Chapter Text
So this is my very first official fanfic, which I hope you enjoy. I love Deadlock. Ivy caught my attention immediately due to her voice and character design. The giant gun was also funny to me since it's almost her size. This fic is mostly based on the voiceline where Ivy invites Victor to dinner. Feel free to let me know if you guys want more Tombstone, or something else (I take suggestions for the starving fans). Also, you might notice the use of modern clothing; that's because I threw logic out the window with the Maelstrom event. Another thing you'll notice is some minor headcannons, but nothing too ooc. If you have issues with the fic, please leave feedback so I can do better (whether it's your own headcanons or just something I missed about a character or canon). Also, this takes place in the 1940s to 1960s.
Lastly, italics are going to be translated sentences, as opposed to thoughts. Thoughts will be underlined. For example: "Why'd I do that?"
[Cheery, Ivy slipped out of her overalls, letting them fall to the floor as she walked around her room, unsure of what to wear for her date. It was the first, hopefully of many, with Victor, and she wanted to make a good impression, especially since he was such a looker. Honestly, there weren't many men in The Cursed Apple that caught her attention (and it's not like anyone was trying to hit on the local gargoyle), but she was overjoyed to have found someone. Her sister, Sophia, could've made a second sun with how her face brightened upon hearing Ivy's news.]
"Ay, te encontraste un guapote!"Oh, you found yourself a hunk!
[It was a spacious room, once a library, remodeled to house Ivy during her adoption. Bookshelves filled to the brim with heavy novels, each novel marked with pieces of paper to show where individuals had stopped. The gargoyle, of course, read her fair share of literature. Books with wrinkled pages from being closed in on, small tears in the paper corners where Ivy's claws would accidentally poke through; a small curse leaving her mouth simultaneously. To her joy, the ceiling rose high, enough to where she could fly around comfortably without the fear of injury.]
[A singular, large, circular window decorated with steel designs of various birds sat above her bed. Fifteen feet long and equally wide, its blinds opened up to reveal Spanish Harlem. Like the blinds, the window itself opened from the right, which Ivy adored, often tossing herself out the window for morning flights. The bed (oh that bed), she could sleep on it for hours. The Arroyos, being the richest family in the borough, gave Ivy the liberty of buying as many mattresses as her little heart desired, a small token for cleaning up the Mendoza Syndicate.]
[Ivy rummaged through her ridiculously large closet, trying to pick the right outfit. It proved difficult enough for the Arroyos, her adopted family, to just find clothes to suit Ivy. Her large wings made regular shirts difficult to wear; the long, prehensile tail under her lower back meant she could seldom wear pants; her spiky, clawed feet ruled out shoes.]
[At least she saved money on bras, due to her convenient lack of breasts. The flat, slightly curved mounds on her chest resembled breasts, but without nipples, which was probably for the better (it'd be a problem if she went around flashing Spanish Harlem). Nonetheless, Ivy struggled with outfits, hence why she usually opted to wear her trusty overalls.]
"Those won't work for a date, VeeVee."
[Sophia's voice echoed in her head. She obviously didn't plan to wear those on a date; it's not like she had to wear something over-the-top; she'd invited Victor for ice cream, not Keen's Steakhouse. Still, Sophia insisted that she look nice, and even with her unconventional figure, the Arroyos managed to buy a hefty set of clothing for Ivy. When inviting Victor out for dinner, he'd asked her if they could do something more casual, - she figured he wasn't a big fan of fancy - so she suggested ice cream instead, which he seemed to like. Ivy's mind spun, suggesting somewhere more... casual. Brighton Beach, nearby and not too much for a first date. Plus, it gave her some decent options for attire.]
[After what felt like hours, she found a cute pair of denim shorts, custom. The back of the waistband opened up with a large strap to fit her tail in, and closed back up to prevent it from sliding down. Additionally, a bundle of neatly folded shirts fell and hit the hardwood floor during her closet combing, one of which caught her attention.]
[A white, loose, short-sleeved linen blouse, with a blue tint along the edges that matched the shorts. Like the shorts, it opened up to fit her, the buttons on the back as opposed to the front, and more spaced out to fit her wings. As for the hat… she tossed it off. Her hair flowed down naturally, and it reminded her of Sophia.]
