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dannys-phantoms · 3 years

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Doorways

DannyMay 2021 Day 5: Doorway

Read also on AO3

Sam and Tucker are directed to a special place in the ghost zone, and told to look around. They would never have guessed the things they see.

AKA Danny gets a lair

(Everlasting Trio)

To say that Danny got detentions often would be an understatement. Normally it was something that he could have probably avoided, like by actually doing his homework or not playing on his phone in class, but this time it was different. He’d fallen asleep on his desk – again – because he’d stayed up all night chasing Johnny 13 and his shadow all over Amity Park until all three of them were too tired to continue. And then, of course, when he was finally getting ready to tuck himself into bed, his ghost sense had gone off again. It’s a wonder that kid ever got any sleep.

Lancer had taken one look at him drooling on the desk and that was it, Danny Fenton would be staying late. It made sense, really, because he had an obligation to teach a certain syllabus, and it was obvious that Danny needed something a little more... fine tuned. Even so, Sam and Tucker both were in agreement that it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

They loved hanging out together even just as a duo, of course. They did it all the time. Three was never a crowd with them, but two was nice as well. When there’s only two, they’d never have to vie for attention, or wonder if they’re somehow third wheeling in their three-way love story. The reason they were missing Danny was for something else entirely. It was probably something to do with the eight-foot wolfman that had appeared in the middle of Tucker’s room.

He’d just been showing off his latest PDA (she’s called Norah, in case you were wondering) and Sam had been sufficiently engaged (enjoying seeing him happy more than she was actually following the conversation) when three jagged gashes had opened up between them, green and shimmering in the air and tempting a glimpse into the ghost zone. Then, the rift expanded and the creature swung through, landing heavily on his paws.

“Hi, Wulf,” said Sam, hesitantly.

He put a paw on Sam’s shoulder, and Tucker tensed as though he was ready for a fight. They were all friendly enough, of course, but it’s difficult not to be wary with those claws so close to someone’s face.

“Saluton, amikoj,” Wulf greeted, before pushing both of them through the portal he’d just made. “Vi volos ĉirkaŭrigardi antaŭ ol li revenos!”

They landed hard, and before they could look up to ask what exactly he meant, the portal was closed again. If only they’d put more effort into their Esperanto.

It was a wonder they weren’t both sinking through the floor, humans that they were, but Tucker decided not to dwell on it. There were unquestionably going to be weirder things going on here than that.

The hallway itself looked perfectly normal. Green, of course, but normal. They’d been deposited near the top of a set of stairs, and ahead of them were a series of wooden doorways. Under their splayed fingers was soft carpet.

It wasn’t a house they recognised but it quite easily could have belonged to a neighbour, or a schoolmate. It looked so laughably ordinary that they weren’t quite sure what to do with themselves.

The door closest to them creaked back on its hinges, opening a fraction to let a gust of warm wind through. It wavered for a few seconds before gliding almost to a close again.

Sam got to her feet with a sigh and offered a hand to Tucker. After she’d pulled him to his feet, neither of them let go.

The doorway was wooden and grained, looking more like her own kitchen door than one to a ghost realm. She squeezed Tucker’s hand and pushed it open.

She didn’t know what she’d expected, not really, but she knew it wasn’t this. Despite not having been for years, she still recognised the streets of Point Pleasant, West Virginia, deep in the throes of the Mothman Festival.

Nobody knew how much she’d treasured her memories of this place. Nobody except her boyfriends, that is. Even her own parents didn’t know that she dreamed of it almost every night.

It wasn’t a perfect replica of the place. It was as if the architect had merely been told about it, rather than having seen it themselves. Nevertheless, it was enough to have her mouth hanging open. There were pairs of red eyes everywhere, staring at her from every shop front, every costume, every street decoration and even from the foods in the signature Mothman pizza stores and bakeries. The live band was playing eerie music and, when she really stopped to look, she could have sworn that something was watching her from the trees.

If Sam could have chosen a heaven, a place to let her soul spend an eternity, she would have chosen here.

Tucker blinked owlishly behind his glasses. “Sam,” he said, in awe. “Is this...?”

“Yeah,” she replied. “It is”.

The music was pulsing around her, lulling her into a dance. Arms and legs and wings spun from every side as the crowd moved towards the bronze cryptid statue in the centre of the square. She’d not smiled like this for years. It was as if she was delirious. Someone offered her a Mothman lollipop, and she took it without hesitation.

Tucker took it from her gently as she began to wrestle with the wrapper. “It’s too dangerous. We still don’t know what’s going on. This could all be a trap.” He winced apologetically and, even though she tried to argue, she knew he was right.

She steeled herself and took his hand, marching back into the green hallway and pulling the door shut behind her. As soon as the latch clicked, it was silent again.

“Come on, let’s keep going.” Her voice was shaky.

Behind the next door was a meadow lined with trees. Here, it was the middle of spring. The pollen tickled both of their noses, and they quickly retreated before the hayfever could truly set in.

On the other side of the hall was a bright red door. Tucker reached for the handle, but Sam held him back.

“Red means danger, smartypants.”

“Awe, you do care,” he replied jovially. Then, he quirked an eyebrow and sent her the finger guns. “Red also means love.”

She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help her lips quirking in a smile. “I’m being serious, Tuck.”

“As am I.”

He reached forward to open the door, and then immediately stepped back again as he got a wave of vertigo.

They were at the top of a huge drop slide, which was the same shiny red as a circus big top. There were a queue of ghost children lining up, but they all stepped aside, beckoning Tucker to go first.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Sorry, Sammy,” he replied, “but this is just too awesome.”

He sat down on the side and then launched his body forwards, sending it into the oxymoronic state of controlled freefall that left him feeling as light as a bird. It was as though all of his worries were flying from the top of his head. He felt a laugh bubble free and crossed his arms over his chest, equal parts Egyptian mummy and child at a water park.

