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corvuserpens · 4 years ago

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The Roads That End: a Devil May Cry fanfic [chapter 01]

Here it is, the first chapter of the mystery/action/adventure/romance frankenstein story. Enjoy and see you next week!

Prologue | Next Chapter

MISSION 01: Surprise Party

June 29 -- 18:07 PM

After another long, hot day slaughtering demons and helping the military take back more of Red Grave, Lyca sat down to organize some of the files, letters and reports that had been piling up on the desk lately. Some of them had to do with cases from the past week, which had since been dealt with and were waiting to be archived, others had to do with bills that hadn’t been paid yet. The rest was just plain old garbage.

God, she hated doing paperwork. Hated it with a passion equal only to how much she hated the dull morning briefings with the Mayor trying to tell her how to do her job. Still, it was a good pass-time, and since tonight she was having a visitor, she was needing some entertainment.

The front doors opened and she heard someone snort. The smell of coffee drifted into the office, prompting Lyca to pause on her work to look up.

“I don’t envy that part of the job,” Trish joked while walking in. She placed one of two steaming hot take-away cups on a clear spot on the desk, which at that moment could barely spare any of it, what with the two towers of paper on either end.

“Well, someone’s gotta do it,” Lyca retorted. Reclining on the vintage chair, she removed her reading glasses and tossed them gently on top of the report she had been filling. “Is that a latte?”

“Decaf with extra cream.” She smirked when the black-haired huntress joined her palms together with a quiet ‘yes!’. “Yeah, I figured you were needing it when I saw you pick up the paperwork earlier.”

“You’re a life-saver, Trish.” Lyca grabbed the mug with her name scribbled on it (wrongly spelled “Laika”, as usual), removed the lid and blew on it before taking a very cautious sip. The moment the sweet cream melted on her tongue, she closed her eyes and sat back with a hum. “Thank you.”

“No problem.” Trish leaned her hip against the desk and drank some of her own coffee. Her eyes travelled between the two piles of paperwork, then the reports the other was still working on. “Still got a long way to go?”

“A loooooong way. There’s enough work here to keep me occupied for another day. Figured I might start now and finish the rest tomorrow after Nero goes back.”

“Good plan. By the way, when is he supposed to arrive?”

“He said he’d be here at six.” Lyca checked the clock on her smartphone. “So, any minute, now.” She took a braver sip from her cup, relaxing when the warm-yet-not-burning coffee reached her lips. “What about Lady? Have you talked to her today?”

“She’s on her way. Said her job went well and the marketplace is practically liberated. City hall should be able to take it back and restore it soon.”

“The marketplace? You mean the Burrow?”

“Mhm.”

Lyca’s eyebrows arched up. “Damn... That’s great news, considering there was a Nidhogg nesting there last year.”

“A Nidhogg?” Trish snickered. “They’re pathetic parasites, but can be quite a pest. How did you get rid of it?”

“It wasn’t me, it was...” A cold pang in her stomach made the words die out in her mouth. Biting down on her lip, she let her gaze drop and took another sip of coffee. Her expression must have been grim, because when Trish spoke up, her tone was much more sober.

“I see.”

And that was that. It was an unspoken rule within their reduced group: no talking about a certain guy who turned out to be someone else that none of them particularly liked.

Lyca opened her mouth to change the subject, but it wasn’t necessary for the door was pushed open once more, announcing the arrival of none other than the walking arsenal herself.

“Evening, girls!” She greeted while zipping down her white jacket and brushing out her short hair. “Man, that was a mess. That assignment they gave me? I swear there must have been at least three generations of Empusa germinating there. The market was overrun. Well, guess you can’t really call it a market anymore...”

After hanging her helmet and rocket launcher by the door, Lady all but dropped into the couch closest to the desk with her arms splayed out over the back. She had smudges of black dust on her cheek, likely gunpowder leftovers, and although she had a well-deserving reputation for being a badass, she looked tired and overworked. No surprise, as the agency had been going pretty much non-stop ever since they had signed a contract of seek-and-destroy every infestation with what was left of the city hall. On the one hand, Devil May Cry hadn’t seen revenue the likes of what they were making since... ever; but on the other hand, free time was scarce, days off were rare and holidays? Non-existent.

Lyca sat up straight to lean on the desk, hands wrapped around her cup. “Trish was just telling me about it. So, the Burrow is free?”

“Sure is.” Lady pointed a finger gun at the other with a grin of self-satisfaction. “Soon, we can all go back to buying fresh fish and home-grown vegetables... When they’re done rebuilding it, that is.” She took a look around the room. “Nero hasn’t arrived yet?”

“Shouldn’t take him much longer.”

“Great, I wanted to be here when he does. We haven’t seen the little shit in months.”

“You know he likes his independence.” Lyca finished her decaf and tossed it into the trash can next to the desk. Next, she picked her glasses and replaced them on her nose to return her attention to those dreaded reports.

“Hey, what about the subway?” Lady inquired to Trish. “You guys have been helping clearing it, right?”

“Yeah, but there’s still much to do,” the she-devil replied, cautiously leaning back with her free hand on the desk top. “Underground tunnels are perfect for demons to hide and spread. The Military declared it a top priority in the disinfestation process, at long fucking last, so that’s what we’ve been focused on.”

Lady scoffed. “Can’t believe they’re still second-guessing every suggestion we make on how to handle this bullshit. You’d think they’re the experts, not us. It’s not like Dante and I didn’t rid the city of a demon invasion before... when we were nineteen.”

“Jarheads, y’know.” Trish drank some more of her coffee and licked her lips. “Gotta show they’re in charge or else their balls will shrink.”

That got Lyca to snort; although she was busy with the paper work, she still kept an ear open to their conversation.

Lady half reclined against the arm rest of the couch, resting her cheek on her fist. “How much longer you think it’s gonna last?” She pondered vaguely. “The disinfestation, I mean. It’s been a year and half, and 67% of the city is still under demonic control...”

“At this point,” Trish ventured while throwing her own empty cup into the trash. “I’d say it’ll last for as long as the Mayor pays us,”

“You think there’s a chance he won’t?”

“No way.” She shook her blonde mane. “Unlike our boys in camo, he knows that there wouldn’t even be a city to rebuild without us.”

“Speaking of which--” Lyca intruded. She raised one of the letters she had been opening. “Here’s this month’s check. Congratulations everyone, don’t spend it all in one place.” She handed Trish her cut and Lady’s so she could deliver it to its owner, since she was standing up and all.

“Whatever the case,” Lyca continued. “We’ve done good progress. I think so, at least. Sixty-seven percent is a lot better than ninety-one.”

Lady smirked, though some of that tiredness from earlier still clung to the corners of her eyes. “We have, haven’t we? Business is booming. I got contracts that’ll last me for the next three years. Hell, I got a waiting list! I’ve never had a waiting list.”

“Working for the mayor of Red Grave does give a pretty decent advertising boost,” said Lyca. Deciding she had done enough for one day and could always finish the rest the following evening, she began to file the papers and stored them into their respective drawers.