"Ivyyy… You have got to go into modeling, people would pay good money to see you!"
[Skeptical, Ivy shrugged the thought away and carried on with getting ready. Closing the blouse's strap, she inspected herself in the mirror across from her bed. Once. Twice. A little twirl in the mirror. She gave her reflection the friendliest smile she could muster. Not a "Omgosh, you're super ultra hot, and I'm ridiculously in love," but a "Hi, it's me, what's up?"]
"Animo, animo, Ivy." C'mon, c'mon, Ivy. [She whispered the words to herself, hoping she wouldn't magically implode later.]
[A knock on her door interrupted her boost session. She opened it to reveal Sophia. Wide-eyed, the tall girl lightly flapped her arms to her sides like a penguin, rocking back and forth on her feet.]
"¡VeeVee! ¿Estás lista? Me imagino que no vas a llegar tarde a tu primera cita." VeeVee! You ready? I can't imagine you being late for your first date. [Sophia quickly strided over to Ivy, giving her sister an inspection, her dark hazel eyes stopping at the blouse. A blush rose to Ivy's face as panic set in.]
"Crees que es demasiado?" Do you think it's too much? [She asked Sophia, second-guessing the decision.]
"Relajate. Solo le falta algo."
Relax. It's just missing something
[She looked around the room, tapping her chin with her index finger. The blouse complemented Ivy's grey hue quite well, and the denim shorts hugged her thighs appreciatively. They'd never considered makeup since Ivy's scales couldn't hold it well, but paint was a good alternative, so maybe just a little. Sophia walked over to the small vanity Ivy had across from her bed, and grabbed two paintbrushes in one hand, the other hand grabbed a small container of black paint. She leaned forward in front of Ivy and began painting light eyeliner.]
"Hold still, it's only a smidge." [Ivy inched back a little as the brush moved against the skin next to her eyes. Ivy always admired her sister's artistic talent, especially considering what (or who) she had to work with. A few strokes, about five on each side, and then she finished. Sophia gave her sister a gentle boop on the nose before pulling away.]
"¿Que piensas?" What do you think? [Subtle, the makeup allowed Ivy's eyes to pop, emphasizing the reptilian curve they had, and complementing her slit eyes.]
"Ay, gracias, Lola, ¡me encanta!" Ohh, thank you, Lola. I love it! [She wrapped her toned arms around her sister, excitedly flapping her wings without lifting off the floor.]
"Okay, you should be good to go. Do you have everything?" [Ivy slipped her wallet into her back pocket, reached out for her gun before deciding against it (who brings heavy weaponry to a date anyway?), and took a deep breath.]
"First date, kinda nervous, Lola." [Sophia bent down to kiss her cheek.]
"He's gonna love you, don't sweat it."
"I can't sweat." [That earned her a flick on the nose ring.]
"You know what I mean, now go get your hunk!"
[Minutes later, Ivy dashed out her window, her body coursing with excitement as she flew straight towards Brighton Beach. The beach was 43 minutes away for the average person to drive, but Ivy's flight speed cut that down to just under 10. Luckily, her clothes stayed intact while she soared. She couldn't stop giggling, her laughter infectious.]
[Shortly after entering the beach's airspace, Ivy was met with familiar waves and whistles. A blush colored her ears; the appraisal calls never fully set in, granted, it was expected, but still flustering. She flew lower and lower until the ground lay roughly fifteen feet down. She allowed herself to shift into her Stoneform, and hit the sand with a 'thud'. Shifting back into her usual gargoyle look, Ivy took a look around, surveying the area for her date. She stood near an ice cream stand (one of many in Brighton), debating whether or not to get him an ice cream ahead of time, since she didn't have a good idea as to how long he'd be.]
[Time passed too quickly for comfort. Civilians approached her with requests for photos and autographs. Her getup gave her away easily, with many bombarding her with questions and comments.]
"Ms Arroyo, are you meeting with someone?"
"Yo, Ms Ivy, what's with the outfit?"
"OMG, I think Ivy's got a date!"