The drop gradually began to round off, until he slowed down and crashed into a ball pit at the bottom. He’d been falling for what felt like forever.

Sam slid to a stop next to him. “Never, and I mean never, do that to me again.”

Her hair was mussed and her breathing was heavy. He declined to point out that she’d followed after him, even though she’d thought it unsafe. It left a warm fluttering feeling in his belly.

“I won’t.” He smiled.

The ballpit took off, zooming high into the air until they were at the top of the dropslide again. The sudden motion would normally have made them queasy, or at the least lightheaded, but it didn’t. One second they were at the bottom and the next they were at the top. It was more like the space had moved around them.

Tucker looked longingly at the slide, wanting to go again, but Sam grabbed his hand and pulled him back through the door. It would do no good to linger too long in one place.

The door right at the end of the hallway was glowing around the edges, as though there were nothing but lamps on the other side. Sam made a move towards it. What could this one be? A beachside paradise, perhaps? The light room of a photography studio?

She was inches away from the doorknob when she heard a familiar whoosh. A ghost portal. From the look on Tucker’s face, he’d heard it too.

They looked towards the stairway behind them as it was illuminated in a green glow, gone as quickly as it had arrived. Then, there were whisper-quiet footsteps.

They were both rooted in place. Every instinct suggested they should run, but where to? You can’t hide from a ghost in it’s own lair.

Soon though, a shock of white hair appeared over the banister, then a pair of slouched shoulders clothed all in black.

“Danny?” Tucker said incredulously.

The ghost whipped around, immediately at high alert with an ectoblast ready to go. He only fractionally calmed down when he saw who was there.

“Shit, Tucker? Sam? What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same question,” Sam said dryly.

“I’m not ready for you guys to be here yet. I was waiting for the right time... have you been following me?”

“What?” Tucker said. “Danny, no, of course not. Wulf brought us here. Said something about looking around before ‘he’ comes back.”

Danny slumped, hand on his forehead. “Dammit, Wulf. That’s the last time I trust him with a secret. How much did you see?”

“Not enough for it to make sense,” Sam said, arms crossed. “Where the hell are we?”

Danny sighed, then looked her in the eye. He looked defeated. “Its my lair. Its not done yet, not by a long shot, which is why I didn’t want to show you –”

“Wait, what? I thought only full ghosts could have a lair.” Tucker’s brow creased.

Danny let out a hollow laugh. “Who knows what halfas can do, really? It’s not like there’s enough of us to study. This place is half ghost, like me, so I can touch stuff and walk about , no matter that mode I’m in. I’m guessing you can too. It helps, because it means I don’t fall through the bed.”

“The bed?”

“Yeah, it’s just through there.”

He looked between them to the glowing door, which he pushed open with one finger.

They were standing on the edge of open space. A million stars twinkled around them, piercing the blackness like twinkling diamonds on a velvet curtain. A red carpet rolled out in front of them, connecting the hallway to a larger rug, also floating. Below it was a deep chasm, the void never ending.

Danny floated down the carpet, which was rippling in an invisible breeze, and the others followed. It was surprisingly solid.

The rug at the end was covered with bean bags and blankets, and the biggest bed any of them had ever seen, big enough to fit ten people easily. Danny threw himself on top of the plush quilt.

“This is... I didn’t want you to see it, because I didn’t know what you’d think. I didn’t want to scare you off.”

Tucker laughed. “You’re a ghost. If we were going to get scared off, I think it would have happened already.”

“I guess,” Danny smiled sadly. “But... If you’d known my lair was adapting to the wants of all three of us, you could’ve thought maybe it was getting too weird.”

“Are you kidding me? This place is awesome!” Sam flopped down onto the bed next to him.

“I was thinking of asking you to stay here with me. Not all the time, obviously.”

“That would be cool,” Tucker said, trying to hide how excited the prospect made him.

“Think about it, Tuck,” Danny groaned. “You guys don’t belong here. You’re humans.”

“Okay, so maybe it needs a kitchen and a bathroom fitting, but other than that it’s pretty sound.”

“One of those doors opens into a Tomahawk Steakhouse,” Danny smiled.

Sam put her hand in his supportively. “We love you. We’d follow you to the ends of the Earth and beyond, you know that.”

Tucker sat down next to his partners and took Danny’s other hand.

Danny made a mental note to send a ‘thank you’ postcard to Wulf when he next saw him.

#danny phantom #dannymay2021 #everlasting trio #DannyMay #sam manson #tucker foley #danny fenton #wulf #fic #my writing #mine

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teacup-baphomet · 3 years

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G/t plot bunny 1

ugh generic title is generic but whatever.

so basically there are these two people - humans - and they are like ghost/cryptid hunters.

in my head. There is one guy and one girl. The guy is very excitable and happy-go-lucky (an optimistic ray of sunshine type with his head in the clouds).

The girl is more down-to-earth. A tad on the pessimistic side maybe. a little more rough around the edges. will throw hands at the drop of a dime to protect the people she cares about no matter how daunting the challenge is (like she will take on an entire gang herself is she needs to orr - well, you’ll see later in this plot bunny).

They are currently somewhere - idk where- and there is like big arse castle thing. Entirely made of stone. Ornate. and mostly like “f***off” big. like the theories/lore behind it is some ancient, archaic civilization made this castle for their god(s) as some symbolic gesture.

But the duo is here because it’s supposed haunted af.

And they want to either prove that or disprove that.

all for the sake of likes on the internet. such a noble causes lol. nah. they get paid too so mostly there’s that.

anyways. as it turns out it is NOT haunted.

but rather someone - something? - BIG is sorta imprisoned in the structure. Not visible at first. Hidden away ... somewhere, perhaps an alternate dimension or something. Until freed.

