#UM?? I think you mean brain NOURISHMENT | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

somehow-progressing · 4 years ago

Text

WTNV 182 / 132 Connection

So this isn't the first time Cecil's mother and trees have been connected.

In 132, exactly fifty episodes previously, her bedtime story was about a boy who turned into a tree.

I reviewed this episode to look for connections and..

Oh, boy.

So, first off, the boy's interest in science obviously reminded me of Carlos, right? But then the similarities stop there.

And start leading towards Cecil.

(The rest under the cut)

We now know that there was a time where Cecil's father was in the picture, although it may have been when Cecil was very, very young. The family dynamic in 132's story matches his exactly: a mother, a father, a sister, the youngest son.

My first thought was, "Well, this can't be a parallel to Cecil's family. They're far too loving, which doesn't match up with what we know of Cecil's mother at all." But then I looked closer.

The boy's parents are verbally insistent that they love him, to the point where it comes off as "I'm your parent so I have to love you, it's my job to do everything for you." Putting pressure, and a sense of guilt, on the child while never actually living up to their word.

"He knew he would never need his father to give his life for him. He just wanted his father to show concern for his health. He knew he would never need his mother to give away all of her belongings for him. He just wanted his mother to show interest in his curiosity." - 132, Bedtime Story

His parent's love is very idealistic, while not being one that they actually show or.. Possibly, feel. They don't show concern for his health, or value his interests. He's their son, but he's not anything more.

"My mom seems really proud of me too! She hid from me for three days! Like, the longest ever! And she’s covered all the mirrors in my house. I’m not sure why, but I think it must be because of pride. Being proud does all sorts of things… to a… um… to a person." - 33, Cassettes

Cecil's own experiences parallel this. He interprets her love through ideals, to fill the void of it in actuality. When you're a child, you think that a parent is supposed to be loving. They're supposed to care. When they don't, or they leave you alone in your house, or they ignore you, or they tell you not to cry after you've been injured because "you don't even exist," your brain doesn't know how to process it. Like he did with his memory loss in 182, Cecil tries to rationalize it. Mother abandoned me because she's proud, because she cares about me- because she's my mother and she has to.

The boy's relationship with his sister parallels Cecil's as well.

"His sister would tell him, “I hate you, brother.” But their parents would instruct her to be nice and so she would say sarcastically, “I love you, brother. I would climb the tallest mountain for you." - 132, Bedtime Story

"He knew his sister really loved him. He knew he would never need his sister to climb a mountain for him. He just wanted his sister to believe him that mountains were real." - 132, Bedtime Story

As mentioned in Ghost Stories, Cecil has had a very difficult relationship with his sister.

"See, my mother disappeared when I was only 14. Abby had just started school, but she had to drop out to return home and raise me, and I thought that Mom would be back at any moment, like maybe she was away on business. Our out for a walk. Or just hiding.

But Mom did not come back, not for my entire childhood. And I was petulant and subversive, and Abby was reserved and controlling and she blamed me for having dropped out of school and I blamed her for just… not being Mom.

But in our adulthood, my mother did return home, sick and sorry to two children who barely spoke to each other in the morning." - Ghost Stories

Which would match up with the sister's animosity with him.

The difference here is that, out of the entire family, the boy knows that his sister actually loves him. And in Cecil's life, his sister is the only one he has made amends with. No matter how she treated him in the past, they are part of the same family once again. (As of 182, at least.)

Here, a direct parallel to Cecil is established. This boy's life mirrors his own.

Now, here's where it gets interesting.

Just as Cecil enters the tree, the boy is transformed into one

"He spent a lot of time in those next several months watching his family, their grief at his loss. His parents’ happiness at his sister’s education." - 132, Bedtime Story

There has been a lot of theorizing that Cecil's mother may have been covering the mirrors and leaving flowers because she was mourning Cecil, and not just his father.

"What was it your mother said before she left home when you were a teenager? Did she tell you she was an oracle?" - 171, Go to The Mirror?

It's entirely possible that Cecil's mother knew what would happen after she left, or had enough of an idea to subconsciously work it into a bedtime story.

It's possible that this is a glimpse of a timeline where Cecil really didn't survive entering the tree. His parents mourn, and his sister is allowed to pursue the education she wanted. (Which, in all honesty, a pretty cruel burden to place on Cecil's shoulders. It's not his fault that their mother disappeared, leaving Abby to take care of him.)

Next, we watch the boy slowly lose his humanity as his awareness widens outside of himself.

"Time slowed for him, and his knowledge grew so vast and so expansive, human triumphs and pains became only a small sliver of his interest. There were much larger systems to comprehend than humanity." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil is canonically one of the people in Night Vale that time slowed down for. Like Earl, he has been stuck at a certain age for a long, long time.

"He had forgotten what he used to be." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil has canonically lost large parts of his past. He no longer remembers them.

"Later that spring, the woman and the man and the child brought a picnic and some games, and the tree was happy, but could not comprehend why. Nor did the tree intend to. The tree was simply happy, and this was a feeling that existed. Years later, the family wore black again and cried. And the tree felt sad, but it did not connect this feeling to any kind of narrative. It was simply sad, and this was a feeling that existed." - 132, Bedtime Story

The boy tree is becoming incredibly distanced from his family. (A woman, man, and child, just like Abby, Steve, and Janice.)

"You know, Cecil and I first met at one of these things. Seems like we should have met earlier than that. I had dated his sister for a while. But Cecil’s busy, he- he serves his community. He really gives himself to his community. Who do you live for, you know? Who do you give yourself to? Those are questions we should all be asking ourselves." - Steve in 100, Toast

Steve confirmed that Cecil was distant from his family and the people around him before Carlos came along, burying himself in his job.

And then an angel cuts down the tree.

"Over a few days, the tree and the fruits and the separated stump died. But the tree retained everything. As its body was planted into boards, as its twigs were ground into mulch, the tree felt the knowledge of each seed it had planted across the valley, each creature it had nourished with its fruits, and each piece of lumber built into a home for generations of humans to come.

The tree felt its branches burned in a fireplace, and it rose up as smoke and dissipated into carbon across the sky, coming down in trillions of molecules to build more soil, more trees, more creatures. The boy could truly learn everything now, cell by cell." - 132, Bedtime Story

Cecil has given himself to his community. This boy, this tree, has been divided and used up as a resource, to serve the community in which he lived. Not to mention the fact that Cassettes Cecil died before becoming the Voice, like this boy/tree was cut down before he could serve/understand his community.

"Cecil, sweet Cecil. Whose life lies directly on the fault lines of this broken reality." - Huntokar in 109, Huntokar

Patching together:

- this quote from Huntokar that gives off the impression of Cecil as the glue keeping the fractures together, and

- the way that Leonard Burton, a deceased Voice, is brought back the moment that Cecil left town, filling the vacant spot, and

- the way that Night Vale fell apart when its citizens rejected their reality, and began to be patched back together along with the narration of their Voice

It all leads to:

The Voice of Night Vale is a significant, needed position.

It’s possible that he holds the fractured town together, in a way, his words reminding the citizens to keep their will and hold onto what is in front of them. (In the case that the cold light is the Smiling God, this gives it a motive. If it takes out Cecil, the town is left vulnerable for it to devour.)

Just like the tree, Cecil is used by his town.

His mother knew that he would become the Voice one day- it was prophesized. That’s the reason he was given the tape recorder, that’s the reason she told this story.

We still don’t know what was in the book in the table.

Then, this very interesting quote from 182:

“I’ve been in this job for a long time. Probably longer than I’ve been alive. I mean: you’ve been alive.”

He says the truth for a moment, then backs up because that doesn’t make sense to him. Coupled the way his mother’s story parallels Cecil’s, with boy becoming the tree, becoming a resource that serves the town and seeing all of it (similar to how Cecil knows what’s happening in the town and what its citizens are thinking without leaving his studio. See: every traffic report and episodes likes A Story About Them.) and Cecil mentioning the odd nature of his job in 182..

I think we’re about to learn exactly what it means to be the Voice.

189 notes · View notes

cinnamonest · 4 years ago

Note

LENA I JUST HAD A REALLY DEPRAVED IDEA AND I JUST HAVE TO SHARE!!!

Ok ok so that Yan!Dad!Diluc (just the yandad series in general tbh) had me feeling some sort of way...and me and my horny, dick deprived, very depraved brain couldnt help but think about Dil-Daughter being stolen away by lol you guessed it Kaeya.

I dont really have any direction on this whether or not its before diluc gets his hands on his cute little daughter-wife idk or whatever but just imagine...

Midnight on a weekend at Angel's Share truly was the worst time. Diluc despised working these nights, especially when he knew his little darling would stay up waiting for him to return, but Charles had specifically requested this one night off. When he mentioned that it was a close friend's birthday and that he wanted to be with him to celebrate, Diluc thought nothing of it. That is, until he realised that it would be on the busiest night of the week. Alas, the crimson haired man is not one to break his word, so as promised, he was behind the counter all night.

Drunks, bards, adventurers, even those inefficient knights were all tightly packed in the tavern. Yet, there still was no sign of that person. And while Diluc would like to thank Lord Barbatos for the absence of that person's presence, something was...off. That person would never miss these busy nights, whether it be for the numerous bits of information thrown about, the sweet burn of the alcohol, or even the occasional warm body to wrap an arm around.

His concerns were well founded.

Unbeknownst to Diluc, his daughter had wanted to surprise him, and had bargained with one of the newer maids to let her leave. She had dressed inconspicuously and used the borrowed key to unlock the door to the surprisingly modest room on the third floor.

Unfortunately for her, Kaeya was already nestled in the corner across from the top floor's door. And while most people would easily mistake the young woman for someone else, Kaeya could never. Those crimson orbs were burned into his memory. Curious as to what she was up to, he carefully followed her up the stairs, making sure to sneakily hide when she went back down to lock the door.

Along with the sound of feet shuffling up the stairs, Kaeya could make out some of what the young lady was muttering. "Daddy...won't...mad...surprise him...don't like...alone..."

Those few words brought a wide smirk to his face and gave his lone starry eye a mischievous shine.

So she's lonely is she? I'm sure I could fix that.

"Now, now, sweet cheeks, I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to be up here hm? Unless, you and Diluc are hiding something..."

The sudden voice from behind her was enough to make her slightly jump. That sickly sweet voice could only belong to him.

"Sir Kaeya!" upon realizing the hidden meaning behind his words, she was obviously flustered. Waving her hands in front of her face, she managed to speak, albeit with a stutter, "I wasn't...no um its not what you think! There's a good explanation for this I swear!"

He took a large step towards her, craning his head high so that she had to look up to him. "Is that so? Well then pray tell my dear, just what did you have in mind coming up here? If you can't come up with a reasonable excuse for your behavior then I guess I'll just have to drag you down to see Master Ragnvindr himself hmm?"

Again, another step forward, but this time he lowered his head so that his lips brushed the shell of her ear.

"Or maybe I'll just take his place."

Here lena just....take this half finished POS from me...I couldnt finish it lolol....horny brain....bonk...

-💋

I have been NOURISHED thank you for this meal!!

Especially with dad Diluc being so protective... Can you imagine the devastation? He's gonna straight up attacc

#lena's asks #tw: incest #in.tg

102 notes · View notes

haadeswrites · 3 years ago

Text

fic asks pt2

y’all are killing me with the love rn <33

THE CULT AU?? You have a very big sexy brain

i am actually smooth brained like a koala but ty bby

I regularly stop by and stalk your blog and when I saw you updated your most recent works I went scrolling through to your latest update on the new fic! It was amazing. As always I just binge your content and block everything out! Your characterization of Oikawa has to be the best I’ve seen. It fits him so well and it’s so close to canon it’s insane. I’ve only seen one other writer hit that and I hope you understand that your brain is beautiful! I love the build up of the story, how the reader seems to doubt herself and get sucked in and brainwashed even though she swears on everything that she’s getting her ex and going. I also love how much of a freak Oikawa is over reader cutting his throat out dieneindieneid sorry for the rant you’re just so freaking lovely and I love you 🥺🥺🥺

nonnie!! come get ur kisses RN!! it’s probably not exactly a surprise but oikawa’s always been one of my favourites okay my favourite to write so it means so much that you think i write him well!

also oikawa getting all moan-y when they kill ryuji was one of my fave scenes to write haha

in Elysium, what’s the the lore behind Oikawa? like the tapestries you mentioned and the energy thing that he did? is he like actually a divine being or is just really good at tricking his followers? either way!! such a good read!! love you!!!

so i wrote this fic knowing it was gonna be a little ambiguous. you can technically read it as oikawa with a god complex, and everything that happens after the reader leaves the beach as an effect of drugged wine. she’s comfortable on the island because that’s how cults work and oikawa is very good at what he does. and if that’s how you want to read it then that’s absolutely fine.

but i wrote it with the intention of acutal god oikawa. the tapestries hint at his history; cast out from his home for murdering another deity, wandering for thousands of years - long enough that the people who once worshipped him died out. he feeds off of life, not just the essence of it, but things like memories and emotions - he’s physically manipulating every life on the island, erasing their thoughts, tugging at different emotions to get the results he wants. and naturally, killing becomes a culmination of that, the ultimate feast. in return, he nourishes the island

therefore the cult is actually almost as ancient as he is. no one who ever comes to the island leaves it; they either live out their lives under his benevolence, or they becomes sacrifices for the greater good. hence, the commune keeps its secrets :))

What made Oikawa become obsessed with reader? Was he experienced sexually before her with the limited people on the island?

By the way, the style you write with is so beautiful and riveting. Truly an art piece❤️

ahh thank you nonnie!

i think in the beginning it was curiosity; he knew she’d come to the island looking for ryuji - who at that point was experiencing makki, mattsun and iwaizumi’s um... hospitality :))

he’d seen her in ryuji’s memories - all that he’d done to her, their relationship laid out in its entirety, so it was definitely something that piqued his interest. a challenge to make her submit, a bit of a break from the mundane. i think he resonated with her a little – she’d suffered at the hands of those who were supposed to care for her, was lost and out of place, desperately wanting something she was never going to find in the real world. he was endeared, and ofc the longer she stayed on the island, and the tighter the trap he’d pulled began to close around her, the more he became invested.

as for whether he’d slept with other people on the island to sate an itch every now and then but nothing all that involved

#hades.answers #fic asks

21 notes · View notes

viking-raider · 4 years ago

Text

Of Truth and Justice - Part III

Summary: Calea learns what she can from the Para-Demon’s blood and wakes where Clark has taken her.

Pairing: Clark Kent/Superman x OFC

Word Count: 8,787

Parts: I II

Rating: PG-13 - Justice League!AU, Language, Fluff, Angst, Flashbacks, Minor Character Death

Inspiration: Something that’s been on my Muse’s brain after watching Justice League a couple of times.

Author’s Note: TY to the amazing @wondersofdreaming for being a stellar Beta! Tell me what you think!

Tag List: @jennylovelyheart, @peakygroupie, @jessevans, @rosie-loves-things, @ohjules, @mary-ann84, @omgkatinka, @the-freak-cassie-131, @wardl0w, @agniavateira, @cap-barnes, @romyr4, @michelehansel, @kaatelyyynn, @badassbaker, @mrsaugustwalker, @authentic-bish-face, @rizeandvibe, @severuined, @supernaturalvikingwhore, @bellastellaluna, @wondersofdreaming, @thisisntmyrightera, @michelle-1185, @winchwm, @royallylazy, @sofiebstar, @worldicreate, @agniavateira, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @witches-of-discovery-a, @xuxszx, @ayamenimthiriel, @keiva1000, @fantasygirlsuniverse, @itsreigns, @constip8merm8, @scorpionchild81, @mylifefallingupthestairs, @onlyhenrys, @luclittlepond, @ellixthea, @lebguardians, @geralt-yennefer-jeskier, @cherrybloomn, @p3nny4urth0ught5, @iloveyouyen, @hollydaisy23, @mcuimagination, @psychosupernatural, @sweetlybigdragonn, @whitewolfandthefox, @moviemonzy, @the-soot-sprite, @hell1129-blog, @trippedmetaldetector, @captaingothgirl1996, @dont8mind8me8eue, @peaky-marvel, @desperate-and-broken21, @monstersnmoney, @dancingwendigo, @redhot-mystacism, @thereisa8ella, @black-ninja-blade, @oddduckthatgirl, @rosewinx, @henrythickcavill, @tinabean37, @hnryycvll, @msblkfire84, @romangenesius, @emelinelovesjc, @strangerliaa, @lovieebby, @pinksdaydream, @fanfictionaddiction99, @seb-owns-these-tatas, @oh-for-fic-sake, @sauvage-et-libre, @mis-lil-red, @angreav, @crazyandanonymous4u, @the-mighty-jellybean @henrycavell, @jimmypagesandbrianmayshair, @iam-laiya, @worshipping-skarsgard, @thetruthandotherstories, @ruthoakenshield, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @theonetheycallhannah, @nina-skyee, @thatgirly81, @inanna999, @suueeeeeee, @spideysimpossiblegirl, @x-wingwarriorbbpoe8, @beckster07890, @daddys-littlewhitegirl, @magic-and-the-macabre, @stxphmxlls, @radaofrivia, @lostinaseaoffictionalbliss, @starstruckkittyangel, @heartfelt-pen

Clark carefully set up the Sol-Gel Chamber inside the Fortress of Solitude.

He stood over Calea in the Gel, the beat of her heart had grown stronger as time progressed, giving him hope that she was going to recover. Running his hands through his hair, Clark had one of the Kryptonian Bots watch over her, while he went to secure the rest of the Fortress.