“Still...” Lady stared pensively at the wall. “For all his faults and messes... no matter how much of an irresponsible man-child he can be... I miss Dante.” She shot a warning look at the others. “Don’t tell him I said that--”

The three women shared a short-lived laugh, then fell into a somber silence, each of them diving into their memories, collective and individual, of their missing friend. At the time, they had joked about how Dante fucking off to hell to escape his problems (and his bills) was typical of him, but now...

Putting away her glasses, Lyca reclined on the chair that belonged to her friend, stroking the green furnish and the polished hand-carved wood with fondness. This job, this agency... Life itself simply wasn’t the same without that wacky pizza addicted half-devil. She missed his sardonic grin, his stupid jokes, his crazy over-the-top moves that would get any other regular human killed faster than a demon, but when he performed them, he made it look easy. She missed teaming up with him, taking advantage of her own borrowed power, to invent even more flamboyant moves. She missed his spontaneous nature, his complete disregard for rules and conventions whenever the opportunity for an adventure presented itself. Above all, she missed walking into the office every day and seeing him sitting at this very chair, feet propped up on the desk and a big dumb smile on his gaunt features.

Trish turned her head to the door. Outside, the sound of a familiar motor engine faded in from the distance, closer and closer until it stopped right outside their facade. Lyca smiled and blessed Nero for his perfect timing.

“There he is,” she announced, standing up from Dante’s chair while Lady jumped off the couch and jogged out, with Lyca and Trish right behind her.

Upon opening the double doors, they were met with a beige and green van heavily decorated with several stickers, the mock number 06-MY-GOD-099 stamped on the side and a big blue neon sign reading Devil May Cry on either flank. From the driver’s seat, with his uncommonly white hair and regular smug grin, the devil hunter Nero hopped out and looked at his welcoming committee with clear satisfaction.

“What’s this, then?” He scoffed playfully. “I drive into this hell hole and no demon hordes to greet me? I feel neglected!”

“You’ll have to settle for one, this time,” Trish retorted as she greeted him with a high-five.

Lady was next, only she and Nero grasped each other’s hands by the thumb with a loud clap. “Good to see you, grunt. You been getting into trouble?”

“Tsk, do you even know me? Of course I have!”

“That’s what I like to hear!”

Finally, he turned to Lyca with whom he shared a quick hug. “Nico didn’t come with you?” She asked once they separated, trying to look over his shoulder in search of Nero’s brash, loud and terribly sharp partner in crime.

“Nah, not this time. But...” Nero held up a finger, his grin widening as he stood back. “That doesn’t mean I’ve come alone.” He gave the side of the van a couple of pounds with his fist.

Lyca tilted her head in curiosity. “Who did you bring, then?”

From the opposite side of the car, they heard the door open and a pair of feet hitting the ground.

“A surprise,” Nero teased while someone walked around the front of the vehicle. The three women staggered, their jaws dropping simultaneously when a tall man with a mop of silver hair and a long red coat appeared in front of them, hands on his hips and his signature smirk on his face.

“Son of a bitch,” Lady breathed.

“Oh my God!!” Lyca yelled, running forward to throw both arms around the legendary devil hunter’s neck, who caught her and even lifted her off the ground in a bear hug.

“Now that’s how you greet a friend who’s been gone!” Dante laughed. “Oof, watch it, you’re gonna break my spine--”

No sooner than the words were out of his mouth, Lady and Trish joined in on the hug until the half-devil was basically drowning in laughing women.

“Okay--!” He huffed, struggling to reach around all three of them but smiling like a kid during Christmas nonetheless. “Gotta say, I’ve had some real good dreams that started like this.”

“You think you’re so funny, don’t you?” Lyca chortled. “Coming out of nowhere, not even a call ahead. Are you trying to give me a heart attack??”

“I thought you’d like the surprise! And since this is your reaction, I’d say I was right.”

“You bastard!” Lady protested. “You scared me half to death! I thought you had fucked off and I was never gonna see any of the money you still owe me.”

“When are you letting that go?” Dante shot back as he released them. “Just face it, dead or alive, you’ve never gonna see that money anyway.”

Lyca took a good look at him. His hair had grown out some more, almost touching his jaw line, but at least he had shaved recently. More than that, there was something about him that seemed different, a positive different. Did he seem... lighter? Less grim, less affected... younger even? Yes, that was it. He felt untangled, like some of his inner turmoil had been tamed, somehow.

“It’s so good to have you back,” Trish confessed. “I have to admit, I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna make it this time.”

“So was I.” He put one hand on her shoulder, the other on Lady’s. “But I’m here, now. And hopefully, I’m done with my trips to the Underworld. Trust me, I’ve had enough of it to last me a lifetime.”

Lyca turned to Nero, who had been hanging back to let them have their reunion in peace. “And you! You knew the whole time, ever since you called two days ago!”

“Don’t look at me!” He raised his arms defensively, yet the grin on his lips indicated he didn’t feel even a little bit sorry. “He asked me not to tell you!”

“He did, didn’t he?” Lady landed a soft punch on Dante’s arm.

“Ow, hey! I just got back from hell, gimme a break!”

However, Nero’s gleeful expression soon gave way to one of concern. When he spoke, it was with a moderate dose of caution. “Actually, there’s another reason why we didn’t tell you...”

“Yeah, about that...” Dante stepped back to put some distance between himself and the van, his eyes skipping between each of them. The way he was positioned felt like he was trying to keep all three of them within his vision field. He slipped into a semi-fighting stance, with his right foot forward, knees slightly flexed and hands at his side. Relaxed, yet ready to act. This didn’t go by unnoticed by anyone: Lyca had seen him do that many times in the past, both on the job and during training.

He’s expecting an attack, Boa’s voice echoed in her mind.

But that was ridiculous. Why would they attack him?

“You guys remember I didn’t go down into the Underworld alone, right?” He started.

From her right side, Lyca heard Lady inhale sharply. The tension among the five thickened almost immediately.

“Right...” Trish agreed. “So?”

“Well, while we were there, we cut down the Qliphoth, closed the portal and saved the day.”

“Which wouldn’t need saving if he hadn’t raised the Qliphoth in the first place,” Lady pointed out through gritted teeth.

Nero stepped forward to stand between them and Dante, his usual scowl darkening his features. Even as he reclined against the van with his arms crossed, he still made for an imposing figure, with his broad shoulders and piercing gaze. Lyca became worried over the reason why he was pulling the intimidation act, and putting two and two together, she got the impression she knew exactly where Dante was trying to go.

“Okay, sure, you’re right.” The oldest male conceded, spreading out his hands. “But during the time we spent there afterwards, we talked some things out and got some stuff off of our chests, so long story short...”

A second pair of boots hopped out of the van and slowly made its way around it.

“You didn’t.” Lady huffed. “Dante, you didn’t.”

But he did. Boy, did he ever.