And the duo accidentally frees him.

Anyways, the big guy is basically the result of a king from the long dead civilization getting super greedy and basically doing some weird ritual to get limitless power. It goes terribly wrong - for the king- and he ends up getting possessed, well more like completely hijacked and the king is kinda dead now - by some sorta being. a shapeshifting something that tends to be on the lorg side.

The being didn’t really have a gender until he took over the king’s earthly form and then he decided “huh, guess i’m a dude” so he tends to shapeshift into a male form. typically big. typically kinda monstrous. haven’t thought of how monstrous. or if the shapeshifter being is demonic or not. or what does “demonic” even mean if so.

kinda leaning towards a monstrous in a dragon-boy kinda way. wings. horns. rows of sharp teef. claws. scaly forearms and lower legs as well as various other patches of scales. glowing eyes. firebreath.

with some hints of elderitch monstrosity. so maybe like a third eye on their forehead and perhaps a wee eye on each of the little clawed hand things on his wings. idk. plus the ability to make prehensile shadow tendril/tentacle things shoot out from his body. or something like that.

but i dunno. if i write this or not is hecking big IF anyways. like most of my ideas -writing and especially drawing. my muse is so dang fickle. i could come up with ocs and plots and dumb banter/dialogue and i can get to vague sketch stage with drawings but after that it’s like uhhhh... i lose steam i guess..

but yeah... how monster-y big dude is, is well up for debate i guess

but yeah. so he appears. and the shapeshifter monsterboy king dude is thinking it’s gonna go like ‘k. i’m free now. gonna just get rid of the people who freed me with a condescending thanks and then take over the world mwahahaha”

but it does not go like that. at all.

because oh no. the lil guy who freed him is adorable. and he’s so..so happy? but... why? and his first words to him are “wow. you’re amazing! so friggin cool! I wish i looked as bad*ss” or something like that

and the big guy is like all flustered because he’s used to people running and screaming at him and his monsterous appearance. that is partially why he likes to be monstrous looking to be frank.

he never considered how nice it is to be genuinely complimented. or you know to have friends. or even something more~

so he’s at a lost. which is something that’s never happened to him before. making him even MORE at a loss.

and he’s rather amused, impressed with the bravery the wee gal as well. as she looks ready to fight him herself if he even thinks of hurtin’ the lil ray of sunshine guy. it’s kinda.... endearing???

so oops. no world domination. ah, well...

instead he has a best friend and maybe something more with that lovely ray of sunshine man~

and maybe... just maybe... being good and kind... isn’t all that bad?

even if he is a monstrous eldritch giant maybe demon thing.

who says he has to stick to stereotypes. he’s BIG. he can do what he wants. right?

and i dunno after that..

I’m thinking. that this is when they find out he’s sorta attached to the castle for some reason. and thus stuck in his BIG monsterboy mode (as well as stuck to a certain area). and thus beyond being stuck to the vicinity in the castle and near the castle atm he can’t temporarily shapeshift to human in order to more easily travel with them as they do their ghost/cryptid hunting anyways.

so the next phase of the maybe story is the human duo and their monster trying to figure out how to f r e e h i m. like even more so than they already did heh.

and once they do that - uh shenanigans happen i guess. cuz you can’t have a g/t story without big(s) and small(s) engaging in shenanigans. that’s like g/t law or something.

and that’s it. that’s the maybe story i will likely never write.

anywho. if anybody wants to use this as a plot go ahead. i don’t care/mind. it’s not all that original anyways lol. it’s just a bunch of tropes thrown together to make soup (read: a plot) basically. i think. i dunno.

i mean let’s be real. i can’t even say:

people using the same plot in a g/t story? more likely than you think.

because we all effing know the same plots are used in g/t stories over and over again. ain’t no one able to pretend that isn’t common lol.

but that’s okay. because everyone has their own style of writing. and a lot of us are desperate for more g/t content anyway so we ain’t gonna complain regardless.

not sure if these last few sentences could be considered a call out or sh**post or something but i don’t really care. it is what it is.

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videntefernandez · 4 years

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Spooky song challenge

Instead of spamming you with 1 song each day I decided to post them all at once. It was fun but clearly they started running out of ideas half way through. Enjoy

1- Kings of Leon - Closer

I like this one because it’s not too obvious it’s about vampires, you have to really listen and then you kinda feel bad for the guy.

2- Billy Murray - The ghost that never walked

3- The Decemberists - The Mariner’s revenge

This was the first song I heard where the story was really engaging, it’s also really creepy.

4- The Devil's Carnival - Grace for sale

5- Recoil- Jezebel

6- Sneaker Pimps - Small town Witch

7- The Paper Chase - We know where you sleep

Thee’s something darkly humorous about grim reapers talking to humans about how anything could kill us.

8- Oingo Boingo - Insanity

9- Voltaire - Zombie prostitute

10- Whiskey shivers - Graves

11- Marilyn Manson - Golden years

12- La Unión - Lobo hombre en Paris

This one is actually about a wolf who gets bitten by a human.

13- Tub Ring - Proper funds

What is scarier than debt?

14- Slashstreet boys - I'll kill you that way

15- The Beetlejuice Theme

I watched this cartoon a lot but also this theme is banging so I have it in my usual rotation

16- Sleepytime Gorilla Museum - Cockroach

17- Vast - I am a vampire

I couldn’t find one strictly about cryptids that i really liked but this one talks about vampires, mummies and wolfmen so why not

18 - Massive Attack - Voodoo in my blood

19 - Aqueduct - As you wish

It’s inspired by Princess bride and also gets really dark near the end

20 - US - Pas de Deux

We only played instrumental music at our wedding and this one is beautiful and scary

21- Editors - Frankenstein

My favorite band is Depeche mode but this is a close second and a lot of their songs have a spooky element

22 - Amorèe Lovell - The Alphabet Serial Song

23 - American Murder song - Devil in camp

It’s about the donner party

24- David Bowie - Lazarus

25- Flogging molly - Seven deadly sins

26 - Fern Gully- Toxic love

27 - Korn - My gift to you

Korn is the only concert I’ve been to, it wasn’t a great experience. Korn has a lot of messed up songs but this one is about killing the other person during sex.