He wasn't gone long, when Calea thrashed in the Gel and sat up, ripping the mask off her face and looking at the bot, startled. Climbing out of the Chamber, Calea pressed her back against the wall and glanced around her foreign surroundings. The Bot made a beeping whirl sound and the door of the room opened, revealing a startled and excited Clark.

“Calea!”

“Clark!” She relaxed seeing him. “Where the hell am I?” She asked, eyeing the Bot.

“The Fortress of Solitude.” He replied, dismissing the Bot out of the room.

“Why?” Calea asked, eyes panning around.

“Well, I just felt it would be safer for you.” He admitted, his face slightly warm. “So, I brought you and the Sol-Gel Chamber here.”

“Where's Ryder?”

“I don't know.” He frowned, then rushed forward, grabbing her as her knees gave out. “You're still weak.” He whispered, picking her up in his arms. “What were you thinking, drinking that Para-Demon's blood, Calea?” He asked, carrying her out of the Chamber he set the Sol-Gel up in.

“I was thinking, I wanted to find out what he was looking for.” Calea replied, resting her cheek against his shoulder, exhausted. “Ryder's going to kill you, when he finds us.”

Clark chuckled. “I doubt that.” He smiled, carrying her down a long hallway. “Unless he has Kryptonite, which I highly doubt, since there isn't any more, and I'm the only one that knows where we are.” He explained to her, stepping in front of another door before it opened. “This is the only bedroom I have, but I don't have to sleep, unless I want to or my brain is exhausted, so you can have it.” He told her, setting her down on his bed.

“There's a bathroom right there.” He motioned to a secondary door. “I'm sure you'll want to wash the Gel off. Um..” Clark frowned, seeing her soiled clothing and stepped into the space he used as a closet and pulled a shirt and pair of pajama bottoms off the hangers. “You can wear these, until we can get your clothes clean.” He offered, setting the shirt and bottoms on the bed beside her.

“Thank you.” Calea replied, stifling a yawn with the back of her hand.

Nodding, Clark stepped out to give her privacy to fix herself up. Calea stood up and glanced around his room, before going into the bathroom. The water was cold as she stepped under the spray of the shower head, shivering. But, she didn't mind, she just wanted to wash up and get her mind straight. The Para-Demon, Kulas's blood had shown her what had happened to her people, the death of her father, the apparent fact that Steppenwolf was looking for more than just the Mother Boxes; the League was correct in that assumption. Calea knew what it was Steppenwolf was looking for, but had no clue where they were hidden. She leaned her forehead against the shower wall, water cascading down her shivering back as tears mixed with the water droplets dripping from her hair, turning cold as they fell from her cheeks and down the spiraling drain.

Sniffling and turning off the tap, Calea pulled a towel off a rack built into the wall and dried off. Slipping on the clothing Clark so generously provided for her and stepped up to the door, glancing around it for a moment before it opened. Peeking down both sides of the hallway, Calea picked a direction and followed it around a bend and down a corridor with three displays on either side that held an outfit, Superman's outfits. One looked like a set of armor, another was the normal Superman outfit Clark wore and the other was black and silver.

“It's my regeneration suit.” Clark's voice echoed to her. “It helps me recover, when I've been injured.”

“Or come back from the dead.” She smiled at him.

“That too.” He smiled back, then held up a bag that was in his hand. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

Smiling more, Clark took Calea down to the foyer area of the Fortress, the windows there open and looking out over the frozen tundra of the Antarctic. There was a modest table there, as well as the statues of Clark's birth parents, Jor-El and Lara. Calea studied them, while Clark pulled the take-away boxes out of the bag, she could see Clark in both of them, his father's nose and jawline, his mother's eyes and cheekbones, both of them looked beautiful, even carved out of stone, she could sense they had been good people.

“So, there's Chinese take-out in the Antarctic, I'll have to give them one hell of a Yelp review.” She giggled, sitting down at the table with him.

“Ah, well.” Clark chuckled, grinning like mad. “I don't have a kitchen here. So, I just popped over to New Zealand to get something.” He explained to her, picking up his chopsticks. “Do you need to eat?” He asked, popping a snow pea in his mouth.

“What do you mean?” Calea replied, helping herself to the chicken dumplings.

“Well, I don't technically need to eat, or sleep.” He explained, after swallowing. “I get my energy from the Sun. Though, I do sometimes get mentally tired and a good nap does the trick.”

Calea rested back against her chair, pondering his question as she chewed her dumpling. “I don't, can't, eat, while in the Sol-Gel, but it still gives me the type of nourishment I need to survive. I've never tried not eating, while I was out of it. We can go without sleep, if we want too. But, I rather enjoy sleeping, the days don't seem so long, when you sleep.”

“That's true.” he agreed, nodding. “I like doing both, food tastes a lot better than the Sun.” He joked, making Calea roar with laughter. “I haven't been sleeping much though, I don't even know why I keep doing it, knowing I don't have to and I'll just end up having nightmares.”

“When you make a habit of something, they tend to be hard to break.” She sighed, glancing out the windows. “What is this place?” She asked.

“My Fortress of Solitude.” He replied, looking out at the snow and ice swept landscape. “It was a Kryptonian Scouting Ship my father, Jor-El, sent a long time ago to find out if they could use it as an outpost and a place of refuge.” He explained to her. “The Humans found it in the Arctic a few years ago. When I heard about it, I found a way into the group that was studying it and checked it out.”

“That's when I learned who I really was, where I came from and how I got here. So, I took it and brought it here to the Antarctic, away from everyone and everything.”

“Well, even Superman needs a vacation from the world every once in a while.” She assured him with a sweet smile. “Why did you bring me here?”

“I don't know.” He answered. “I was just going to let you be back at your place, but I-” He shook his head, he'd been trying to rationalize his choice in taking Calea to the Fortress since the compulsive idea came over him. “I just didn't feel like you were safe there, even with my being with you.”

“That place has been a safe haven for me for a very long time. No one has ever found it, without being told here it is.”

“I know.” He nodded, running a hand through his hair. “It just felt safer with you here.”

“With you.” She teased him, nudging her knee against his.

“Maybe.” Clark rubbed at his neck and didn't meet her eye.

“Where in Romania was that swarm of Para-Demons?” She asked, after a short silence.

“North of a mine called Rosia Poieni.” He replied, finishing off his egg rolls.

“Would you show me?” She asked, lifting a brow at him.

“Um..” Clark frowned, wiping his mouth and getting up. “Follow me.”

Clark led the way to a study-like room and up to a console whose monitor was made of Liquid Geo. Typing on the console, the Geo changed and solidified into an Earth shaped orb. The Geo trembled for a moment, then changed shape again, this time showing the country of Romania.

“The Mine is here.” Clark said, pointing to the west of Romania. “And the sight of Steppenwolf's Para-Demons was here.”

“Seems terribly random.” Calea frowned, shaking her head. “What is it?” She frowned, seeing the change in Clark's expression.

“There's trouble.” He said, striding out of the room. “Stay here, I'll be back as quickly as I can.”

“Well, being Superman, that should be faster than I can blink.” Calea deadpanned, smirking at him.

Calea made sure Clark was well and gone, before taking one final look at the map, going back to his room and changing into her now dry clothing. With a deep breath, picturing the place in her mind, and with a crackle of energy, Calea was gone.

It was dark, when Calea suddenly appeared in the forest to the north of the Rosia Poieni mine. There were still rotting Para-Demon bodies littering the ground, the smell, even in the chilly night air, was like an overripe garbage dump in hundred degree heat, it made Calea's nose wrinkle and her face twist. She picked her way through their bodies, pushing some aside, looking for any clues to their reason for being here, but had no more luck than the others. Sighing, she moved through the treeline, towards the edge of the mining pit. The old copper mine was almost a mile wide and half a mile deep, before it started branching out into mine shafts.

“What are you doing, Steppenwolf.” She muttered to herself, scanning the deep crater and leaned forward as she saw a twinkle of light for a moment, in the deepest part of the pit.

“Hm.”

Narrowing her eyes, Calea hopped down several of the rows leading down into the pit, jumping down two and three at time, before skirting around until she was closer to the source. Her ears picked up the sound of movement further below, and knew it couldn't be Humans, it was too dark for them to be mining this late at night. Tipping her head back and sniffing at the air, Calea still smelled the stench of dead Para-Demons, but also caught the scent of living Para-Demons. Growling, she descended the rest of the way, making sure to be quiet and keep down wind so they didn't scent her out.

Coming around and crouching down, Calea saw three Para-Demons standing around the opening to one of the mine shafts, guarding it and whatever was inside of it. Glancing upward, Calea noticed that the shaft lined up with where the League battled the swarm of Para-Demons earlier.

“They were standing on it.” She whispered, shocked.

Biting her lip, Calea slowly eased into the direction of the Para-Demons, wanting to get as close to them as possible before attacking, so any other Para-Demons in the area wouldn't be fully alerted to her presence until it was too late. She was only a few yards from them, when the wind shifted directions, blowing against her back and towards the Para-Demons, warning them instantly to Calea's vicinity. Making the most of it, Calea zoomed forward, her powers already reaching their peak, as she grabbed the closest Para-Demon to her.

Electricity crackled down Calea's arms and flowed into the Para-Demon's body as she gripped it by the arm and throat. It trembled and twitched as the high voltage electricity coursed through it, before she tossed it aside and took on the remaining two. She hissed as one of them swiped at her, claws catching her cheek as she tried to duck out of the way. Dropping to a squat and twisting, Calea kicked the Para-Demon's legs out from under it and smashed her fist through its skull.

“Killing your own kind, youngling?” A raspy voice asked as Calea killed the last Para-Demon.

“Steppenwolf.”

She hissed, dripping the creature's body and turning around to face him. “They're not my kind, not any longer. You and Darkseid saw to that.” She growled at him, shaking, as all her pent up power reached a fevered pitch.

“They should have given me what I wanted, I would have let them live.” Steppenwolf replied, smirking.

“That's a damned lie and you know it.”

Steppenwolf shrugged, the smug smile on his lips never faltering. “Perhaps you'll be more intelligent than the rest of your Race and tell me where what I seek has been hidden.”

“How am I supposed to know where they've been hidden? I was a baby, when my People took them from you and Darkseid.” Calea spat venomously. “Even if I did know where they were, I sure as hell wouldn't tell the likes of you.”

“Stubborn, just like your father.” He laughed at her. “But, no matter. Soon, I will find where you Selians have hidden them on this pitiful rock and with Mother's help, it will be glorious.” He smirked as a beam of light came down over him and teleported him away.

The bright light left spots in Calea's eyes as the dark night filled the mining pit again, but she didn't let it deter her. Turning on her heels, she stepped over the dead Para-Demons and into the mine they were guarding, doubting there were anymore inside, knowing they would have come out already if there were.

Eyes glowing that electric blue and aiding Calea to see in the pitch black shaft, she glanced around and saw nothing out of the ordinary for a mine; scraped and rough walls and ceiling, the dirt floor strewn with bits of rock, metal rails to carry out loads of rock and cooper, and bits of scrap from blasting deeper into the Earth. It smelled of damp gravel and Earth, musty, with the metallic ting of copper, the lingering scent of sweaty bodies and petrol, from the generators powering the string of lights along the hewn walls and sump-pumps, to clear out the patches of stagnant water. There was also the lingering, but noticeable scent of Para-Demons, they had been down here at some point recently, telling Calea that she was heading in the right direction.

She stopped, coming to a Y-shaped fork in the shaft and sighed, one of the shafts was blocked off with a barricade. So, taking a couple steps into the shaft to the left and taking a couple of whiffs, she turned around and went back to the blocked off shaft. Leaning over the barricade and picking up the Para-Demon scent again, she pushed the barricade aside and started in, she could feel the shaft start to angle more sharply downward, the air around her growing chilly and thick. Something about this shaft felt drastically different from the others, and not just in temperature and atmosphere, it made Calea's skin ripple with goosebumps and a shiver raced down her spine, it felt foreboding and somehow older than the surrounding area.

The deeper Calea went the rougher the shaft became, like they started to mine it, but gave up for some reason, blocking it off to prevent anyone from going down it again. The walls and ceiling looked safe and stable enough, there were clear lines of copper in the walls, so it wasn't lacking valuable resources that would prevent them from wanting to continue on with it, confusing Calea to why they would stop and hole it up.

It wasn't until she hit the dead end of the shaft that she saw what it was that possibly stopped their continued excavation.

Where the rough shaft ended, a small chamber opened up. It was wide enough for her fingertips to touch the walls with her outstretched arms and tall enough for her to fully stand up. The walls and ceiling were perfectly squared and smooth, or at first glance, they looked smooth. A closer look revealed there were markings on the walls, nothing Human either.

“Holy fuck.” She gasped, recognizing them.

“Calea, I'm back.”

Clark called, entering the Fortress after saving a large group of people from an apartment fire in London. “Calea?” He called out again, when he didn't get an answer. “Shit.” He snapped, seeing the Liquid Geo still up in the shape of Romania.

Keeping his black and silver suit on, in case there was a need to get in a fight, Clark made his way over to the mine. Searching around, he spotted the dead Para-Demons at the entrance of a shaft and took the clue. Clark caught the scent of his body wash Calea used to get clean and her own unique smell, and picked his way through the mine until he came to the fork and the shoved aside barricade. He heard the quick pounding of her heart and breathing at the end of the shaft and wasted no time getting to the end of it.

“Calea?” He called out to her, his voice echoing back.

“Clark?” Her voice echoed in reply.

“What are you doing down here?” He asked, looking around the strange room.

“Looking for answers.” She replied, fingers tracing the symbols on the wall in front of her.

Clark frowned and stepped up behind her. “What are these?” He asked, looking at the symbols over her head.

“Original Solean.” She replied and leaned closer to one of the symbols, so worn, it was almost unrecognizable.

“What?” He snapped, looking down at her.

“You heard me.” She snorted, sliding over to the next column of symbols. “Steppenwolf is looking for two things that go with the Mother Boxes. Well, one thing that goes with the Mother Boxes and another that can destroy the Mother Boxes.” She explained to him.

“My People took the two objects not long after Darkseid had them made, hoping they would weaken him, then hid them somewhere here on Earth. But, obviously, that didn't work because he had the Mother Boxes made.”

“What are the two objects?” Clark asked, a crease between his brows.

“One is a Key that's supposed to unlock the full power of the Unity and the second is another Box, of some sort.” She answered, then growled. “I can hear my mother yelling at me for not paying closer attention to my tutor, on early Selian history.” She huffed, arms dropping to her sides in defeat.

“That Para-Demon's blood told you this?”

“Not exactly.” She told him, rubbing her face. “It showed me the day Steppenwolf invaded Selion and killed everyone, my parents included. He killed my father, who killed someone else about to tell Steppenwolf where these objects were. In full retaliation of what my Father did, Steppenwolf had the entirety of Selion turned into Para-Demons, and after he left, my mother told one of her Servants what it was he was looking for, but not where to find them.”

“But, you're sure they're here on Earth?”

“If Steppenwolf is searching Earth for them, they have to be here and this room is proof of that much.” She replied, motioning around the room.

“What is it?” Clark frowned, watching a light bulb turn on in her eyes.

“Lore.” She said softly, eyes panning around the room. “That's what this room is telling. The Lore of Selians colonizing Earth, seven thousand years ago.” Her head and eyes snapped up to Clark. “The Key and Box aren't in this room, but it tells the Lore of how Selians started living on Earth. That's what he's doing, why it's taking him so long to start the Unity.”

“He's scouring the Lore of the Selian-Humans, hoping to find a mention of the Key and Box in one of the stories.”

“Then, we have to beat him to it.” Clark said, sharing her frenzy.

“I have to get to the Heart.” She said, antsy.

“The what?”

“I'll explain it, when we get there.” Calea replied, holding out her hand. “Take my hand.”

Without hesitation, Clark took Calea's hand and felt the pop of electricity at their touch, the hair on the back of his neck stood on end and in a flash, they blinked out of the mine and appeared inside a rather large space ship.

“The Heart.” Calea smiled, motioning to the space around them. “This is the ship Ryder and I arrived on Earth in.” She explained and let out a low whistle, making lights around the craft slowly turn on, showing off the hanger they were standing in.

“Where is this hidden?” Clark asked, looking around.

“Somewhere under Manhattan, I think.” She replied, frowning. “It's been a very long time since I've visited here without teleporting, and so much has changed since we hid it. It was the Heart of the Selian Eternal Fleet.” She elaborated. “I.E the name for it.”

Pressing her hand to a panel beside a door and opening it, Calea quickly walked down a corridor, the sole of her boots clinking as she went. Clark followed after her, still checking the ship out as they went and entered a second room.

“Your bedroom?” He smirked, it still smelled like her, even after all the time being left dormant.

“Yep.” She smiled back at him, fingertips lighting on the spines of books on a shelf by her bed. “There you are.” She chimed, pulling a thick book off the shelf and walking backwards until she could sit down on her bed.

“The Lore of Selians and Earth.”

Clark sat down beside her, tilting his head at the book as she flipped it open. “Do you have any idea where to look?”

“Not even the slightest.” She laughed, scanning the index. “Hm.” She frowned and got up again, pulling another book off the shelf.

“The battle of Apokolips.” Clark read out loud. “The third war?” He frowned at Calea.

“Selians and Apokoliptians have been battling each other ever since they believed we were abandoning our birthright as Rulers of the Universe, being the first Race. It was the third war, the War of Power, that my Grandfather died and my Father became King. Then, a few years later, the War for Earth took place.” She told him, opening the book.

