his tired eyes taking a toll on his equally tired body. But, when he took a closer look, his eyes suspiciously narrowed, he finally saw it:

The family of six inside the house,...

... became only four.

And what's even stranger about it was how the locations of these four seemed to change. For once, they were gathered around the table, and now, only two of them remained, with the other two standing next to a fireplace, seemingly having a hearty conversation.

But, where were the other two people?

Dante looked closer and inspected the art, and, at last, he found the other two. They were now sitting next to each other beneath the shade of an oak tree at the farthest corner of the scenery.

Naturally, he alerted the others regarding what he witnessed. And the moment they noticed the changes, they knew.

The painting really was demonic in nature.

Over the next few days, Dante and his friends observed the painting even closer, formulating theories as to how it became demonic. They also tried asking the friends and relatives of the missing persons but, they only got the same old answers from them: that the painting was alive, and that it was the main cause of the disappearance of those people. They even traced the painting back to its first owner, however, none of his friends or relatives were willing to speak about the incident. Some even refused to let Dante and his friends inside their home, resorting to threats and violence just to keep them out and prevent them from intruding on their privacy.

They did everything they could, until the last option left for them was to find the artist, himself. With no other information about the painting except for the name, San Gregorio, which was etched at the lower left corner at the back of the canvass, they searched and searched until one of Dante's friends, a woman named Nico, found out about something that seemed to shake her.

But, the night the friends were to meet her back in the shop to discuss what she found out, she never came. They waited and waited for hours. They even called her grandmother to check whether she's at home. And it was then that their fears and suspicions were finally realized.

Nico,... has vanished without a trace.

Or,... was she?

For, when the friends looked at the painting, they saw her there,...

... standing next to the two gentlemen by the fire, listening in on their conversation.

The painting,... has taken Nico.

And those six people, not counting the man and the woman in the garden?

Upon closer inspection, those six people in the painting eerily resembled the six missing persons.

They were all,... taken by San Gregorio's Painting.

Desperate for answers and fearing for the worst, they thought of ways to get the people out from the painting. Half of the group retraced Nico's steps and went on with her studies about this man called Gregorio, hoping to find out some more clues that could solve this mystery, and half of them took down the painting from the wall and thought of various ways to investigate the artwork without destroying it in fear of killing the people inside.

They tried almost everything they could think of, from scratching the surface of the canvass to wiping parts of the painting with a wet cloth. But, the more they disturbed the painting, the more it became somewhat aggressive.

The next disappearance proved it.

That one late evening, the young couple Nero and Kyrie were reading some documents about a Spanish artist who has a striking resemblance to the man in Nico's papers. Who they believed to be Gregorio, himself.

All of sudden, they noticed some movement coming from the painting, itself. And when the pair looked at it, in their utter horror, they found out that the man who was looking at the beautiful woman was nowhere to be found.

He has moved. But, where?

The next day, the pair has also gone missing.

And the painting? It now showed both Nero and Kyrie tending to the garden. It also showed Nico inside the house holding a butter knife and looking outside the window with a horrified expression in her face.

And the man who they suspected was Gregorio? He seemed to have moved closer to the woman in the gazebo, his hand reaching out.

But now, his facial expression turned from stoic,... to sadistic.

With no other options left, Dante and his older brother, a man named V, turned to violence as a last resort.

The next evening, the brothers took out their weapons and faced the painting. They must take out the Demon who lived in the cursed art and destroy it. Only then can they save their friends and those six other victims.

Dante made the first move. He raised his sword and swiftly brought it down to the painting. However, the mere second before the blade touched the canvass, Gregorio's eyes moved and landed on them. And when it happened, the blade bounced off the canvass and broke, throwing Dante across the room, and the once hard metal splitting into two pieces.

With determination in his eyes to bring everyone back, V raised his hands and summoned his two demonic familiars, a bird called Griffon, and a panther called Shadow. Together, they assaulted the cursed painting, their strong attacks landing a direct hit on it one after the other. V raised his cane and ran towards the painting, the tip of his metallic weapon pointed at the heart of the art, itself: the woman in the gazebo.

But, something deterred V and made him halt his attacks. The woman turned her eyes on him and gave him a pleading look.

Her looking at the distance, with that letter close to her heart, and Gregorio seemingly advancing towards her without her knowledge,...

Gregorio wanted to have her.

This woman,... needed help.

And the moment V realized this, a vision appeared right before him: the same woman weeping in the garden, that letter clutched tightly to her chest. Gregorio, all dressed in black and that sadistic expression present on his old and distorted face, coming towards her. The woman looking up at the man, her eyes widened with utter fear. And the man lunging towards her,...

V snapped back to reality. Right then and there, he knew what must be done.

They must free the woman in the painting. Free her from Gregorio's grasp and lustful intent. And only then can those innocent souls be freed from their still and dream - like prison.

With a single nod to his brother, who morphed to his demonic form and conjured a new and powerful sword, V pointed at the man in the painting, who was now taking hold of the poor woman's arm.

The brothers raised their weapons once more as Gregorio's fingers covered her smooth and graceful neck. They lunged forward with every intent of dealing one last killing blow to the source of all this evil, while Gregorio raised a knife and pointed it to the woman's chest.

V and Dante brought down their weapons on Gregorio as his knife went swiftly down her chest.

The fiend's bloodshot eyes widened, his teeth gritting in anger as he saw how his body collapse into pieces under Dante's blade and V's cane, the many colorful pigments flowing out of him like a fountain of blood. Their friends, Nico, Kyrie, and Nero's eyes all focused on them, fear and worry etched onto their faces.

The woman closed her eyes, a single tear rolling down her face as she smiled at them with gratitude,...

She,... was finally free.

A flash of blinding light emanated from the cursed artwork, blocking the brothers' view. Then, after that, a state of calm, peace, and silence overtook their senses and tired bodies.