28- Radiohead - We suck young blood

Radiohead is actually the only band that I like how they sound live

29- Fobia - El Diablo

30- Slendy’s lullaby

31- Ludo - Skeletons on parade

It’s halloween or day of the dead or a combination of both

#spooky song challenge #song challenge #logismoi #music

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lily-the-smol · 4 years

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cryptid mode engaged hewwo friend

Hey Sam what's up!

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machinesandman · 4 years

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It was early morning hours at a remote location. Few knew of it, and fewer even knew how to locate those that resided near it.

Two wildly intelligent minds worked together. Metal, weaponry, electronics, recycled bits, anything that could be acquired....

All for one goal.

Vile.

Shaska had a rather secretive friend of hers helping with this project. Ziggy, as she was known as. A miracle that the two hit it off so well. This project, was the rebuilding of Vile, and a complete system clean. It had taken a god damn long time. Spreading work out between various other obligations... But now, after a couple of reboots and tests, as well as heated conversations... They knew, Vile was ready.

He had been cleaned. Forcefully... His systems were his once more. His upgrades from before, and a few extra bells and whistles, from Ziggy and Shaska.

For now, the black armor cryptid had taken Vile out into nowhere. Booting him up with his full weaponry available for the first time.

“Jonez Override. 4-0-8.” The helmet attached to the systems of Vile wirelessly immediately.

“Core systems, online.” Shaska adjusted a few things inside her helmet. Remotely booting Vile up. The war machines limbs starting to twitch where he lay on the ground. “Weapons systems, online.” There was a dull thrum, followed by a few clunks. The sounds of things loading into place. “Engage diagnostic.”

Various data came flowing through Shaska’s helmet, her eyes darting across the streams she was receiving. Everything coming up green. Considering how many times these were triple checked and re-cleaned, the augmented to be defensive against further infection rate or data corruption... As well as that broken section of electronic brain data.

“Honestly, how could that have been so easily over looked? Sigma was a clever bastard, making sure Vile had that backdoor for when everything went belly up back then...”

“Hope Vile would want some payback for everything.”

Nothing was out of place. The reploid war machine remaining laying there only in passive backup mode. The data was clean, the systems clean, memory core intact...

“... Engage full boot up.”

With the voice command given, Vile began twitching once more upon the earth. Sounds of full power coming on. And then, the iconic red eye flickered too life.

Vile sat up quickly, looked around in confusion, before leaping too his feet. Scanning everything from the dirt, to the sky. And then, his gaze landed upon Shaska. The canon upon his shoulder already primed and ready.

“Doctor.”

“Vile.”

It was a stand off. Silence befalling the two of them as they stared down one another. Neither daring to make a move before the other, knowing damn well what they were both capable of now. And for the first time... In a long time... Vile had his full mind at his will.

Vile couldn’t help but jerk back in surprise as he realized it. Sure, when he was on that damn lab table, he felt free. But he had put that down to a blocked signal, or even the fact he hadn’t had full range of his control, of his brain. But no, here he was.

“You-- Actually did it. You and the weapons nut.”

Shaska released a low chuckle, and crossed her arms. “Of course. I’m not one to back down from a fight nor goal ahead of me. And I had always planned to get hold of you one way or another. This just happened to work out better. You will find all of your internal systems and processors work faster than they originally have. And thanks too Ziggy, your armor is thicker, sturdier, and your weapons have been upgraded. Once I had finished cleaning up and repairing your chip sets of course.”

As all of this was being listed down, Vile ran through his internals immediately. From his core too his brain. Spreading through every single limb, his electronic nerves, then his weapons. His knees, fingers, boots, and then his precious treasure: The Front Runner. His canon was still with him, and it wasn’t a lie. It had been given some love. Vile admitted too himself, he was impressed.

But then came the question...

“So... What do we do from here, doc?”

Shaska grumbled, squinting at Vile from inside her helmet. “Can you not call me that? For fucks sake...” It was bad enough the others said it. Now he was too? God damn it. He’d said it not once, but twice. Never mind, that could wait till later. “As for what we do, you’re free. Of course, still a criminal with your extensive record. It would be difficult to reintegrate to any society right now, not without some good will or merit under your belt.”

“As if anyone ever did shit for me anyway.” Vile responded sharply. And yet he felt a momentary pang of... Regret...? When did he feel regret?

Shaska spoke quickly. “None the less, I make you an offer. Yeah, you’re free. Free of infection, of forced command, and of being decommissioned or locked up. You have become your own Reploid again. However... You can work for me. I can offer you a place to stay, off on your own, far from any city, town, hamlet, or outpost.”

The Front Runner remained aimed at Shaska. Vile still not sure just what to do... “All right... Sounds too good to be true. What’s the work? What’s the catch? Whats the payment?”

“I can’t exactly offer you money.” The black armored woman admitted, making Vile scoff immediately. But she continued to speak before he managed a word in. “But I can offer free repairs, upgrades, tune ups. Spare parts, information. And Ziggy can keep your weapons in top condition should you be put out of the game for a while.” A small pause.... “As for the work... It’s hunting down Maverick’s, of course. All bets are off. Only rules are, no innocent people get hurt, save lives if possible. But otherwise no paper work or red tape.”