“Ah, here we go.” She said, finding the chapter she was looking for and started reading it to Clark. “It was the third war that the Apokoliptians created a Key and Box, in an attempt to defeat the Selians once and for all. But, King Gretan—my Grandfather—sent his best men to Apokolips to stop them before they could prevail, and hoped to use it against the Apokoliptians themselves.”

“Mikel and Tristan,” Gretan said as the two men approached his throne. “Thank you for coming, on such short notice.”

“Of course, my liege.” Mikel replied as they both bowed to him. “How can we be of service?”

“It has been brought to the attention of our spies and scouts, that the Apokoliptians have created two objects that could bring about our destruction. We must get our hands on these objects, so we can prevent them from being used.” Gretan explained to them.

“I'm sending you both to Apokolips, to steal these devices and bring them back here for safe-keeping.”

“We will get ready right away, my liege.” Tristan assured him.

“Excellent.” Gretan replied and nodding his head, dismissed them.

Tristan and Mikel left as soon as they were able, not wishing to lose any time, knowing that the Apokoliptians weren't wasting time either. Arriving at a safe zone in Apokolips and meeting up with a spy and scout, Mikel and Tristan learned where to find the objects they were tasked with obtaining.

“I must warn you.” The scout said, being frank with them. “One of our scouts has already tried infiltrating the lab they are located in. He was captured, interrogated and killed.” He told them, bluntly.

Mikel and Tristan exchanged expressions, but steeled themselves. They couldn't, and wouldn't, let their King and People down. Getting the rest of the report, a layout of the lab, surrounding areas and whatever else the scout and spy had to tell them, Tristan and Mikel made their way towards their destination. They stayed low and skirted around buildings, narrowly escaping notice a few times as they made it inside the perimeter of the city outside the safe zone. Finding an empty building to hide in, Mikel pulled out the map provided for them and found where they were in relation to it and where the laboratory was in relation to them.

“We're two klicks away from the lab.” Mikel said, pointing to the red dot that marked the lab they were making their way towards. “There's two security checks between us and it, not to count the tight security they have around the lab, especially after the first attempt to steal what's inside said lab.”

“Do we know what we're looking for, exactly?” Tristan asked, studying the map.

“According to our intelligence, they're the only things in the lab.” Mikel answered, rubbing at his tired face. “So, they shouldn't be that hard to spot.”

“Or carry, all we need is something to slow us down.”

The knob to the room they were crouched in started to rattle. Quickly hiding the map and melding into the dark shadows of the room as the door opened, Mikel and Tristan watched the Apokoliptian enter the room, the door swinging shut behind him. Holding their breaths and waiting for the opportune moment, Tristan took a silent step out of the shadows and up behind him, swiftly wrapping his arm around the Apokoliptian's neck and slapped a hand over his mouth to muffle any sounds he might make, and snapped his neck. Gently easing him to the floor, Mikel searched his pockets and found a passkey, smiling at Tristan as he held it up.

“That solves some of our access problems.” Tristan chuckled, making sure the Apokoliptian didn't have anything else of interest on his body.

“Come on.” He whispered, moving to the door.

Listening through the door for a few moments, then slowly opening it, Tristan and Mikel carefully sneaked down along the wall of the building, checking the walkway around the corner and continued on. They made their way to a wall between them and the middle area of the city. While Tristan worked on getting them through the wall, Mikel kept watch for any Apokoliptians that might catch them. Tristan removed a black kit from his pocket and pulled out a pen-like object, pressing the tip of it to the wall and turned it on. He moved the pen in an arch, just wide and tall enough for them both to squeeze through, the tip of the pen cutting through the thick wall like butter. Putting the pen and kit back in his pocket and kicking the cut out free, Tristan motioned for Mikel to go first, watching his back as he did, then followed after him.

Mikel motioned to the left of them and led the way to their next checkpoint, narrowly getting caught in the process. Tristan gave him a frustrated look and Mikel rolled his eyes, then continued on their way. Taking back ways, deserted streets and hiding in hidden nooks and deep doorways as their enemies passed by. Making it to the last wall in their way to the direct center of the city, that contained all the important and top secret dealings of Apokolips, they pulled out of their map for one more check of the lab's location and readied themselves for whatever they might encountered in the extraction of their mission.

“May Primian protect us.” Mikel whispered, touching the pad of his first two fingers to the space between his eyebrows.

“Who's Primian?” Clark asked, interrupting her reading.

“Primian was the first Selian to become a Prime.” Calea replied, looking up from the page. “That's why we're called Primes; it's a play on his name. He became a bit of a God to us.”

“Ah.” He nodded, understanding.

Prepared, Mikel and Tristan breached the last wall and felt the air around them change, thickening with the very real danger they were now in, that they were in the last and most critical stage of their mission. Picking their way through the buildings and walkways towards the laboratory, they used the passkey and found it gave them access to the lab.

The lab was like any lab, bright and clean smelling, but the instruments in it weren't anything you would find in an ordinary lab. Mikel and Tristan split up, looking for what they had come for, checking everything in the room, before Tristan found a door to a side room and went inside.

“Mik.” He called over his shoulder, his eyes glued to what was in the room with him.

“What?” Mikel answered, popping up behind him and looking over his shoulder. “That has to be them.” He said, eye catching what Tristan had found.

“A Box and what the hell is that with it?” Tristan echoed, stepping closer.

It was a circular three inch long by an inch thick, solid bar of silver-like metal with a strange symbol at the top of it. Tristan reached out and picked it up off the stand it was resting on, inspecting it closer, while Mikel looked over the box that sat beside it. He turned it around, checking all of the side and noticed a hole at the top of the box that was the exact size and shape of the bar Tristan was holding in his hand.

“It's a Key of some sort.” Mikel said, showing Tristan the hole in the Box.

“Does it open the Box?” Tristan asked, frowning.

“Don't.” Mikel hissed as Tristan tried inserting the Key. “We don't know what this thing does, and I'd rather not find out in a confined space.”

Tristan nodded and opened a satchel he had been carrying and slipped the key into the inside pocket. “Quickly, let's get going before anyone comes.”

Holding the satchel open, Mikel slipped the Box in and fastened the flap closed. Making a sweep of the room to ensure they didn't miss anything important, Mikel and Tristan left the lab and started retracing their steps back out of the city and to their ship off the planet. They weren't halfway to the wall, when a series of alarms went off.

“Well, that's our cue!” Mikel snapped and started running.

Running with him, Tristan caught the glimpse of Apokoliptians running back and forth in a frenzy, trying to figure out what the alerts were for. They were mere feet from the opening in the wall they made, when one Apokoliptian guard noticed them and shouted to his fellows. Pulling off the satchel, Tristan tossed it to Mikel, who sent it sliding through the hole in the wall and dove after it, sliding through the hole like a player to home base. Turning on his hands and knees, Mikel looked back at Tristan, waiting for him to come through next.

Tristan ducked down to dive through the opening, as a shot rang out, the air stilled after the reverberation wore off. Time slowed to a stop, while Mikel watched a burst of blood spray out from Tristan's side, his pained cry breaking the silence and stillness, a cloud of black dust rising around him as he fell to the ground.

“Tris!”

Scrambling back through, Mikel grabbed Tristan's hand and dragged him through the wall opening, pushing him over onto his back and pressed his hands to the gaping wound on Tristan's right side. Tristan coughed, spots of blood covering his ashen face, he looked up at Mikel. His breathing slowed, his heart pounding, his skin cooled under the press of Mikel's hands and sweat broke out on his forehead.

“You have to go, Mikel.” Tristan coughed again.

“No, not without you.” He shook his head.

“Yes.” Tristan replied, raising a heavy arm and touched cold fingertips to Mikel's cheek. “Do you remember, when I hit you over the head with my sword?” He asked, his pale green eyes glassy.

“I tried to kiss you.” Mikel nodded, looking behind at the scrape of metal as the gateway in the wall creaked slowly open. “But, I only ended up with a lump on my head, for a week.”

Tristan cupped Mikel's cheek in his shaking hand. “You can kiss me now, then you must leave.” He told him, gently. “Please, Mikel.” He begged him, gripping his shoulder.

Shoulders slumping, Mikel removed his hands from the wound and cupped his face, smearing blood all over him, and leaned in. His trembling lips met Tristan's pale cold ones, tears dripping onto him as they kissed. When Mikel pulled away he saw the glassy vacancy in Tristan's eyes and let out a heart breaking wail as he dragged himself to his feet, picking up the bag with the Box and Key, slinging it over his body and stumbled forward, willing himself not to look back to Tristan, knowing he would never make it, if he did.

“Mikel was able to make it back to Selion with the Key and Box.” Calea read, fingertips following the sentences on the page. “King Gretan had a mighty room to contain the Key and Box, but at King Gretan's death, Crown Prince Calien feared, with the creation of the Mother Boxes and Steppenwolf traversing through the Universe with them on a rampage, that they would no longer be safe in the chamber. So, he hid them elsewhere.”

“That's when he must have sent them to Earth.” Clark said, turning his head to look at her.

“It must be.” Calea replied, turning her head and gasped as their lips accidentally brushed. “I'm so-”

Clark cupped Calea's neck and pressed his lips to hers, his body leaning into hers. Calea paused, the press of Clark's warm lips against hers was confusing for a moment, it had been a long time since she had been kissed. The charge they always generated surged down their spines and Calea kissed him back, wrapping her arms around his neck and pressed in closer to him, allowing him to deepen their kiss. She moaned at the feel of his tongue running along her bottom lip, before slowly slipping into her mouth, mingling their tastes, rolling her tongue against his, pushing it back for access to his mouth.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, Clark pulled her into his lap, needing her closeness. Calea ran her hands through his curls, smirking at how soft they were, shifting she straddled his lap and pressed their chests together. Clark frowned, hearing the tone of her moan change and pulled back, searching her face.

“What's wrong, Calea?” He whispered, watching her heart start to pound in her chest.

“My head hurts.” She sighed, the edge of her vision swam and pulsed, a high frequency hum in her ears. “A lot.”

“Cause we kissed.” He gulped, licking his lips.

“No, this is something else.” She groaned, resting her forehead against his shoulder.

“Tell me what to do?” He begged her, rubbing her back.

“It'll pass.” She said softly, already feeling it start too.

“Has that ever happened before?” Clark asked, relaxing as he heard her heart calm.

“Once or twice in my life.” She replied, relaxing against his solid body. “It passes as quickly as it happens.”

“Maybe, you should rest.” He suggested, twisting to the side and laid her down, carefully covering her up. “You're probably still weak.”

Calea caught his hand as he stood up. “Stay with me?”

“I'm not going anywhere.” He smiled at her, gently squeezing her hand, then waved his hand in front of the sensor by the door, like Calea had when they walked in, turning the lights off.

Spotting a chair, Clark pulled it up beside Calea's bed and picked up The Lore of Selians and Earth that still sat on the edge of her bed, flipping open its cover. His fingertips ghosting over the table of contents, then flipped several chapters in, stopping at a chapter titled: the Creation of Man.

It started seven thousand years ago, it stated, when a group of Selians arrived on what would later be named Earth, three men and three women. They found the planet purely by accident, but finding the water, land and atmosphere habitable and yielding, they decided to stay. Each of the couples went their separate ways, knowing in order to forge new lives on Earth, they would need to separate and sow their oats from different corners. At first, they would return to their landing area and reunite, sharing their growths and changes, their strives and failures. But, the more their societies grew the harder the pilgrimage became, more and more time came between the meetings until the meeting point was forgotten, as well as the reason for the meeting.

Selians had forgotten who they had once been to each other, family and friends. As time progressed they lost all memory of their home world and their abilities as Selians, they became the first Humans. When their paths crossed they would bicker and war, claiming their beliefs and lands were better than the others, forming the Tribes of Men.

A thousand years later, a ship arrived to these Tribes, demanding the objects their ancestors brought with them upon their arrival to Earth. But, none of the Tribes could tell these strange beings where these objects were, let alone what they were.

“You have forgotten your History, your People.”

“No, we made our own History and People.” One of the Humans spat at their feet. “If your People are so advanced why do you not know where they've hidden these things?”

“Because, you were tasked with protecting them and you failed.” the Selian hissed back.

“Not any longer.”

Enraged, the Selians washed their hands of the Humans and went on their way to try and find the ship the original Selians came to Earth in and should have the objects they seek hidden at. They sought out any clues they could find, leading them all over the lands the Tribes of Men occupied. They would find clues here and there to the possible origin of the craft. An old legend spoke of a place that homed large populations of vicious dogs and giant brown furred creatures, leading them to the Carpathian Mountains. Another legend told of a country surrounded by mountains with none of its own and numerous bodies of water. But, the Tribes of Men never found out if the Selians found what they sought, for Steppenwolf arrived on Earth and all efforts were turned in stopping his rampage.

An alarm started screaming through the ship, startling Calea upright and out of bed. Stumbling through the door of her bedroom and through the winding halls, Clark followed after her.

“Sec, shut off the alarms!” She yelled out in Solean and growled when the noise kept sounding. “Sec, for fuck sake!” She huffed, waving her hand in front of a sensor and stepping into the control room of the ship.

“Sec?” Clark frowned, glancing around. “You named the ship, Sec.”

“Selian Eternal Craft, Sec.” Calea replied, dropping into a seat and working various things on the console until the alarm turned off. “Sec?”

“My Lady?” The Craft replied.

“What's with all the noise?” She asked, leaning back in her seat.

“Alien life detected.”

Calea snorted and rolled her eyes. “Which Alien life, Sec? Mine, his or everything Human on this planet?”

“Six kilometres above our current location.” Sec replied.

Clark and Calea exchanged looks. “Show me.”

A light at the top of the console came on and a wide screen was projected from it, showing where the ship was, the surface and a blinking red dot that was steadily getting closer.

“Identify.” She said, swiveling in her chair to reach another console.

“Scanning.”

“What can I do?” Clark asked, watching her get up and go out of the room for a moment.

“Currently?” Calea's voice echoed to him. “Nothing, unless you can tell me what the fucking is digging through almost four miles of bedrock to a craft no one, but me, Ryder and now you should know about.”

“Couldn't it just be Ryder?”

“If it was, Sec would have told me it was Ryder, he's designed to identify us. So, if it says 'alien life form' it's assuredly not Ryder.” She replied, coming back into the room.

“Scan complete.”

“Spit it out then.”

“Semi-organic life form.”

“Semi?” Calea frowned, lifting a quizzical brow. “What's the non-organic part?”

“Technological.” Sec replied with a beep.

Calea frowned at Clark, head tilting to the side. “Victor?”

“He is half Human and half Cyborg.” Clark nodded, frowning at the rapidly approaching dot.

“Sec, full security measures until I say otherwise.” Calea said, getting up. “Stay here.” She tossed over her shoulder, going back down to her room.

Going into her closet, Calea pulled out several articles of clothing and stripped out of the clothes she had been wearing. Sighing, she slipped on the clothing she pulled out, securing a set of buckles at her thighs, waist and torso, before going back to join Clark, seeing the object was almost on them. Clark looked Calea over in her new outfit and got a Cyberpunk vibe from her, smirking.

“What?” She frowned, catching him out the corner of her eye.

“Nothing.” He grinned, guilty. “You look good.”

“Thanks.” She blushed, shaking her head at him.

“Object arrival, one minute.” Sec chimed.

Drumming her fingers against the console and biting her lip, Calea shook her head. “Remove the security measures and open the hatch.” She ordered, pushing off the console and going to the back of the ship.

“What if it isn't Victor?” Clark asked, keeping in stride with her.

“Then, we kill it.” She snorted, smirking at him as the hatch opened, revealing the massive cavern the ship was housed in, stepping off the ramp.

Clark tensed as he stepped off the ramp after her, readying himself for anything that was about to happen. The minute ticked by and the rumble through the cavern echoed off its stone walls, rock falling and breaking apart on the roof of the ship, before whoever it was finally broke through. Clark relaxed, vision honing in.

“It is Victor.”

“How did he find us.” Calea frowned, shaking her head.

“Clark?” Victor's voice echoed out to them. “Calea?”

“What are you doing here?” Clark asked, looking him over.

“I could ask you the same.” Victor replied.

“We asked first.” Calea answered, lifting a brow at him.

“I received a reading here, about an hour ago.” Victor explained to them. “I thought it was something to do with the Mother Boxes.”

“Nothing here, but us and the ship.” Calea replied, glancing around. “There's nothing that should give off a reading like that, unless Steppenwolf has brought the Boxes into the city above.”

“I've already checked that, there's nothing, that's why I came down here.”

“Has there been any other sign of Steppenwolf and the Para-Demons?” Clark asked.

“None, so far.” Victor shook his head. “What are you guys doing down here?”

“This is a Selian ship.” Calea told him, motioning to it. “The one Ryder and I arrived on Earth in. We came here looking for answers.”

“Answers to what?”

Calea looked up at Clark, who nodded at her. “We should return to the Hall, I'll explain it to everyone there.” She told him with a sigh. “And Victor?”

“Yeah?” He lifted his only brow at her.

“Please, cover up the hole you made.” She smirked at him.

He smirked back and nodded his head. “Will do.”

“Go, I'll meet you there.” Calea told Clark, touching his wrist.

“Bu-”

“I have to secure the ship, I'll be fine.” She assured him, pushing up on her toes and kissed his cheek, a lopsided smirk on her face at Victor's shocked expression. “Off you go, Superman. You don't have to worry about this Damsel always being in distress.” She teased him.

“The world out there needs you too.”

