#yuri is So Done with all this shit and this green woman is NOT HELPING | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ask-the-phan-site · 5 years

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Phan Cam: To the sewers

WARNING: This post may be a bit long.

>Once again in the city of New York. But something seems... Different about it. Guess it’s because we’re about to see this city in a whole new light. Waiting at Grand Central Station in the early hours of the morning, our Horizon friends finally show up.

Hey, guys! Been waiting long?

We just got here early. Don’t worry.

That’s good to hear. I was in the middle of a suit fitting.

You actually look good in it, Harry. Mature even.

Harry: Thanks. If I’m going to be the head of Oscorp, might as well look the part. Actually, I could get my tailor to make you one, too, Ryuji. I know it will be a late birthday present, but I promise... You’re gonna love the way you look.

Skull: Thanks, but I think I’ll stick with my idol suit and the one ATLUS for now. But I’m sure I’ll take that offer.

Harry: Alright, I’ll look forward to it.

Me, too.

Peter: By the way, where is Akechi?

Joker: He’s on a case at the moment. But I’m sure you’ll see him again on the last week of your vacation.

Peter: I see. I can’t wait for it.

Now about this Hun person.

We have him at Horizon now.

Then lead the way. By the way, I’m Kasumi Yoshizawa.

Yeah, they told us. You’re the newest member.

Royal: Just remember, I’m with the P Thieves for my own reasons rather than changing the hearts of adults.

I guess that is kind of true.

Gwen: Wait... Morgana!?

Anya: (also shocked) It really is you.

See, we told you.

Gwen: But how?

Joker: ...

It’s a long story.

Gwen: Right.

>With that, we leave.

>We arrive at Horizon High. When we get there, we see the students of E. Nigma we interviewed are also here.

That seminar with Doc Greene was fantastic.

The man may seem eccentric, but a genius none the less.

If only Beth could have seen it.

Uhh!

(translating skater slang) You should have recorded it on your phone, bro.

We did.

Think you can make two copies. The rest of the Dudes are trying to get us ready to meet Ross Caliban.

Ted: Got you covered, Cy!

I still think it’s a bad idea that we ditched Kimmie.

True. This means the next time she sees us, she’ll totally destroy us, but anything’s worth it for science, I guess.

(who overheard them) Don’t worry, if she does... I’ll pour sand in her pants.

Druscilla: That’s a little gross, but thanks.

>With that, the students leave and we come in.

Flint: Ren san, you’re here!

Joker: Good to see you again, Flint. How are things?

Flint: Really good. I heard your friend is an idol now.

You bet. Want an autograph?

Flint: Let’s not get crazy. I guess you’re here to see Hun. He’s in the lab with Aleksei. Thinking who better to watch a mutated person than someone who was mutated themselves.

I wonder what kind of mutation happened? Was he also a victim of the Spider Island Incident?

Anya: No. He was mutated before it happened. He’s not even a spider.

Then what?

Gwen: More... Reptilian.

>We follow the others to the lab. There, Aleksei and Max Modell were standing before the same glass cell Aleksei was in when he was the Rhino.

Come on, Hun. You have to eat something.

He’s right. I made Katsudon Pirozhki. This is the stuff Yuri Plizetsky and Yuuri Katsuki ate. It’s quite popular.

>The creature in the cell, which I guess is Hun, turns to face us.

...

>He looks down at what Aleksei is offering him.

>Hun just stares at it. Slowly, he reaches for the pirozhki and... quickly snatches it and quickly eats it.

Aleksei: (victorious) See~? It’s good.

Hun: ... Shut up. Unless it can change me back.

Max: Only if you let us help you.

Hun: Never! Not until I have my revenge!

Max: Against who?

Hun: I told you already, you wouldn’t believe me, so I won’t tell you!

Max: (groans in defeat) Fine. We’ll try this again tomorrow.

>Hun goes back to his corner in the cell. Max and Aleksei turn to see us.

Max: (surprised) Oh, it’s you guys again. Welcome back.

It’s good to see you again, Max.

Max: I guess you’re here because of Hun back there.

Queen: Pretty much. How are things?

Max: Not good. No matter what we try, he just won’t let us help him. We have the way to cure his mutation.

Aleksei: Thanks to Dr. Octavius.

You shouldn’t believe everything he says, Aleksei.

Yeah, there’s no telling what could happen.

?????? ?????: Now that just sounds a bit hurtful.

Oh shit, he heard us!

>We quickly turn to see...

Skull: Oh, I thought...

I know very well who you thought I was. It is a common mistake. He used his own voice to create mine.

Max: Everyone, meet the Living Brain. Starting this school year, he will be taking over Otto’s class.

Queen: Really? Why?

Living Brain: Doctor Otto Octavius had already explained this in a video message he recorded before departing.

>The Living Brain then projects some kind of message of Otto Octavius, aka Doctor Octopus.

Hello, Max and Horizon High. I have created the Living Brain to take my place in the teaching staff this year and very well every other year. I have been thinking much of all the things I have done as the villain, Doctor Octopus. I now realize that there is a darkness inside me that I alone must face. Maybe because I am still grieving over the loss of Rosalie Murphy, my... Rosie... Maybe because the Phantom Thieves made me realize what I was doing to my students was wrong and offensive. Though I still ended up a villain. But now I realize the truth. Especially after getting the mental treatment I needed at the Cellar. Now all that is left for me to do is to go search for myself. To find out where I stand in this world. So until I find that answer, I have created the Living Brain to fill in for me. Also joining it, or him as I wish for him to be pronounced as, is a fellow inmate of the Cellar, Carolyn Trainer. She will look after the Living Brain and he will look after my class. Well, farewell. Let us hope we meet again in the future.

>With that, the message ends.

???????: Oh, no matter how many times I see that, it always brings a tear to my eye.

>We quickly turn to see a young woman with mechanical arms had entered the room.