A man about the same height and built as Dante stood beside him and regarded the three huntresses with suspicion and a touch of disdain, especially when his eyes found Lady’s. Lyca had only seen him once before, when the demon king Urizen had been defeated and a man they had known as V delivered the killing blow... Except instead of destroying the monster responsible for the Qliphoth rising and the subsequent destruction of Red Grave, both man and devil disappeared and, in their place, stood the Dark Slayer returned, the Alpha and the Omega: Vergil.

His blue-grey eyes scrutinized Trish and Lady closely. There was recognition in them, as well as fierce animosity, which was expected given their history. But when they fell on Lyca, the aggression turned to... sorrow? No, it couldn’t be. Could it...? However, before she could be certain, Vergil shifted his gaze away and regarded the other two once more, his brow tensing into an expression mirrored by his twin.

“What the hell is he doing here?” Lady growled. She reached for her gun and drew it.

Several things happened at once: Dante jumped in front of the barrel aimed at his brother with an alarmed cry. Nero stepped in front of Vergil, one arm stretched forward, the other behind, as if preparing to simultaneously push away anyone who might attack and hold back Vergil himself, who in the heat of the moment instinctively moved to pull out his katana, the infamous Yamato. Trish stepped in to intervene, though whether to join Lady in her offense or persuade her to retreat, no one could be sure, for in the midst of all the yelling her words were lost. As for Lyca, all she could do was stand on her spot, helplessly watching the scene unfold. Vergil is here... Does that mean...? What about--

“Hey, hey! Lady!” Dante roared. He kept up his hands in a placating gesture. “Put the damn gun away!”

“Are you shitting me right now?!” She rebutted, still holding up the pistol, except now it was pointed straight at her friend’s chest.

“He’s not dangerous, if you let me explain--!”

“Explain what?? Have you forgotten what he did?!”

“Of course I haven’t, but things have changed!”

“You can’t be serious, Dante.” Trish tried to make herself heard, but despite her words she put a hand on Lady’s arm to incite her to stand down. Not that he couldn’t take a bullet; after all, he had endured injuries far more serious than that throughout his career. It was the prospect of starting a nasty physical fight that worried her, because although Dante, Vergil and Nero were practically immune to all sorts of fatal wounds, Lady and Lyca weren’t.

“That monster tried to kill you several times!” The sharp shooter continued to bellow, her face bright red and twisted into pure hate.

“I know,” Dante agreed.

“He raised the Temen-I-Gru AND the Qliphoth, destroying most of Red Grave and killing thousands of innocent people!”

“I know!” He repeated. His voice, though loud, carried a note of imploration. “But if you listen to me--”

“Nero, he ripped off your arm!” She turned to the young man shielding Vergil. “He nearly killed you too, and he didn’t give a fuck about it because all he’s ever wanted was power no matter the cost!”

Nero glared at her in challenge. “Don’t talk about shit you know nothing of,” he spat back, but his anger only served to further fuel Lady’s.

“How can you say that?” She huffed. “Both of you, how can you stand there and defend him?!”

Lyca, you have to step in, Boa hissed. Someone’s going to get hurt. As the screaming continued back and forth and Lady refused to put down her gun, the huntress in black knew her familiar was right in her assessment.

Corax, lend me your voice? She requested wordlessly while stepping into the mess of angry people.

You got it, came the raven’s reply.

A surge of demon power rose up in her throat; when she spoke, the words came out of her mouth like thunder on the hills:

“EVERYONE SHUT UP!!!”

Five pairs of eyes fell on Lyca, wide and startled. It was as if they had all forgotten she was there, which came as no surprise to her. Nevertheless, she got what she intended: all of them were stunned into silence by her bombastic command.

“Now... Let’s all take a step back--” She placed one hand on Lady’s shoulder, the other on Dante’s chest, and gently pushed them apart. “-- and cool off. Okay?”

To her relief, they obeyed. Lady even holstered her pistol, though she kept her hand on it. In turn, Nero also stood down, remaining close to Vergil who released the grip of the Yamato and stood up straight, never shifting his gaze from Lady. Still, the tension was palpable and far from easing up.

“Good. So. How about we go inside, get settled in, and let Dante explain everything? I’m sure he has a perfectly plausible reason for bringing Vergil along. What do you say?”

She half-expected them to start yelling again, but fortunately they decided her idea was better. One by one, they ushered into the office and found a seat: Lady and Trish sat on one couch, Vergil and Nero on the other, clear across the room next to the stairs. Lyca opted for standing by the desk, where she could keep an eye on either pairing and intervene if things got ugly.

Out of all of them, Dante seemed to be the least concerned about the volatile situation they were in.

Once he stepped into the office, his office, he stretched out his arms and spun around, taking in the fact he was finally home.

“Man, it’s good to be back!” He proclaimed, smiling from ear to ear as he took his rightful place behind the sturdy desk, immediately propping up his boots on its surface (thank God Lyca had filled all that paperwork earlier). He took a long loving look at the framed picture of his mother, Eva, then regarded the crowd gathered in the room as if he’d just noticed they were there. “The place looks nice, ladies. Thanks for taking care of it while I was gone.”

“Cut the crap, Dante.” Said Lady, with no small degree of impatience. Her mismatched eyes were trained on Vergil, who returned her glare with his own. “Tell us why Mr. Power Hungry Asshole is here.”

“... Alright. Straight to the point, then.” He let out a sigh and scratched his chin while thinking. Then, he began his tale.

“As you know, a year ago Vergil and I went down into the Underworld to sever the Qliphoth’s roots and shut the portal it had opened during its emergence into the human world. After we accomplished that, we had a lot of time on our hands. Most of it we spent fighting pissed off demons, surviving, being bored out of our minds, wandering around... And, I’ll admit, bickering like children. But somewhere in the middle, we also got to talk a little. I’m not gonna go into details because it’s not important. Long story short, Nero made us realize that we had wasted enough time fomenting a war neither of us even remembered why it started anymore. It just... became our thing, and it was pointless. So, we agreed we should put the past behind us and start over.”

Lyca noticed that as he spoke, Dante avoided looking anyone in the eye and instead focused his gaze on his hands as he played around with the folds of his gloves. Then, when she shifted her attention to Vergil, she observed that he was doing exactly the same as his twin: leaning forward, avoiding anyone’s eyes, picking at his gloves. Despite all the horrible things she’d heard about him, she couldn’t help to find it endearing. They truly were brothers in the end, weren’t they?

“How did you escape?” Trish asked. She was reclining on the cushions comfortably with her legs crossed and hands resting on her lap, appearing relaxed. However, the line carved between her eyebrows and the way her eyes constantly shifted from one twin to the other said otherwise.

“It was Vergil, actually.” Dante looked at his brother, cueing him in to take over and explain. He hesitated, taking a quick survey of the three women who stared at him, waiting.

“When the Yamato was broken,” he explained. “Its shards were spread throughout the Underworld and cut small rifts in the “veil” that separates it from the human realm. Not enough to open a complex portal that would allow even a speck of dust to go through, but in simple terms, they became something like keyholes. All we had to do was find one and fully open them using the Yamato.”