Vile clicked his tongue a moment, shifting his stance too something more relaxed. If anything he seemed almost bored. “Sound’s like a worse hunt-”

“And we target Sigma.”

That got Vile’s attention immediately. Eyes narrowing. “Go on...” He spoke, and folded the front runner back over his shoulder. Returning it too the passive position.

Shaska smiled, and removed her helmet. Letting it vanish into subspace.

And so began her conversation and plan. Explaining how to help clear Vile’s name, fuck over Sigma, and cause one hell of a show...

#plot plot plot #plot advancement

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clonelyboy · 4 years

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i should probably put some vague timeline / ideas down for Teddy’s ghost hunter verse

an au of his modern au

started seeing ghosts after Alex’s death -- although, not Alex’s ghost, nor Emmanuel’s

of the ones he does eventually see, one is Jack, at about age 18

Angel’s still alive bc i say so and she’s Recovering with Friends. it doesn’t matter that she and Teddy might never meet in this au it’s just important to me...

Milicent attempts to take him in when he’s first thrown into the system after Alex’s death, but finds he reminds her too much of Emmanuel so ends up giving him to someone else. she doesn’t manage to explain it to him, and he does resent her for it until she does when he’s 18 (about the same time ghost!Jack shows up).

his favourite foster parents were Jamie and Nora. they also had a dead kid, but they dealt with it better than Alex and Mili.

there’ve been other foster parents -- some good, some worse, but only one of his foster parents turned out to be holding onto ghosts. that one didn’t see any repercussions during Teddy’s stay; the boy was too frightened to say anything, even at age 13.

Jonathan Kastle exists in this au! but is he a real person, a clone, a ghost, a cryptid, somethig else? :) haha

he lives with his friends -- Ava, Zuri, and Charlie -- as per every other verse when he’s an adult. he does art commission work as his main mode of income, and goes ‘chasing’ ghosts in his spare time and uploads his research and notes on his y.out.ube channel and blog as factually as possible, although he does try to keep a sort of distance from it / tries not to engage with others about it.

#ghost hunter au tbt.#all you have is your fire and the place you need to reach. (headcanon & meta.)#(scribbles all this down. what's a ''''timeline''''. don't look at me.)#(there's probably more tbh)#(<- used that tag before lmao)#child death mention cw

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stormquill · 5 years

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One Equal Temper | chapter two [V/Reader]

As hell itself wreaks havoc upon your city, an angel lands on your doorstep—one who doesn’t seem to realize he has wings.

Author’s Notes: Follow the blog @one-equal-temper.

Notes: I told myself this was going to be a fun, light series. I told myself I would do some basic setup work and go on to write the fluff/smut I wanted to write from the beginning. I told myself I wasn’t going to get existential. I have failed on all accounts by chapter fucking two.

Your headache had never really gone away.

Since the moment you awoke alone in the hospital, the ringing within your skull only ever seemed to ebb and flow in tides. On good days, the ache would retreat to a dull buzzing behind your eyes—an annoying, albeit tolerable inconvenience.

But today was not a good day.

You weren’t sure how long you’d been lying here, spread-eagle on the floor beside your open balcony. When your eyes were open, pain blurred the edges of your vision; when you closed them, sparks flashed behind your eyelids in time with every aching throb. Having already exhausted your stock of pain medication, you had little energy to move, let alone hunt around neighboring apartments searching for more.

You were lying perpendicular to the balcony’s sliding door, angled so that your view of the outside was upside-down. The hardwood floor was cool against your skin, the morning breeze soft and welcoming. You watched through narrowed eyes as your flowers swayed in the wind, their freshly-misted petals glinting in the cloudy sunlight. They were holding up well, all things considered—they were weaker than you would’ve liked, but they were surviving. Existing.

That was the best you could do, for now.

With great effort, you sat up to grab a small bag of chips from your scattered piles of scavenged supplies. You probably shouldn’t have been eating these, sick as as you were, but junk food would help you feel better in all the ways Ibuprofen could not.

You lied back down on the floor, and as the upside-down vision of the outside returned to view, you realized a familiar feathered form had appeared on the flat of your balcony.

“Still alive, gravedigger? You’re more stubborn than I thought.”

“Oh, hey,” you brightened up. “You again.”

“In the flesh!” he said, puffing up. “Miss me?”

“Like a pebble in my shoe.” You popped open the bag of chips on your chest. Several spilled onto your shirt. Your life was an abyss. “Not dead yet, sorry to disappoint. Come back in a few hours, you have full permission to chow down on my rotting corpse then.”

You had no idea a bird could look so offended.

“Do I look like some kinda vulture to you?” he snapped. “Rather starve than resort to eating your nasty ass, thanks. I happen to have a very refined palette.”

(He was definitely eyeing your chips.)

“Don’t you have anything better to do than come up here and pick on me?” you asked, possessively hugging the snack to yourself.

The way you closed the bag on him seemed to ruffle his feathers. “Don’t flatter yourself, treefucker. Wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t V askin’.”

“...you know V?”

“Did he not tell you about me? Figures.”

Though he was clearly trying to shrug it off, the smallest hint of disappointment tainted his voice.

All at once, you felt terrible.

You reached into the crumpled bag on your chest. Stretching an arm out above you, you held out a single, nacho-cheese-flavoured olive branch, and you told him your name. “What’s yours?”

The demon’s beady golden eyes glanced at you, then at the chip. Wary, he waddled forward a few steps to approach your outstretched arm. You found his caution hilarious, as he was the one with the serrated, razor-sharp beak that could tear your arm clean off in half a moment’s notice; dangerous as it was to have your fingers anywhere near the demonic bird’s mouth, he took the snack from you with a mindful gentleness that was damn near adorable.

“Name’s Griffon,” he mumbled, holding the chip between his beak. “I’m one of V’s familiars.”