And the next moment V opened his eyes, he found himself together with his friends, who were gathered around the table for a sumptuous feast. He saw Nero and Kyrie laughing at whatever Nico was doing, and he saw Dante sitting across from him on the other side of the table, waving at him with a proud smile on his face.

V closed his eyes and sighed. That nightmare,... felt all too realistic. And he was glad that it was finally over.

With a content smile on his face, he stood up and went towards the window, where he saw the beautiful garden outside.

Oh, how peaceful this was. How nice everything was,...

V turned around upon hearing someone entering the house. He didn't know his friends were expecting some visitors,...

His heart seemed to stop beating as his eyes landed on the visitors: six people who looked awfully familiar to him.

Six people who,...

With gradually escalating heartbeat, V rushed outside the house and looked at the scenery all over him.

The simple country house. The lush garden with vibrant hues of red, blue, green, and yellow. The soft, pastel - colored sky of pink, purple, and powder blue.

That rustic gazebo covered almost entirely with rose vines.

V turned back to the house and saw his friends dining happily with their new guests, as if they have no worries. His eyes cautiously travelled to that spot on the right side where a man in black used to lurk, except that he was no longer there. Then, with trembling body and cold sweat breaking out of his forehead, his eyes wandered to that gazebo, where he saw the dark - haired woman. Her back was turned away from him, and she was humming a familiar tune, her voice soothing, and yet ominous at the same time.

He turned back to the house and saw his friends and those six people all looking at him from the window, their eye sockets white, and their facial expressions seemingly empty.

And when V turned to look at the woman in the gazebo once more, he finally figured everything out.

He finally realized what Gregorio was trying to do.

With a sweet smile on her face, that same letter clutched to her chest, she spoke to V,...

"Now, I have you back, my dearest."

***

#vitale #dante #nero #kyrie #nico #dmc5 #devil may cry 5 #devil may oneshot #la pintura de san gregorio

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cruddyborderlandstheories · 4 years

Text

this DLC has me FUCKED UP and i keep screaming

spoilers for Bounty of Blood under the cut, keep reading at ur own peril. Also some Guardian Takedown spoilers for anyone who hasn’t beat it yet

tl;dr: a comparison between something taken from BL2 and a thing taken from Bounty of Blood. more spoilery tl;dr below the cut.

also the siren thing is not spoilers so i’ll share it here for anyone curious, it’s just this: siren tattoos are blue but when lily absorbs eridium in 2, they turn pinkish/purple. just like how vaults do from bl1 to bl2. they’re white/blue in bl1, then purple-pink in bl2 (and tps), y’know, after Eridium begins erupting from the ground. just a neat little detail i noticed that im not entirely sure was intentional but im gonna believe it is.

tl;dr: Gythian Blood = Core and the Ruiner is of Eridian Origin even tho everyone in the DLC likes to say it was created with Jakobs’ bioengineering. disclaimer: idk if I’ve found every hidden ECHO so I may be missing a few things but I have done every side quest and took ample screenshots of all important dialogue in the DLC : )

“man i just sat here for like 15 minutes staring at my keyboard mentally comparing core and eridium like the dumb bitch i am.

it's not like we can do an actual comparison because we have no idea what the natural fauna of gehenna was like before jakobs came and mutated everything with core unlike pandora where we know what skags and rakk and shit were like BEFORE the eridium crust erupted.

altho!!! there's a neat comparison between joey ultraviolet and rose. like obviously he wasn't getting tattoos and was just doing lines of crushed up eridium but the point stands they both have glowy eyes and unique powers so i don't necessarily think this means rose is a siren just because she has magic powers especially when we know she got the whistling passed down to her from her grandmother.

especially because we've never seen a siren interact with core before. altho that leaves the question we have seen core tattoos now what are eridium tattoos like? actually rose's tattoos were on her right arm obviously she isn't a siren as we know them right now (I saw a post on reddit where people thought rose was a siren)

of course that brings up the point perhaps siren tattoos ARE eridium tattoos. but then we hear the general's log about how the devil riders were tattooing a man with core and blood so obviously they're not ‘naturally’ occurring unlike siren tattoos. so odds are they're probably not equivalents but something interesting i thought of while thinking about this is how well siren tattoos compare to the Vaults from borderlands 1 and borderlands 2″

anyway. this is all ive been thinking about. yes yes i know guardian takedown post but! >:( im still salty even tho this update has been lovely (outside of Blane not getting his correct damage scaling ‘till today......). so i’ll do that at my own damn pace. now let me elaborate so i can sleep at night lmao

Eridium

refinement produces slag, which weakens people and can mutate things

has mutating properties, mostly with imbuing elements into shit- possibly causes insanity

seems to be connected to another dimension, likely the one the Eridians are from

Core

has a secondary form of Infused Core

has mutating properties, mostly regarding a thing’s body and mind

apparently radioactive

there are some things i wanna note

1) People throughout the DLC say the Ruiner was created by the Jakobs corp (the company) thru bio-engineering but I’m 99% sure that’s not true. The paperwork seems to me like they found the egg somewhere on Gehenna and decided to roll and experiment with it like all corporations do when they find weird alien shit. so maybe they experimented with whatever was inside the egg, but I don’t think they actually created it entirely

“Excavated from [REDACTED] ... Local legends speaks of a [REDACTED]. This theory is not endorsed by our research personnel.

2) The Ruiner’s design reminds me a lot of the Warrior.

3) Core immediately reminded me of Gythian Blood from Guns Love and Tentacles and I don’t think that’s coincidence to have 2 back-to-back DLCs where the big bad is focused on green death juice. I think Gythian Blood and Core are of the same stuffs.

4) Therefore, I think the Ruiner is (mostly) of Eridian origin (if you haven’t already guessed).

This gives us an amazing look into how the Eridians actually create their beasts!!! And I’m so happy they showed us this.