Are... Are you Carolyn Trainer?

You see any other beautiful young woman with metal tentacles?

Panther: I guess not.

Carolyn: Glad to see we’re on the same page. We just came to see how the patient is doing.

Aleksei: Well, he’s eating the food we give him, so I don’t think we have to worry about him starving.

Carolyn: I’m glad to hear it. But you know, he won’t get any better if he doesn’t come out of his shell... Get it? Because he’s a turtle and he has a shell? And we’re asking him to get out of his shell?

>Hun clearly didn’t like the joke.

Hun: I! Hate! TURTLES!

>Hun charges at the glass and begins bashing on it. It doesn’t break, but it won’t hold forever.

Max: (shocked) This can’t be good.

Peter: I’m on it.

>Peter quickly shoots his web shooter at a nearby button. When it is pressed, a gas is released into the cell and Hun quickly calms down. Then, he falls to the ground... He’s fast asleep.

Max: Thank God and Anya for the sleep gas.

Anya: It’s no problem.

Carolyn: (acting all innocent) I’m sorry, I should have been more careful of what I say.

Seriously!? We could have been killed!

Yeah, what the hell is your malfunction!?

You... Are so lucky that you are giving me too many artistic ideas to scold you.

Peter: Hey, lay off, her you guys. She just didn’t know.

Queen: (groans) Fine.

Carolyn: Thank you... By the way, am I really giving you artistic ideas?

Fox: With those tentacles, it’s hard not to imagine. Something like that I would love to feature in my next art piece.

Diego: Are you going to have her strip?

Carolyn: (unimpressed) If you want me to pose for a nude portrait, I’m calling my lawyer.

Fox: I think an evening gown will suffice. (turns to me)

I already have my perfect nude model.

I’m glad to hear it.

Max: Anyways, that seems to be our only clue to Hun’s mental state. Whatever it is, it’s linked to turtles. That’s why seeing you here, I hoped that I could ask Akechi for help. If anyone might solve this mystery, it’s the Detective Prince. But since I see he’s not here... I just hope the other detective I hired can help.

Queen: Another detective?

Max: Well, she said that when she’s not being a superhero, she an investigative journalist. And when she learned that this case has something to do with turtles, she gladly accepted... She said she knows a thing or two about turtles since she dates one.

A superherorine that dates a turtle? That sounds like...

Max: Anyway, they’re suppose to be here soon. As soon as we can figure out what it means, maybe you guys can do your thing and that will make this job easier a little.

Queen: I guess we’ll do what we can.

Carolyn: What thing?

Max: Never you mind, Carolyn. Now I think we should let Hun rest.

>Just as we were leaving, the Living Brain stops.

Living Brain: There is sand on the floor.

>We look on the floor. There was a trail of sand coming from Flint.

Flint: (embarrassed) Sorry. I’ll clean it up.

Living Brain: No need for that. I shall clean it.

>The Living Brain sticks a vacuum out of his hand and sucks it up. Then, he gives the sand to Flint.

Flint: Thank you.

Living Brain: It was my pleasure. It must be very difficult... Sandman.

Flint: (looking down) ...

>With that, the Living Brain and Carolyn leave. We leave for an empty classroom while Max goes off to his office.

Joker: You know, when you told me things were really good...

You weren’t telling the whole truth, were you?

Flint: (sighs sadly) You’re right. It’s just... Lately, it getting harder and harder to maintain a human form. I can only guess it’s because I’ve been using my powers a lot. And that scares me a bit. It means that one of these days, the next time I turn to sand... I may not change back to human form... I’m coming apart, you guys... I’m dying.

No...

Gwen: But that may not have to happen. If we can see that we can cure Hun the same way Aleksei was cured, we might be able to cure you, too.

Flint: I hope you’re right, Gwen... Maybe they’ll do the same with Keemia.

Peter: We won’t know until we can cure Hun first. Then we’ll see if it works with you.

Flint: ... Thanks, you guys. I won’t lose hope yet.

>With that, Flint leaves.

Noir: Poor Flint. If only we can hurry up and see if Otto Octavius’s machine works on Hun, then we can use it on him.

Anya: Unless we can get Hun to just calm down, we might actually do it. But unless we can learn anything about these turtles he keeps talking about, there’s not much we can do.

Queen: I know there’s another detective coming, but I don’t think we should wait any longer. We’ll have to solve this mystery ourselves for now.

Skull: But where do we even start?

Miles: ... Actually, I think I know.

Harry: You know something, Miles?

Miles: Hun is, or was, the leader of a street gang known as the Purple Dragons... And I met someone who might know more about Hun and the Purple Dragons than anyone else.

Peter: Who is that?

Miles: ... Casey Jones.

>Flashback.

>Miles, as Spider Kid, swung to an empty apartment where someone he knew once lived.

Miles’s voice: Pete, do you remember that guy you fought, Prowler?

Peter’s voice: Hobie Brown? Yes.

Miles’s voice: Well... He’s not the first Prowler. Before him, there was another... My uncle, Aaron Davis... He’s dead now.

Peter’s voice: He is!? How?

Miles’s voice: It was during that time you were helping the Guardians of the Galaxy and the Phantom Thieves were Dancing in Starlight. My uncle was hired.

Gwen’s voice: Hired to do what?

Miles’s voice: ... To kill me... Or at least, Spider Kid. But he failed and was killed in an accident involving a rouge Inhuman who tragically ended his own life saying it was to avoid punishment.

Gwen’s voice: I see. I’m sorry for that Inhuman. And who would hire your uncle to kill you?

Miles’s voice: I don’t know. But that’s why I went to his apartment. To find out.

>Spider Kid opens the window and goes inside. So many memories of the time he spent with his uncle flooded into him. Then, he goes over to the computer.

Computer: Please enter your password.

... Sunflower.

Computer: Welcome back, Aaron.