“The most handsome one, I’m sure.”

“You’re goddamn right.”

You continued feeding him for a while, offering one chip at a time. Griffon really was a gorgeous bird, in a terrifying, haunting sort of way, like a cryptid from some forest folktale told to frighten children. A ‘familiar,’ he’d called himself. Like the kind witches had. At this point, your theories regarding V’s identity had ranged from vampire to angel to warlock—and after the taste of supernatural phenomenon you had thus far, you no longer wrote anything off as impossible. Had V sent Griffon to see you the first time, too? Why send him again, several days later?

“Y’know, gravedigger,” Griffon said, mouth half-full, “maybe I had you pegged all wrong.”

You sneered. “Food changed your tune pretty quick.”

“Not as fast as yours did when you found out I knew V.”

Your surprise must’ve been obvious—he responded with a sinister chuckle filled with too much mirth for comfort.

“Oh sure, I know all about that awkward fiasco. Sharin’ your tragic backstory, makin’ goo-goo eyes at him over your little tea party. ‘Will you read to me?’ Eugh. Like Shakespeare needs any more enabling.”

You were mortified. Where could Griffon have possibly been hiding at the time? Had he overheard everything? And what of the impression you made? Had you really been so transparent, egregiously outing yourself as some sad, lonely weirdo desperate for human contact? Just because it was true didn’t mean you had to be so obvious about it.

Ignoring your reaction completely, Griffon approached the bag you let slide off to the side of you. “I mean, don‘t get me wrong, he’s a good kid—but what you see in him, I do not know. Maybe all that pollen’s finally gone to your head.” He nudged through the bag’s contents with his beak. “Anyway, V ain’t the brightest bulb in the toolshed when it comes to this kind of stuff, so I spelled it out for him, nice and clear. You’re welcome.”

“...what did you say?”

“That you’ve got the hots for him, what else?”

That’s what you were afraid of.

“This is ridiculous,” you said, unsure of who you were trying to convince. “We’ve had one conversation. He wouldn’t give a shit what I think, he’s got more important things to deal with.”

“Then why the hell’s he been standing outside your door for the past ten minutes like he’s forgotten how to knock?”

Paling, you bolted upright. “Why didn’t you open with that??”

Griffon had his head fully in the bag, now. “Just wanted to watch you panic!”

The mental image of V standing nervously outside, so reluctant to bother you he sent Griffon up first, made your heart race in way that only worsened the painful pulsing in your head.

As you scrambled to your feet and approached the door, you became hyper-aware of the sleep in your eyes, the chip dust on your shirt, and the general dishevelment of your entire being. You tried to get your act together as quickly as you could without a mirror—patting off your shirt, adjusting your floor-flattened hair—all while trying to suppress your headache through sheer power of will.

Taking a deep breath, you opened the door.

The dark-haired stranger had indeed returned to your doorstep. The soft shadows around his eyes made him look slightly more tired than before, but he didn’t look like he was anxious to knock, and certainly not like he was any the wiser of your heart’s premature betrayal. As you stood there before him, flushed and flustered for no apparent reason, the most obvious questions sprang to the forefront of your worry: did V not know, after all?

Had Griffon made all that stuff up just to mess with you?

As if on cue, you heard a nasty little cackle from behind you.

To think you shared Doritos with him.

The treason.

You tried to keep your tone nonchalant. “Good morning.”

“Salutations,” V said, because of course he was someone who still used that word. “Glad to have caught you at home.”

The blatant sarcasm put a smile on your face. “You know, I was just about to head out.”

“Ah, a pressing engagement? Shall I try again later?”

“No need, I should be able to reschedule.”

A slow smirk graced his lips at your banter, doing nothing to ease your still-quickening heart. You felt an unexpected, overwhelming sense of gratitude towards Griffon, of all creatures, for having known of your inclinations but choosing to keep his mouth shut. You didn’t want V to think differently of you.

You didn’t want to scare him away.

V shifted his weight, leaning more heavily on his cane. “I was hoping you would grant me the opportunity of repaying you for your hospitality, the other day.”

You laughed, going a little red around the ears. “You don‘t have to, it was just a cup of tea.”

“A cup more than I had prior, nonetheless.” He stepped aside and gestured beside himself, making room for you through the doorway. “Will you walk with me?”

“What—you mean like, outside?” The thought alone made you take a step backwards into your apartment—your safe, well-stocked, demon-free-except-for-the-one-bird apartment. “Yeah, no, I—I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“The surrounding area is safe, for now.”

Griffon swooped over your shoulder and into the hallway. “Oh, yeah. We made sure of that.”

As V walked away, he shrugged his head, motioning for you to follow. “Come.”

The instant rise of panic was at odds with the sudden urge to follow his lead. Had you heard them correctly? Had they killed a bunch of demons together for the express purpose of walking with you? Was this some kind of trap—trying to get you to a secondary location, maybe? But if they wanted you dead, why go through all this trouble? Were they just being nice? To what end?

You swallowed, hard.

Only one way to find out.

As you had barricaded the main entrance to the apartment building, the fire escape was the only way in or out.

From the moment you stepped foot onto the winding steel staircase, your internal switch flipped back into frantic survival mode, a behaviour you hadn’t adopted since the night you escaped the hospital. You made as little noise as possible. You checked your corners before rounding them. You kept your eyes and ears strained for signs of movement in your peripheral, almost too afraid to blink in case you missed something.

V seemed to pay your high alert frustratingly little mind; leading with his cane, he strolled at a leisurely pace without a single care in the world, as Griffon kept watch from overhead. At one point, Griffon snuck up and scared the shit out of you, cackling madly and gliding away when you weren’t fast enough to smack him in retaliation.