(side note, Interitus Regina (the long name for Ruiner) literally means Destruction Queen and I think that’s beautiful <3)

i mean the idea that they plunge them from orbit to create an explosion similar to a nuke is fucking horrifying (but holy shit I love it so much ahhh it’s so cool!!!!)

the one side line from Oletta about how the company couldn’t control the Ruiner deffo makes me double down on this theory. I’m not entirely sure how Rose’s grandma knew about the whistling (I don’t think I’ve found every echo log in that area YET), but I would bet it was part of the testing given how many fuckin’ tape players they have throughout the facility. The Warrior was controlled by verbal commands via Jack, so it’s possible that the Ruiner was intended to be controlled similarly, but Jakobs intervention (or something like the way Rose hatched it) fucked it up.

now we know the Warrior was created to protect the Vault of the Destroyer (hmm.) so what the heck was the Ruiner created for? Ruiner is a name given to it by Jakobs/the people of Gehenna so we can’t really assume, but then again the monster names are pretty apt in this series even tho they probably technically shouldn’t be.

it was only an egg, so maybe it was another test of Core? A Vault Monster incubating until it was ready to protecc and attacc but was never hatched because the Eridians ‘sacrificed’ themselves before it could? (I’m still not convinced the Eridians are the good guys. Listen. LISTEN. The guardian takedown is something to think about, BUT it doesn’t disprove that theory and I’ll stand by it because I 100% trust the Overseer more than bitchpants mcgee over here who thinks he’s soooo special for no reason fuck you and your dumb ‘I did what the Watcher could not’ bull you haven’t done shit.) ok sorry im done he just angers me. stupid guardian man. your whip is stupid and you should feel bad. oh also I totally called us actually being Guardians thru Guardian Rank before the game came out aha yeah.

I definitely think Gythian was a test/use of Core from the Eridians. We see in Bounty of Blood that core seems to mutate more the physical (and occasionally mental) parts of people, like with the crew challenges u do for Juno with all the weird hybrid people and whatnot. Gythian had the whole ‘the heart still beats’ thing going on (which is definitely a physical mutation if i’ve ever seen one), plus the whole, you know, mind control and shit. Which is p similar to what the menta gnats can do when charged with Infused Core. And keep in mind in BLaT we see DAHL notes on what happens to test subjects when injected with Gythian Blood. They mutated physically and went insane.

What im saying is Sirens and Eridium and Elements are connected, so what does Core equal? body/mind sure but are there unique creatures for core (yes holy shit I’m not talking about h2o au for once and FINALLY they gave us a canon name for the green stuff!!!). If not, I’d love to see a Siren interact with Core to see what it does to them. seriously why hasn’t tannis interrupted us yet. horrible excuse for a science lover (kidding kidding, I love her). I’d also really love a fuller rundown on what the hell Rose’s powers were. Because the whistling thing seemed to just be her grandma’s thingie passed down to her from her mom

but the core stuff

her gun seems to be infused with it. So did her sword thing. I didn’t really get a good look at it i was too busy trying to see thru my blurry tears of LOVE for this DLC.

Strangely while her tattoos are (mostly) green I actually don’t know if they’re core infused bc look at this

n look back at hers. hers aren’t very lime.

anyway

her eyes

I’d love to know if the core gives her immediate future sight or just increased perception or reaction times. there’s a huge difference but she seemed to be able to shoot the gun outta the sheriff’s hand near immediately and it seems kinda implied its because of the core (or at least because her eyes are glowing green)

there’s a possibility she has some unique core powers/possibly implants because of her relations to the project in the first place, or as leader of the devil riders after looting the facility. it’s really hard to say without more info and like i said im not sure if i missed an ECHO or two or not regarding her backstory :(

Her hair is also green which I just noticed. Maybe she has core powers bc her grandmother got suuuuuuuuper irradiated/influenced working on project horizons and it passed down thru her n Rose’s mom, to Rose. Tannis does have a line about Sirens having unique hair colors and, if Sirens are linked to Eridium, perhaps those linked to Core also have unique hair color. Could also explain why only Rose seems to have those whistling powers. That said we don’t really see anyone else trying that whistling thing out afaik and idk if it was, like, a special ability or a certain tone/ditty or w h a t.

i know being vague with everything gives them more creative freedom to create amazing characters and scenarios, but dammit I want A N S W E R S.

All THAT said man I’m so glad magic is real in the borderlands universe. oh, sorry, “magic”. It’s magic. Science it, tannis, I dare you. either way, I win. Either it’s magic and H2O AU is canon, or it’s science and I finally get my goddamn answers. Hey gearbox can you make a book just explaining all the science and eridian stuff. please. I’d love you forever. please. pleaheheheheaaasseee it’s all i’ve ever wanted.

oh also can i just say, suuuper disappointed we didn’t learn anything about anshin. Really wish non-fan favorite corporations would get the spotlight/lore for once. Like, I like Jakobs as much as the next guy, and I get WHY they did it (can’t have a corporation looking too good!!!) but they now have 3 DLCs (Jakobs Cove, GLaT, and Bounty of Blood) and also a hefty chunk of the main game. Like... we all know Jakobs fuckin sucks, look at what they did on Pandora. I really just want info on a medical corporation 😭 I have to do everything my damn s e l f. but SERIOUSLY IMAGINE the possibilities that could come from a medical corp getting its hands on eridian tech. like, yeah obviously the weapons corps are gonna use it for weaponry and stuff BUT WOULDN’T THE MEDICAL CORPS MUTATING PEOPLE MAKE MORE SENSE??? ldfhgldfshg I have to do everything my damn self...

anyway all that aside, this is definitely by favorite borderlands dlc by a LONG shot. Nothing comes close. Ahhh the lore, the nuclear aspect, the a e s t h e t i c (seriously, have I mentioned how much I adore Trigun???), the art, the music, the cryoslinger, the fact I can bust out going beeEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAans like Ray Chase at any time and it will MAKE SENSE. I love all of it.

