@matkapluku / matkapluku.tumblr.com
“He’s an Oxford-educated psychologist, who wrote a monograph on serial killers and the occult that helped catch Monty Props in 1988. Generally thought of as the best analyst in the violent crimes section… He had a nickname at the academy… Spooky Mulder.“
Like this for a starter!
( @predateel )
EVA ripped the wreath of laurel and star-of-Bethlehem neatly tied to black ribbons placed on the mahogany door, on the way up she pulled the heavy curtains aside, her hand unconsciously grabbed the pendulum of an old grandfather clock, pushing it—her red rimmed eyes watched the hands working again for a long minute.
There was no reason for mourning.
The spy let herself in Ocelot’s office, ignoring the man while she poured two glasses of whisky that sat heavily on his table. “So, here we are again.”
@matkapluku
“So China sent a spy of their own.” A small smile crossed her lips, and her eyes sparkled briefly. “Don’t worry. I won’t tell Colonel Volgin – if you do something for me.”
EVA tensed at those words—her shoulders locking and the still fresh scar tissue pulling uncomfortably. She never expected to fool The Boss, she didn’t expect the small smile and the lack of venom in her words. “Do I have a choice?”
Resignation. The Chinese spy needed to fool Volgin in order to accomplish her mission—and failure wasn’t an option.
Her words, affection, and anything else rushed in Venoms ear and out the other. The wind was calming, and the gentle hum and rock of the jeep lulled him into a trance, and eventually, his head sulked back. Venom fell right asleep. Cigarette falling out of his mouth, and out of the side of the door. Her squeezing his prosthetic did wake him up, however.
“Huh?” A few blinks and a shake of his head to knock away his drowsiness. “No, I’m afraid of what you’d put in your food you cook. What if you’re just here to poison me, or just give me bad acid reflux, heheh.”
A rare joke coming from commander stone face. He even cracked a smile. “Oatmeal isn’t hard… What is hard is getting the apples in it and not makin’ ‘em melt or be to hard. I can help. We can do it together… It’d be fun. I gotta clean this up before we start though, I don’t wanna get blood on my warm food.” From his pocket he pulled out the bosses bandana. It was drenched, nearly damp still with blood. “Hard to wear it on my head when it bleeds a lot. I feel practically naked without it.”
She smiled fondly, still running her long glove-cladded fingers over the prosthetic arm. That man was so gentle and needed a bit more of attention than he usually got. “You should be afraid of my cooking skills V. I’m great at ordering food, not so good at making them.” EVA parked the car neatly on a corner, killing its engine with a turn of the key. “Seems like you’ll be the one teaching me things tonight.
The spy popped her back after hopping out of the jeep, EVA rounded up the vehicle, offering an arm for the soldier. “ Are you feeling fine V?” Her digits the rim of the blood soaked bandanna—V was off, and she was worried. That shrapnel always worried her—and even though she had no business coming down to that base or visiting the unconscious medic, seeing him distressed always made her heart hurt. “Maybe you’ll feel fine after teaching me how to make perfect apples.” The spy kissed him lovingly on the bandanna, grimacing at the coppery taste of the fabric. “Why don’t you take a quick shower, hm? I can wait V.”
Her gasp of pleasant surprise had to bring a smile to his face, especially at the fact that she had kept it upon her wrist. Napoleon took a moment to admire his addition to her jewelry before turning his gaze upon the crowd, the upwards turn of lips still playing upon his face. “Are you saying your favorite color is blue, Mrs. Sokolova?”
Eyes took in the sight, specifically their contact and his brother. Both were rotund in stature with perhaps almost equal personalities to match. It was clear that the scientist held reservations about being stuffed into a suit and put on display for his rich sibling, but Solo retained that mental note for later, hoping to be able to use it to his advantage. “Sounds wonderful. Would you mind terribly if you introduced me? I feel at least one of them will be leaving as soon as he sees an opportunity, so it’s best to get to business and save the fun for later.”
“I’m saying that you’re a little satin bowerbird doing your courting routine and you want something from me...” EVA sipped champagne, leaving a red smudge on the crystal rim between her words. “And I still don’t know what it is, but it will be expensive.” She winked, the full smile filling her mouth. What an intriguing man, the spy couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong with Mr. Petterson, that there was a dark beast lurking underneath that shining smile—but she felt safe, he looked like a man who wouldn’t hurt her.
And if he did, the Mauser waiting in her handbag would serve him a plate of hot lead. “He won’t be leaving so soon. That would be extremely rude towards his niece and myself. But like you said, enough talking, we can save the fun for later.”