You stayed close to V at first, following his flat-sandaled footsteps through crushed streets of rubble and exposed wires. However, as several minutes passed and the complete absence of enemies allowed your mounting caution to ease, V noticed you straying further from him.

He watched with careful interest as you processed the wreckage of your new reality.

Gradually, your attention shifted from your own frenzied survival to the extent of the damage done to the city, taking in the scale of chaos you hadn’t yet seen beneath daylight. These were places you knew well, streets you crossed every day, rendered unrecognizable by the carnage of recent events. He watched you drift through broken alleyways like sections of a museum, from the frantic graffiti of the now-dead to the hollow, blood-drained shells of the civilians left behind, as you maintained a silent reverence for the destruction all the while.

You spotted a crowbar sitting on cracked cement, beneath the broken window of a shop you’d passed by often but never had the chance to visit.

“Where are we going, anyway?” you finally asked, crouching down to pick up the length of metal.

“You tell me.”

You weren’t sure when you’d taken the lead on this excursion, but V had given it to you, willingly, curious to see where your legs would take you without you knowing.

A glance across the street made your blood run cold.

The nearest landmark was a single-story brick building, half-collapsed and lifeless, a large section on the far end somehow still on fire. Colourful drawings lined what was little was left of the tall windows. Papers and textbooks layed scattered and singed around the grounds. Though the field was slightly uneven, the playground out front was surprisingly intact.

Noticing you’d stopped and stared, Griffon flew down and hovered next to you. “Little old for fingerpainting, ain’t you?”

“Quiet, you,” you mumbled, and you headed for the swings.

As you took a seat, Griffon landed on the support pole above you, his talons sounding heavy as they clasped around the metal bar. You hadn’t expected V to claim the swing next to you; he leaned on his cane for support as he sat down, retrieving his book from his coat and reading from it in silence. You were side-by-side on the swingset in the middle of a half-ruined field, facing the flaming wreckage of an elementary school in all of its still-blazing glory.

And it was peaceful, somehow.

“Are you feeling better?” V asked, not looking up from his book.

“I am, yeah.” You didn’t bother questioning how he knew you’d been ill. “Do I look that bad?”

“No, but I cannot imagine forced isolation does one’s health any favours.”

“I think I just needed some fresh air.”

Griffon scoffed from above. “Fresh air ain‘t gonna cure what you got.”

Embarrassed, you thought he was taunting you, making a sly reference to what he knew, but you noticed V’s expression had gone rather stern.

“A moment of privacy, if you would be so kind.”

With those words, V raised his arm and withdrew Griffon, dematerializing the bird into a cloud of black particles; the vapour then redrew itself onto patches of his skin you hadn’t realized were barren, with the demon’s swirling sigils camouflaging effortlessly within the rest of his tattoos.

You didn’t even bother trying to look away. “Woah. Just when I thought I had some part of you figured out.”

He smirked, returning to his reading. “You are in no danger of that, I assure you.”

Tearing your eyes from him, you prodded the rocks beneath you with your newfound crowbar, rocking gently back and forth in your swing. Every moment you spent with him seemed to raise more questions than answers. Who was this guy? And why was he here, with you? From what you gathered from his demeanor, you knew he wouldn’t be inclined to answer any prying questions from a complete stranger he’d met all of twice. Besides, he hadn’t asked you anything too personal yet, either—who were you not to extend him the same courtesy?

You enjoyed his company, even if most of him was a mystery.

“How goes the demon-exterminating?” you asked, trying to make conversation with what little you knew of him.

“I have been gathering as much information as I can about the current plague,” he said. “Extermination is endgame, but we are still far from finding permanent resolution.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

The question seemed to amuse him, more than anything.

He was just about sure what to make of you.

Since the attack, V had spent the majority of his time assisting with citizen evacuations and military efforts, as futile as the latter continued proving to be. And here you were, one of the final living civilians in Red Grave, a human who escaped a hospital and traversed a demon-infested city to barricade themselves in their apartment and live on stolen rations, asking if they could help with his quest. The past two weeks had given him much experience dealing with humans in terror, humans in grief, humans who believed being bold and trigger-happy was enough to keep them alive, but he hadn’t yet met anyone quite like you—someone so desperate to survive, yet so indifferent to the prospect of their own demise.

He chose his words carefully, keeping his eyes to his book as he spoke. “You have no intention of leaving this city, do you?”

Your initial silence spoke volumes.

“Can’t,” you settled on, finally. “I’ve got a garden to tend to.”

“Those flowers must be very important to you.”

“They’re all I have left.”

He did not pry further.

Your passive suicidality already confirmed his suspicions. You only fought to survive because you wanted to die on your own terms. It was something he recognized quite clearly.

It was something he saw in himself.

Even though it was barely noon, you already felt like the day had gone on for far too long. You weren’t sure what you were expecting from this walk, but you certainly hadn’t expected V to read you so goddamn clearly, outlining your existential crisis while you didn’t even know if he had a last name. What you wouldn’t give right now for one minute without a headache. One shower with heated water. One good meal that didn’t come out of a can.

“God, I miss french fries,” you said.

That seemed to get his attention. “Pardon?”

“French fries,” you repeated. “I would kill for some french fries right now. What’s your favourite food?”

(Did he even need to eat?)

“...I must admit, no one has ever asked me that before.”

“...you don’t really talk to a lot of people, do you?”

“Not if I can help it, no.” V considered your initial question, even taking a moment to look up from his book and focus on some indeterminate point in the sky, like he was recalling something long-forgotten. “Chocolate, I suppose.”

“Chocolate?”

“Yes.” He returned to his reading and flipped the page—his expression was somber, as if the memory he’d uncovered was bittersweet. “I remember quarreling over it, as a boy.”

Though you figured you should’ve known better than to assume anything about him, you didn’t expect him to have a sweet tooth. You tried not to think about just how adorable him liking chocolate was. You failed.