>Spider Kid then searches the computer. It turns out Aaron did a number of jobs of criminals. After searching, he found the file that contains the information about Aaron’s task to end Spider Kid’s life... His nephew’s life. He managed to find the form that should contain the name of whoever hired Aaron. Unfortunately, it just says “Kingpin”.

Spider Kid: Kingpin? Who is he, Uncle Aaron?

>Spider Kid looks at the form again and he finds something.

Was I recommended to you?: Yes

If I was recommended to you, who did so? (Rest assured that this will not effect you or the party that recommended me.): Sid Jones of the Purple Dragons

Spider Kid: Sid Jones? Purple Dragons? I think I’ve heard about them from Dad.

>Later after that, Spider Kid swings to the place where the Purple Dragon Gang most likely reside in.

Miles’s voice: According to Dad’s police reports, the Purple Dragons often hang out in the back alleys of Manhattan. I searched everyone of them until I found the one where Sid Jones most likely is. I knew which one... Because some men in black were there.

>Some men in black suits where at the door of the hideout and busted in. Spider Kid quietly came in through in open window and saw what transpired.

Now wait a minute, I’m sure we can work something out!

Man 1: Your assassin failed and died on us, Jones. The Kingpin is not happy.

Man 2: And now he would like to have a few words with you.

Man 3: So we would be so happy if you could come with us.

Sid Jones: A little help here!

Alright, but you owe us big time, Jones. Purple Dragons, attack!

>A fight then broke out between the Purple Dragons and the men in black. However, the men in black seems to have superior technology that they used to easily beat the Purple Dragons.

Spider Kid: That doesn’t look good. Hey, creeps! You missed one!

>Spider Kid then drops to the floor between the men and Sid Jones.

Man 1: Spider Kid! Fine, if Prowler couldn’t finish you off, we’ll have to do it.

>Spider Kid engages with the men. Thwipping his web shooters and punching a kicking them. But there’s too many of them to handle.

Spider Kid: Shit. I’m almost out of webbing. Maybe coming here alone wasn’t such a good idea.

>This looked like the end of the young hero, until... Someone leaped in and attacked the men.

?????: GOONGALA!

>The new fighter comes and swings, what is unmistakably, a hockey stick at the men, knocking them down one by one.

Sid Jones: You!? Why are you here?

What’s a look like? I’m here to save your sorry ass and take you home. Ma’s worried sick about you... But if you rather have Arachnid Boy here...

Spider Kid: (quickly) No, no! I could use the assistance.

Masked man: That’s all I needed to hear. Goongala!

>Spider Kid and the masked man both fight off the men together. Before they knew it, the battle was over and the men in black flee.

(taking off his mask) Boy, is Raph gonna be ticked off that he missed this.

Sid Jones: Thanks, Casey. You’re my favorite cousin.

Casey Jones: I’m you’re only cousin.

Spider Kid: (a bit surprised) They’re cousins, huh?

>The two cousins just look to Spider Kid. None of them knew what to say.

>Back in the present.

Miles: The next night. I met Casey again. He’s been fighting the Purple Dragons for a long time. Right now, Cousin Sid is staying with Casey’s mom in the country to lay low until things have cooled down. He promised that soon I’ll get to talk to him and find out who Kingpin is.

Peter: I hope you do, Miles.

So do I.

Miles: But right now, if anyone knows more about Hun and the meaning of his talk of turtles, other than the fact he’s been mutated into one, he might.

Anya: Where can we find him?

Miles: Most nights, he and his wife, April O'Neil, go out into the city and to some old reservoir station in Central Park. I think they might go there again tonight... But they’ll be having company this time from the Web Warriors.

Peter: No doubt.

Harry: If this is to be my last job as Steal Spider for a while, might as well do this.

Joker: I’d like to come, too. You might need my help.

Fox: And me.

Skull: Yer gonna need a runner, too.

Queen: And a martial artist.

Peter: Alright.

Diego: The rest of us will stay here and keep and eye on Hun and maybe gather more information.

Right. Let’s do it.

>With that, we split for now... Panther and Gwen, however, stay behind.

Panther: Gwen... Are you thinking...

Gwen: ... I might.

Panther: I know you’ve been hanging around them for awhile. Doing so, you...

Gwen: That’s possible.

Panther: Do... Do Anya and the others know?

Gwen: Well, Anya does. The guys don’t know anything.

Panther: I see...

Good luck and be careful.

Gwen: (smiling) I will.

>Up in the dorms, me, Fox, Skull, Queen, Peter, Harry, Miles, and Anya were getting ready to go out.

How do I look? I have to thank Mitsuru san for giving these to us the last time we met.

You look wonderful, Ren.

I still wish I could be wearing the other hero suit. That one has a visor that can hide my face. But this is good, too.

I know. Guess I may not have to take you to my tailor after all... But I still want to and going to anyway.

Ah, thanks!

Shh! Everyone may know that Peter and Harry are, but Miles, Anya, and us are still unknown.

Stealth Spider: Sorry.

It’s okay. It can happen to anyone. So, is everyone set?

We’re ready to go, anytime.

Spider-Man: Alright then, let’s get to it.

Everyone: Right!

>With that, we leave... However, someone was watching.

????: Looks like things are getting interesting.

????: Pretty much.

?????: Guess it was a good thing we came.

?????: So what is your call?

????: We go after them, of course. They’re going to need our help.

????: Alright then, let’s go.

????: Trixx, Let’s Pounce!

????: Wayzz, Shell On!

>An abandoned reservoir station in Central Park. We got here in the dark of the night searching for Casey Jones and April O’Neil.

Stealth Spider: I don’t see them.

Spider Kid: They should be arriving right about... Now.

>Suddenly, we see two people coming from the woods. No doubt those are who we were waiting for.

Casey: I dunno. I still don’t like it.

I’m sure everything will be fine, Casey. Sid’s safe.