oh, also, Rose is totally not dead. C’mon, they couldn’t find her body. She pulled a Lilith. “Are you sure she didn’t just suffer a wound that LOOKS fatal, only for her to come back in a blockbuster sequel...?” is a line from mr Jones himself (the movie guy)

I just hope when she comes back she gets to meet Captain Scarlett. I’d love to watch their interactions plus pirates and or ninjas. That’s 2 DLC villains now that have vanished without a trace. And I like Captain Scarlett way more than Rose (seriously I spent the entire beginning of the DLC complaining about how her voice bothered me- I was so happy she was a villain, I was hoping that was the case).

oh yeah, reminder, the people of vestige were living next to highly radioactive egg for likely years. i feel really bad for them :(

also!!!

this made me smile

#im tired #good night #bl3 #borderlands #borderlands spoilers #spoilers #bl3 spoilers #borderlands 3 spoilers #bounty of blood #bounty of blood spoilers #dlc3 #dlc3 spoilers #dlc 3 #dlc 3 spoilers #i don't want to spoil anybody please lemme know if there's any tags i missed!!!!

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snowyseba · 5 years

Text

Missed Chances - Part V

Summary: James Buchanan Barnes and Y/N are a match made in heaven, practically soul mates, but the problem is that they’ve never met. Theirs is a world of almosts. In the city of New York, anonymity is the norm. Each day you face a flux of new faces, most of them gone as quickly as they appeared. People flow in and out of the ever-changing city day in and day out. You could bump into someone on the street one day and never see them again. Unfortunately, that was the case for Y/N and Bucky. They’re meant to be…if only they ever get the chance to meet and turn their “almost” into reality.

Warnings: swearing

Word Count: 2k

The next morning, you somehow managed to drag yourself out of bed, despite the copious wine you had consumed with Peggy and Nat the night before. Sometime around 1:00 or 2:00, you and Nat had finally decided to call it a night and get an Uber back to your respective apartments. There had been a time when you were fine crashing on other people’s couches, but these days you’d rather be in the comfort of your own bed. If you attempted a night on the couch now, you’d more than likely end up feeling it the next day.

Trudging over to your kitchen, still yawning, you opened your cabinets in search of some food to quell your stomach which wasn’t feeling too great after a night of drinking, and most importantly, some coffee. You groaned at the contents, or rather the lack thereof. There was no coffee to be seen. Last time you went grocery shopping, you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that you were forgetting something important, but couldn’t figure out what it was. Now you knew. Coffee. You had forgotten to get coffee.

Shutting the cabinet again, you sighed in frustration. At least it was the weekend, and you didn’t really need coffee, but you wanted it. It was part of your morning routine at this point, and it just wouldn’t feel right to start the day without it, especially after staying up later than you were used to.

There was a Starbucks just around the corner that you certainly could have gone to, but if you were going to be going out and you weren’t in any sort of rush, you figured you might as well head to your favorite café to treat yourself to some coffee and one of their homemade pastries. It would be a bit farther of a walk, but maybe the fresh air would do you some good as well.

Wanting to look at least somewhat presentable, you changed into a pair of leggings and a light sweater. It was finally warm enough that you didn’t need a jacket, but it was still a bit chilly in the mornings, which you didn’t mind. Soon it would be summer and the city would be hot and humid, and you weren’t in any hurry to be dealing with that. Before heading out the door, you grabbed your purse and your keys, which you tossed haphazardly into your purse after locking up.

As you had expected, the little café was absolutely packed. It was the weekend after all, and this place had the absolute best coffee in your neighborhood, plus they made their pastries fresh each morning, which always drew a crowd. On your walk, you had considered finding a space at the cafe and enjoying your breakfast there, but that clearly wasn’t going to be happening this morning. As it was, the line was almost out the door, and every last seat in the tiny café was occupied, and other customers were hovering, waiting to claim the first empty table they could find.

It looked like you would be getting your coffee and croissant to go, but that was fine, you rationalized. It would give you a chance to go home and try to unravel all the emotions from last night’s discovery. You still couldn’t quite believe that Bucky and your mystery cop were the same person, but at the same time, it sort of made sense, especially considering how convinced Peggy had been that you would like Bucky. It was funny, you thought, that neither of you had known just how right she was.

Part of you had hoped that this revelation would bring you some sort of peace; after all, you wouldn’t have to choose between Bucky or the mystery man, but at the same time, it placed all the more pressure on your first meeting. Despite knowing how silly it was, you had romanticized the idea of your mystery man, sometimes daydreaming about running into him again, or the scenarios in which you two would finally get a chance to talk. By not knowing his identity, you were safe in your fantasies.

Now that you knew exactly who he was, though, part of you was a bit afraid that he wouldn’t live up to the idea of him that you had created in your mind. Perhaps it was childish and naïve, but maybe the allure of this unidentified man was the fact that you were so unlikely to actually have any sort of relationship with him. The anonymity allowed you to keep up with your infatuation, but without any of the risks of heartache, pain, or attachment that came with a real relationship. If you never knew him, never knew his name, the pain of losing him wouldn’t be unbearable, whereas if things with Bucky went well, you would get attached, and to lose someone that you’re attached to is truly a horrible thing.

The line moved forward slowly, but you didn’t particularly mind. It’s not like you were in a rush, as you would have been if you were on your way to work. Instead, you let your mind wander, only paying enough attention to your surroundings to step forward when the line advanced.

As you were getting close to the counter, a sudden vibration from within your purse caught your attention, and you quickly reached for your phone to check the notification. The name that popped up on the screen made your heart skip a beat.

“Miss?” the barista’s voice broke through the warm, excited haze that clouded your mind. Flushing with embarrassment, you realized that you were next and had been holding up the line, totally lost in your thoughts.

“Sorry,” you quickly murmured an apology, feeling a bit flustered. “I’ll just have a large latte and a chocolate croissant.”

“Coming right up!” The woman with brightly colored hair responded, “That’ll be $7.20, please.”