“Took a while to find one of the buggers,” Dante quipped up. “But here we are. The rift we used landed us in Fortuna instead of the North Pole, and we stayed with Nero for a few days to recover before going home. We were pretty lucky, all things considered. Or should I say “fortunate”?”

Everyone let out a collective groan. Lyca was the sole exception; she laughed along with her partner and high-fived him, muttering “that was good” beneath the complaints of the others.

“Alright, I get how you got here,” said Lady, returning to the subject at hand. “And I get why he’s here.” She pointed at Vergil. “What I don’t get is what the hell you think is going to happen from now on. What’s the plan, Dante?”

He gave Lyca a sideways glance as if requesting for backup. “The plan, Lady, was to come back home safe and... See how things go from there.”

There was a long, tense pause.

“... That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

Lady let out a frustrated huff. “This can’t be happening. Are you actually telling me that I’m supposed to let him roam around freely after everything he did?”

“I’m asking you to trust me,” Dante affirmed. His impish smirk was no more, and instead he stared at his friend with a grimace.

Lady stood up with arms wide open. “I do trust you, Dante! I trust you with my damn life and you know that! It’s him I don’t trust because twice now, whenever some demonic related catastrophe happened, he was the one behind it!”

“There was a time when you didn’t trust me, either!” The white-haired hunter jumped up as well, so abruptly his chair was knocked over and the desk scrapped forward a couple of inches. “Or Trish, or Lyca! And yet you gave us a chance, and it turned out fine! All I’m asking is for you to give my brother the same benefit of the doubt!”

“Trish and Lyca didn’t raise demonic towers or vampire trees!”

Nero joined the argument, his voice dangerously laced with venom. “Like you’re so good and innocent yourself, Lady. Correct me if I’m wrong, but I seem to remember you shot Dante in the face twice and tried to blow up Trish the moment you met her.”

She stared at him like he had just slapped her across the face with his spectral wings. “That was different and you weren’t even there, so don’t you dare judge me--”

“Oh, how convenient! When it’s you under the guillotine, suddenly it’s okay to try to kill your friends! Nice, dully noted.”

“What about you, huh?” She countered. Her voice was so loud with rage it made the walls vibrate. “Since we’re throwing each other’s mistakes around, what about you? You tried to kill Dante as well, or have you forgotten?”

Now the three of them stood and screamed. “I was following orders and I thought he was gonna kill Kyrie, but that’s exactly my point! We’ve all done shit we’re not proud of in the past, but we worked through it and got over it! And now, it’s Vergil’s turn.”

Vergil, who until that moment remained quiet with his head hung low, gave Nero a covert look that Lyca couldn’t interpret.

“Unbelievable,” Lady scoffed. “Again, he tore off your arm!”

“You’re the one who said killing my own father would mess me up in the first place!”

“Alright, enough!” Trish got to her feet and stood between the two before they ripped each other apart, literally. “All this yelling and blaming isn’t going to solve anything. Let’s work this out like the adults we are, okay? Both of you, sit down.”

They didn’t immediately comply, too worked up as they stared daggers at each other, but eventually they took back their seats, huffing and puffing. Lady crossed her arms and legs rigidly, staring a hole into the wall, while Nero clamped his jaw so tight his cheek muscles popped out.

“Now.” Trish remained up, hands on her hips like an exasperated mother trying to force her children to get along. “I hear my name and Lyca’s being thrown around a lot, yet no one asked for our opinions, so here’s mine.”

She paused to take a deep breath, measuring her words. “I don’t particularly like the idea of having Vergil in our midst, but before you start arguing again!” She raised a hand and gave Lady and Nero a stern look that could make a grown man wet himself, the second they opened their mouths. They reconsidered and settled back down.

“... Before you start arguing again, let me just add this: like Nero said, we’ve all done things we’re not proud of. I know that if I could go back in time and undo some of the things I did, I would, so I’m in no position to judge. However, I have an additional detail to my argument, and that is a short conversation I had with V before he reunited with Urizen, thus restoring Vergil.”

Trish looked to the eldest son of Sparda and spoke directly to him. “You told me then that in regaining your human soul, you realized how important everything was and the gravity of what you did. If you remember, I told you, you had to see it through.”

She didn’t clarify what the “it” was, but Vergil seemed to understand what she meant because he nodded gravely. At least he seemed to remember everything about his experience as a human being.

“I didn’t tell Dante who V was at the time because I feared he would kill you on the spot, denying you the chance to return to your complete form and himself the opportunity to be free of his guilt and self-loathing.” Her eyes fluttered close with a soft sigh. When she opened them again, she was looking at Dante. “Forgive me for keeping this from you?”

Dante, who in the meantime had picked his chair from the ground and sunken into it, snickered while hiding his eyes behind his hand. “Hell, Trish, you’re probably right. How can I not? I should be thanking you, actually.”

The blonde smiled. “You know I’ve got your back even when you don’t know it. Especially then.”

He peeked from between his fingers and returned her smile. Some of the fresh youth Lyca had seen on him earlier had dwindled, making him look just as tired and worn as before he’d plunged into hell.

Trish crossed her arms. “However, Vergil still went to battle with Dante the moment he got back, so that puts some doubt on his intentions. That said, I don’t trust him... But I do trust Dante. If he says Vergil is no longer a threat, then I believe him.”

Lady grunted audibly, but said nothing. Trish then turned to Lyca.

“How about you? What do you think?”

Suddenly under the spotlight, Lyca played with her lace gloves and shifted from one foot to the other. All the shouting and anger boiling in the room had unnerved her to the point she could feel every bone shake beneath her skin, and now they were all looking at her expectantly.

“Right...” Slowly, she pulled out the gloves to buy herself some time. This was such a weird situation, what was she supposed to do? Well... Honesty was always the best policy when the humors were unbalanced, even if it would displease some people. At least, that’s what she believed. So...

Her eyes met Vergil’s for a brief instant, but she quickly averted them to the floorboards, then to Dante and finally back to Trish.

“Look... I don’t have a history with Vergil like some of you do, apart from V. I trusted V, he was my friend, and... Guys, I don’t know what to think.”

Again, she looked at Vergil, but now he was staring at the floor boards like he found them to be the most interesting thing in the world. She wrung the gloves around distractedly.

“Overall, I think I agree with Trish. No matter what happened in the past, he is Dante’s brother.” She looked at the man in red. “I know what this means to you, so if it’s what you want, you have my blessing. You both do.”

The twins regarded her, the youngest with relief and gratitude, the oldest with an impassive expression. Lyca huffed and pulled the gloves back over her sweaty hands, having said her piece.

A moment of silence passed. Dante turned to Lady. “Looks like the ayes have it.”

With another scoff, the woman stood up from her seat once more, but at least she stayed in her corner and kept her voice levelled.

“Well, I’m sorry. Really, I am. But I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of letting that beast out into the world, and if you expect me to work with him, then I need to be one hundred percent sure he won’t turn one day and stabs us all in the back.”

“So, what do you suggest we do?” Dante inquired, his signature grin slowly returning to his features. “Some trust exercises like having each of us fall from a table and see if he catches us?”