Casey: It’s just not that, April. Those guys at Horizon wanna turn Hun back into a human. Is that really the right thing to do?

April: I know Hun isn’t exactly our best friend, but even the guys think he doesn’t deserve that.

Casey: Mmm. I guess you’re right. But if Hun’s still the same guy he was before the mutation...

April: I know. You’ll get the hockey sticks.

>April then goes to some kind of control panel. I use my Third Eye and got a closer look at what she was pushing. Then, a secret door opens and they go in. After it closes, we come in.

Queen: What’s the code?

>I type it in. Then, the door opens.

Let’s do it.

>We go in... Someone quickly follows in.

Did you hear that?

Spider-Girl: Hear what?

Queen: ... It’s nothing. Probably just the wind. Let’s keep going.

>We keep going in.

????????: Phew. They almost heard us.

????? ??????: Let’s just be ghosts and go about this quietly until they need us.

???? ?????: Right.

>Thanks to Spider-Man and Stealth Spider, we now had a stealth mode to hide us from view. When we came in... We were dropping jaws.

What the eff is this?

Spider-Man: I don’t know. I swing through Central Park every night and I’ve never known about this.

>Suddenly, we heard talking coming from a nearby room. We decided to sneak in a peek... We were shocked to see who the couple were talking to.

Casey: I’m still not so sure, Master Splinter, I feel bad for Hun, but I don’t think they should cure him at all.

You are letting your past hatred cloud your sight. Even great warriors forgive their enemies when they have to.

Casey: I know. I just dunno what to do anymore. But least with him out of the way for now, we, includin' Spider Kid, can learn more about this Kingpin Sid was talking about.

Master Splinter: (that is what we heard) I am sure you will.

April: By the way, where are the Turtles? Aren’t they still grounded for sneaking away to Gothem?

Master Splinter: They are... And our newest guests are about to meet them.

What!?

>Suddenly, something grabbed me by the wastes and threw me back. The stealth tech in my suit turns off... I’m shocked to see who... Or what did it.

Alright, pal, I dunno who you are or where you came from, and frankly, I don’t care. But you’re gonna regret comin’ in here without bein’ invited!

>I can sense that my friends want to help, but I gesture them to stay hidden... But not for long.

????????????: Whoa! Was that guy invisible? Are there more.

>To my surprise, two more ‘turtles’ came at my friends who were forced to become visible.

Amazing. I knew the Web Warriors were working on stealth technology, but to know that they can use it with others?

I know. How come you never made stuff like that for us, Donny?

(also coming in) Focus, Mikey, we have these guys to deal with.

Red Masked Turtle: Right. Let’s do this.

Fine, so be it!

>I ready myself. Good thing I remember my wrestling training with Bonesaw McGee and the hand-to-hand technique I learned at the gym. Also, Queen and Joe took time to teach me some aikido and boxing... But before I can make a move...

???? ?????: This doesn’t look good!

What!?

MIRAGE!

>A blinding light comes. Then, something pulled me away to the rest of my friends.

SHELL-TER!

>Something formed around us, but I can’t see what it is due to the light. Then, I hear webbing go around. Then finally, the light fades... The Turtles have been webbed up.

Queen: What happened? Did you do this?

Spider-Man: No. We’re here in this green dome for some reason.

It’s a sphere, actually.

Stealth Spider: I take it you two are the detective and turtle expert.

What gave it away? And by the way, I’m not a detective, I’m a reporter. An investigative reporter.

????? ??????: And I’m here, too.

Spider-Man: Wait... No, it can’t be...

Relax... It isn’t. Just another spider person who became inspired. Just call me Ghost Spider.

Spider-Girl: I think we should trust her. I’ve run into her dozens of times and she’s definitely not Gwen. Spider-Man, surely Ms. Marvel told you about her.

Spider-Man: Well, no. She didn’t say anything.

Ghost Spider: Then we’re good? Good.

?????? ???????: I am glad to see you are on good terms with each other... Now will you please release my sons?

>We saw Master Splinter, Casey, and April coming in.

Ghost Spider: Alright. Spider-Man? Stealth Spider? Spider Kid? Spider-Girl?

>Ghost Spider and the other Web Warriors free the Turtles from the prison. Then, Master Splinter begins to explain their story.

Master Splinter: And so, from a museum catalog I found in the sewer, I gave them all names.

Blue: I’m Leonardo. My friends call me Leo.

Purple: I’m Donatello. Donny or Don for short.

Orange: I’m Michelangelo. Or just Mikey.

Red: And I’m Raphael. But just call me Raph.

Fox: Naming your children after Renaissance master?

That’s quite sophisticated of you.

Master Splinter: ありがとうございました。

どういたしまして。

April: Anyways, what brings the Web Warriors, the Phantom Thieves, and two Parisian superheroes to New York?

Casey: Yeah, Cousin Sid is still hidin’ and ain’t ready to tell us about Kingpin.

Spider Kid: I know. But this is something completely unrelated.

Casey: What is it?

Well, you know we have Hun at Horizon High and we’re trying to find a way to change him back into a human.

Casey: I know. I still think you should let him stay that way. He deserves it.

Raph: Normally I’d agree with ya, Case, but doncha think that might be a bit too much?

Casey: I know. It’s just... I just don’t know what to feel right now.

Spider-Girl: I know what you’re feeling. Really, I do. But he’s still human. Surely you can show a little kindness when they really need it. I’m sure even you don’t want him to spend the rest of his life as a turtle... No offense.

Don: None taken.

Carapace: Same here.

(again, sorry for the chop job) So as we were saying, we want to cure him, but he’s having some problems... Up here. (tapping his head)

Peter: We think that his hatred of turtles, or more like you guys, is making it hard to change him back. That’s why the Phantom Thieves are here. It seems our only chance is social reform of him.

Joker: But in order to do that, we need to know more about him.

Spider Kid: And who knows more about Hun than the guy who’s been hunting him almost his whole life?