“If you're sure.” Clark sighed, tilting his face down closer to hers.

“I'm positive.” She assured him, squeezing his arm and heading back inside the ship. “Sec, close the hatch.” She said, not looking back over her shoulder to Clark.

“Where have the two of you been?” Victor asked as Clark met up with him.

“Around.” Clark answered, looking through the pinprick of light in the ceiling above them.

“Ryder is pissed with you, by the way.” He told him. “So, expect an earful when we get back to the Hall.”

Clark frowned back at the ship, biting the inside of his lip, then shook his head and took off through the opening Victor had made. Calea paced the control area of the ship and ran her hands through her hair, mind racing. How was a Mother Box signal produced in the same area as the ship? There shouldn't be any type of that technology on the ship.

“Sec, full scan the ship. Inform me of any abnormalities.”

“Right away, my Lady.” Sec replied and started the scan. “Scan complete.”

“Well?” Calea sighed, leaning against the console.

“No abnormalities found.”

“What the fuck!” Calea roared, slamming her hand down on the console. “Why can't anything ever make sense.” She mumbled, dropping limply into the command chair behind her, rubbing at her temples. “Sec, maintain all security measures.”

“Security on full.”

“Good, thank you.” She sighed, rubbing her face and pushing up out of the chair.

“Where did you take her?” Ryder demanded as Clark entered the Hall of Justice. “And where is she now?”

“Where I took her, is my private business.” Clark replied, undaunted by him. “And where she is, is where she wants to be. She'll be here, momentarily.”

“She better be.”

“You know, I'm a grown ass woman.” Calea's voice echoed through the main hall.

“A grown woman, who downed Para-Demon blood and almost got herself killed because of it.” Ryder hissed, turning towards her. “Then, kidnapped.”

“He didn't kidnap me, you drama queen.” She barked, shaking her head at him. “He saved my life.”

“Then, where did he take you.”

“That's none of your business, and it doesn't fucking mean he kidnapped me, Ryder.” Calea sighed, temples throbbing. “Why are you always like this?”

“I was tasked to protect you.”

“And all you're doing is suffocating me!” She screamed, at her wit's end.

“Let's just calm down.” Diana said, stepping between them. “She's all right and that's all that matters.”

“Did you learn anything?” Bruce asked, looking between Clark and Calea.

“Several things.” Calea replied, eyeballing Ryder.

“Then, let's go discuss them.” Bruce said, motion towards the round table.

The group sat around the table, Alfred brought out various drinks and Calea started to lay out everything that happened since she drank the Para-Demon's blood, while sipping a cup of tea. Clark sat beside her, putting himself between her and Ryder.

“I learned that Steppenwolf is looking for another Box and a Key that goes, not only, with that Box, but also the Mother Boxes.”

“What does the Key do to the Boxes?” Bruce asked, frowning at her.

“I believe the Key makes whatever Box it is in, stronger.” Calea replied with a sigh. “But, this fourth Box, can destroy the Mother Boxes.”

“Well, if it destroys the Mother Boxes, why would Steppenwolf want it?” Diana asked, tilting her head.

“To destroy it?” Calea shrugged. “If he took it out of our hands, we would have one less thing to stop him from using the Mother Boxes. It could also do something even worse than the Mother Boxes, for all we know.”

“Have you had any luck in finding the Key and Box?” Bruce inquired, troubled.

“We, well, Calea, discovered why the Para-Demons were in Romania.” Clark chimed in. “In a mine shaft, directly under where we fought them, was a strange room.” He explained.

“What was in the room?”

“Ancient Solean writings.” Calea picked up. “Part of the Lore of how Selians became Humans and colonized Earth all those years ago.” She took another sip of her tea. “It was then I got the idea that Steppenwolf must be picking through Human-Selian History and Lore, looking for any reference to the Box and Key. Since, when the two were made my Grandfather, Gretan, had them stolen and sealed into a special room.”

“Then, wouldn't they still be on your home planet?”

“Yes, if my Father didn't have them sent here, when Steppenwolf started his rampage through the Universe with the Mother Boxes, fearing that he would come for them next to make himself even more powerful.”

“We were combing through the Lore at the spaceship that Calea and Ryder arrived in, when Victor showed up.” Clark added, glancing at Victory across the table.

“You were at the ship?” Ryder asked, shocked. “You took him to the ship?”

“Victor said, he found a signal that came from the same area, which is how the three of us met up.” Calea continued, ignoring Ryder.

“It was a signal almost similar to the Mother Boxes, but I only found Clark and Calea there.” Victor added, awkwardly glancing at Ryder, whose face was beet red.

“I scanned the ship after they left to return here, but it didn't find anything out of the ordinary.”

Bruce sat back in his chair, rubbing the tips of his fingers into his graying temples. “Is there anything from the Lore you learned to tell us where Steppenwolf could be looking next?”

“Well,” Clark cleared his throat. “I read in one of the books, that a group of Selians arrived here on Earth not long after Humans forgot who they truly were, looking for where their ancestors, the Selians that colonized the planet, had first landed on their arrival, believing that's where this Box and Key were located.” He paraphrased. “I didn't get to finish it, but one of the places they were searching was 'surrounded by mountains, with none of its own, and several bodies of water.' I don't think it said exactly where that is. But, at least it's semi-identifying.”

“Victor, do you think you could find such a place?” Diana asked.

“It would have to be a place no less than six thousand years old.” Calea told him, building on the information. “That's about how long ago it was, when Selians arrived here.”

“I can do some looking around for a place that matches that general description. It might take a hot second.”

“Well, until Steppenwolf makes the next move, we have nothing else we can do.” Bruce groaned, rubbing his scruffy face.

-- Part IV --

81 notes · View notes

blehbleehhhh · 5 years ago

Text

In the End (ft. EreMika🖤)

Shout out to eremika-forever12 for suggesting the mini-series idea! (Don't worry, I'm still writing other requests) Aaaahhh how exciting!!! The idea behind it is that all the shifters lose their powers and only Eren develops severe memory loss. I was sent pretty much all the details to thread them together. Really hope you enjoy, please share and like if you do. Thanks❣️😬

"Eren? Can you hear me?" It happened again; a migraine attack so painful that it brought someone who tends to be exceedingly tough to his knees and took his breath away. Nonetheless, he could still hear her angelic voice trying to rescue him from the dark depths of his own mind. "Eren?"

"Maybe we should contact Hange?" He hears a second voice suggest over the ringing in his ears.

"No, she's busy tending to Levi. We can handle this. Besides, he always becomes more alert after the shock dissipates..." The comforting hand resting on his shoulder remains as Eren finally blinks his eyes open and hisses under his breath at the bright sun rise making his eyes throb in misery. And there she was surrounded by a seemingly heaven given glow, the admittedly stunning woman that has been with him since he woke up from his comatose state. She smiles sweetly and offers him a cold compress that was hurriedly prepared for those overly sensitive eyes. "You, um, mentioned that the cold compress helped last time."

"Yeah," Eren mutters as he searches his strained mind to place where it recognizes her from. "Uh, thanks." He reaches for the washcloth in her hand and was surprised when he noticed a subtle blush arise on her cheeks as his fingers brushed against her skin, though he was even more surprised when the tips of his ears started to grow warm. Why do I get the feeling that she has made me feel this way before?

"At least it didn't happen outside this time. The last thing you need is to whack your head on the ground on top of all this." Armin sighs with relief as he retrieves a pillow off the chair beside them. "You may be here for a while, so you might as well be more comfortable, right?" He looks up at Mikasa and they exchange concerned expressions at Eren's groan of disapproval that he needs to move, undoubtedly because he knows it'll exacerbate his head splitting migraine. But he lifted his head sluggishly in the hopes of causing less nausea, making sure to keep his eyes closed the entire time while being guided back on a pillow. "Can we get you anything else?"

"No, thanks."

"A cup of caffeinated tea might help some," Mikasa suggests as she turns her head towards the tiny cottage kitchen. "And I don't think you ate anything last night."

"He got sick afterwards and threw it up, unfortunately. So, you add about twenty-two hours without any sort of nourishment to a sudden loss of the founding titan's abilities -"

"Wait," Eren interrupts their discussion as he pulls the cloth from his eyes and hisses again at the bright star shining through the living room window. "Say that again."

The two friends look to each other.

"Uh, sudden loss of the founding titan's abilities?" Armin repeats, hopeful that what had been said may have jogged his best friend's lacking memory.

"No, not that. When Mikasa was telling me I hadn't eaten in a while. I feel like you've said that to me before."

"Too many times to count. I used to have to force you to eat sometimes."

"Good grief, I'm losing my fucking mind." Eren says as he covers his eyes with the cloth once more, already on the verge of throwing up from even moving his body. And to think this one is mild compared to the migraine attack he suffered just two days earlier, where the trio were simply eating lunch outside and he was suddenly overwhelmed with head pain.

"No, this is great news. Maybe it's a sign your brain is trying to heal." Armin says.

"Could you guys help me up? The room is fucking spinning."

"Well, we don't want you doing the stairs until the room stops spinning. Are you good with the couch for now instead of the floor?"

"Literally anything is better than the floor, Mikasa."

"Yeah, that's a good point." Mikasa says as she and Armin slowly assist their severely weakened friend to a seated position then to his feet, making sure that they give enough pause between so he wouldn't feel faint. They're even more careful when helping him to lie down on the couch because they both know how easy it would be for him to get sick if he moves too quickly. When the pair finally stood tall again and she noticed that all too familiar shit eating grin from Armin, Mikasa couldn't help but smile. It has been seen on a few occasions now since Eren woke up last week with that small recollection of what his friend's names were and nothing more, where the blonde will sometimes tease her about how the dynamic between her and Eren has clearly changed for the better. The last time she saw that face was when they were youngsters and Eren was completely oblivious to how she felt, but Armin and nearly everyone else could see. He could swear that he has actually witnessed Eren flirting with Mikasa a few times now. After everything that has happened, it was originally very difficult to believe that he couldn't recall what tragedies were committed just to protect his friends, the only family he had left. But it was that moment after suddenly rupturing from the nape of his titanic self's neck, when the two friends flew to his rescue on their gear while he was falling limp through the sky and were greeted with a genuinely remorseful face before he fell into some sort of comatose state that bordered almost two weeks. Nobody was certain of the young man's fate until that moment, but many truly wanted the best for him despite feeling so torn with how he was behaving at the time. Which would come first, their duties as soldiers, or his friends? In the end, the pair decided that whether he was always a cold person or not is ultimately irrelevant because they wouldn't dare leave their friend alone in the dark to sink into oblivion again. That's why they vowed to take care of him after everything was over and even searched for this little cottage in a reserved part of the woods so he can rest in peace amongst nature that they all loved growing up. "You sure you don't want to try some caffeine, Eren?" Mikasa asks softly as she looks down at the only man she has ever loved, who now lies motionless on the couch with his incredible eyes shielded under a cold compress.

"Yeah." He mumbles under his breath.

"I don't know if there's much caffeine in that tea anyhow, Mikasa." Armin states as they turn to each other, his arms crossed over his chest.

"It's better than nothing, right?"

"No, seriously, I'm just going to try and sleep this off."

"Well, okay," Mikasa concedes as she briefly looks down at the floor. "You know the usual, one of us will check on you every hour to make sure you're alright. We'll both be outside today since it's so nice out. Oh, and -"

"If you do the stairs while you're dizzy without any assistance, I'll personally kick your ass across the cottage." Eren's frown curves up into a little smirk, his eyes still shielded under the cold washcloth as he playfully mocks Mikasa's voice. "I know, I know."

"Heh, hey, I think I said it a little nicer than that.."

"Ah, this is music to my ears." Armin smiles and completely ignores the daggers being thrown from Mikasa's death glare as he happily strolls by to leave for the beautiful, titan free world. Honestly, nobody ever thought they'd live to see the day.

"Sleep, Eren." Mikasa commands with delight to her voice and blushes softly at their exchange. She smiles when she turns to follow after their friend and closes the door behind her carefully so the young man inside has silence needed to rest.

"So," Armin smiles and raises an eyebrow as they slowly stroll to the bench surrounded by the overgrown front yard. "You mind telling me what that was all about?" He leans forward on his knees when they sit down and glances back at her with a knowing look on his face.

"What do you mean?"

"Ah, come on, we both know he was picking on you again."

"Oh, that.." Mikasa looks the opposite direction and smiles wide as her rosy cheeks grow warmer, still trying to process what just happened. "I really don't know to be honest. It went from him knowing our names to remembering little things and now..I'm not sure."

"Well, this is what you've always wanted anyway, right?"

"Yeah, but not like this. Not if he isn't himself."

"I was actually just thinking about how long it's been since I've heard him pick on you like that. Probably long before the war even started."

"So?"

"So, he's getting there, but it'll take a while." Armin explains, looking down at his hands as he cracks his knuckles. "Unfortunately, it's also possible that Eren won't be exactly the same, but he'll be close enough. You have to admit you thought that little back and forth you guys had was entertaining, I saw the look on your face."

"Yeah," She smiles slightly as she tucks her hair behind her ears. "I just don't want to get my hopes up."

"I think you should be fine as long as you let whatever you two are progress naturally."

"I don't know what else I can do. It's just weird to get used to, you know? Especially after the explosive past we've had."

"I know, but it looks like Eren will actually be more receptive this time. Hey, did you hear that thud?" Armin looks over his shoulder at her once more with a raised eyebrow.

"I did, and it didn't sound good." Mikasa says as they stand together and make a run for the cottage. But when she opened the front door to find Eren lying on the living room floor in a fetal position clutching his head in both hands, her heart leapt into her throat and she bolted to his side. "Eren?! What happened? Did you fall off the couch?"

"I feel fucking awful. All I wanted was to make it darker over my eyes with an extra pillow, but I ended up falling off the couch. It seemed like my damn legs stopped working."

"Alright, now can I get on the horse and go find Hange?" Armin asks from the doorway leading into the cottage. "He obviously needs to be seen by a doctor, Mikasa, look at him!"

"What? Uh, y-yeah, you go and I'll stay here."

"I'll return as soon as possible." Armin nods to her and they share a concerned expression as he throws on his jacket then carefully closes the door behind him in an effort to make smallest amount of noise possible.

"Hey, it's okay.." Mikasa breathes as she gently touches the back of her hand to his forehead. "I know you're probably tired of me asking you this, but can I perhaps get you anything?" She frowns when she registers a minor fever and was surprised that he didn't squirm away from her touch like he would have done in the past. A few strands of chocolate hair have fallen loose from the small bun at the nape of his neck and she briefly toys with pushing them away from his face. She sighs softly as she places her hand in her lap, ultimately deciding that it would be pushing the boundaries of their technically new friendship. He's still so handsome, even with his eyes closed.

"No, I'm just going to lie here until the worst of the pain goes away." He mumbles to the carpet.

"And if that's not a quick process?"

"I don't know." Eren groans in discomfort as his migraine throbs, lifting his head up slowly in the hopes that it won't trigger more pain. "But I do know one thing." He blinks his eyes open to see her sitting beside him looking just as concerned as she did in the dream he has been having for the last two nights in a row.

"What's that?"

"I could never get tired of your voice."

"Wait, actually?" She smiles as she remembers back to the day that everyone finally made it to the mainland, when Eren had wandered away from the group in search of a thieving child and she later discovered him in a camp where good people had lost their homes to war. When he looked into her eyes and asked in a most emotionally agonizing way exactly what their relationship meant to her. And she was totally blindsided by him behaving so out of character, that she fumbled her words and couldn't think of what to say other than to call him what she has always referred to him as; family. But that's not the whole truth. She has been crazy about him since they were young kids.

"Definitely."

"Heh, well, thank you.."

"Hey, can I ask you something just for clarification?" He asks with hints of being in pain to his voice.

"Absolutely, go for it."

"Did we - you, me, and Armin - meet when we were little? I keep having these, like, I guess you could call them flashbacks. And sometimes it's the three of us as little kids running through a town."

"Uh, well, we grew up in Shiganshina, it's a nice big town. You and I met under very unfortunate circumstances, and that's a drastic understatement. Then you met Armin when he was getting badly bullied in the streets and stood up for him."

"Unfortunate circumstances? What do you mean?"

"I-I.." Mikasa stammers and bites her lip as she looks away. She knew that he would eventually ask her about this. "We were awfully young, about nine years old. I'm not sure how much you remember about your father, but he was a doctor and my mother was heavily pregnant. Three truly horrible people found out that my mother and I are of Asian decent, so they broke into our home with intentions of murdering my father and selling us. But my mother fought like hell, so, they murdered her too..." She takes a deep breath and sighs sorrowfully as she finally looks into his eyes again. "Then you showed up at the door and saved my life by killing two of them, then you untied me. But there was a third guy that you weren't expecting who ended up trying to choke you out, and I killed him to save your life."

"Wow. Terrifying doesn't even begin to describe how that day must have been for you. I'm so sorry about your family." Eren grows silent for a moment simply trying to imagine what it would be like to lose everything all at once. He sifts through the memories flooding back into his mind. "I think you kind of sparked my memory, because in my head I remember walking somewhere with who I now assume to be my dad and hearing that your family was hurt. He wouldn't let me go ahead because it was clearly dangerous, but I honestly don't think I cared. All I could think about was helping whoever was inside."

"You haven't mentioned this before."

"I didn't think it would matter that much to you since you were already safe and that was my goal. Fuck!" Eren growls at a sudden sharp jolt of pain in his head as he snaps his eyes shut. This is certainly much more difficult to ignore than the dull ache he had this entire time.