You rummaged in your purse, struggling slightly to locate your wallet. Maybe you should also add cleaning out your purse to your to-do list for the day, you thought. Finally grabbing your wallet, you handed the cashier your card. Just as you were about to put it away, your wallet slipped from your fingers, clattering to the dark wooden floor. Swearing under your breath, you reached down to grab it, only to have your fingers graze someone else’s.

“Oops, sorry!” You said automatically before locking eyes with the man in line behind you. The bright blue eyes that met yours were enough to make your heart skip a beat. It was Bucky. You could hardly believe your eyes. This was too much of a coincidence. You felt rude staring, but his gaze was fixed on you as well. You could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Go figure,” he chuckled, running a hand through his hair, “it seems like I just can’t stop running into you. I figure it might finally be time for me to introduce myself. I’m Bucky.” He flashed you a grin, his eyes lighting up as he held out his hand for you to shake.

Before you could even process what you were saying, you blurted out, “I know,” regretting the words as soon as they left your lips.

His brow furrowed in confusion, and you certainly didn’t miss the apprehensive look that crossed his face as the two of you stepped aside so as not to hold up the line. He was confused, and perhaps a bit creeped out. Way to go, Y/N, you thought, already making a killer first impression.

“I’m Y/N,” you explained, offering a shy smile.

“Y/N?” He queried before his eyes widened in recognition, taking in your features all over again. “Y/N? As in the Y/N that Steve set me up with and I stood up like an asshole?”

“Uh, yeah,” you mumbled, feeling the heat quickly rising to your cheeks. “That would be me.”

It seemed like he was having just as hard a time processing the situation as you were. He was silent for a few moments, before chuckling. “Well damn. Who would have thought the girl who’s been running through my mind and driving me crazy all these months would be the same one that Stevie was trying to set me up with. I’m starting to think that punk knows me a bit too well.”

“You’ve been thinking of me?” You asked, suddenly feeling quite giddy.

His cheeks instantly turned a bright shade of pink, and he averted his gaze, stumbling over his words. “I…I mean maybe a little. Was that weird for me to say? Sorry, doll, it’s been a while since I’ve done this. You think you can cut me a bit of slack?”

You shook your head, unable to stop yourself from grinning. “Not weird at all. If it makes you feel less awkward, I may have been thinking of you too.”

“You have?” He blurted out, eyes sparkling with happiness.

“Mhm. Ever since the day I bumped into you at that wine shop. I’ve gotta say, though, I’m still not fully over you grabbing the last bottle of my favorite wine, Bucky,” you teased.

“I’m sorry, doll. For what it’s worth, I did try to find you to give you the bottle. You looked pretty sad that I got to it before you, but you were gone before I could offer it. Either way, it sounds like I’ve got to make it up to you somehow,” he replied, the corner of his lips twitching up into a smirk as he regarded you. That was enough to make your heart flutter again. How could one man drive your senses crazy like this?

Trying to act coy, you shrugged, biting your lip, “Well, I know we were planning on getting dinner together on Friday, but coffee and pastries really do taste better when you enjoy them with someone else. I’ve got the coffee and the croissant, but it seems that I currently happen to be lacking someone to join me.”

“Oh? Is that so?” Bucky grinned. “I guess I can’t argue with that logic. I’d be happy to, doll, but I’ve got one condition: we have to keep our plans for Friday too.”

“I think there’s a very good chance of that, if you play your cards right, Bucky.”

“Then it’s a date?” He asked hopefully.

Taking his hand, you nodded, a blissful smile playing upon your lips. “It’s a date.”

Regardless of whether it was fate, chance, or pure luck that brought the two of you together, you were pretty sure that at this moment, you were the luckiest girl in the world. When you first ran into Bucky, you never would have imagined that you’d end up sitting across from him, enjoying your breakfast together, making plans for future dates, but at that moment, there was absolutely nowhere else in the entire world that you’d rather be.

#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x you #bucky barnes x you #Bucky Barnes #james buchanan barnes #marvel imagine #bucky imagine

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badmcuposts · 4 years

Text

Seven-Pointed Star

For @avenging-criminal-bones by @badmcuposts [OR READ HERE on AO3]

@friendly-neighborhood-exchange

Rating: T for language

Relationships: minor Peter/MJ, Peter & Tony, minor Tony/Pepper, Peter & May, Tony & May

Warnings: angst, suicidal thoughts

Summary:

He frantically ran out of the room, ignoring Obadiah’s calls behind him. The burning began to fade, before only a mild sting was left behind.

Tony peeled back his jacket sleeve, then his dress shirt.

There, in broad daylight was the shape of a seven-pointed star. It glowed in a magnificent baby blue, lightly shimmering in the fluorescent lights. In the center, there was a diamond, or a rhombus as the linguists would prefer, matching in hue.

It was beautiful.

One shape.

One goddamn shape was all Tony Stark had ever wanted.

By the time he was six, everyone he knew had already gotten both of their soulmate tattoos. One on the left wrist for romantic, and one on the right wrist for platonic.

He got his left tattoo when he was four, a square with pink and green chevron lining the inside, accompanied by a blue circle in the upper right hand corner.

He remembered frantically dropping his pencil, running to his mother with glee in his eyes. For such a little boy, he really could hold a lot of energy inside of him. Maria thought it was cute, how happy Tony had been about something so common. Like loosing your first tooth.

She’d told him: “Soon, baby, you’ll get your right marking as well. Then we can celebrate all night long after Daddy goes to bed, hm?”

She hadn’t lived to see that happen, though.

At age 31 he still hadn’t gotten his right tattoo. Maybe he was just... unlovable. Not in romance, clearly, but in friendship.

Rhodey had a red and gold triangle, the colors slipping and mixing as they lined to form the hollow shape. Tony liked the colors. They were stylish.

But Happy had the matching tattoo. Not him.

And they always seemed so fucking happy about it, too. Like they were just trying to rub it in Tony’s face. They weren’t- he knew that. God, he wasn’t a toddler. He understood that two people could be friends without it being a personal thing. But... it still hurt, you know?