Casey: ... I guess that’s kinda true. Ever since the Purple Dragons burned down my dad’s shop when I was a kid, I’ve been huntin’ them. So imagine my shock when I learned my own cousin joined them because of a gamblin’ debt.

Spider Kid: Yeah, I can understand the feeling.

>Spider Kid was looking down.

Peter: Anyway, perhaps you can help us with this. Can you?

Casey: I’ll see what I can do.

Thank you for your cooperation, Mr. Jones. Now what can you tell us about Hun?

Casey: Well, for starters, Mr. Jones is my father. Just call me Casey or Case. And second, Hun isn’t his actual name. Actually, it’s just part of it. His full name is Hunter. Hunter Mason. Currently, he should be 36. His birthday is April 20, 1983...

>Suddenly, we heard a beeping sound.

Rena Rouge: You think you can go on without us? That sound means we’re about to change back.

April: If you like, you can rest in the other room. Don’t worry, we won’t peek... Right, Michelangelo? (eyes him)

Mikey: (unhappy) Why am I being singled out?

Raph: Uh, because it’s you?

Mikey: ... Point taken.

Carapace: Thanks. By the way, we do have a request, though.

Master Splinter: What is it?

Carapace: Well... You happen to have any cookies, would you?

>We were a little confused, but Don gave him a box of cookies.

Carapace: Thanks, dude. Merci.

Don: De rien.

>With that, Carapace and Rena Rouge go into the next room. And then...

Is there a bathroom I can use?

Leo: We turtles don’t have to actually use the bathroom, but we do have one in case Casey and April have to use one. It’s just around the back.

Joker: Thanks.

>I leave for the spot Leo said... But I’m not really going to the bathroom. I use my Third Eye and I find what I’m really looking for... A hole in the wall. I quietly peek inside. It is the room Rena Rouge and Carapace are in.

Rena Rouge: Trixx, Let’s Rest.

Carapace: Wayzz, Shell Off.

>With that, the two heroes change back to their civilian forms as two little creatures come out of their jewelry, which I can only guess are their Miraculouses. Keep in mind, these characters are from a fanmade timeline that is much different from the main series. Also, names have been strike though to protect their identities from Hawk Moth.

Here you go.

Thank you. (takes the cookie) You know, I’m surprised that you’re not surprised by the fact that you are in the company of anthropomorphic turtles and a rat.

Hey, it’s New York. They’ve got superheroes, super villains, aliens, sorcerers, gargoyles, ghosts, Ghostbusters, dragons, other magical creatures, even a talking mouse that lives with a human family.

Girl with Glasses: And let’s not forget that time those Xiaolin monks visited.

Boy with Glasses: That’s true, Alya, but that was a long time ago to find some magic artifact.

Rena Rouge: That’s not true. They still visit here sometimes. Mostly because of that basketball playing kid that helped us find Horizon.

Carapace: Guess I can’t argue with that.

So it is no longer strange that there are teenage mutant ninja turtles and their rat father living here?

Crapace: True. But we’ll let them come out on their own. We can’t force them... BTW, for those reading this post, don’t go to New York looking for things we just said are here. They can only be found in this New York.

Wayzz: So what now? Should we help them?

Rena Rouge: Well, we heard about these Phantom Thieves from Ladybug and Cat Noir when they targeted Chloe. But they have done so much for everyone. Including here in New York. Twice. A bunch of times.

Wayzz: Yes. The Master told me about them as well.

Carapace: Well, right now, let’s just work with them. If they Web Warriors trust them and they want to help, might as well.

Rena Rouge: Right. It wasn’t easy trying to convince Ladybug to let us take the Miraculous with us to here. Might as well use them.

Carapace: Actually, I convinced her when I DJ the opening of Junes in Sternbild. Then again, she and Cat Noir were with me when I used it.

Rena Rouge: True. Anyway, Trixx, Wayzz, are you charged up?

Trixx: (finishing his cookie) Ready.

Wayzz: (also finishing his cookie) Same here.

Rena Rouge: Good. Let’s get to it. Trixx, Let’s Dash!

Carapace: Wayzz, Shell On!

>I got away from the hole quickly. I make my way back to the main lair. Queen comes to me.

Queen: Welcome back. While you were gone, we managed to learn more about Hun. I think the location of his Palace might be the Oroku Saki Tower. And I think I might know what the Palace is. We’ll go there soon after we tell the others.

Don’t worry, Splinter Sensei, I won’t say too much about you or your sons.

Master Splinter: Thank you, Queen san.

Joker: Right.

>Then, Rena Rouge and Carapace rejoin us. Then we leave back for Horizon High.

>Back at Horizon, after settling in the dorms, me and Fox decide to take a quick bath. When we get there, we find Peter, Harry, Aleksei, and (to my surprise) Carapace there.

WARNING: Some nudity ahead.

Carapace: (no nude picture at the request of his girlfriend) Hey there.

Ren, Yusuke, this is Nino Lahiffe. He and his girlfriend are visiting for a few days.

... A pleasure.

The more the merrier.

Glad to hear it.

>We got in.

Aleksei: I’m glad to see the dorms are still in good shape since my break.

Well, we knew someone had to look after it. So we took over for you until you came back. Even the adults helped out.

Peter: Miles’s dad got us a new TV for the lounge. Gwen’s dad got us a bigger fridge. Anya’s mom and some of her friends kept the baths clean. Even Randy’s dad put in stronger WiFi. Aunt May, Flash’s mom, and Liz’s parents put in a bulletin board for either volunteer work at F.E.A.S.T. or part time work at the Allens’ restaurant.

Aleksei: That’s good to hear. Thank you.

Peter: You’re welcome.

Joker: By the way, how are things with Aunt May?

Peter: Things are going well. At least it beats having to work for the Bugle. Now that’s I’m 18, Jameson can now legally say bad things about me.