“Is there anything else you miss about your old world? Other than food?” he added with a smirk.

‘Your old world,’ he’d said. Such detached phrasing. As if he hadn’t been a part of it.

“Of course,” you replied. “They’re...not the things I thought I’d miss, though. Everything before the accident—everything I stressed over and worried about, every day of my life—it’s all so meaningless, now. I’m not thinking about my job, or my debt, or my future. It’s all the little things I’ll miss the most.”

“Such as?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, your hands tightening around the chains of your swing. You suddenly felt sheepish. “Late-night trips to the corner store? Hanging out with my neighbor’s cat. I miss listening to music. I miss how the rain used to be. It used to make me feel happy, excited for the start of a new day—now whenever it rains, it feels...dangerous. Like it’s hiding something.”

“Some things are not shown proper recognition until they are gone,” he said. “Having such experiences to miss in the first place is something worth cherishing.”

Your brow furrowed—he was using weird, abstract language again, like he had nothing tying him to this world. “There must be something you miss, too.”

Closing the book in his lap, he nodded, wearing the same forlorn look as before. “I used to play the violin.”

“Really?”

His dark green eyes drifting shut, V straightened his back and positioned his arms just so; he tilted his head onto an unseen rest, fingers poised around a non-existent bow and ghosting over invisible strings. You could tell it was a resting position he was intimately familiar with, his form and posture practiced and precise, and the ease with which he transitioned into the stance was mesmerizing.

“I would study the same piece for hours, days on end, until I was confident enough to perform it for others,” he whispered. “It was something I was good at. Something that was mine.”

Getting a glance into something so important to him made your heart swell beneath your chest.

“Sounds wonderful,” you said, trying not to make yourself so damn obvious. “I’d give up french fries to hear you play.”

The sentiment put a smile on his face as he eased his posture. “My past is not a destination I seek to visit often, but speaking with you appears to have brought back memories from...better times.”

“...is that good?”

He turned to look at you fully, now; the crowbar still in your hand, the hospital band still on your wrist, the gentle expression of genuine concern no one had cast his way, before now.

‘The little things,’ as you called it.

“I daresay it is.”

By the time you were escorted back to your building, early afternoon had arrived. Griffon was back out on surveillance, gliding around closeby. You and V were walking side-by-side now, contrary to your less-than-fearless formation from when you first set out.

The fresh air had done you good, as your chronic headache had graciously retreated to its mild, manageable buzzing within your skull. You were still carrying your fancy new-but-slightly-used crowbar; you’d been dragging it across random surfaces the entire way home, as you would a very large stick.

“Thanks again for walking with me, you two,” you smiled. “I didn’t realize how much I needed this.”

Griffon hovered by your head. “I didn’t have much of a choice, but you’re welcome.”

“Do not attempt to repeat this on your own,” V warned. “Some demons have been known to respawn from time to time. I expect they will continue to do so until we destroy the source.”

You held your hands up, placating. “Trust me, I’m not going anywhere. You let me know if any of your friends aren’t pulling their weight, though. I’ve got a weapon, now—I can take their places, easy.”

He eyed your crowbar with a sarcastic little smile. “I may take you up on that offer. My allies are not in town for another fortnight.”

“So you are here by yourselves.” When he mentioned his allies before, you assumed they had already set up some kind of camp or headquarters in the city, somewhere. “Wait, so where have you been sleeping?”

“When night comes, I‘ll go, to places fit for woe; walking along the darkened valley, with silent melancholy.”

Griffon made an exasperated noise. “Translation: wherever’s horizontal and not covered in blood.”

“Why don’t you stay with me, then?” You paused for a moment and shook your head. “Not with me with me, but my entire building is full of empty bedrooms. Electricity’s out, but all the water still works—you could shower and wash your clothes and everything.”

“Holy fuck, score!” (It was the first time you ever heard Griffon sound so pleased.) “Finally, some proper compensation for all the shit we do. A dead human ain’t gonna miss their condo. C’mon, V, whaddya say?”

“...I’ll consider it.”

You weren’t sure who was more surprised by his answer, you or the bird.

“Are you kidding me??” Griffon snapped. “Free room and board and that’s all you gotta say?? I can’t even remember the last time I saw you drink water! When have we ever found a place with a friggin’ blanket, for crying out loud?!”

Seemingly accustomed to Griffon’s outbursts, V was already walking off in the other direction, twirling his cane in his hand. “Come, now. We’ve work to do.”

You watched the two of them take their leave, the echoed sounds of Griffon’s loud complaining following them all the way down the block.

You climbed back up the fire escape, now on a mission.

The crowbar would come in handy sooner than you thought.

Someone was bound to have one.

Twelve hours of searching. Twenty-nine forcibly-opened locks. Thirty-seven abandoned apartments turned inside-out.

By sheer chance, you found what you were looking for.

You leave it outside your front door, in case he returned sometime during the night.

You awaken in the early morning to the sound of a nearby melody.

Anticipation yanked you from the confines of your bed like Christmas morning excitement. Still half-asleep, still half-hugging your pillow, you rushed out from your bedroom to make sure you weren’t just hallucinating the music; not wanting to alert him of your presence, you pressed your back to the wall nearest your balcony, sliding to sit on the floor.

The violin sounded beautiful in his hands.

Music spilled in from the balcony next door, the notes crisp and prolonged; he was practicing what sounded like a set of advanced scales, sequential in tone, but embellished enough to form a simple melody.

“Soundin’ a little flat there, Shakespeare.”

“It may require further tuning.”

Sitting with your back to the wall, you hugged your pillow and smiled.

Out of all the rooms in the building, he’d chosen the one next to yours.

#v x reader #v x you #v dmc5 #dmc5 v #devil may cry #one equal temper

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