Lady laughed bitterly and flipped him the bird. Next, she looked at Lyca with an intensity that made her skin crawl.

“Actually... I suggest Lyca scans him.”

The room burst with objections.

“Out of the question,” Dante declared.

“Absolutely not,” Nero protested, lunging up from his seat again. “That’s neither fair nor right!”

“Hell no,” Lyca herself refused.

“Just as a precaution!” Lady argued. “If he has nothing to hide, then why not?”

“Because Dante’s word and mine should be enough!” Nero clamored.

“Pardon me,” a calm voice interrupted.

All eyes turned to its source: Vergil. Without anyone noticing, he had gotten up and approached, causing Lady to take a couple of steps away from his towering figure.

“What does she mean, “scan” me?” He inquired, eyes narrowed with distrust.

Nero answered: “Lyca has the ability to see into people’s minds, among other stuff.”

“It’s kind of like supernatural intuition,” she added. “I can tell what people are feeling at any given moment, and if I concentrate enough, I can even enter their memories.”

From the steel pendant around her neck, Corax the demon raven materialized and perched on her shoulder. His empty white eyes peered deep into Vergil’s.

“She got that from me,” he clarified, head twitching this way and that in the typical avian fashion. “A useful skill that she rarely uses, apart from the occasional liar or suspect of demonic shenanigans.”

“Either way,” Lady proceeded. “I stand by what I said. If Vergil has no evil intentions, this should be painless. But if he does...” Her hand rested on the gun holstered at her hip.

“You would be cut in half before you could pull out your silly little toy,” Vergil taunted, letting his thumb rub on the Yamato’s hand guard.

“Wanna bet, Spiky?” Came the woman’s challenging growl.

Once again, Trish stepped in before an actual fight could break out. She placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m inclined to agree with her. Let Lyca do it, for all our sakes.”

“I’m not a scanning machine that you can use whenever you please,” Lyca protested. “So since it’s my power we’re considering resorting to, I think that decision falls to me.”

“She’s got a point,” Dante admitted.

Trish let out a sigh. “Fine. What’s your decision, then?”

Lyca took a deep breath and rubbed her temples, closing her eyes as she thought about it. After a few seconds, she looked at Vergil, who observed her rather apprehensively with some of that same sorrow from before. What was he hiding behind that icy gaze?

I guess I’m about to find out, she thought.

“I’ll do it,” she said. “If Vergil consents to it.”

For once, no one spoke up. They were all waiting for the Dark Slayer’s answer, tense as all hell because if he refused, shit would get ugly and fast.

Lyca couldn’t be more frustrated with what was happening. They should be celebrating Dante’s safe return, and instead they were at each other’s throats like wild animals. She couldn’t blame them for being reticent, of course. Hell, even she had her doubts. Did Vergil take into account his experiences as V? Had he really allowed them to reshape his world view? Did he remember the friendship he’d had with Lyca while separated from his demon half...? Or had this been his plan all along? To reunite his two sides to save himself from death, using whatever means necessary?

Had he used her to get his way, and now would discard her since he had accomplished his ends...? The thought of it made her sick to her stomach.

A near full minute passed until Vergil squared his shoulders and held his head high.

“If this is what it takes to put everyone’s minds at ease, then I’ll submit.”

Suffice to say, no one saw that one coming, and it showed in the stunned silence installed among them, broken only by Dante. “You don’t have to do this, Vergil.”

“I know,” he said. His gaze never left Lyca’s, and she felt small beneath it. “Where do you want me?”

“Uh...” She indicated the couch where he had been sitting. “Take a seat, if you’d like.”

Without protest, Vergil did so and patiently waited, keeping the Yamato propped up on the floor like a spear... or a cane.

Lyca sat down next to him with Corax always on her shoulder. Feeling his talons dig into her skin comforted her, giving her the courage she needed to go forth with what she was about to do. She cleared her throat and let her hands rest on her thighs, coming face-to-face with Dante’s brother.

“Alright, just relax and... try not to fight me off.”

Their eyes met, his a pale blue hue, hers grey as ash. It took all her willpower not to shrink from the intensity of that gaze; harsh, piercing, sharp enough to cut. However, she held it firmly. A familiar hum of demonic energy crawled up her spine, converging at the base of her skull, then spreading through her brain, taking over her mind. She blinked once, and the Devil May Cry office, along with everyone in it, dissolved.

#devil may cry #DMC #devil may cry fanfiction #vergil #vergil x oc #post dmc 5 #fanfiction #stories by Crow #the roads that end fanfic

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bleakcreek · 5 years ago

Text

If it’s almost the end of the year, and we think i can safely say that this has been an AMAZING year for fic in the rhink fandom! there have been so many incredible new authors, on top of authors that have been around for years who are still writing about our boys, and i wanted to give a little bit of recognition to some of my personal favorite fics written in 2019!

i am not in any way implying these are “the best” fics, just the ones that i’ve personally enjoyed. i’m mostly sticking to either completed mutli-chapter fics or longer one-shots, and i’m limiting myself to no more than one fic per author so i spread the love.

without further ado, my (personal) top rhink fics of 2019. (behind a cut, because this post is very long.)

If You’re Wondering If I Want You To by @ssodangdark Rating: Teen Chapters: 5 Words: 10,234

Summary: “The year is 2006 — you just crafted the perfect away message, The Fray is playing on your clock radio, and you're trying to figure out what band t-shirt to wear to school today. Meanwhile, two teenage boys meet for the first time and navigate their feelings for one another through the songs on one of their iPods.”

this fic is everything you could want in a high school au. it’s sweet, and full of pining, and comes with it’s own built-in soundtrack. i can’t recommend this fic enough. this fic is so sweet, you might get a cavity reading it.

Honorable Mentions: most of em’s other fics are oneshots, so i wanted to feature a longer fic, but i also have to acknowledge her oneshots too! Three’s a Crowd (rhett/link/jessie) and Chris Springs are two of my favorite fics and i would highly recommend reading them.

Don’t Hold Back by @likeaswitchinheat Rating: Explicit Chapters: 26 Words: 86,501

Summary: “Link has a lot of responsibilities resting on his gorgeous shoulders. It’s Rhett’s job to unburden him of all that. When Link is Rhett’s, he doesn’t have to think about a thing. Rhett will take care of him.”

laika is another ridiculously prolific author, and i’m actually ashamed that it took me until a few weeks ago to read this fic even though it’s been finished for months. this fic is basically half shameless filth and half feelings and angst, which is pretty much exactly what i look for in a fic.

Honorable Mentions: i absolutely love all of laika’s oneshots, of which there are far too many to name, but i’ll put myself on blast for my particular tastes by giving special mention to Man Bites Dog and Selfie.