Carapace: No need to worry about that, dude. If Alya can get in an interview about how there might be a chance you’ll team up with Ladybug, Cat Noir, and the rest of Team Miraculous, he might end up singing a different tune.

Peter: ... I’ll think about it. Thanks anyway though.

Carapace: Oh, you, Harry.

Harry: Yes?

Carapace: My boy’s dad told me to tell you that he’s looking forward to your next visit to Paris.

Harry: Very well. Tell Mr. Agreste that I’ll be looking forward to meeting him soon.

>Seeing us all together like this. It just makes times like this very good. I see that Peter and Harry are especially happy... Then I think about the Living Brain. I just hope things will hold and that never happens.

>We will be going on our heist soon.

#phantom thieves cam

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shangyang · 7 years

Text

et el soleil dit a la lune

first movement: sonata no. 9 - the kreutzer.

for @victuuri-week day one; prompt: surprises/sports or other careers ( shigatsu wa kimi no uso au ) word count: 3,249 chapter: 1/7 chapter song: let it go, james bay

ao3 link! please enjoy. (also, please correct me if the french for the title is incorrect.)

and the sun said to the moon…

Viktor Nikiforov is eleven when his mother passes away. He does not remember a time before the wheelchair, and when it held her down, pinning her to the ground like a bird with a broken wing.

He does not remember a time spent with her that wasn’t done in the presence of a piano. He does not remember her voice without the tinkling sound of piano keys in the background. He cannot remember her without the piano.

Viktor cannot bear to throw the piano away.

After she dies, the music stops, and Viktor’s hands do not dance across the ivories. No music comes from his home - and if it seemed empty before, with only a sickly woman and her son in it, husband long since gone, it is a void now, without music. The piano is nothing but something to collect dust, a relic of a time long gone, and a memory of a mother that Viktor had buried.

The piano collects dust for one year. And then another. And another.

Six years pass. The piano collects dust.

Six years pass. No music comes from the Nikiforov household.

Six years pass. Viktor’s world becomes colorless. Dull.

Six years pass. Music is white noise in his ears. The world is monochrome.

Six years.

Miwa once said, “the moment I met him, my life changed. What I see and what I hear. What I feel...my whole scenery is painted in color. The world is sparkling.”

Six years pass.

The world bursts into color once more.

Viktor is seventeen when Uncle Yakov comes back to town. Of course, this means that Yuri, the man’s grandson is with him too.

Yuri is a pianist.

“I don’t understand why you can’t just open the damn thing up, and fucking play it,” Yuri hisses, looking up from his phone. “It’s right there! What the fuck is so difficult about it?”

Viktor doesn’t look up from the empty staff paper in front of him. A pop song is playing quietly from his laptop, and Viktor scrawls in the notes as he hears them. “You know,” he says, voice lilting. “For a ten year old, you have a filthy mouth. Maybe we should wash it out with soap.”

“Fuck off.” Yuri’s undoubtedly pouting. The vowels are huffy, and the consonants petulant, and a small part - more like a huge part - of Viktor is inappropriately satisfied with being able to play Yuri as easily as he always has. Sure. Growing up, Viktor thinks, bubbling in a sixteenth note. Doesn’t mean you aren’t as high strung as always, kotyonok.

Underneath his breath, Yuri mumbles, “Lilia already did that.”

Viktor laughs. “I told you to watch your mouth around her!” He sets down the pencil, and turns to look at his - nephew? second cousin? - cousin, and laughs louder at the prominent flush tracking its way across the bridge of Yuri’s nose, and bleeding into his cheeks. “Was it the lye soap?”

Yuri pulls the hood of his jacket over his head and mashes a few fingers into the screen of his phone. “It’s like she thinks we’re still in the 20th century or something. Fuck!” He sticks out his tongue, scowling. “I can still taste that shit on my tongue - stop laughing, Viktor!”

He chucks an eraser at Viktor’s head. Viktor is too busy laughing to try and dodge, and it connects, landing with an audible thunk, right between his eyes before falling to the floor.

Viktor keeps laughing until he’s out of air.

“Jesus,” he gasps, bending down to pick up the eraser. “Even after the lye soap, you’re still cursing. You must’ve really liked the taste, huh, kotyonok?”

“Fuck off.” Yuri shoves his phone into the pocket of his jacket. “If you’re gonna be a goddamn jackass, then buy me something to eat.” He gestures loosely in the general direction of the kitchen. “Your cabinets are empty, and I haven’t eaten since Yakov dragged me onto the plane to see you.”

“You can wait two hours, right?” Viktor checks the clock on his laptop. “It’s four in the afternoon. We can go get something at six.”

Yuri kicks Viktor in the leg. “I haven’t eaten since five in the morning in Russia,” Yuri says, slowly, as if talking to a child or a moron. (Viktor is fairly certain that Yuri sees him as one of those. Or maybe both. It’s hard to tell sometimes.) “You don’t have to eat, but I’m starving. So move it. We haven’t left this sorry place once since I got here.”

Yuri kicks Viktor again, just to emphasize his point.

“I’m tempted to let you starve,” Viktor comments, closing his laptop. His leg smarts, and when he rubs a hand against it, he knows with a solemn certainty that it is, without a measure of a doubt, going to bruise. What a pain...

Yuri is back to fiddling away with his phone. “I’ll keep kicking until I break your leg, then,” he says, completely serious. “You know I can.”

Viktor does, as a matter of fact, not know this to be true. But, he’s not about to test his luck. Maybe some other day, when Yuri isn’t starving, and therefore liable to eat him. “Fine, fine. Let me find my shoes.”

“You’ve got two minutes.”

Viktor moves his laptop off his bed, and proceeds to take as long as humanly possible to find his shoes.

Yuri kicks him again, and the bares his teeth at him, vindictive and vicious in a way small children should not be.

He rubs his leg. The bruise will be huge. Purple and black, mottled brown and green. Viktor wishes he was young enough that he could get away with giving Yuri one in return.