EVA smiled once more, touching the back of his hand as a signal to follow her—there was a certain sway of her hips that wasn’t there before, she was now the predator and the two innocent men were her prey. “My dear Baron!” The blonde kissed him, making a crimson imprint of lipstick over a red and sweaty cheek. “What are the odds of meeting a gorgeous and skilled art dealer in a café?” Skipping every other pleasantry for an anecdote was the sure way to keep his interest (that and the not-so-modest cleavage framed by a burgundy dress) as she pulled Napoleon near the small crowd. “Almost zero, but somehow I ended up with the charming Mr. Petterson buying me a coffee and explaining how to do trades with the owners of the Wallace Collection!” The Baron let out rumbling laugh, gleaming with alcohol and joy as EVA let her smile fade into a mellow one, directed at the impatient scientist. “And you Mr. Whittingham! What a joy to see you… I just wish Nikolai was here to see how great you look… You must tell me how everything is going! I’m so proud that my husband’s research helped you!” The man offered his condolences, after all she was the wife of a fellow rocket scientist and looked like a balm for the unintelligent crowd around him.
Tagged by: @predateel (*sends you puppy licks*)
Tagging: @bloodymists @solofide @grauerfuchs @saveyourserpent and whoever wants to do it!
Well, looking back at it, I think I have a predilection for female OCs HAHAHAHA! But it was a good trip in the past thinking about the muses that influenced me and how I want to try them again!
[Headcanon + Ocelot]
Ocelot is definitely EVA’s best friend.
Not in the normal sense that they live on a cloud and paint theirtoenails while talking about how hot Snake is. To understand their friendship,people need to understand that they’re cut from the same flesh: although theywere raised in different ways they’re still Philosophers’ children and that’s deeplyrooted in them, meaning: they are spies and the fact that they know that betrayal is a huge part of their livesdeeply impacts their friendship. There’s always an underlining of doubt betweenthem.
There’s also a lot of resentment involved, I don’t think that EVA wouldever forgive Ocelot for letting her get the fake microfilm, and Ocelot doesfeel some pang of jealousy over Snake’s and EVA relationship. And their hatredtears down every mask, Ocelot knows how hurt and disheartened she turned out to be and EVA sees that Ocelot has aneed to surpass himself and a tendency to let himself go in order to get to hisobjectives.
And yet, despite all of it, as the time goes they start understand each other on a viscerallevel and are able to put some trust on each other. In my view, the drasticdecisions they’ve made (having the kids on EVA’s side, turning into LiquidOcelot on Ocelot’s side) are made on a common agreement, they move in sync—theirgoals seems be different, they seem be on different sides, but it’s all acarefully orchestrated plan to….Do what Snake wants.
Yes, their devotion towards Snake is a common ground between them,probably what binds them together, weren’t for Snake, they might have killedeach other a long time ago, or maybe never got to understand each other. Butthat’s what connects them and make them see each other as human.
For me, EVA allows Ocelot to see her pain when she parts her ways withSnake / loses the twins, and Ocelot allowed her to see his grief during Snakes9 year coma / after being blown apart by Solid. They share their sadness insecret, they move on in secret and, I think EVA pretty much gives up whenOcelot forgets himself under Liquid’s persona. No matter what happened betweenthem, he’s the one who shared her pain—and losing him was like losing a part ofherself.
"Ah -- this seems to have fallen off. Here, let me." Hands took up her wrist, attaching a beautiful watch that certainly was someone else's. Solo couldn't help himself after all. "There. Looks lovelier on you."
“Mr. Petterson!” She chided, a bit more joyful than stern, almost as ifthe man beside her was a small child doing tricks, but didn’t make any move toremove the watch that filled the space between the golden bracelets perfectly. “Youremind me of a certain bird that collects blue objects to attract females.” EVAlet out a shadow of a smile appear, pleased with the man beside him and pickinga flute of champagne before retreating to the shadows of the party. “That’s theBaron.” Between the filthy and drunk audience there was a pudgy-belly old man,already flushing with too many glasses of wine and laughing as if he had theworld on the palm of his hand, besides him another pudgy-belly man was laughingnervously and sweating profusely on a suit that seemed one size too small.
“And his brother the Rocket Scientist. Probably gloating about the lionthey shot down.”
“The art world is a cruel place like that.” Who was he kidding – he loved how it functioned, how there were always people itching to fill in gaps in their private collections, only to discover a new one should there be a highest bidder. There was no way that the CIA would ever truly stifle the way his palms itched to run along textured marble, or how his gaze always was drawn to canvases filled with delicately balanced paints and brush strokes. Yet for all of his love of the arts, of beauty, it was at times a bit of a surprise to find someone who might hold it in such high appreciation as himself in its many forms. Napoleon had decided that yes, he very nearly liked Tatyana Sokolova.