"Oh my god, Eren! What is it!?" Mikasa panics and immediately sits up in order to cradle the back of his head with her hand, protecting it from bumping against one of the couch legs. It breaks her heart when his head hurts this much because she knows there isn't anything she can do to make it better.

"I'm fine! I'm fine!" He assures her, even though anyone with a brain could see how miserable he is. Eyes shut and shielded behind his forearm for extra darkness would be a major indicator. Hell, she gets headaches too. Eren groans in discomfort as he struggles with opening his eyes to hers once more, wincing noticeably with pain. "Mikasa?" He asks with plenty of unintended agony to his voice, trying desperately to ignore the sharp jolt behind his eyes for keeping them open against what his body wants.

"What is it? I'm here." She frowns that he's in so much pain, wanting nothing more than to hold his head in her lap.

"I think I remember you."

#requests #attack on titan #attack on titan fanfiction #eremika #eremika fantiction #eremika fluff #eren jaeger #eren yaeger #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman #armin arlert #shingeki no kyojin #shiganshina trio #mikaere #mikaere fanfiction #eren x mikasa #eren x mikasa fanfic #eren x mikasa fluff

43 notes · View notes

maladaptive-ninja-returns · 5 years ago

Text

Without Question (Epilogue)

Steve Rogers x fem!Reader

Content: fluffy conclusion and maybe...mayyyyybe a future fic idea

Warnings: …none? Um...except for that one lady in there.

Word Count: Hot water does not quench my thirst no matter how good it might be for my body...which in itself is such a disaster of a thing.

MASTERLIST & Taglist in bio, my love

The life of a parasite is not that complex of an affair. It is born to live inside a host, gather its nutrients from the said host- more than often at the host's expense- live till it can breed more or find a better host. Its entire life is based on the expense of another creature; its survival in the flesh of someone who can contain it. Therefore, it is no wonder she does not like it when someone calls her a parasite. For she is not one. Her kind lives in codependency, finding a host it is compatible with and helping it flourish in return for nourishment.

Her species was known to have always gone for the living, looking for hosts they could control, be the dominant party of the two sitting in the conference room inside the mind of the body they inhabited, the foreboding controllers that they were. However, inhabiting a dead host- or someone near to it- was never talked about for carcasses were beneath them and their Titan-like ego.

But she isn't like them. She wants to be different. To finally have the freedom she has craved for her entire existence; she wants to live it. And so, she has decided to throw all the laws of the dead empire outside the window and try her theory of inhabiting a body nearly at its deathbed.

The woman- strolled into the emergency room with fatal blows to her body in some accident- is covered in blood and bruises when the doctors try to rush into the process of saving her, measuring her heart rate, blood pressure and respiration rate. It is pure chaos for her to watch it all from the ceiling. Humans. Such soft creatures. She can sense that woman's vitals weakening with every passing moment, something the machines tell the medical professionals by a few seconds' delay. No amount of effort is going to repair that internal bleeding and shock accelerating that human's chances of death slithering right by the corner. And just at that second, she knows that flesh is no longer the resident to the soul it has been harbouring since the beginning of its time, she jumps discreetly into the body when the doctors are focusing at the screen that shows the patient is flatlining. One shock to through the defibrillator is enough for her to let the chemicals be catalysed to become one with neurons; her presence gradually gelling with the body to become one with it. And before any other human in the room can debate on it being a medical miracle, a sign of higher power or simply the inadequacy of the machines, she opens her eyes in her new form, seeing the world through an independent pair of windows for the first time.

Free.

"You know, when we both silently agreed on staying together, I wasn't really expecting you to spoil my life like this."

Steve's chuckle reverberates through the kitchen and dining hall. His honey-laced laugh reaches you in the living room to make you smile as you gather the whiteboard, a few markers, the portable speaker, and a couple of other knick-knacks for the small gathering you are about to have.

"If making breakfast every day is spoiling you then I am not even halfway to showing you how much more I can spoil your life, doll," he announces over the sound of something sizzling over the stove.

You bite your lips to stop the overflow of these gushing emotions all inside you. "Oh, let's not forget giving Stace the freedom to do whatever she wants, okay?" You state, getting up and moving towards the hall, "And you making that entire front yard-"

"That's our back yard."

Our back yard.

...Fuck. Why is he like this?

"Making our entire back yard into this freaking perfect garden with all those fancy fairy lights and a freaking gazebo!"

"You liked it," he stresses. You peak in from the entrance of the kitchen, watching him carefully place the omelettes in two plates along with the toasts- yours extra crispy with thinly spread butter on them- before pouring orange juice in two glasses.

"That doesn't matter," you retort, watching him being caught off guard, your heart instantly melting when his eyes light up on seeing you stand there. "I'm not gonna maintain that luxurious green patch when the time comes."

He stands facing you, his hands on his hips and oh heavens! that customised blue apron with chibi Captain America blessing its front gives you all the right feels in your stomach. "No problem," he affirms, picking the plates and moving them to the tiny breakfast table by the French window before coming back for the juice, "I'll take care of it. I'm pretty sure all of these are positive spoil-"

"Oh I'm not done yet," you interject, sauntering towards a slightly confused and faintly excited Steve, "you have me utterly spoiled-" you move your hands around his waist, earning an arched brow from him- "with all-" your hands go beyond his back, moving lower till they land over his butt cheeks- "of that-" and give them a tight squeeze, forcing a delightful hum out of Steve as you push him closer to you- "sex!"

"Hmm," Steve growls, planting his one hand on your waist under your t-shirt, while the other goes up to tease your lower lip with his thumb. "If you don't like being spoiled," he whispers, bringing his lips closer to you but never close enough for you to get a taste of him, "we can always stop."

"Or," you begin to propose through a moan by letting your hands run along the hem of his track pants, creating a wave of disturbance wherever your fingers touch him before stopping at the trail of hair going down, "we could make it a healthy habit so it doesn't seem like I'm being spoiled."

Your fingers run down that soft golden trail, stirring something inside the Captain, his light eyes feeling a dark edge of mischief being added to them. His finger traces a path down from your lips to your neck, going further down your chest. "Everyone'll arrive in an hour," Steve sighs, giving a light shrug.

"Oh," you turn to look at the clock and realise he's not wrong, letting go of the waistband of his track pants, "then we should-"

Your sentence ends up a light shriek from Steve lifting you by your ass, making your reflexes wrap your legs around him. "That means," he grunts, balancing you effortlessly in those buff arms while his lust-filled eyes have yours locked in place, his voice a shade huskier as he starts moving to the bedroom, "I have a lot of time to make you question all that I do for you. And to you. And more."

Oooh yes!

"How do I use this thing?"

Wasn't working with a human vessel not enough? Did they really have to invent these cheap electronic devices?

She looks down at the device that seems to keep buzzing with different messages for some reason as she tries to find her way through the street.

Getting out of the hospital had been easy (and so was getting a fresh set of clothes). Give the docs and nurses another pile of flesh and bones to worry about and they run like scared animals to help their flock. Now, she is out exploring, trying to work with this new suit, find out the perks and non-perks, questioning her idea of travelling solo when having another conscience to talk to and gnaw at would have been easier. Now it's just her with her voice speaking from some uncharted void walking down into a farmer's market, already having discovered how much of gross unwanted attention this sex of the human species is given on the street.

There is a huge variety of delectables lines up that the humans seemingly prefer. Different shapes, colours and sizes. Some smell sweet, some sour, and some smell like they would sting your tongue before leaving a sweetness behind. Strange edibles. She watches another human- a man as far as the scent of the hormones off him goes- politely asking for some fresh oranges while telling the man behind the counter the ones he is trying to pack do not smell fresh. The sweet nectar of curiosity seems to send a reaction to her brain, making her step towards the box of citrus fruits displayed for the customers. Quickly picking half a dozen from down the different boxes, she brings them forward to the man who is nearly losing his patience. "These are fresh."

The man turns to see her. And she gets a good look at him for the first time. Hypnotising blue eyes look at her in a flurry of confusion and gratuitous delight, the beard hiding pink lips and flushed cheeks.

After a short considerable second, he takes the oranges from her. "Thank you," he mentions without blinking, taking a little time to turn back to make the payment. And in that turn is a microscopic moment, he watches, from the corner of his eye, a stranger try to touch her ass for barely a second.

She, of course, feels it too well. The man turns to get hold of that pervert and kick some respect into him only to find her punching the daylights out of him.

And he just stands there, full body in pause, mind in awe of the woman who has knocked that excuse of a man out in one blow, looking at her once again- this time from his heart. She looks back at him too; though with visible shades of uncertainty before looking down at the guy.

"Was I not supposed to do that?" She asks the man who by now has his mouth agape, still looking at her.

He blinks. "Huh?" Looks down at the man and raises his brows and chuckles. "What? No. I mean yes. You are absolutely supposed to do that."

"Oh-" she nods, and he watches her beam and be proud of herself, "okay."

"Um," he tries to catch her attention. "Are you okay? Are you hurt?"

She looks down at the hand she used, feeling nothing more than minute tickles. "Yeah, I think I'm good." She turns her gaze back to him with a smile.

He melts inside.

"Do you know where is this place?" She asks him, taking out a card she found in her- the dead woman's- pocket.

"This," he hums, reading the card, "was a few blocks down the road the last I saw it."

"Oh," she scrunches her nose and feels a tired groan come out of her, "how far?"

"I can drop you there if you want," he blurts out, "I'm going that way myself."

She looks at him again. Watching him run his hands through his long lush hair, wondering if she'd seen him somewhere before shaking that thought off, knowing full well that she would remember a pretty face like this. "Yes, I'd like that."

"Great," he chirps. "Oh, I'm James," he addresses, drawing forward his hand, "my friends call me Bucky."

"Bucky," she tastes the name on her tongue and feels all the black mush inside her do a little dance for some unknown reason.

"And you are?"

She licks her lips and feels them stretch involuntary, drawing her own hand forward to meet his, saying her name to bring herself- her true self- into existence, letting the air carry her name for whatever future it is to bring for her.

42 notes · View notes

hes-writer · 6 years ago

Text

Break Up Playlist (2)

Summary: Harry is an aspiring rock star and YN is a law student

Warnings: angst

Word Count: 2734 words

Months after that eventful evening, Y/N and Harry had hit it off right from the bat. They were dating now and Harry had never been prouder of his actions for persuading Y/N to come and sing with him. Y/N had also been patting her own shoulders for gathering the courage to take his hand.

They were inseparable as soon as Harry jumped off backstage and introduced himself formally with a shy smile--completely different from his persona up front. Harry asked Y/N questions and they answered. Her heart was pounding the whole time as Harry named all his favorite artists. Needless to say, Y/N was falling in love with the man with green eyes--she just didn’t know it yet.

---

Days passed after their first performance together and Y/N was invited to perform again. This time, with a guitar on both their grasps as they sang in incredible harmony. It was like this every night and both of them enjoyed the thrill and rush of adrenaline and satisfaction coursing through their veins. They were the Bonnie and Clyde of performing. But of course, nothing lasts forever.

Exams attacked Y/N on the one hand, forcing her to decline to perform on certain nights. She knew that Harry understood her, but she couldn’t help but feel as though she let him down. He might not let her see his own face, but his voice certainly lost a sense of enthusiasm when he responded to her apologetic voice.

It wasn’t like Y/N wanted to miss so many gigs and such, but she was getting busier with school. She was paying with her blood, sweat, and tears to even try to get through the first year-- she just wasn’t to let it pay dust. Music is important to her, but acquiring a stable job in the future is something that she had to abide by. Her friends knew that, her parents accepted her decisions, but Harry didn’t seem to.

---

“What do you mean you can’t perform tonight?” Harry asked incredulously, slamming the hard case of his guitar. “That’s the fourth straight night, Y/N!” He looked up at her from his crouched position, staring at her with hard eyes, searching for an explanation.

“I’m sorry, Harry but I have a huge exam coming up,” Y/N tried to explain, gaping at him like a goldfish. Harry found her embedded in piles of paperwork. Endless cases that seemed to have no end highlighted with her countless colorful highlighters (and some were almost out of ink). Her thick books opened to a frail page from years of reusing-- to which Harry freaked out at.

“It’s just one night, Y/N. Can’t you do that for me?” He pleaded with puppy eyes. He sat down next to her on the bed, careful not to wrinkle any of the papers. He grasped one carefully, skimming through the words written on it and he realized that he surely did not understand anything going on in that text.

Y/N switched her gaze from her boyfriend’s face to the work screaming at her to ‘please’ study the material she needed to know. Needless to say, Harry’s forest green, puppy dog eyes swayed her into standing on stage with him and the band for the first time in a while.

As Harry sang his part of the song, Y/N couldn’t help but look at him in adoration. She loves him so much and it was amazing to be able to witness do something he was so passionate about.

—-

“Y/N, great job up there,” A man came to her as she was packing up. “I’m Ethan.”

Y/N straightened her back in an effort to greet him, nimble fingers plucking strands of hair behind her ear. “Um, thank you,” She offered a smile to be polite.

“I was thinking,” Ethan started, “With your talent and my experience, we could really do something great. What do you think?”

He stared at her expectantly, brow raising high on his face as Y/N dumbfoundedly gaped at his offer. “I’m not really in the place for tha—,”

“Y/N” Harry’s voice echoed from the midst of the crowd. “Ethan,” He nodded stiffly, sporting a stoic facial expression. Y/N could feel a weight added to her shoulders when Harry draped his arm over her.

“I see,” Ethan smirked, eyeing Harry’s arm before looking at Y/N. “Give me a call sometime,” He snatched his wallet from the back pocket of his jeans, flipping it open before twiddling with a couple cards.

Y/N hesitantly grabbed the piece of paper, already seeing the numbers printed on it. “Sure, I guess,” She pursed her lips, glancing up at Harry when she felt him tense while she grabbed the card.

“Bye Harry,” Ethan waved, “See you, Y/N,” He winked before turning his back around and walked off with not so much as a glance back.

Y/N faced Harry, laying her palm against his broad chest in affection, only to be shrugged off. She was left to wonder why he was acting this way. Besides the alcohol wafting from his breath and the slightly doozy look in his green eyes—Y/N couldn't understand why Harry was absolutely fuming at Ethan–if ever.

“What the hell was that?” He asked, deep voice echoing near her ear from the proximity.

“What was what?”

He rolled his eyes at her, moving the arm she was latched on to. “Ethan,” He stated as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“He was complimenting me for tonight,” Y/N beamed, showing off a grin. She was proud of herself. “He asked if I wanted to work with him,”

“What else?” Harry snarked, downing another amber liquid in a shot glass.

Y/N stood discombobulated–there wasn't anything else that happened. “That was it,”

“I'm not an idiot,” He scoffed, “You were eye-fucking him,”

Y/N caught a breath in her throat, her heart starting to pound at his accusations. Somewhere along the way, Harry has conjured an extremely false perception of the occurrence. Not once did she let her eyes falter to be considered ‘eye-fucking’. She was with Harry—she loves him and she would never go close to being unfaithful.

“You're drunk. Let's go home,”

-----

Y/N buckled Harry’s seat belt across his body. She knew that he was sober enough to do it himself, but her caring nature provided more nourishment than she thought possible. He was quiet–eyes staring at the clear window of the passenger’s seat, humming low in his throat while his lids fluttered delicately open and close.

The door slammed shut with a soft ‘thud’, Y/N walking briskly around the front of the car to get to the drivers' side door. The cool wind of the night was blocked off by the metal door, enclosing Harry and Y/N together. She sighed in relief, the warmth running across her exposed skin.

Y/N turned the ignition on– the purring of the engine vibrating her body. From the distance, she could see the moving shining brightly in the dark blue night sky. The luminescent traces reflecting off the clean windshield. If she looked closely enough, she could make out Harry’s eyes loosely.

Warm air shot through the vents when Y/N turned the car heaters up–to which Harry huffed insignificantly at, picking at his skin in annoyance.

“What's wrong?”

“I'm cold,” It was directed to her bluntly, much like any other word he had spoken to her tonight–and she wasn't sure why or how this behavior was brought on.

Y/N pleaded slightly to keep the heat on, just until the goosebumps on her skin disappeared, along with the bursts of shivers that jolted her body. But Harry wasn't patient. He was persistent on getting the temperature down, acting on his notion and making cool air blast through instead. It was a slap to the face, to say the least. He was acting cold and the atmosphere, itself, was freezing. If she knew that he was going to let her go on the brinks of hypothermia, then she would've worn something with a long sleeve.

“Harry,” Y/N said in a warning tone. She was already irritated when he started acting like an asshole earlier that night. She could've been studying the learning objectives in her studies. She could've been at hope cramming information in her brain while she ate cookies to keep her energy up.

“What?”

“Can you please turn the heat up?” She murmured as she shifted the gear to drive. The wheels turned to drive them out of the parking lot and unto the street, on their way home.

“It’s my car,” He replied with a snobby undertone. And he might as well be tilting his nose up too with the way he was acting.

Sure, it was his car, but that didn't mean that he had to be so possessive over it. This wasn't the Harry that Y/N knew and frankly—it frightened her a bit. This Harry appeared to be angry, impatient and irritated at all times.

“I paid for the air conditioner to get fixed,” Reaching over the console, Y/N let her thin fingers turn the knob. If he was going to act this way, then she will too. She had done nothing wrong, yet Harry was treating her as if she was somebody lower than her.

He laughed sarcastically, “I didn't ask you to.” The air around them was tensing and both of them were well aware that this upcoming fight could be easily avoided if their pride was shoved out of the way but Y/N had the personality of a lawyer and Harry had the heart of an artist. The knob was switched to cool air.