(Viktor is, decidedly far too old to be pulling stunts like that against his ten year old cousin, but that isn’t going to stop him from giving Yuri the spiciest thing he can find on the menu. It’s all in the name of building character, of course. Nothing else.)

He holds his eye open, and carefully puts the contact in. It still stings a little, going in, but it’s going to be worth it. The second one follows.

This is a daily routine - nothing new, bright or exciting can or should be found in its monotony, but Yuuri smacks his hands against his cheeks, and places his glasses case back into his backpack. He smiles, and it’s shaky, but he forces the grin wider and wider until his cheeks burn with the effort, and Yuuri feels like laughing at the awkward picture it makes.

Performance clothing? Check. The button down is freshly pressed, and Yuuri is certain that if he touches it, it would still be slightly warm, still smelling like the detergent his mother uses, and the faint scent of incense from the family shrine. Gloves? Check. They hang out of the pocket of his jeans, fine leather, one of the nicest things Yuuri owns. A gift from Minako-sensei on his birthday. The leather is dark, and buttery smooth to the touch, and the gloves are so warm that Yuuri knows so long as he has them on, he doesn’t have to worry about his hands freezing or seizing up in any weather. Phone? Check. Yuuri pats the small breast pocket in his sweater, just to check if it’s still there.

Check, check and check.

Yuuri runs a hand through his hair one last time, before grabbing his violin. He kisses his mother goodbye - Dad is at work, and Mari is nowhere to be found - toes into his loafers and makes his getaway.

It’s spring. The wind is ruffling his hair, as fond as a mother or aunt, and the sun is warm and gentle on his face. Yuuri tilts his face towards the sky and lets out a breath.

It’s spring.

Phichit slides into an empty chair at the cafe table next to Viktor without so much as a word. Yuri looks up from his sandwich - and Viktor laments the fact that he hadn’t been able to convince the ten year old to order the jalapeno chicken - and scowls.

“Who’s this?” Yuri sets down the sandwich, and leans back in the chair. Viktor laughs behind his hand, as the ten year old glares. He’d been attacking the sandwich with all the fervor and gusto of a man starved for weeks on end - and to think, that he’d actually put the damn thing down. Small miracles, in this day and age.

Phichit rattles the ice in his drinks, taking a sip from the green plastic straw. He shares a bemused look with Viktor over the top of his drink, and Viktor shrugs in response. C’est la vie, he supposes. Little cousins and their terrible moods are all a part of life.

“I’m Phichit.” He grins, setting down his drink. “What, has Viktor never mentioned me? I’m hurt.” Phichit grins at Viktor, quicksilver and bright, with a flash of pink tongue in between.

“Phichit,” Viktor says, gesturing towards Yuri. “This is my little cousin.”

“Oh! The cousin pianist, right?” Phichit says, leaning closer. “Can you help me convince Viktor to get back to the piano?” He takes another drink. “It’s almost like living next door to a void without the music.” He gives a fake shudder. “Creepy.”

Yuri rolls his eyes, and bites into his sandwich again. The crunch of the lettuce is bitter. Yuri’s entire face and countenance is bitter. Almost as if he’s having his teenage rebellion four years too early. “Fuck if that ever works,” he mutters around the mouthful. “What do you think I’ve been trying to do for the past year?”

It comes out garbled - sounding more like fut oo you fink i’ve been frying to oo for fhuh pash year? than an actual sentence.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Viktor reminds him. “And it’s not happening.” He looks down at his hands. Piano fingers, Mother called them. Keep them warm, Vitya. “I gave up the piano.”

The notes. I can’t hear them. Mamotchka, mamotchka, I can’t hear the notes. Where are you? Something is wrong. I can’t hear the notes.

“It’s a such a waste,” Phichit complains, sounding more of a child than the almost full grown man he is. “You were so good, Viktor. I always loved hearing you play growing up.” Shaking his head, Phichit checks the watch on his wrist. “Anyways, I’m not here to talk to you about the piano again - but that doesn’t mean we’re done talking about it. A friend of mine is meeting Chris in the park soon, and you know what that means.”

“Chris again?” Viktor asks, leaving a few bills on the cafe table. “This has to be the, what - the tenth time this month?”

Phichit chews his straw. “Hey, I’m not here to police who Chris decides to date. He doesn’t have any diseases so he’s doing alright.”

Yuri makes a disgusted noise, and sets down the crust of his sandwich. “Gross. There are children here, you gross fucks.”

“I don’t know any children with mouths as filthy as yours, kotenyok,” Viktor says, shrugging on his light coat. “Come on. You can walk that sandwich off.”

“This sucks,” Yuri informs him. “You’re a terrible cousin. Uncle. Whatever.” He scowls. “You owe me.”

Of course. “We’ll see about that,” Viktor says. “Let’s go.”

He fiddles with his phone. The acrylic charm of Vicchan clicks against his nails as he does, and waits for Chris.

Chris. Chris, Chris, Chris. Chris is nice. Handsome as well. He’s nice, and he doesn’t talk down to Yuuri just because Yuuri is younger, and if Yuuri wasn’t already helplessly infatuated with someone else, he’s certain that Chris would be an excellent pseudo boyfriend.

“Phichit says he’s on his way with Viktor.” Chris drapes himself over Yuuri, head resting on Yuuri’s shoulder, arms dangling near Yuuri’s chest like some odd, gangly Caucasian scarf. “You’re a cunning little thing, you know that?” He pokes Yuuri in the cheek, and his breath tickles the underside of Yuuri’s chin and cheek.

Yuuri fiddles with his phone again. In truth, Chris is a great friend, but he supposes that even great friends don’t understand the motives that drive their friends forwards. I’m not cunning, Yuuri wants to say. I just need to hear him. I need to hear him again.