Candids by @captainsourwolf Rating: Explicit Chapters: 8 Words: 19,635

Summary: “Rhett is a photographer fresh out of SCAD. He lands his first gig soon after graduation, just a simple print ad for a high school advertising their new senior class wear. At the shoot he meets in-demand fashion model Link Neal. It's tense from the start. Rhett ends up being his photographer on most of his shoots, and at every single one Rhett starts a collection of candid shots that he keeps for himself, in a box of trinkets he finds comforting.”

i absolutely loved this fic. i loved the premise, and the slowburn and build up, and the tender longing between rhett and link in this fic. i’m such a slut for pining, which is why this ultimately won out over a couple of elizabeth’s other fics, which are also very good.

Honorable Mentions: a very close second for this my favorite fic of elizabeth’s was None Like This, but i ultimately had to give it to Candids because i’m a sucker for that softness. Aftercare and hump a little also deserve to be mentioned, too, if you’re looking for oneshots.

Rhinestone Cowboy by @soho-x Rating: Explicit Chapters: 15 Words: 26,439

Summary: “If he was honest with himself, he could admit the glamour of being on tour for one of Country Music’s biggest acts had clouded his better judgement. He’d quickly dismissed all apprehensions regarding living in a conversion van for three months, instead focusing on the idea of working a stage during a live show, standing in the wings while country maverick Roy Walker played to crowds bigger than the population of the town Rhett grew up in. It was a dream come true for a small town boy like him.”

this fic hooked me right from the first chapter! i was absolutely in love with the premise of rhett and link as country music stars, and this fic did not disappoint. if you like tender slowburn and pining, you’ll absolutely love this fic. it killed me in the sweetest possible way.

Honorable Mentions: for how recently em jointed the fandom, she’s written a ton of fic! Stolen Moments, No Good Very Bad, #Dormlife, and Only For Your Very Space (unfinished) are some of my other favorites from her.

Apartment 69 by @apparentlynotreallyfinnish Rating: Explicit Chapters: 18 Words: 86,501

Summary: “Link has it all figured out. He has a plan for his life. He has a nice girlfriend and a nice job and a nice routine. It really doesn't mean anything that sometimes he gets off on watching men fuck each other. He's just curious. But when a famous gay porn star moves next door to him, his perfect plans start to fall apart.”

appa is one of the most prolific writers in the fandom, so it was really hard to narrow it down to just one fic from her. i actually almost put another fic of hers on here instead, but apartment 69 was the first fic of hers that i read, so i felt like i had to give it the edge over incognito if only for that.

this fic had me on the edge of my seat with every update, and it should be a testament to how much i loved this fic that i was genuinely shocked by how long it was, because i could have sworn it was less than 10 chapters. that’s how quickly i tore through it all.

Honorable Mentions: while i didn’t officially include them, i also want to mention her fics Incognito, I Only Want You to See Me (unfinished), NSFW, Wingman, and Let Me Be Your Light, as well as her entire library of oneshots. she is INCREDIBLY prolific so you can easily spend weeks going through her ao3 page and never run out of things to read.

remember that time in college I found your handcuffs? by @egocentrifuge Rating: Explicit Chapters: 3 Words: 10,435

Summary: “Rhett feels antsy, wants to leave this entire conversation about the fetish gear he found in their dorm behind, but he still wants to know despite his better judgement.

“Okay, the - dom? takes control of a scene. Why wouldn’t the dom just do whatever he wants?”

“Because it’s all about trust, man.” Link’s face is open and sincere in that way he only gets when he believes in something; Rhett can’t look away. “The sub trusts the dom to make it good for them, and so the dom does their best to. It can be a lot of pressure, but it’s - good, too, being able to make someone feel safe and taken care of, you know? For someone to be willing to be that vulnerable…”

Something in the way Link says it trickles warmly down Rhett’s spine, and he puts his beer down.

“Alright,” he says firmly. “Fine. I don’t understand it completely but that’s - that’s fine. As long as you’re both happy or whatever.” There are more questions Rhett wants to ask, but it’s - too much, for some reason. Not just knowing weird kinky details of Link’s sex life, but the way he’s talking about it.

It's twenty years before they discuss it again.”

eggsy has the market cornered on a very particular genre i like to call “porn that makes you cry.” this fic mostly gets the spot because a lot of eggsy’s other fics are much shorter and/or not on ao3, and for purposes of a fic rec, i really wanted to give something long enough to really sink your teeth into, but i an assure you that every single one of their fics should and would be on here if i didn’t limit myself to one fic per author.

eggsy packs an incredibly amount of feeling into a small amount of words, and strikes a perfect balance between hot, angsty, and loving. i cannot recommend eggsy’s work enough.

Honorable Mentions: what of eggsy’s fics isn’t an honorable mention? Reciprocation, You Know What They Say, Men Who Dress Like They Do in California, Reprobates, Unbuttoned, and literally everything on their tumblr (which has a lot of stuff that isn’t on their ao3).

The Murmur of Yearning by @its-mike-kapufty Rating: Explicit Chapters: 35 Words: 108,811

Summary: “When burnt-out professor Link Neal is offered a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity that whisks him to the farthest reaches of the world, he isn't as ready as he thought he would be for the biting cold or the overwhelming darkness of Antarctica. Though at least he'd been given fair warning of those hazards.

The same couldn't be said of his new boss and research partner.”

mike has so many amazing fics that it by all rights should have been impossible to narrow it down to my one favorite, but honestly, this was a surprisingly easy choice. in spite of how much i love every single fic of mike’s, this one was so beautifully written and poignant, and i don’t think any other fic has ever made me cry the way this fic did. it hurts — in the best possible way.

i started reading this fic one evening after work, and was so captivated by it that i stayed up until 3 am, passed out midway through a chapter, then went home early from work the next day (sick! i was legitimately sick!) and laid in bed with a fever reading through the rest of this fic. the last written work i plowed through with that kind of speed and determination was harry potter and the deathly hallows...ten years ago.

Honorable Mentions: truthfully i could just link to mike’s whole ao3 page here, but i have to at least give special mention to You Have (1) New Message for making me sob (and being the first fic of mike’s that i read), Feel Good for being delightfully fluffy and soft, Untethered for being so incredibly creative and exciting and having me on the edge of my seat for the entire month it was coming out, and And Sundowns Mend Rhett for making me feel things, as mike is wont to do.

The Traveler by @the-average-bear Rating: Mature Chapters: 13 Words: 52,712

Summary: “Rhett's on a journey.”

this fic is probably tied with The Murmur of Yearning for my favorite rhink fic of all time, but i had to give The Traveler the edge only because it’s not...quite an au, and while both fics gave me a lot of feelings, this fic focuses on the rhett and link we know and love. it explores what might have been and what could be — and it touches on my favorite genre of fiction, which is sci-fi.

rhett finds himself accidentally traveling between timelines, exploring what his life could have been like under different circumstances. the build up to the rhink content is slow, and while there’s some smut, it’s pretty minimal, so this is a very different type of fic than a lot of the others here. but god, if you want to feel every feeling possible about these boys, if you want to cry, if you want to be overwhelmed by how much rhett loves link (and vice versa)...?

please, please read this fic.

Honorable Mentions: a lot of their other stuff is from pre-2019 so it’s kind of cheating to rec them on a post of the best fics of 2019, but seriously, please read any and all of their stuff.