The man leaned back ever so slightly in his seat, exuding confidence and aloofness all at once, fingertips idling with the edge of the table only momentarily as if it had been an item of interest, fleeting in nature. “You see, I work alone,” he began after taking in a sharp breath, gaze lifting to meet the other’s, “But I would be willing to make an exception. It sounds like we both bring several different skills to the table, which would certainly be of use for your client.” And if the thrill of the game wasn’t enough, even more was added to sweeten the deal, the woman speaking of what would surely be a glamorous party and an impressive collection, as well as a rocket scientist. Any spy worth their salt knew that rocket scientists were practically worth more than their weight in gold – or blood. Which brought up several questions as to why Mrs. Sokolova had thought the man was relevant to the conversation, but she had slipped him in quite subtly enough that there was no equally subtle way of verbally deliberating upon her stance.
“Really now? Though the wrong side might be a bit of a relative phrase.” Perhaps it was just coincidence, though he doubted it, but his companion certainly reminded him of a particular work partner. A pause was given as he similarly offered a quick smile to their waitress as their water was brought before taking a sip, mind much more focused on their task on hand. Oh, he was going to enjoy his research tonight. “Perhaps if the Baron is willing, I could meet him at his daughter’s birthday party to discuss if we may somehow convince the Wallace Collection to loosen their grip upon the painting. How soon will he be back, do you think?”
“I do understand that you enjoy working alone, and I share that view with you. Normally I wouldn’t approach a stranger that sat up for a coffee with such delicate matters, but you seem someone with a sharp eye for art and a heart that’s benevolent enough to know how to negotiate.” She grinned, the fingers running over the perspiration clinging to the water bottle. Today was a surprisingly good day, Mr. Petterson seemed to fall from the skies, right into her lap—and as good as he seemed to be, there was something lurking in the shadows of that well placed smile, a little jackal, waiting to attack. A promise of stealing what she desired if EVA wasn’t careful enough. That information was stored, along with a mental note to find out more about this charming man, a little too charming to be roaming around without a purpose.
She crossed her legs under the table, long digits abandoning the water bottle without leaving any fingerprints behind, to lace them over the intricate metal design on the table. “Well you see, Mr. Petterson, while I do love my country, I chose to do so with open eyes, so I don’t differentiate between them. For me the wrong side lies in the hands of megalomaniac private companies or individuals that happen to have impulses for starting wars. Like the Baron’s brother friends.” The blonde drummed her fingers against the metal, appreciating the sounds of nails against iron, that was everything she could feed him, that job would be a complicate one without someone, even more complicated if the brunet wasn’t aware of the risks it would involve. The Baron’s brother seemed to be a central piece for a bunch of lunatics trying to erase the human race, or maybe take control of it who knew? EVA took another sip of water, her eyes distant.
“The Baron, as I said before, is in Africa. But he’ll be back in a week. Until then, I think I can manage to get you an invitation. I’m sure you’ll show up with your best suit and a good proposition about the Wallace Collection.” EVA leaned in on the table, a large smile playing on her mouth. “You, Mr. Petterson, is a gift from the skies, how could I be so lucky?”
“What’s that?” he asked absently, seeking clarification due to reflex rather than actual interest. Of course he didn’t assume that EVA was talking about him; he was nothing, a nobody, but he had the power to help, and so he had an obligation to do this – more so than others, really. His father’s sins. His burden. As frequently as he denied any feelings for Big Boss, the man had raised him, and Snake had confronted him twice and failed to completely wipe out his Outer Heaven. It lived on in Liquid and in Solidus, and now in Ocelot. The Patriots were a bigger problem, but the PMCs were a symptom that also had to be treated.
She sighed, hip cocked and one hand leaning on it, resting just above the gun. Solid was just as modest as his father used to be when they met. EVA resisted the impulse to place one hand on his shoulder and praise that man for being so selfless. He could have just lived his life, away from the mayhem his father helped to create—but no, that boy soldiered on, taking a burden that was never his. “You, my darling. I know I didn’t take any part on your education—and for that I’m sorry. But not even in my wildest dreams I could imagine that you would turn out to be so good.” The spy smiled, there was no time for sentimentality when the world was ending, but Solid did deserve some sort of appreciation for all he had done.
The last page of my really gay doodles. I wanted to submit this page separately because of Headcannon reasons:
Solidus didn’t begin his advanced aging until his teen/young adult years, because his brain needed to develop at a normal healthy rate. So he aged normally as a child.
Big Boss also goes out of his way to get him some pretty rad onesies. :I
Ok no more art for a while, I’m done now.