Again, again, again. Over and over again. Yuuri wants to hear the melodies created by those hands again and again and again, until they ring in his sleep and lace their way into his dying breaths.

Again and again and again.

“Yuuri! Chris!”

Phichit waves down two figures in the park, and Viktor can easily recognize Chris’ two toned hair. The black haired boy he’s draped over, however, is unfamiliar.

He’s entirely unremarkable. Nothing like the girls or boys that Chris normally goes after. No sparkling blue eyes, or a green fresher than the springtime grass, just a warm brown, dark enough to seemingly eat all the sunlight reflected off of them. His hair isn’t pale blond, or dyed an odd color. It’s black. Soft and downy, tied into a small, fluffy tail at the nape of his neck. His clothing is nothing special either. Not the height of fashion - no Burberry purse, nor Coach sunglasses, just a white shirt, brown sweater, and blue jeans.

The only things remarkable about this boy are the leather gloves hanging out of his jean pocket - far more expensive than anything else the boy has, and Viktor mindlessly pats the back pocket of his pants, feeling for child sized gloves that are no longer there.

“This is Yuuri,” Chris says, moving his head to rest on the boy’s head. “Isn’t he adorable?” He pinches Yuuri’s cheek.

“Chris!” Yuuri struggles away, laughing softly, pushing him away with half-hearted shoves. “Ouch, ouch that hurts!”

They struggle for minutes more, and Viktor feels out of place. A fifth wheel. One wheel too many. Yuri is still on his phone, and Phichit is videotaping the whole ordeal.

Yuuri turns to look at him. “Hi.” He holds a hand out. “I’m Yuuri. It’s nice to meet you.”

Miwa once said, “the moment I met him, my life changed.”

His eyes are bright.

“Viktor Nikiforov,” Viktor replies, and it feels as if the world is moving through syrup. Yuuri’s eyes are bright. Prinpicks of warm brown where only a void of black and white had once been.

“Nice to meet you, Viktor.”

Yuuri smiles.

“what i see and what i hear. what I feel…

“Crap! I’m going to be late!” He grabs Chris by the wrist and begins to run, kicking up dust as he goes. Clouds of pale brown, and a boy, painting the world in streaks of blue, purple, yellow and green as he runs.

“Where are they going?” Viktor asks, grabbing Yuri by he wrist as he and Phichit begin to run after the couple.

Phichit looks back at Viktor. His smile is wide, and his eyes are bright. “I must have forgotten to tell you. Yuuri has a competition today. Didn’t you notice?” He gestures ahead, and Viktor begins to notice the blue violin case bumping against Yuuri’s back as he runs at a breakneck speed, towards Carle Hall.

“Yuuri’s a violinist!”

my whole scenery is painted in color. the world is sparkling.”

Violin Sonata No. 9, First Movement - the Kreutzer. Beethoven.

Viktor has heard this piece before. A million times, in this hall, before competitions of his own, or after. He is familiar with this piece.

It sings through his veins, every stroke of the bow and every note in the vibrato and trill.

There - a false note. A slip of the finger, a flail of the bow. Viktor winces. Keep going. Keep going. Keep going!

It ends.

The song still sings through Viktor, every mistake, every slip of the finger, every bowing that was out of place and where it should not of been. Every missed pizzicato and every graceful, arching slur.

“Viktor, Viktor!” Phichit speaks in a low hush, shaking Viktor and Chris. “Yuuri’s up. See?”

Three. A number card, atop the stand, bold and black against the white of the thick cardstock. Even the number cards are familiar. From the dry air in the concert hall, to the scent of dust and rosin. Everything in Carle Hall is familiar. Monotonous.

Breathe. In and out. In and out. Is my violin in tune? Do I remember my song? Do I remember how it sings, how the composer wants it to sing?

Do I remember how I want it to sound?

Yuuri flicks his hair behind his ear. Adjusts the bobby pins holding his bangs back. Straightens the collar of his blue dress shirt and smooths out the wrinkles in his shirt.

Again and again and again.

One more time. One more time.

Again and again and again.

Yuuri takes the stage. His hair is swept out of his face, but unruly strands stick out from behind his ears, escaping the pins and hair ties.

Underneath the blindingly bright stage lights, he is stunning. The light casts amber where there was dark, deep brown. It highlights the apples of his cheeks, casting a blush where there is none.

He tunes his violin. A string. D string. E string. G string. Runs his bow across two at once, letting them ring out in a harmony. A string. D string. E string. G string.

Nods to the accompanist.

This is a familiar routine. Everyone in the competition before him, and everyone after him will do the same, and will play the same song, same notes, over and over, until the last note rings out in the concert hall, and the song can only exist within the veins of the musicians and those touched by it.

Yuuri raises his bow and strikes. He crashes into the monotony of the competition, and breaks it with the butt of his bow, and the crook of his fingers. The melody is Beethoven’s.

The song is not. Not anymore.

Every changed dynamic, every new slur, every new staccato is all Yuuri. The song is Yuuri’s now, and it curls around him, from the crook of his elbow, to the tips of his toes. It surrounds him, purring and content. Not quite Beethoven, yet not something new. A bit of both, Viktor supposes, a bit of Yuuri, a bit of Beethoven.

Something born of a persistent soul colliding with art that has persisted over the tumult of age and time. It’s a kind of love, Viktor supposes, as surprising as it is, as shocking and unruly as it is. The song is Yuuri’s now. He’s grabbed it by the reigns with two hands, calloused and worn from the strings of the violin and the grip of the bow.

“He’s good,” Viktor murmurs to Phichit. “But he’s not going to win.”

Again and again and again.

Yuuri might not win the competition, but Viktor still wants to hear him. Again and again and again, until his song is done, and it can only exist in Viktor’s blood and bones. It won’t exist out loud anymore, but if it sings in his blood and his bones, day after day, night after night, it will be enough.

Again and again and again. Once more. Once more.

Let me hear that again. One more time. One more time!

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