“You didn't have to ask. I did it for you,”

“Dammit!” Harry yelled, bumping the bottom of his palm against the leather dashboard. Y/N was caught off guard, bracing her back on the seat, but kept her arms steady on the wheel. “Did I fucking ask you to get it fixed?”

Y/N gulped, owning up to her words. She glanced nervously at the side mirror. “No, but you would've complained if I didn't,”

“I could have gotten it fixed. I just didn't have time,” He lamely excused.

“That's why I did it for you.”

Harry inhaled heavily, nostrils flaring in anger. His fists were balling and clenching once in a while to keep his temper in check. “Stop acting like you can do everything,” He seethed through his teeth.

Y/N did a double take, eyes scanning the rear view mirror. “What?”

Harry had his thoughts swirling with no definite conclusion. He was tired. He was so done with everything being related to Y/N. And it's not because they were a couple, no, it was because they were in the same band—a band that he started and worked on his hands and knees for to polish the floor they started on until they got to where they were now. Yet, it seemed that all the credit went to Y/N as she supposedly ‘paved the way’ for the band’s major breakthrough.

Harry was humble. He knew that every member had contributed something to their success, but he was sure that he himself had gouged his eyes dry day and night, writing new songs for them to play. It wasn't Y/N who established a name for themselves. It was wasn't Y/N who created their sound–their vibe, their aura, or their anything. It was from Harry.

This was Harry’s dream and even though it seemed like he was slowly accomplishing everything he could have ever wanted—it seemed as if Y/N was the breadwinner of every success when this was built on Harry’s own back.

Producers and record labels approached her for a deal. They spoke to her as if she was the leader when in reality, it was Harry. They offered contracts and album deals. Not for the band, just her. And maybe Harry was jealous—seeing his own girlfriend live the life that he was tracing with his fingertips while he was blended in the background. He was only the hypnotizing bending of the guitar and the lower, harmonizing voice that complimented Y/N’s voice.

It took a lot for Harry to find who he was as an artist, and for it to be dusted as if it was insignificant because, oh, Y/N showed up, was hurtful for him. He sacrificed a lot of things to get where he is now, and it seemed that none of it was paying off.

He was happy for her, really. But he was selfish too because this wasn't Y/N’s dream. This was his dream. Y/N had her chances at law school and a firm—why couldn't she stick with that instead? Why couldn't have she let Harry have something? This was his and he didn't want to share it with anybody else.

Maybe it was the alcohol that clouded his thoughts and poisoned his perception—but Y/N apparently was out to get him. She wanted to see him suffer in the shadows while she climbed up the steps even further up. Then, she’ll leave him because he was a nobody. She craved to watch him try to make it while she got everything handed to her on a silver platter.

If it weren't for Harry, Y/N wouldn't be anywhere.

---

“That's ridiculous! I would never do that,” Y/N defended herself while slipping her shoes off from her heels.

“For god’s sakes, Y/N,” Harry cried out, “He was offering you a record deal right in front of me and you just–you took your time to answer because you wanted to rub it in my face,”

She stomped her foot childishly, “I was shocked. I wasn't trying to do anything,”

“Yeah, right,” Harry bemused, walking away from his girlfriend. “You could have talked about the band,”

“I was surprised, Harry. I couldn't have said anything if I tried,”

He stared at her like she was stupid, brow raising and eyes crinkling up in complete and utter judgment of her response. “It was the least you could do,”

“What?” She snapped, lids opening in alarm. “What the hell did you just say?”

He sighed heavily, “It's the least you could do after everything I’ve done for you.” He rubbed a palm over his face, pinching his nose slightly.

“And what have you done for me?” She questioned, crossing her arms over chest.

“Everything!” Harry raised his voice, gesticulating in the open space to emphasize his point. “I gave you everything,”

Y/N found some truth to his words. He supported her when times got rough and he comforted her when she stressed too much about an exam. For a moment, she let her eyes soften and the crease between her brows smoothen. Her heart was slowly thrumming in her chest and she was ready to apologize for whatever reason just so they can go back to being the affectionate couple that they were. Somewhere in her brain, Y/N knew that Harry was still intoxicated by alcohol and that his thoughts weren't what he was making them out of.

She was ready to lull him to drink a glass of water and eat a banana. She was ready to prepare the bed and coddle him in blankets to keep him warm during cold nights. Fluffing his hair—because it doubled as a message was something that she was instinctively doing for him. Y/N loves him and he loves her.

“Harry, I'm sorr—,” She began, stepping forward to reach out for his tattooed arm.

“You wouldn't be anywhere if it wasn't for me.” He spat, glaring at her with dark eyes and she swore it pierced straight to her heart. “If I hadn't let you join the band, nobody would offer you anything. If I didn't encourage you to sing, you would be stuck in a fucking library swarming your brain with whatever the fuck because you're too shy to do anything even remotely social,”

“And you take all the credit for something that I did?” Harry shook his head disapprovingly. “Jeez, Y/N. Is that all you can do?”

She shivered.

Y/N loves him but she wasn't too sure if he loved her back.

--------

this is unedited

permanent taglist; @ynm1505 @littledreamybeth @calums-sugarbaby @kissme-hs @agoddamnmango @queenbeestuffs @ashkuuuu @kettxo @send-me-styles @ofpeppermintbays @trustfulhaz @harrysfeastedflower @harrystxleslx @befourep @moonandstars-xo @babebenhardy @swayingnoodlelove @mendesromano @harrystylinsince1994 @juliassgem @miscll-fangirl @little-dragon-ate-my-heart @myfangirlworld @haroldssfedora @winchesterwife27 @w0wfxck @redaesthetic

352 notes · View notes

spookyrus-writes-sometimes · 5 years ago

Text

Maka Gets a Boyfriend at the End of This Story

Fandom: Soul Eater Characters: Maka, Soul Eater, Black☆Star, Tsubaki Relationships: Spoilers! :P Genre: Humor, Fluff Rating: K+, no warnings Words: 2,635 Date: April 1, 2016 (revised April 15, 2020) AO3 | DA | FF

It was a fine summer's day in Death City, Nevada. Birds were singing, the sun was laughing, and Scythe Meister Maka Albarn was sitting in her apartment instead of enjoying the nice weather. On a day like today, most students of the Death Weapon Meister Academy would be out and about, playing games or hanging with friends.

But not Maka.

Maka would rather be sitting in the comfort of her home, book in hand and air conditioning roaring.

"Maka," groaned Demon Scythe Soul Eater from the kitchen, "if you're gonna stay inside all day, the least you could do is make some food."

"Make your own food," Maka retorted. "I'm reading."

"You're always reading," said Soul Eater, leaning in the door frame to the living room. "The only thing you ever do is read. Why don't you get up and actually do something with your life?"

"I am doing something with my life," said Maka. "I'm nourishing my brain with literature."

"That's the stupidest excuse I've ever heard," Soul scoffed through gritted teeth. "Now go outside."

"No."

"I'm not even asking you to stop reading. I'm just asking you to read outside."

"No," Maka repeated adamantly. "It's too hot. There's AC in here."

"Ugh... You're such a pain."

Soul Eater scratched his chin thoughtfully. Surely, there must have been some way to convince his meister to get up and about. Just a little push, some sort of motivation to do anything other than all this nothing. But what could it be? Then, Soul Eater got an idea. A horrible, awful, downright moronic idea.

"Maka," said Soul Eater, a glint in his eye, "do you know what you need?"

"My own apartment?" Maka replied snottily.

Soul shook his head. "No," he chuckled, grinning a twisted grin. "A boyfriend."

Immediately Maka's head shot up, her eyes bugging out of her face. "What did you just say?"

"You need a boyfriend," Soul Eater repeated, "and I'm going to get you one."

Laughing sarcastically, Maka slammed her book shut and set it on the couch beside her. "Um, no," she said, "that is not happening. I am not getting a boyfriend, much less one that you suggest."

"Aw, that's adorable," Soul Eater snickered. "You think you have a choice."

He then forcefully lifted her over his shoulder and carried her out the door. She screamed the whole way.

----------------------------------------

On the streets of Death City at the height of noon, Soul Eater taped a hastily thrown-together flyer to a lamp post. Said flyer depicted an unflattering school photograph of Maka and pencil-written advertisements saying that she was single. All the while, Soul Eater cackled maniacally, only encouraged by his meister's protests. "Soul Eater!" Maka exclaimed. "Stop that right now! You've made your point!" She held her arms open to the beaming sun, shouting, "O great sun, how beautiful art thou?!" then swung back around. "Can we go home now?!" "Nope!" replied Soul Eater. "Not until we've found you the perfect guy." "I don't need a boyfriend!" Maka roared. "I don't want a boyfriend! What part of this are you not understanding?!" "The part where you sit inside with your nose in a book on perfectly nice days like today." "But it's scorching!" It didn't take long for the flyer to start attracting attention. Unfortunately, this wasn't the kind of attention Soul Eater had been hoping for. "What the heck is this?" queried Shadow Meister Black Star, pawing the flyer as he looked it over. With a hearty laugh, he said, "You're seriously trying to get Maka a boyfriend?! What kind of guy would want to date Maka?!" "Now, Black Star," said Shadow Weapon Tsubaki Nakatsukasa, "I'm sure you don't mean that..." "I totally mean it!" Black Star asserted. "I say what I mean and I mean what I say! And I mean it when I say that no guy in his right mind would ever want to date Maka Albarn!" Tsubaki sighed. "Even if you do mean it, that doesn't mean you should say things like that about our friend..." "No, he's right." Some confused stares turned to Maka. "No guy in his right mind would ever want to date me," she declared, "because I am undesirable. We should just give up and go home, because this will go nowhere and we are all wasting our time." "Wow, seriously?" questioned Black Star. "I was trying to insult you." "I get the feeling that Maka isn't doing this by choice," Tsubaki observed. "Nope, but this is for her own good," said Soul Eater. "I am not unlocking the door to our apartment until she is happy in somebody's arms." "Then why don't you be her boyfriend?" asked Black Star. "Ew, no," said Soul and Maka in unison. "Besides," Maka growled, "he's part of the problem." "Well, what about Death the Kid?" Black Star suggested. "He's smart, a good meister, and a total snob. Just like Maka." "I'm right here!" Maka shouted, and Black Star reveled in the glory of a successful blow. "He does seem up your alley, Maka," Soul Eater concurred. "I'm not interested in Kid," Maka huffed, "or any guy. Besides, likes repel, and I don't think I could stand to listen to another one of his symmetry rants." Somewhere, Death the Kid pauses in the middle of one of his hourly symmetry rants to his weapon partners. "What's the matter?" asks Liz. "Someone is talking about me," replies Death the Kid. "Someone... unsymmetrical..." "If Maka doesn't want a boyfriend, she shouldn't be forced to have one," said Tsubaki. "It's her choice to make, not Soul Eater's." "Yes, thank you!" Maka cried. "You're just saying that to defend her," said Black Star, "and the fact that she is completely undateable." "That's not true!" Tsubaki exclaimed. "Maka has plenty of desirable traits! She's smart, nice, a talented meister... But if she doesn't want to date, she doesn't have to." "Well, she's gonna have to be dateable," said Soul Eater, "because she's getting a date, whether she likes it or not." "Did you hear a word I just said...?" "Hey, what's going on over here?" The group turned to see two new arrivals, Lamp Meister Kim Diehl and her partner Demon Lantern Jacqueline O'Lantern Dupré, checking out the Maka poster. "Maka needs a date?" Jackie questioned. "Looks like," replied Kim, "but why?" "Because she needs to step out and smell the roses for once in her life," said Soul Eater, attracting the girls' attention. "Do you guys have any ideas?" inquired Black Star. "'Cuz we're drawing a blank, and she's being stubborn." "I'm being stubborn because this is stupid!" "I can't think of anybody off the top of my head," said Jackie. "I can," said Kim. "How about Ox Ford?" "What?!" Maka wasn't the only person who said that. At the same time, Lightning King Ox Ford stumbled out from his hiding place behind the nearest building. "What were you doing there?!" Kim shrieked. "Certainly not following you around the city in case of any opportunity to be your knight in shining armor, that's for sure!" Ox Ford replied nervously, and Kim gave an exasperated sigh. "But really, I'm insulted that you think I would even consider going out with Maka Albarn! I am very out of her league, and I have no interest in someone such as her!" "Good!" Maka spat. "I have no interest in someone such as you!" "Sounds like we're running out of options," whispered Soul Eater to Black Star. "Yeah, Maka may be undesirable, but she can't be completely hopeless," whispered Black Star to Soul Eater. "There's got to be somebody who'd be willing to go out with her. Like, maybe if we could blackmail them..." Maka's eye twitched. "Ox, may I take a look at your school supplies?" "Of course," replied Ox Ford. "I don't go anywhere without bringing school with me." Ox held his book bag open for Maka, who retrieved a hefty textbook on soul science, hardcover. She slammed it spine-first into Soul Eater's head. He crashed into Black Star and they both hit the ground. Maka handed the book back to Ox and expressed her gratitude. "Ow," said Soul Eater. "Hey, I know!" Black Star exclaimed, prying his face off of the pavement. "That hit to the head gave my brain the jump start it needed to come up with an idea!" "Shoot." "Let's set her up on a blind date!" Black Star suggested. "That way the guy doesn't have to know who he's dating! It's the perfect plan!" "Are we sure this is a good idea...?" Tsubaki questioned. "No," Maka grunted, "no we aren't." "Hey, I know the perfect guy, too!" Kim added. "He won't suspect a thing!" "Oh my god," Jackie chuckled, "I think I know who you're talking about." "Just as long as he's decent," said Soul Eater. "I don't want some grungy jerk talking up my meister." Kim assured, "Don't worry about that. He's probably a better person than Maka." "You all keep talking about me like I'm not right here!" "Alright, then it's settled!" Black Star declared. "Tonight, we commence Operation Get Maka A Boyfriend! YAHOO!!" While Soul and Kim cheered, Maka buried her face in her hands, and Tsubaki patted her on the back solemnly. "My life is over."

----------------------------------------

That night, Maka found herself in a make-shift restaurant, this being Black Star and Tsubaki's dining room with a sheet draped over the table and some candles set about to solidify the "romantic" atmosphere. She hadn't bothered changing out of her attire from earlier, mostly because Soul Eater still wouldn't let her into their apartment, but also because she didn't care. She was sitting across from Pot Meister Kilik Rung, who was dressed in a messy bow tie over his street clothes. He looked even less comfortable than Maka did. Pot of Fire was playing a peaceful tune on a little violin while Pot of Thunder pretended to take the "happy couple's" order, wearing a fake curly mustache. "So," asked Maka dully, "how did Kim drag you into this?" "She threatened to text my grade school photos to the entire academy..." Kilik sighed. Black Star strutted into the room, carrying two plates and wearing a mustache similar to Thunder's. "Dinner is served," he said in a crude Italian accent before darting back to watch the chaos unfold with the others. On each plate was a ham sandwich. Literally just a piece of ham between two slices of white bread. Maka rolled her eyes. "Look, Kilik. I appreciate the effort, but I'm just not interested." "Oh, good." Kilik sighed with relief. "You said it first." "Does this mean you're not gonna make out?" Black Star called from the other room. "This isn't going to work, guys!" said Maka. "Just shut it down already!" "You heard her," came Tsubaki's voice, which was met with groans of disappointment. The lights came up, and Black Star, Tsubaki, Soul Eater, Kim, Jackie, and Ox Ford stepped into the dining room. Ox looked like he wasn't completely sure what he was doing there. "Aw, man!" Kim complained. "I was so sure that would work." "Maybe Maka really is hopeless," Soul Eater lamented. "Or maybe I just don't want a boyfriend!" Kilik glanced around awkwardly. "So, uh... can we go, or...?" "Rome wasn't built in a day," said Jackie, "and love can't be made in one." "There has to be some other way!" said Black Star determinedly. "Maybe we can sign her up for a dating website or something." "My cousin met her husband on a dating website," said Ox Ford. "That might work, actually..." said Soul Eater. Tsubaki cast a nervous glance to Maka, whose body was tensing and teeth were grinding. "We might have to get creative with the profile, though." "Maybe we could say that she's foreign. How good is her Russian accent?" "Does she have any talents other than reading?" "I'm gay!" A string on Fire's violin sprung. The room instantly fell silent. "What did you say?" Soul Eater questioned. "I'm gay," Maka repeated, now standing, her chair knocked over. "I like girls, okay?" She tidied her outfit, face flushed, before continuing, "I didn't want to tell you because I figured you'd make fun of me, since you're always looking for new material." Black Star scratched behind his ear. "But you didn't give me much of a choice there... and I guess you had to find out eventually." For a few seconds, nobody said anything. Kim and Jackie exchanged glances, and Kilik sat obediently for fear of what was coming next. "Seriously...?" Black Star eventually spoke. Maka scowled back at him. "What?" Black Star chuckled, catching Maka off guard. "You thought we would make fun of you for that?" He burst out laughing, on the verge of hysterics. "You're kidding! Why would we make fun of you because you're gay? That's just mean!" He elbowed Tsubaki in the ribs, and she squeaked. "Tsubaki's gay, too!" "You didn't need to tell everyone that..." Tsubaki whimpered, covering her face. "Yeah, half of my friends are lesbians!" Kim added. "That's nothing to be ashamed of." "Though I can't say I blame you," said Ox Ford, "for thinking Soul Eater and Black Star would use that as another excuse to harass you." Maka's expression softened. "I... didn't think you would all be so supportive." "Why wouldn't we be?" said Jackie. "It doesn't make you any different from the rest of us," said Kilik. Fire and Thunder each gave a thumbs-up of approval. Soul Eater approached Maka, and she eyed him skeptically. "I wish you would have told me sooner," said the weapon. "Why's that?" asked the meister. Soul Eater flashed a toothy grin. "Because then I could have advertised you for a girlfriend instead." Maka roared her frustrations, swatted at the howling Soul Eater and started towards the door. "Oh, come on!" Soul Eater cried. "We make fun of you and you get mad, we don't make fun of you and you still get mad, what do you want from us?!" Maka grumbled when she realized the door was locked, and Tsubaki walked to stand beside her. As she slid the key into the lock, she whispered, "If you want, I could take you out to lunch tomorrow. To make up for... all of this." Maka ran her fingers through her hair, cheeks slightly pink. "Uh, yeah," she replied. "I'd like that." Soul Eater and Black Star looked to each other curiously.