On sleepless nights, when Tony couldn’t be bothered to drown his sorrows in the lab, he thought about how much better off he would be if he didn’t have to look at that stupid bare skin, each pore taunting him with its nudity.

The assumption stood that, perhaps, if he wasn’t so hell bent on sticking it out for his left wrist’s sake, he would have given in to the right and left a long time ago.

He normally wore long sleeves, to cover his shame behind cloth. He didn’t want people being reminded that Tony Fucking Stark still lacked a platonic soulmate. Like an ingrate. Some kind of mistake of god that nobody could ever match to.

The cloth was it itchy today, though. Maybe he hadn’t washed the blazer properly last night, or it was just his skin being unbearbly sensitive, but it felt... itchy. All morning it had. Like something was going on with him.

“Tony?” Obie asked him. “Can you sign this?”

The man didn’t hesitate to grab the pen, too busy focusing on the itch along his appendage to worry about whatever the hell he was signing. Obie would never lead him astray, anyhow.

As he reached forward to place his John Hancock, he felt a the itch quickly escalate and grow in mere milleseconds, before turning into a horrible burning sensation.

Hot.

Hotter, hotter, hotter it grew. The man grabbed at the skin in pain, hunching over as he screamed. It felt like... the way his left wrist had felt, back when he got his romantic mark.

What the hell?

Could... could it be...? No- was it...

He frantically ran out of the room, ignoring Obadiah’s calls behind him. The burning began to fade, before only a mild sting was left behind.

Tony peeled back his jacket sleeve, then his dress shirt.

It was beautiful.

His own platonic tattoo. All his. It stood for something. It meant so much- it meant that his being was truly meant to be loved.

It was then that he realized just how odd the timing was. Soulmate tattoos appeared on the eldest’s skin when the younger was born, so why had his come now?

What the hell was he supposed to do with a newborn baby?

Peter Benjamin Parker was born with both of his soulmate tattoos already present.

His parents had taken so many photos that day, their shining faces proudly showing off their baby boy’s little markings.

On his left hand, the shape of a black dahlia flower, all done up in blood red. On his right, a beautiful baby blue seven-pointed star with a diamond in the center.

He opened his eyes after a few minutes, crosseyed as most little ones were for the first few months. Peter smiled when his Daddy held his little wrists out, proudly showing them off to the boy.

He spoke of their history, the way that fate had assigned Peter to two people already, people that would love him more than anything in the world. That somewhere in the world- another person shared his special markings. His soulmates at birth, star-crossed partners in love or in friendship.

Of course, at less than a day old, Peter had absolutely no idea what his father was saying, but seemed to appreciate it nonetheless.

The infant was absolutely adorable- and had continued in that stride for the years after. He met Michelle in freshman year at Midtown, and they started dating not long after, their matching wrists promising a lifetime of love.

He often wondered, though, as many children would, who had his other matching tattoo.

Tony scanned the files he may or may not have stolen from the government.

Each teenage boy had been verified by FRIDAY, a perfect candidate for the little spiderling that had been meander around Queens for the last few months.

There wasn’t much of a reason to it, just some primal instinct he had. No big fight coming up or coup he had to instigate.

The kid had skill, and a lot of untapped potential. He could be great, if only he was trained. Which he wouldn’t be, unless Tony got to him before some rag tag group of thugs did.

God, that would be a mess.

He flipped through the pages, slowly weening out the boy’s that lacked a motive, a concept too human for FRIDAY to understand. Yet.

One file caught his attention, though. The face of a prepubescent boy with messy hair and bright eyes. He was adorable, really. But that’s not what snatched Tony’s eye.

It was the birthdate.

August 10th, 2001 had been the day he got his right tattoo. One of the best days of his life.

There was always the chance that it was a fluke, a coincidence of the ages. Never meant to be, simply crashed in place and left to rest.

But the pictures on the next page of the file sent those thoughts straight underground.

As any other social security file would, this one came with pictures of either soulmate tattoos, accompanied by a description of them for paperwork sake. The images were clearly taken of a newborn baby, likely at the hospital not long after birth.

Peter Parker’s right tattoo was a match.

“Hey, May!” Peter called, stepping into the old apartment as he returned from school, his mind still a little bleary over the fact that Cindy Moon had really just chugged 12 diet cokes in one sitting at lunch.

“Oh, hey!” The woman returned, her voice fading in as the boy slowly removed his earbuds and grunted as he sat his backpack down on the chair by the kitchen table. “How was school today?”

He smiled in fond admiration. “Okay.” He responded, “There’s this crazy car parked outside...” he began, before pausing suddenly.

Holy shit.

Was his hair okay? What about his teeth? Was there anything in his teeth? God, there was probably something in his teeth. Were his glasses smudged? Wait- no, no glasses. How about his clothes?

“Oh, Mr. Parker.” The man sitting on his couch acknowledged.

Peter stuttered, his voice leaving him as his face went numb under pressure. The boy had never been used to the spotlight. “I- wha- what? What are you doi- hey, I- I’m- I’m- I’m Peter. Wai-”

“Tony.” The billionaire greeted. His hair was less shiny in person, and he had a few more wrinkles than he did on TV, Peter noticed.

Tony, he had said, like they were... friends or something. Miss Janelle always said that you shouldn’t refer to public figures by their first names, because they aren’t your friends- they’re sources.

That was weird. This was weird. Everything was weird.

The boy stammered. “What are you- what are you- what are you doing here?” Mr. Stark chuckled. “It’s about time we met.”

In his peripheral vision, Peter could just make out his Aunt frantically mouthing “What The Fuck” as her eyes blew up wider than a hornet nest. At least he wasn’t the only shocked one here.

“You’ve been getting my emails, right?” Mr. Stark asked him. Suddenly, the man winked his eyes, smirking a little.

What the fuck?