More Honorable Mentions: i was going to do a lot more, but this list got really long and time consuming and i wasn’t able to do as many as i wanted. but some other authors i absolutely adored this year (in no particular order) are:

Rhincoln | @bloodbros

evenlypaced | @youdidinthedark

cockymclaughlin | @cockymclaughlin

pringlesaremydivision | @pringlesaremydivision

ohmyflavors | (not sure if they have a tumblr?)

LinksLipsSinkShips | @linkslipssinkships

missingparentheses | @missingparentheses

festivalofpudding | @festival-of-pudding

RileyRooin | @rileyrooin

crackers4jenn | @crackers4jenn

TheMouthKing | @themouthking

chronicallyilltrashcan | @chronicallyilltrashcan

#rhink #fic #fic recs #this is incredibly long and it would have been a lot longer if i didn't get tired in the middle of it and decide to be lazy #i'm sorry if i missed anyone #we have so many talented writers i'm sure there are a lot of people i didn't list #but that doesn't mean i don't love your fic

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what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me · 6 years ago

Note

Consider: Danny Phantom and Laika, the space ghost dog

Sorry this took me so long to answer, I was sick for a while. But anyways. You. I like the way you think. Hey Anon, I don’t know who you are, but you have earned my undying love. I want to, will, and already have married you.

I have so many emotions after I considered this and really, I can’t help myself when it comes to screaming about space. So here are my considerations (also shhh im ignoring some science facts for the purpose of telling the story)

Also, please take a look at this wonderful art made by the lovely @wolfsongroar because it inspired the ending to this drabble

Danny didn’t exactly remember how or when he first heard of the dog.

He had been young, a little innocent kid so easily starstruck by anything dealing with the idea of space. The kid often went on conquests for information and his parents were always too happy to help their future little scientist. It was probably a children’s book or magazine. He recalled learning the name of the first satellite put into orbit - courtesy of Russia - Sputnik. He learned of Sputnik II, the famous vessel that brought the first animal into orbit.

At the time, the young Danny Fenton knew there was a dog but something bad happened to it. The article was put into simpler, glorified terms aimed for a younger audience, essentially saying the dog died peacefully after a week in space.

The reality of what happened to the dog - Laika - didn’t escape his sharp mind. But young Danny Fenton didn’t quite get the concept of death quite then. Such an idea terrified him, and the poor little compassionate soul was scared for the dog.

The memory of crying in his parent’s laps while having death explained to him was gone but never quite forgotten in the flurry of childhood.

At age fourteen, he became painfully familiar with the concept of death. It still terrified him. This was a memory that was always haunting the edges of his every thought.

It was the push of a button that changed things for Danny, and he would never forget.

He was panicked, a bolt of something stronger than anxiety took over Danny’s being. He wanted to run. Strange sounds, strange lights, and strange sensations were too overwhelming. Try all he wanted, but Danny couldn’t move.

His muscles were seized in a literal death grip on a piece of loose wiring. He touched it by pure chance and now he was wishing this jumpsuit was made of some sort of insulator. An incomplete circuit or some broken wiring, that was the problem with the portal, he realized just too late. The electricity caused all of his muscles to seize, he couldn’t move. Now his body was at the mercy of his environment. Hell, the electricity was probably cooking his body as he stood there.

His heart hadn’t even been beating when a bolt of pure ectoplasm had hit him in the back of the head.

Danny’s mind had been moving a mile a minute as it happened. Everything was too hot, the air was a coarse poison. At least the sparks were pretty, they remind him of the stars.

CRACK.

Nothing had been the same since.

He obsessed over things. He was always depressed or tired or angry or on the verge of tears. He scared everybody (intentionally or not) he knew and they now bend over backwards as to not set the ghost off. Even dogs were scared of him.

This lost, tainted taste of humanity made him upset. This was nothing he wanted.

And on nights like this, when he wished he wasn’t some sort of half breed that shouldn’t exist, he liked to distract his mind and dwell on happier times.

He was reading something online about Laika.

And it wasn’t a happy or valiant story as that children’s book portrayed it to be.

Newspapers and other public sources of the time said that the dog lasted a week and went relatively peacefully. Later on, the actual details were released. The reality was the dog was alive in Space for a few hours at the most.

And now Danny knew it was far from peaceful.

That fact made Danny’s heart hurt. It made his core ache in sympathy.

Laika had been a stray they took off the street, trained to stay in tiny spaces, undergoing various tests that astronauts go through. A ship was no place for a dog.

Something went wrong. She quickly died of stress. She quickly died of overheating. The scientists didn’t expect her to last more than four days in the first place. She had been left completely at the mercy of a cruel and unforgiving environment.

And maybe he was grasping at straws, but Danny couldn’t help but to think of how similar his own death was.

He cried.

Space was an interesting place.

It was terrifying, cold, eerie, beautiful and peaceful. It seemed to be too much to describe or handle, it always contradictory.

He loved it

And Space always had an interesting effect on him - namely his ghostly mind.

The first time he visited had been due to an accident with a new teleportation power. And that was one of the few accidents that lead to some good in his life.

Space made his ghost half feel… completed? There was no good word for it. That place brought back a childish happiness that he thought had been long dead, it felt good. The ghostly parts of him that liked to obsess Latched onto this and made him visit as often as he could.

Later he would find out it was because of his last thoughts. Years later, Danny would find that he couldn’t exactly recall his last thoughts, but if they were about Space then it didn’t surprise him.

Danny had a small collection of souvenirs going, which also made his ghost half happy. A few space rocks he thought looked neat, two tiny bolts, and a piece of a broken solar panel.

The space junk as interesting. Though hard to come by in the sheer enormity of Space, he loved to look at it and for it. One of Danny’s favorite fun facts was of a spatula being lost in space. He would love to find it one day.

Sam and Tuck compare his new collection to that of a bird who collects shiny things. He tells them to shut up.

And while being up there makes him happy, Danny still feels somewhat unsatisfied. At the end of the day, he still has to return home before curfew and he still has to deal with being inhuman. Half the time it’s like putting a bandaid on a wound that needs stitches. It’s like going to Disneyland when you have depression.

Looking at the trash at leasts gets his mind off of things.

It was by pure chance he stumbled upon another ghost in Space.

He was initially lured in by wreckage of a cone-shaped satellite (or capsule? He wasn’t sure what was a better word for it). But oh wow… he hasn’t come across anything quite like this yet. Fascinating! When Danny’s mind became fixated on the celestial trash, he manages to forget everything, just for a bit.

The contraption is larger than him, and he isn’t sure of what to do with it. His mind not-so-helpfully offered the idea of taking it home. That wouldn’t work. Probably. Maybe he would try it but he needs to know more first. The cold metal surface seems to have been worn down by the (nonexistent) environment. He flew closer, maybe there would be some identifying mark.

The last thing Danny expected to happen was for his ghost sense to go off.