----------------------------------------

It was another fine day in Death City, Nevada. Flowers were blooming, the sun was snoring, and Scythe Meister Maka Albarn, as usual, had her nose stuck in a book. However, this time she had her nose stuck in a book outside on a park bench. As the boys played basketball on the court before them, Tsubaki sat down beside Maka. "What are you reading?" she inquired. "Oh, it's just a book that my papa got me," the meister replied. "It's called Boyfriend, and it's about this passive girl who has a really sweet boyfriend, but realizes she doesn't feel the same way about him and doesn't know how to turn him down. In this chapter she goes to her best friend..." As Maka went on, Tsubaki smiled and nodded, listening intently to the summary. On the court, Soul Eater and Black Star paused their game to observe their partners. "Well, it didn't go according to plan," said Black Star, "but you got her to come outside, right?" "Yeah." Soul Eater nodded. He watched Maka further explain her reading, sitting close to Tsubaki and smiling brightly. "She seems happy. That's what's important." He turned back to Black Star, and with a smirk, he added, "But I'm never letting her forget that I was totally right about her needing to get out more." THE END

#soul eater #soul eater fanfiction #maka albarn #soul eater evans #tsubaki nakatsukasa #black star #fanfiction #comedy #fluff #word count: 2000-3000 #i miss soul eater #april fools #spook writes #spook posts #spookyrus

5 notes · View notes

spirit-of-the-void · 6 years ago

Text

Ebony and Ivory (V x Reader Fanfic) Chapter 22

Author’s Notes: I think I’m gonna have to get a new laptop, cause damn this one gave me way too many issues making this chapter

Chapter 22

V stirred as soon as Dante’s name was mentioned, opening his tired orbs and sitting up in your lap.

He still looked awful, dark circles under his eyes and body stiff, wobbly as he pulled himself to his feet. You helped him as best you could with your tendrils, giving him one last pulse of energy as he took your hand and gave it a squeeze.

His smile was so exhausted, but his eyes were soft for you.

Until...he turned, heading out of the van just as the devil hunter of the hour came sauntering back up. That driven look was back again, god damn it. Wherever Dante was concerned V seemed to have tunnel vision, which made absolutely no sense considering he didn’t seem to like or trust him. Why was V so convinced Dante could fix things? There was so much you were missing, but you had no clue how to ask for it. Dante’s words earlier kept coming back to your mind—before he stabbed himself with the sword.

A demonic power was awakened in my once, when Vergil lovingly jammed this through my chest.

Who was Vergil? And why was that name still bugging you? What you had seen at the mansion left a foul taste in your mouth, a sense of foreboding. You had long grown used to listening to what your body had to say. But this...wasn't Foresight. Something deep and dark, in your subconscious and refusing to shut up.

Maybe it was just your brain trying to connect any dots that it could find, but this person definitely felt relevant. Why would Dante mention them, standing in the rain in that place you knew was relevant to V? Your head was spinning, scrambling to pick up the pieces laid out for you. It had never occurred to you, but there was no way V was his real name, was it? Shortened, a nickname, his chosen name. V was...pretty close to Vergil. Could he really be that person, who supposedly stabbed Dante with that sword?

But...why hide it? What the hell was going on?

You didn’t get the chance to dwell on it long, following V as he practically lurched out of the van. Sure enough, Dante was approaching, his gait as confident as ever. He didn’t have a scratch on him, but his hair and shirt were soaked with blood, drying fast. Everyone seemed to have gathered out there, waiting for him to speak when no one really seemed to know what to do.

All you could seem to do was quiet your racing thoughts, helping V sit down on a piece of debris and plopping down next to him. Nico seemed awed by Dante’s presence, staring at him like a little kid looking at their favorite celebrity for the first time. You had no earthly idea what that was about, but you figured you would get your answer eventually.

“Well,” Commented Lady, walking up to Dante with a smile, “Look like no one’s worse for wear.”

You threw her a raised brow as she swept her gaze over the poet. Your expression stated your disbelief without you even opening your mouth. By no worse for wear, you hoped to god she didn’t mean V. Who was still crumbling and weak.

The short haired woman gave you an V an apologetic smile, patting your head as she slid by.

“Well...almost no one.” Lady mumbled, brushing past Dante and Trish as they walked up to you and the poet.

Dante looked a bit annoyed behind that usual smile, tired if anything. You were surprised, the demon hunter didn’t seem the type to be easily worn out by anything. Though it seemed he had gone toe to toe with Urizen, only this time he walked away unscathed. That fancy demon form must have helped if that was the case. It made you a bit annoyed that Dante walked in and took care of everything on his own, not seeming to need Nero at all. The poor kid was watching, leaning against the van and rolling one shoulder as he sized up Dante.

In retrospect...if Dante looked annoyed, then maybe things didn’t work out with Urizen after all?

Dante’s words all but confirmed it, his tone accusatory as he addressed V, “Hey, where did that garbage God go? What is Urizen after?”

Urizen was no longer at the top of the tree? You felt everyone turn their eyes to your poor, crumbling lover. His head was down, hair shielding his face as he griped the handle of his cane tightly. On his left, you could see his tired expression, the faintest hint of exasperation in his eyes whenever Dante spoke. You couldn’t blame him—Dante seemed oblivious to his condition, either that or he didn’t really care. But...that didn’t feel right either.

“He’s at the top,” V replied, tone low and as smooth as he could manage, “Of the Qliphoth.”

Trish stepped closer, her tone a lot firmer and clearer as she took up the reigns of explaining instead of V. You were grateful for that.

“It’s the other way around, Dante,” She replied, her eyes steady and serious as Dante turned his attention on her instead, “This is the lowest level of the Qliphoth’s upper echelon. Human blood is the source of demons’ power—the fruit born through the Qliphoth is even more dense than the blood that created it. Its power is unparalleled.”

She crossed her arms, eyes shifting between V’s uncomfortable form and Dante’s standing figure, “Even the almighty Mundus used it to become king of the Underworld. V told me everything.”

Dante smirked lightly, wearing an expression that spoke of boredom and lack of caring. Like the explanation was of little consequence. Meanwhile you were blinking in surprise, hearing only once of the fruit but not knowing of how much weight it held—such a thing didn’t exist in the Void. You knew not of who Mundus was, but judging by her story he was of great significance. Quite a few of the things mentioned by her were never explained to you by V, which was admittedly a bit hurtful. Why would he go out of his way to tell these things to Trish, to tell her everything, when there was so much you didn’t know yourself?

You looked at V in worry, but he wasn’t staring at you. Hell, you doubted he was staring at anything at all. His gaze held a faraway look, only increasing your concern.

“Yeah, well, that’s a lovely story and all, but...as long as we know where to find him.” Dante shrugged it off, strolling forward with intent to bounce again, no doubt.

You saw V shake his head lightly in exasperation, letting out a sigh so quiet and exhausted. You brushed off your hurt, taking one of his hands and giving it a light squeeze of support. You didn’t know everything, but you knew Dante leaving again was a terrible idea. From what you could gather, the tree was growing in reverse—the top was where the roots were, gathering nourishment and blood and channeling it below, where the “top” of the tree would bear a fruit. Something holding the blood essence of so many innocent humans, granting the one who devoured it immeasurable power. That was all Urizen was after it would seem...power.

But...why? He already seemed so strong, so unbelievably stacked he took on several of the world’s strongest demon hunters and won. Why was he determined to get this all-powerful fruit, if he was already considered a God?

You were about to open your mouth and tell Dante to stop and wait, wanting more explanations from him. From anyone, really. But Nico practically bounced into his path, looking as if she was waiting for the exact moment his attention wasn’t occupied.

“Whoa! You...are the infamous Dante...!” She exclaimed, voice sounding both nervous and excited as he met her gaze. Like a child meeting their lifelong hero. Nico cleared her throat, looking away a bit awkwardly and shuffling her feet, “Um...I’m Nicoletta Goldstein. Sound familiar?”

She laughed shakily, voice stammering and unsteady. Christ, you had never seen Nico anything but boisterous and confident, this was such a shocking change to you. She stuck a hand out, shaking Dante’s firmly and enthusiastically. You wished you could see Dante’s face, to see his reaction at the very least considering he hadn’t uttered a peep. You didn’t know what to make out of Nico’s excitement either, to be honest. But...it was cute in a way, seeing her so happy.

“My grandmother is Nell Goldstein,” Nico continued in her explanation, pulling her hand away and nervously pointing to the weapons strapped to Dante’s belt, “The Gunsmith that made all your fancy weapons that you got...strapped...back there.”

She seemed like she wanted to see said weapons, tone both awkward and hopeful as she peeked at Dante’s face.

He pulled them out, quietly humoring her as he griped two pistols in his hands. One black, one white—you could make out the barest glimpse of a women's’ portraits on the hilts before they were out of sight.

“Yeah, there she is!” Nico exclaimed, obviously pleased as she pointed at the pistol hilt. So it was her grandmother in the picture? You looked at V, like he would somehow have the answers. But he had closed his eyes, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the handle of his cane.

Fuck, he looked so tired. You were going to suggest he lie down a bit more, but he shuffled a bit closer to you. Your poet leaned to the side, resting his head on your shoulder and letting out a quiet grunt. Wow, cue several arrows piercing your already aching heart—V was slaying you when he did stuff like that.

You smiled lightly, leaning your head against his and ignoring the curious stares from Lady, Trish, and Nero. You were surprised V was displaying affection so publicly as well, but in that moment, he didn’t seem to care. Griffon and Shadow had long grown used to the two of you touching, the bird sitting behind you both and preening his feathers. Shadow opted for plopping on your feet, eyeing the excited mechanic and the demon hunter talking to her.

Meanwhile, Dante let out a musing sound, looking down at the guns then back at Nico a few times. Examining her expectant, waiting face.

“You don’t much look like her...” He replied, tone a bit skeptical based on where his thoughts ended. You wanted to sigh—that was not the kindest answer to give to the clearly excited mechanic, but whatever.

Nico grunted, making a bit of a face while Dante returned his weapons to where they had been before.

“Yeah, I got my looks from my Daddy,” She replied, tone a bit sullen at the mention of her father, “That’s about all I got from him.”

Christ, did everyone here have family issues? You wanted to hug Nico so badly, to give her the love her father had clearly skimped out on. Hell, you were seconds away from whisking everyone in the room away somewhere safe, somewhere where they could be loved and not have to worry about terrible family, or lack of family for that matter. It occurred to you in that moment that you knew very little about Dante and his life outside of demon hunting. But you wouldn’t be surprised if he was as lonely and screwed up as the rest of you.

“B...but based on his research, I-I-I manages to cobble this—” Nico stammered, pulling something out from behind her back.

It... looked like a cowboy hat? You blinked, raising a brow and feeling a weird sensation as you examined it. White, with a black cord sewn with demonic spikes wrapped around the top. Did...it have eyes? Your Void ability didn’t know what to make of it, that was for sure.

“Um...it...it...” Nico mumbled, trying to gather her thoughts before she landed on, “Consider it a gift...! In honor of us finally meeting...!" She cleared her throat a bit as Dante took the hat, her tone a bit nervous as she added, “Meeting.”

Poor Nico, she looked so nervous. You knew without a doubt whatever that hat was, it had to be something incredible. She wouldn’t seem so anxious for Dante’s reaction otherwise. You hoped to god his reaction was good, or else you’d have to step in and slap him again. Nico was your friend and for her to cobble anything together for someone it had to be a big deal, a work of art. The daggers you gave her were still your prized possession, working wonders in battle.

Dante examined the hat for a few seconds, quiet and musing it before he flipped it onto his head. Whatever you were expecting his reaction to be, you weren't even close.

You blinked, seeing what looked to be a red scarf materialize from the hat now that it was worn, wrapped around Dante’s neck. The demon hunter began to dance in the next instant, making you feel like you were witnessing a fucking auditory hallucination. Were those lights and music? The how and why didn’t seem to matter given everything you had seen from the man before. Provided how Nero taunted, super over-exaggerated and extra, seeing such a display was not surprising when you put your head into it a bit. You recognized those dance moves too—he was definitely mimicking a particular singer with moves like that.

He was a good enough dancer, at least. Sliding his way across the Qliphoth floor like it was nothing. It didn’t make the scene any less bizarre, your expression fluctuating somewhere between shock, awe, and exhaustion watching him. You would admit, seeing such a goofy display in the middle of some of the more stressful moments of your life was a bit...relaxing. Albeit cringy, like watching your weird uncle dance at a Christmas party after everyone begged him not to. He was a strange man, that was for certain. Rocking his hips and making over the top noises on top of it all. You fought the urge to put a hand to your head, like you were somehow imagining the whole scene in your state of worry and anxiety.

But nope. It was still happening.

Trish and Lady seemed absolutely unfazed by his display, both stone-faced and bored as they waited for him to finish. This seemed to be in the norm for them, those who had known Dante a long time. That was both comforting and baffling.

Again, you couldn’t get a read on the demon hunter at all, no matter how much you tried.

As for V...he showed only slight reaction to the outlandish display, his head on your shoulder and hand entwined with yours. You heard him inhale slowly, very slowly, before releasing a very quiet sound. One of exasperation, pain, akin to a groan but closer to a sigh. Your eyes darted to his expression, seeing something half way between exhaustion and... acceptance. He didn’t look shocked by Dante's actions either, more so mortified than anything else. And very tired.

You fully agreed with the sentiment.

Dante finished his display with a flourish, like it was a big performance and the Qliphoth was his stage. Nico was the only one who seemed jazzed, cheering and clapping like it was the best thing she had seen. Well, she most certainly got the validation she sought, in the form of Dante at his most dorkish. You could be happy for her on that end of the spectrum at least. At the other...well. You wished she wouldn’t encourage such a display again; it was just far too much to handle at that moment.

“I’ll take that.” Dante said to her with a smirk, taking off the hat and the scarf disappearing like it had never been there. He tucked it into his coat, but you had no clue where the fuck it went after that. Did he strap it to his belt?

He turned, starting to walk away again before he was stopped--by Nero this time. The boy walked past you, coat on once more and looking a little less worse for wear as he approached the older demon hunter.

“Dante,” He said, tone firm and brow furrowed, making the man in question half turn his head in response, “I’m gonna go too.”

Judging by that look on Dante’s face, this wasn’t going to go well. You exchanged a look with V, you giving him a meaningful stare before you pulled away and rose to your feet. Nero had that look again, his “I’ve got something to prove and I’m mad about it” stare. Dante was just as not, if more stubborn, and you knew neither would compromise.

Further confirmed when Dante replied, "Why don't you sit this one out?"

“Oh, and let you call me ‘dead weight’ again?” Nero glared, annoyance practically dripping from his tone, “No thanks.”

Ahhh, it was finally confirmed. As you suspected, the older man was in fact the one who called Nero that. No wonder he was so bent out of shape about it.

“I’ve got all the power I need,” Nero insisted, his words insistent like he was trying to convince the devil hunter as he lifted his bright, shiny new metal arm. You could see it in his eyes, that need to prove himself. A need for acceptance, and it made you ache on his behalf, “Right here...!”

Dante let out a light sigh, face taking on a more serious feeling as he met Nero’s sharp gaze, “You don’t understand. It’s not what I mean—”

He paused, mouth open almost like he was going to explain, but he firmly shut it again. You saw hesitation flicker through his expression, almost missed. But your eyes were ever searching. He was definitely hiding something too, like he was trying to protect Nero. You couldn’t imagine what, but he seemed determined not to let Nero anywhere near Urizen. Not to fight him, not for anything. Was it because the demon had ripped off his arm? But that didn’t make sense.

Nero scowled in annoyance at Dante’s tone, shoulders tensing as indignation took its place in his features. He looked like he was squaring up to argue more, but the sound of V’s familiar, smooth voice behind you cut him off.

“Let him go, Dante,” He said firmly, making you and the two men turn to look at him. He pulled himself to his feet with the help of his cane, turning to level his jade eyes on the arguing demon hunters, “Time is a luxury that we can no longer afford.”

It was a reminder—he was running out of time. They all were. It was a race now, to get down the tree before the fruit ripened, allowing Urizen to devour it.

“We must chase after him, post-haste.” V continued, walking slowly toward them with you shadowing his steps. Ready to help him if needed, to wrap your tendrils around his crumbling body.

Dante looked a tad displeased, regarding the frail man with an expression close to exasperation as he sighed, “What, does that mean you’re going too?” The idea seemed less than stellar to him, which you could understand. Hell, if there was any way to fix this that didn’t involve Urizen and the tree you’d be dragging V out of it already. His mission be damned. Yours too.