The boy played along. After all, when Tony Stark is signaling for you to follow his lead and do as he says, you listen. “Yeah, yeah, regarding the...”

“You didn’t tell me about the grant.” May chirped..

Peter took the lead. “About the grant.” He nodded. Wait... what grant?

“The September Foundation.” Mr. Stark allotted, waving his hand as though metaphorically giving Peter the next bit of information for whatever crazy scheme he had just been pulled into.

The boy shrugged and smiled. “Right.” He agreed. “Yeah. Remember when you applied?” Tony asked.

No, Peter thought, I never fucking applied for anything. What the hell is going on, Mr. Iron Man?

But he didn’t say that, did he?

“Yeah.” Peter smiled. The man gleamed. “I approved! So, now, we’re in business.”

May shifted in her seat, seemingly compromised by whatever bullshit story it was that the older male had told her. Seriously, what was their story here? “You didn’t tell me anything, what’s up with that? You keeping secrets from me now?” She asked.

“Well, I just- I just know how much you love surprises.” Peter offered, sending an experimental glance towards the other, testing that he was sticking to the plan he had yet to be informed of.

“Anyway, what did I apply for?” The teen hurriedly asked.

Mr. Stark bluntly blinked, a sign that Peter was definitely not as good of an actor as he liked to hope. Maybe he should start doing drama with MJ, that could help...

“That’s what I’m here to hash out.” The man claimed. “Okay, hash it- hash it out. Okay.” Peter agreed stupidly. He had no idea what he was doing.

As if trained in the art of lying, the richest one in the room drew attention away crom Peter’s misstep. “It’s so hard for me to believe that she’s someone’s aunt.” “Yeah, well we come in all shapes and sizes, you know?” “This walnut date loaf is exceptional.”

“I’m gonna just stop you there.” Peter interjected. God, Tony Stark was hitting on his Aunt.

So. Weird.

Mr. Stark chuckled a little. “Yeah?” He asked.

Suddenly, some distant part of Peter’s mind clicked. His Aunt’s face glowed in his mind, like when a character in a movie saw a hot girl and everything slowed down. Not that he thought May was hot, because, ew.

No, he was focusing on the word: Grant.

“Does this grant, like, got money involved or whatever? No?” He asked.

Mr. Stark slowed, seemingly confused by the question. “Yeah...” He began. “Yeah?” Peter echoed. “Well, it’s- it’s pretty well funded.” Oh. Not as exciting- but, still, being in the presence of money like that...

Peter remembered when he was little, when his still-living father would take him to New Rochelle on the weekends, just to see it.

“Look at these fellas long and hard, Pete.”

“They’re just rich people houses, Daddy!”

“Don’t you wanna live in one of ‘em?”

“Can’t. We’re not rich people.”

“Well? Here’s your inspiration, kiddo. Use that inspiration for your whole life. All you need for success is to be nearby what you want, to remind yourself that it is real and attainable. Then you really will work as hard as you can. This is the goal, so you don’t give up until you’ve got it.”

Peter’s mind wandered back to the present, Mr. Stark’s face still moving with his words. “Wow.” He gasped.

“I mean, look who you’re talking to.” The man joked. He turned to May. “Can I have five minutes with him?” He asked, pointing towards the bedroom off to the side with PETER clearly emblazoned across the door.

May smiled politely, of course, though Peter was pretty sure she was still uncomfortable with a grown man entering Peter’s bedroom. “Sure.”

They piled into Peter’s small bedroom, his twin bed thankfully having been made that morning. It was still a total mess. Mr. Stark really should have given a warning.

Tony was just happy that the kid hadn’t spent too long claiming not to be Spider-Man. He was relatively easy to quell, for a 14-year-old. Not that much teen spirit or whatever the kids called it nowadays. One mention of good pay and a spot on the team and the boy was all for the arrangement.

Peter would be working under Tony until he was old enough to join the Avengers Initiative- that is, if Tony says he’s ready then. Just some mentoring, getting the kid some decent field experience. And a better suit, because... yeesh.

That onesie across the room was an insult to all of superhero suit kind.

“Next order of business,” The man continued, “Roll up your sleeve.”

Peter spluttered. “What?” He remarked.

Tony sighed, before doing so on his own account, revealing that ever familiar design to Peter’s eyes.

The boy began to shake, his whole face going pale as he whispered “Is that...”

“A match? One can only be sure in person, kid.”

Peter gingerly removed his jacket and pulled up the right sleeve of his pullover, revealing his own seven-pointed star, made in a perfect baby blue, with a diamond encased in the center.

The man smiled, happily looking down at the little details, all familiar to him.

His own platonic soulmate. Right next to him.

He didn’t understand how or why, but one thing was for certain. This kid? This adorable, dopey-eyed kid with a onesie in his celling. He would protect this kid at all costs.

#my fics #marvel #mcu #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #avengers endgame #tony stark #peter parker #and i wanted queue to be better #tom holland

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annonmaly · 3 years

Text

Ok, It's Not Red. So What?

"Oh, It's Not Red" continuation

Welcome to the third part of my posts regarding Mochijun-sensei's official VnC artworks. This is just a continuation of the 2nd part (there will be no artworks to be discussed). I will just share some absurd ideas that I came up with after my realization (some may already be out there). If there's any chance that you stumbled to the prior post and decided to continue. I salute you brave warriors that assume I would mention anything that makes any sense. To those who have no time to read a post that only talked about Murr's eye color. Here's a summary: I realized Murr's right eye is not red.

Curious as to how did I come to this conclusion? Check it out here: Oh, It's Not Red (You may not read the first part as it isn't related to this. But if you want to, it's here: Regarding some of VnC Artwork this title is so uncreative)

As usual, a friendly reminder that best in writing is an award I never received. I'm not the person who could analyze, explain, or theorize things clearly. Please bear that in mind while reading. Photos are not mine, of course. Also, spoiler alert to be safe

Now that it's all said and done. Let's go ahead and talk about Murr.