"Who's Ivy?"
|Victor|
[Sinking into his ever-inviting couch cushions, attempting to make peace with himself. Inhale. Exhale. He could do this. He'd gone on dates before, which seldom went well since (surprise surprise) most women weren't exactly too stoked to learn their date was an amalgamation of who knows how many people and generated millions of volts of electricity. His conventionally attractive physical appearance never saved him either, as the reactions tended to be "Eugh."; an odd look if he were lucky. Not counting Ivy, only Paige (whom he didn't take too seriously) looked past his scars (She's feral, not like Drifter, closer to Silver).
[Walking towards his room to change, a small smile spread across his face. A date. With Ivy. She asked him to be her date. Childish thoughts fleeting through his split consciousness distracted him, and he bashed his head on the doorframe of his room, leaving a small indent. Rubbing his temples, he shrugged it off; nothing could ruin today. Victor opened his relatively empty closet (money was tight) and did the best he could to put together a suitable outfit. Though a popular getaway spot, Victor himself had never been to Brighton Beach.]
[Outfit check. No. No mirrors. Lights strewn above his head, most in order, though flickering, on the verge of going out. He clicked his tongue against the inside of his teeth, the ball of his foot gently digging into the floorboards as his heel bounced rapidly in tandem. Just one look.]
"It's just a date. No need to pop a vein."
[He attempted to reason with himself, but multiple minds make for a divided brain.]
Ivy doesn't want a monster.
[The Creature's eyes bore in Victor's, mimicking every measured, steady movement. His fingertips grazed the surface of the glass, inching back, almost apprehensive. Too familiar, too alike. Inky, extensive, and thick, Its hair akin to his own as it flowed past its sizeable shoulders. Its hands, calloused and unsightly, gripped the sink with such force It might rip the thing off its screws. Then, there was the scar. A deep, nasty gash in its center, stopping just above Its belly button, and reaching the top edges of Its chest. The eyes. Deep, sable bags cupped them, accentuating their sunken look. They didn't even match; brown, blue, a quarter centimeter different in size; it was irksome.]
"Where do you stop, and I start?" [Victor said simply. There weren't fancier ways to put it. The Creature's lip curled into a vile, full-toothed grin. Cocky.]
"Who said I stop?" [A rough jab, straight into the center of the glass, shattering it instantly, launching thick shards outwards, slices digging into his hands. A familiar and welcome pain. Mere seconds after, his wounds had begun to close, spitting shards onto the bathroom tiles. A task for later.]
You're okay, Victor. Get ready, you'll be late.
[Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Inhale. Hold. Exhale.]
Okay. Let's go see Ivy.
[Grabbing his wallet and simeoultanseoesly (help), he bolted out of his apartment, frantically waving for the nearest taxi. Conveniently, a gruff, older man had recently ended his lunch, honking at the tall youngster. Gruff unlocked his passenger seat, allowing Victor to uncomfortably (he's a big guy) slide in, a stream of 'Thank yous' following in suit.]
[Gruff gave Victor an up-down and let out a relaxed chuckle.]
"I'll take a gander, Brighton?" [Victor nodded quickly, an embarrassed look on his face.]
"I know it's a little far, I'll pay extra.]
[A hefty, love-filled meal from his wife had put him in a good mood, so Gruff pushed away Victor's extended Lincolns, taking one of the bills and waving the rest away.]
"Relax, son, 'S fine."
[They drove off. The vibrations from Victor's foot tapping the taxi's carpet caught Gruff's attention, and he figured he might as well make some conversation.]
"You're quite skittish, son, what's the matter."
[Victor's fingers twiddling around each other, his mouth opening and closing.]
"I got a date." [Gruff responded with a small look out of his peripheral, smiling at his passenger.]
"Well, I'm sure she must be delighted to spend some time with a strapping youngster such as yourself. What's her name?"
"Ivy." [Stopping at a light, a giant grin and amused expression detailed the driver. Shortly followed by the older man's deep, contagious, hearty laugh.]
"You're pulling my leg, kid, no way." [His remark pushed forth a light, warmer laugh from Victor.]