V was slightly hunched over, staring at Dante from under a curtain of his ebony hair. He was quite the sight, lips and face lined with cracks and dark circles under his eyes. But that driven look was there, further punctuated by his words.

“I have a duty to see this through.” He said, tone implying he would not be swayed in the slightest. You stepped up beside him, meeting Dante’s gaze with a firm one of your own. You didn’t have to add that where V went you followed, his needs were your own.

Dante made a face, one that hinted at aggravation before it slipped into one more akin to his personality. He made a “Huh” expression, shrugging his shoulders a bit like he was brushing the whole matter off. Of little consequence, it would seem. There was a bit of respect there too, like V’s words had struck a cord with Dante, one he could appreciate. To be honest, you were grasping at straws, trying to keep up with Dante’s strange way of approaching things. It wasn’t going well.

“Well, that’s all you had to say, Mr. Poetry,” He replied, turning again and gesturing with a flick of his fingers at the men next to you, “I’m gonna go my way, and you guys can go yours. Let’s just say that’s the best for the cause.”

He gave a little finger salute, ready to jump down into the crevasse below.

Are you fucking serious? Annoyance and exasperation burst inside you, like a dam cracking and waiting to fall apart.

You practically bristled at his words, that stupid mindset he had, finally speaking up in an annoyed tone, “Are you kidding me? Splitting up again?”

You were getting tired of it. Of not knowing anything, of people hiding things, of all the bullshit. You were irritable now, dealing with the prospect of Dante going off on his own again.

All the men paused, staring at you with surprise as you continued, eyes staring hard at Dante’s face, “This isn’t a race or a game. And this stubborn, macho bullshit is going to get someone killed—if you all don’t pull your heads out of your asses and learn to work together nothing will be done.”

Dante smiled, much to your shock. It didn’t make you feel better, and it certainly wasn’t welcome when you were so annoyed at him.

“Your Priestess has some fire in her there, V,” Dante observed, tone low and bemused, “Some of us might get burned.”

You scowled, especially not liking his constant use of the term “priestess” for you. Like you were some quiet, temple worshiping maiden for a half-baked god. You were formulating a comeback, but V didn’t seem pleased by his words either.

“There is truth in her fire,” He replied, narrowing his eyes on the devil hunter and his tone a low purr, “I am not her keeper. She is free to speak how she chooses, especially when she’s made a fair point.”

Dante sighed at that, scratching the back of his head, “So you agree with her?” He leveled his gaze on you, smile slipping away as he addressed you fully now, “There are things at play here you don’t get, kid. You’re just gonna have to trust me—focus on doing what you gotta do, and I’ll do what I have to do.”

Trish, Lady, and Nico hovered nearby, seeming unsure of what to say. You knew they trusted Dante’s judgement, but...You couldn't. Not yet.

You crossed your arms, frowning as you replied in a skeptical tone, “You make me cry then expect me to trust you?”

Well, that certainly got the girl’s attention.

They both flanked you in an instant, Lady cradling your head to her chest and forcing V to step away a bit in surprise. Nico on your right, taking up the task on hugging you from the other side. You blinked, unsure of what the hell was going on until Lady spoke.

“Are you for real, Dante?” Lady narrowed her eyes, looking incredibly threatening as she stared down the now surprised devil hunter, “You made her cry?!”

Uh-oh. They had gone into protective mode.

“Uh...” Dante mumbled, voice more hesitant than you had ever heard it. Honestly, he couldn’t lie.

“Isn’t she going through enough?” Nico piped up in her southern drawl, brow furrowed in disappointment and a hint of hard, flat disgust. You were touched—Nico's love for you trumped her idolization of Dante, which was very sweet. Validating.

Dante held up his hands, jaw going slack in awe now he faced the wrath of two protective women. So that’s where Dante’s area of expertise ended? He looked like a deer caught in some headlights, unable to formulate any sort of reply to defend himself as Lady continued to chastise him. V and Nero took a couple careful steps back, not wanting to put themselves between the girls and the other male at the moment. Nero looked a bit smug, all things considered. Like seeing Dante get yelled at please him. V, too, seemed amused by it all, even through his pain and suffering.

Trish leaned against the van, letting out a low chuckle when Dante tossed her a pleading stare.

“Don’t look at me like that,” She huffed, examining her nails as she turned away, “You’re on your own there. Shouldn’t walk around making girls cry, Dante.”

You almost laughed, almost.

“You’re lucky there’s a demon to kill,” Lady pointed a finger in Dante’s face, making him take a step back and blink, “Otherwise I’d kick your ass. Did he apologize, Y/N?”

Her way of speaking implied that, based on your answer, she might wring an apology out of Dante physically.

But you didn’t want to waste any more time, replying in a voice muffled by her chest, "He did. I think.” He did in his own way, but it still didn’t make the fact that he picked apart your vulnerabilities to gauge your intentions any less okay.

“Can we please get back to the task at hand?” Dante sighed heavily, looking thoroughly uncomfortable as he turned away, quickly hopping down into the pit below. Back to business, it would seem. If he was going, you and the others needed to head out too. Sadly. You wished there was a way to bring Lady, Trish, and Nico down with you, but...you imagined Nico would find her way down somehow.

Lady let out a sound of annoyance, releasing you with a loud, exaggerated kiss to the forehead.

“Next time he’s a jackass, you let me know,” She said firmly, holding your head in her hands, “He has a habit of speaking without using his dumb man brain.”

Nico let out a snort, eyeing Nero with an expression of mirth as she added, “Boy, ain’t that the trend around here?”

Nero rolled his eyes, shaking his head and leaping down into the pit himself before an argument could start. Nico cupped her hands over her mouth, yelling down after him, “Don’t do anythin’ stupid, psycho...! You’d better come back in one piece...!”

Was that a groan, fading fast as Nero fell down to the area below? A laugh threatened to bubble up at the absurdity of it all. It was very obvious that was Nico’s way of saying she cared, telling Nero to come back safely. You smiled at the girls, pulling them all in for a quick, last hug before setting out. You would carry this feeling, this warmth, the support—you would hold it close to you as you traveled to where the fruit would emerge, like a lifeline through the stress. You could feel V watching you, but you didn’t dare look at his expression, afraid to see that guilt again.

“Thanks guys,” You murmured, squeezing them a bit before pulling back, “Wish me luck. I know we will see you at some point along the way.”

Nico nodded, patting you on the back as she replied, “Sure will. I gotta show you the fancy shit I’ve been cookin’ up with your crystal at some point, right?”

You smiled and nodded, taking a step back and threading your fingers with V’s.

Lady looked between you both, worried as she said sternly, “Be safe, you too. Call if you can find a phone.”

“Same to you.” You replied, smiling softly as you looked between them. You had grown to care about both of the women so much, they were kinder to you than you could ever hope and full of so much loving energy. There was a pang in your heart, hoping to god once the mission was done that you’d be able to see more of them.

You gaze locked with Trish for a moment, the woman staring at you with something akin to regret, maybe even guilt. Or...maybe it was foreboding? There was a knowing glint in her eyes, arms still crossed and blond hair tucked over one shoulder. She gave you a hard, meaningful stare in return, one of warning, before she turned and headed into the van. She never spoke, but that look said a lot—it told you to stay on your toes, stay wary. That whatever V was hiding was more than he would let on, bigger than he let on. Something Trish wanted to tell you, but couldn’t.

You needed to be prepared for whatever happens.

You squeezed V’s hand, turning your gaze away to look at him for a brief moment. He still looked tired, but filled with that determination from the first moment you met him. It was both his blessing and his curse, that desire to press forward and fix what he decided were his mistakes. Frustrating, but respectable.

You didn’t want to fear what was to come, not yet, but you would be ready. So, you summoned your tendrils and jumped, you and the poet plunging into the glowing red abyss below. You hear Lady and Nico call their goodbyes down to you, echoing and fading as you fell. You knew splitting up was a bad idea, not on your top ten list of things that ever worked out in any capacity, but...well, you would do your best.

You made sure to cast Feather Fall on you and the poet to make for a safe, easy landing at the very least.

V was a bit quiet when the ground finally rose up to meet you, your tendrils stabilizing his form and your own. Griffon swooped by, circling around and landing on your shoulders as always while Shadow kept close to V. You felt anxious and full of foreboding, watching the poet roll his shoulders and start walking forward with the help of his cane. You didn't want to hesitate, not sure of what to say despite how much the need to talk was clawing at your throat. There was so much to ask. Too much. About Dante, about V, about Urizen...everything. But now wasn’t the time, not when things were so close to being fixed.

Vergil’s name and mysterious tie to everything that was going on would not leave you. But...your mouth refused to open, like it was trapped shut.

Instead you walked in time with V, Foresight creeping up to alert you of enemies ahead. Because of course, there would have to be fighting now that everyone had gone their own way. The thought made you glum, sullen. Even Nero, who you were hoping would come your way seemed determined to move along by himself. Maybe it was something Dante said, convincing him that this was something he needed to do alone? Either way, you weren’t pleased.

There was something else too, a pain in your neck that wouldn’t go away. Right on the nape, a stubborn sensation of your muscles being pressed on. It made you frown, constantly rubbing that spot but it soothed nothing. It felt akin to someone holding their hand on the back of your neck, squeezing to the point of just slight pain. You rarely pulled a muscle, but that didn’t mean you couldn’t do so. It was of little consequence, but it was a nagging sensation that left you just a tad bit sullener. It got to the point that you kept jostling Griffon doing it, so he settled to the other side of your shoulder to give you space. The off-setting weight only hindered you a little bit.

“Expect fighting ahead,” You told V, giving his arm a light squeeze and trying to keep your expression calm. Steady. You needed to be steady, “Are you up for it? I can go ahead and clear the path for us.”

You were more than willing to take on some lower level demons by yourself.

V turned his gaze to you, jade orbs flickering with several emotions as he seemed to look over your expression. You resisted the urge to look away, feeling a tad bit guilty about being so unhappy. It certainly wasn’t fair to V. especially when he was dying.

“No,” He told you, slipping his fingers into your hair lightly to stroke it back. You closed your eyes at the contact, relief pouring through you at even a little affection, “You must be close to exerting after all you have done today.”

You opened your mouth to disagree when it clicked with your brain. He was wrong, and that in itself...was wrong.

You felt completely fine.

You were nowhere close to exerting, power still swirling comfortably and muscles feeling fairly normal. Too normal, incorrect for how much power you had mustered for recent events. In between healing V, summoning food, teleporting them all...you should have been running on empty, but the sensation was nowhere to be found. You blinked, mouth half open as you stared at V's confused gaze. You could only imagine what was going through his mind at your silence, your shifting expressions. You echoed that confusion, and flung it right back at him. Hell, you had no earthly idea why you weren't a heaping puddle of pain on the floor at that moment, there was no way you had extended your reach that far yet.

“I...” You whispered, eyes staring forward as your scrambled brain tried to do some quick math, “I’m...not? Why am I not...?”

V lifted his cane, slipping it under your chin to tilt your head toward him again. He looked concern, eyes meeting yours seriously as he cupped your cheek.

“Sparrow?" He questioned, the concern mimicked by Griffon as the bird stuck his face by yours.

“You okay there, toots?” He said, tone a bit worried and feathers shaking out when your silence persisted a few more moments, “You tryin’ to convince us that you’re not worn out after all that flashy shit? I don’t buy it.”

“No,” You whispered in reply, lifting your hands to stare at them and tone incredibly lost, “By all accounts, you’re right. I should be well past my limit. But...I’m not. I’m not anywhere close, and that makes no sense.”

Nothing makes sense.

Griffon and V exchanged a look, V taking one of the hands you were gazing at in his own and squeezing gently. It grounded you in reality a bit, brain drifting in and out of focus as you tried to piece things together. Senses on alert, straining for whatever you thought could be the cause of everything. It occurred to you that there was a faint sound in the air, one you didn’t tune into before being so god damn distracted by everything. A faint humming, almost like a whispering.

Close to what you heard in the Void, but muted like it was under water. It seemed so obviously present now, loud compared to when you weren’t focusing on it.

That was a sound you knew very well.

You released V’s hands, shock in your expression and heart hammering as you started feeling around on yourself, searching for the source. Griffon squawked in alarm, hovering of your shoulder while you frantically searched until your fingers caught onto something hanging off the back of your belt. You froze, breath caught in your throat as your fingers threaded around the familiar shape, pulling it forward so you could stare at it. Even knowing what it was, still seeing it made your mind blank out, fuzzy as you tried to comprehend exactly where it had come from.

It was a Rune.

It fit into your hand, the shape all too familiar and etched with the mark of your Deity. Made of whale bone and metal, an artifact crafted by worshipers from the world closest to the Void, the most in tune with it. They now served his purpose, ingrained with the power he held and used as a tool to grant abilities and strengths to his followers. You had used them before, on rare occasions, but...you yourself were granted with the Void’s power. Those who used runes were generally those who were still human, but granted his abilities via blessing.

You...weren’t the same. You were molded by the Void, inhaling it in your lungs until it shaped you into a being beyond human. Closer to the Deity in that regard, a priestess instead of a follower.

But it was here now, in your hand. Where had it come from? You didn’t pick it up, but it had been looped to your belt by a leather cord. Your eyes were dazed as you looked at it, the weight of it in your hand instilling a confused sense of urgency. Was that the reason why you hadn’t exerted yet? The rune was boosting your abilities, the echoing traces of your Deity granting you an extra blessing.

But...that would mean he had been here. He had attached it to you, given you a gift instead of making you find it at a shrine. The problem was that it didn’t feel like a gift at all, especially not in the way it was presented to you. No conversation, no guidance, just silence and the cold press of the rune’s shape into your palm. Your heart was pounding so fast, fingers beginning to tremble as that sense of foreboding returned, and the guilt. Your Deity...he wouldn’t have given this to you unless he wanted to help, right? This was meant to aid you, but it still felt wrong. You shouldn’t feel this way after being given a gift by your master, but your gut was clenching and the power of the Void swirling ominously.

It didn’t make any sense. Was your Deity upset with you or not?

“What the fuck is that?” Griffon’s loud squawk snapped you out of your racing thoughts, making you flinch and fingers clench around the rune so hard your knuckles were white.

V immediately clasped his hands over yours, hesitantly so as they grazed over the surface of the rune. You blinked, breath catching as you looked up and saw a mixture of confusion and wariness in his gaze.

“Its...” You whispered, eyes flickering down to the object in your hand as you swallowed softly, “It’s a rune...an object cobbled in the name of my Deity that grants bonus abilities to its user.”

V touched his crumbling fingers to it, brow furrowing at whatever he felt. You had long grown used to the ominous sensation runes brought, but V...you could tell he was unsettled.

Someone crafted this rune with the blood of innocents and putrid whale oil.

Your mouth opened, babbling a bit to try and cope with the worry creeping up your spine as you continued, “I’ve heard stories of children who used to put these under their pillows for good luck, but always had nightmares instead. They’re...fused with Void essence and generally serve those who have either been blessed by my Deity, or those who seek to be blessed by him. Conjuring tools, worshiping crafts, cursed items made by cursed hands to...to....”

“Y/N,” V murmured, capturing your face in his hand to tilt it up. He could sense your growing sense of unease, the lack of control inside of you, “Where did you acquire it?”

Your heart was pounding in your ears, eyes closing a bit as you took a few measured breaths.

“I didn’t,” You practically whimpered in reply, fingers squeezing the rune tightly again, “He had to have placed it upon me, at some point. How did I...how did I not notice? He never does things like this, never in this way. It doesn’t make sense.”

When did he give it to you? How long were you walking around with it strapped to your belt?

V didn’t miss the distress in your tone, tucking some hair behind your hair as he murmured in a honeyed tone, “Breathe, dearest. I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. We are in the final stretch of our journey...maybe your Deity sought to aid you in some way?”

You wanted it to be that easy, wished for it to be that easy. But you knew better, knew how he functioned. So many missions doing the same thing, the same cycle, only to change it now? It wasn’t in his nature to suddenly lose consistency.

But...you were wasting V’s time here worrying about it, each moment precious and needed to reach the goal you sought. You had to swallow this feeling too, and accept things for what they appeared to be. This item was helping you, extending your powers to something far higher than you were supposed to be at when you needed it so desperately. It was a gift, you told yourself. A blessing. You wouldn’t accept anything less.

You couldn’t afford to keep thinking about it.

“Maybe.” You mumbled in response, but your tone conveyed no hint of conviction. You slipped the rune back onto your belt, trying to ignore the low sound it made as you turned away from V.

You were just happy they couldn’t hear it.

V still seemed worried about you, reaching out for your hand and grasping it as firmly as he was able. As for Griffon and Shadow...both were following behind, the bird quiet and just as worried as the poet. It was understandable, at the very least.

You closed your eyes, counting your breaths and leading V and the familiars forward to the next area. With this rune, you were the strongest person in the group at the moment. You had a poet to protect, and a goal to reach. You just wished that the sense of dread would cease, that your heart would slow and everything was guaranteed to work out.

But more than anything, you wished that aching sensation on the nape of your neck would just fucking go away.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18136193/chapters/44378257

Like what you see? Consider buying me a coffee: https://ko-fi.com/E1E7GCMU

Tagged: @nightshadow4713 @slightlylunatic @silentwhispofhope @just-call-me-no-name @efiicitia @raven-huntress

#devil may cry v #devil may cry #devil may cry 5 #dmc5 #dmc v #V dmc #V x reader #v x self insert #fanfic #chapter 22 #Ebony and Ivory #ebony and ivory chapter 22

70 notes · View notes