By this time, we already know who is Murr. And I think we all agree that the cat is not just a cute mascot of the series. I bet that he would be a game-changer (yes, I'm putting Murr on a high pedestal). The question is: What do you think of Murr's role in the story?

After spending hours and hours of reading here and there, the common theories I found are:

1. Murr is Sensei (The Shapeless One)

Sensei is an observer. And where is the best place to observe? It's beside your subject of interest. Also, as his title suggests, he is shapeless, so maybe he could shapeshift into anything he wants. This sounds probable but, I do not lean on this much for two reasons.

Personal preference. If this is true, Sensei is weird, not terrifying. I mean, instead of doing scary and shady affairs during his free time, he decided to be a cat just to watch Noé.

Look at the image below closely.

Did you found Murr? No? Take a closer look at Louis. At first, I thought he was just reading, but his book has a weird shape. Where did I see that again? Oh, right.

Not yet satisfied? See this panel from the manga. This is after the first image's scene.

(Grandpa obviously has his favorites)

I think the cat Louis' holding is Murr. Thus, there's a panel where Sensei and Murr are together. That's the second reason I'm skeptical about this theory, folks.

Well, we also don't know. Maybe grandpa killed the cat so he could disguise himself as one.

2. Murr is a spy camera of Grandpa De Sade

It's a simple one. The theory goes like this: Murr's right eye connects to Sensei in whatever way. This panel is what inspires this theory:

(This cat really is suspicious, I bet he is one of the puppet masters of this arc along with Sensei)

This theory is what I'm more inclined to believe. I suppose the cat is working under/with Grandpa for their grand schemes. So, of course, he would report to Sensei the events that took place. Whether he is using his right eye or whatever means it is.

Going to my personal thoughts...

I guess that Murr was a kin of the vampire of the blue moon. He used the power too much, and thus he was rewritten from the inside. Alas, Murr became a cat! Why is he heterochromatic, tho?

Ok, kidding aside, there are two ideas I want to share.

1. Possibly Twins

Mochijun-sensei dropped the bomb in chapter 46. She gave us the idea that the theme of twins would be relevant in the story. Here is the page where Veronica mentioned the thing about twins:

Then three chapters later when Misha forced Noé to drink his blood and reveal his memory. Mochijun-Sensei dropped another bomb.

After seeing this, we speculated that Faustina and Luna are twins. I love that thought. Just imagine how complex the relationship it would be between the two. But if we think about it. What if this is just a misdirection? First, Mochijun-sensei makes us aware that the subject of twins is somewhat important. And while that information is still fresh in our memory, she dropped another bomb and told us that the blue vampire and the queen looked alike. Mochijun-sensei set this up so that we could connect the two easily.

All we know is that: Vampire twins are a symbol of bad luck, and Luna looks like Faustina. This is just me overthinking things, but what's life without competition. So, let's add three more names to the list that could be a set of twins.

Murr and Luna: Because why not? His left eye is blue. Also, Luna's left eye was never shown in the series. It's always hidden by her hair, maybe it's a different color.

Noé and Luna: Let's just say he is older than the series claimed him to be. Noé's memory started on the day that it snowed. I believe that Mochijun-sensei is keeping the timeline vague since it would reveal too much information. I mean, we don't know how long time passed from the day Noé was found by the old couple to the day Sensei brought him to the castle in the forest. Keep in mind that the vampire's growth differs for each person, as well.

Also, is the story the Noé and Sensei told trustworthy?

(How kind are this kidnappers that the kid was not traumatized? Also what's with the injuries. I don't much about slave trading in VnC world. But, if you're going to sell something you don't want it to have visible damage right. Sorry if the comparison sounds offending)

As far as I could tell, Sensei is shady, like really. Noé's memory is also not reliable. After all, someone out there may have the ability to manipulate memories. What if Noé was was born ages ago and was induced to sleep for a long time for whatever reasons?

Going back to Noé and Luna. Mochijun-sensei is giving us subtle hints of his association with Luna. I only saw Luna from one chapter, but I could say they are somewhat similar aside from the hair and skin(?) color (I will make a list later if I still have of time on hand).

(Child Noé and Luna both have similar haistyle, they have the "lid" as Mochijun-sensei called it. Their eyes are different tho')

Go on, read chapter 49, you'll see what I mean. Also, take note that at some panels (especially the ones where Noé is feeling extreme emotions), Noé's left eye was hidden by his hair or something. Who else out there that we don't see her left eye? Yup, the vampire of the blue moon (I have a weird feeling about Noe's left eye that I will share later) To conclude this, I think that Noé was not from this era. He is actually from the past and preserved in whatever way from whatever reason. And maybe he is actually the twin brother of Luna, seeing that they have a resemblance.

For now, I won't say that he's a reincarnation of Luna (I may change my mind later) as the timeline doesn't coincide. Besides, human Vani's reaction when Misha told him that there's a way to revive Luna is intense. Meaning he wants Luna to stay dead. I also believe that human Vani is hiding "something" he knows about Noé. So if Noé's a reincarnated Luna, there's no way human Vani would stay with him.

Murr and Noé

If you saw my previous post. I convinced myself that Murr's right eye's color is violet (the same shade as Noé's). That's why I decided to include them here. I have no definitive reasoning aside from their eye color and how Murr treated Noé in the series.

In the meantime, I'll write the scenario in my head. What if Murr and Noé are twins. Something happened when they were young, and so they were separated. Noé was somewhere we don't know yet, while Murr encountered Vampire Vanitas and Grandpa DeSade. Then the rest is history.

I swear I didn't expect it to be this long, at any rate, this would be to be continued here: Ok, It's Not Red. So What? (continuation)

Note: This is just a random theory, thoughts, assumptions, and/or head-canons. I wrote this to indulge my over-thinking self. Thank you for taking the time to read and understanding if I made any mistakes or post whatever it is you don’t agree on.

#thoughts about vnc panels

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