"What's so funny about that?" [Gruff took a locket from around his neck, and opened its clasp, demonstrating a small picture of the sweetest, most motherly woman Victor had ever seen. Tucked into the second half of the locket was a small piece of paper with a handwritten name, 'Ivy'. Cursive.]
[Gruff tucked his locket back into his shirt. Proud of himself.]
"Quite a surprise, isn't it? One day you're drunk in your apartment, blowin' up your liver, the next… you meet an angel."
[Leaning forward in his seat, Victor gave the man his full attention, and Gruff took his softly pursed lips and hardly-furrowed brow as an invitation to continue.]
"I met my Ivy 36 years ago, on New Year's. Now, I'd just gotten back from my service, uh, Navy, and I wanted to wind down." [They took a left, roughly 15 minutes from Brighton.]
"Now, it was a less than preferred arrival. My folks had died during my shipping out, and I found myself… angry. Their lack of presence left me with emotions I couldn't have figured out what to do with if you'd given me instructions." [Gruff spoke clearly, as if this were a topic he'd come to terms with long ago.]
"Time would pass, I only got worse. It was the usual pity-party. 'Oh, if only I'd been there.' Turns out they died in their sleep. Together." [12 minutes away from Brighton.]
[As they stopped once again for red, Victor took his rough hand, and placed it upon Gruff's shoulder.]
"I'm sorry." [Replied with a small, but strong smile, Gruff acknowledged the sentiment.]
"Regardless, you can imagine how that went. Drinking, night after night. Hoping, praying they'd come back. If I drank enough, sometimes they would, if temporarily. But, God shone over me, one particular night."
[9 minutes left for Brighton.]
"Jezebel's had hired a new waitress, and at the time, I paid her no mind. Just my bottle. Spent some hours poisoning myself, and I woke to an alley, just a block down."
[Gruff let out a loving, wistful sigh. As if she weren't waiting for him at home, as if just hours from her were the worst torture one could endure.]
"Son, she was… just ethereal. Is. Ethereal. The darn carebear picked me off my feet. Can you believe it? A strabger, right off the street. Hell, I wasn't even good-looking, and on top of that, drunk?"
[4 minutes from Brighton.]
"I hope your Ivy blesses you, and you in turn bless her. May this bloom, and grow into something as beautiful as I know it already is."
[A plush hush filled the car's atmosphere. Victor held his right wrist in his opposite hand; the barded wire, previously ripped out for his date, had left behind deep, hostile marks.]
"How do you know... that it's beautiful? How can you... see?"
"Maybe I don't. Maybe I'm assuming, jumping to conclusions, if you will. But I can tell how much this means to you. How much... you want it to mean to her."
Don't cry, Victor. Not. One. Drop.
He's kind.
I wonder if he has children.
Do they love him?
They should.
Is this what people with fathers feel like?
I... want a father.
A father seems nice.
[One solitare teardrop descended Victor's right cheek, unbeknownst to the honest man.]
[Brighton.]
"Thank you. Really."
"Young man, the pleasure is entirely mine."
[As Victor stepped out of the vehicle, he turned to Gruff, seconds from driving off.]
"I'm Victor."
"Walter. Good luck, God bless, son."
[Facing the beach with a newfound energy, he jumped down onto the sand, and sought his Ivy. Soon enough, he came across a large crowd.]
Worth a shot.
[The crowd parted suddenly, interrupted by a large presence. He stepped awkwardly through the bystanders, his tall, muscular frame drawing attention. He wore an open Hawaiian shirt, shorts a size too small around his thick legs, and flip-flops to complete the casual outfit. Thin sunglasses sat on the bridge of his nose, his stupidly majestic black locs pushed behind his massive shoulders, with two bunches on the sides of his face.]
"Uh, excuse me, I'm looking for…"
[They stood before each other, eyes locked (deadlocked, haha), their focus entirely on one another. She stepped forward slowly, pushing loose hair out of her face. The setting orange sun warmed his cheek, highlighting every contour as he lifted his sunglasses up. A singular strip of sunscreen became visible above his nose's bridge. Her ears shone pink, heat rising to her face quickly, the evening light took no credit.]
"Victor."
"Ivy."
[In unison, they spoke. So softly, they could've been alone.]
"You look…"
"You look…"
"Radiant."