The innocent wonder and fascination were gone in a snap. Back were those guarded and aggressive fighting behaviors that he associated with cold lungs. He was unsettled. This was supposed to be his little safe place, no ghosts should be here. After glancing around and seeing nobody, his stance dropped by just the slightest bit.

His eyes were once again trained on the satellite in a suspicious, untrusting gaze.

Something in the back of his mind was itching, though. Despite himself, Danny’s suspicion was melting away into something akin to thoughtfulness and curiosity. It was the satellite. Maybe the Itself vessel was a ghost? Concepts, possessions, and structures have the potential to crossover into the Ghost Zone and be classified as undead. In this case, he doubted that theory.

A satellite with a ghost on it?

He finally touched the cold metal, not really affected by the temperature. He wished there was sound in space, though. The action felt incomplete without some sort of thumping noise. Nothing happened. He further hesitated before phasing his head in near the top, his personal otherworldly glow lit up what he saw. Wires and electronics. Lovely. He continued to slowly work his way down, marveling at the technology.

On some level, Danny knew it was coming. Regardless, the boy wasn’t prepared for when he came eye to eye with a starry ghost dog.

Both ghosts were transfixed.

Danny didn’t even realise he had phased a hand in until the ghost dog had gotten up from a resting position. But the halfa’s eyes gazed to the floor of the small pod, past the legs of the ghost and to the mess on the floor-

Startled, he phased his head out, forcibly putting space between himself and what was in there.

He couldn’t get his mind off of it. He couldn’t get his body to stop shaking. His arms were clasped tight around his body in some attempt of self comfort. A anxiety attack of some sort is what Jazz would tell him what was happening. It didn’t matter, though.

Danny never did good with seeing the aftermath of death. And that? He had reasons for trying not to cry in Space but things were already difficult, that is close to pushing him over the edge. This was supposed to be his solitary corner of reality. The halfa continued with his internal war.

But a little wet nudge on his cheek brought him out of that headspace. There was some ice on his cheek, but Danny didn’t give it any mind.

He cracked open one eye - not even realising they were closed - and there was the starry mutt. ’Laika’, some part of his mind whispered.

Danny didn’t dare to move one bit, only staring. Dogs didn’t like him very much anymore, he reminded himself. But…The mutt was wagging her tail, and little bits of stardust were flung with it. The dog had not run away yet.

Danny reached a hand to it.

Laika didn’t flinch like other dogs he tried to pet. To his delight, she leaned into his gloved hands. And the dog didn’t protest one but as he brought the ghost into his arms.

Both of their cores were pulsing, in something akin to a mutual understanding.

He heald Laika for a while longer. Danny tried not to cry in Space. His tears had the terrible habit of freezing in his eyes and it was often a painful ordeal.

Still, the tears came.

#danny phantom #danny fenton #sputnik #laika #snappy's writing tag #snappy writes #asks #angst #light angst #does character death count for ghosts?#space #i hope this causes a few tears #i adore this idea and i adore you anon #ask to tag #bittersweet

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lwoorl · 6 years ago

Text

The Day Laika Came Back

Link to ao3

Note: This is an experiment to see if posting my fanfictions in both tumblr and ao3 is worth it. If this publication gets to at least 50 notes (not counting self-reblogs) in the following 3 weeks I will start posting my future fics in tumblr, otherwise I will stick to only publishing in ao3.

Summary: Jon Kent comes back from space, years older and unable to believe he made it home. But coming back to the life he left won’t go as smoothly as he wished it did.

Jon can’t help it, he has to stare. Everything is so new and nostalgic at the same time, like a dream he’s had every single night for years and years and only now can clearly remember. It doesn’t feel real, the trees, the sky, as if someone took the string of memories he barely could hold, those precious, faded images he was starting to doubt if ever even happened and knitted a world out of it, colorful and lovely and solid. The final sentences from a poem he could barely recall, suddenly coming together into something he can hold.

It’s too good to be true and it makes the back of his neck ache, hurt and burn with that sense of dread crawling all over his shoulders, like subconsciously he knows any moment now the universe will pull him by the hair and throw him back into the darkness of space like a rag doll, like it all will dissolve if he so much as reaches to pick up a flower and he will be forced to admit what he’s been fearing for a long time now, that this never existed and the infinite void and the rocky prison is his only real place, that he appeared there and will roam there and will die there and all there is is there and there and there and nothing else than there and all those memories he holds so dear are just a bad joke, a carrot dangling in front of a horse to keep it walking; A plastic carrot.

But right now, he isn’t there. He’s here. And it’s real and true and alive and he can’t help but to look at everything with very round wide eyes like a baby who was just born. Drinking all around him like a man who’s been in the desert a decade and a half and will die if he doesn’t drink all the water in the world.

It happens all too quickly, the arrival, the fighting, confusion, questions, answers, kind words, harsh words, words, words, words all around, all in English, not kryptonian or other alien language but his mom’s tongue. He keeps it together through all that and puts a brave face on, and then when no one but his parents are watching and it’s all over he cries on his dad’s shoulder and his mom’s arms are around him and Jon shakes and chokes and laughs.

Time passes, seconds, hours, it’s not even been four days when a lot of people congregate around him. They ask more questions and he gives more answers and they demand proves and tests and argue and discuss and through all that he can’t help but to pass his eyes over their faces and almost gasp when he sees anything vaguely familiar. Dad’s friends, dad’s coworkers, that one’s wonder woman, that one’s a green lantern, that one’s this, this one’s that, that, those, these, and then his eyes rest on someone he thought he would never see again and if he thought his eyes couldn’t widen more, well, he was wrong.

He’s shorter than Jon remembers and he also got a bit wrong the length of the hair, but the costume, that’sexactly as he pictured it in his mind all these years, from the boots to the cape to the utility belt, he got it all right.

Damian has his eyes very open just like Jon, he can notice it even with the mask, and suddenly he really wishes he could take it off, to see his eyes. He can’t remember if they were green or blue.

He’s stuck there, being hit once again with the amazing, ecstatic thisisrealimherenotthere feeling, just going over his friend’s features, burning the image in his mind, and then Damian bites his lips and looks away like someone slapped him and it comes crashing down.

…Ah.

His dad will always be his dad, and his mom his mom, but he never… Well, he did, but not really, not seriously, he never… Actually thought how it would be for everything else.

Because, well, it makes sense, he's… He isn’t the same as when he left, he took too long coming back and now. And- And probably if he had taken one or two, maybe even three years that wouldn’t be much of a difference, maybe, but he's… He probably doesn’t look at all like his younger self.

And… It hasn’t been that long here. And now he thinks about what it must be like, what it would be like for him as a kid, and he realizes a lot of people probably won’t see him as himself. Won't… It will be more like this eleven years old just dissipated in thin air and a randomadult that just so happens to share his name appeared in his place and those two only have the most tiniest of connections and that one time when he met that older version of Damian and himself he didn’t actually think of them as them , did he? Not as…

He keeps looking at the ground for the rest of the Justice League meeting, and when everyone starts to leave he doesn’t notice Damian walking towards him until he speaks.

“Jon.”

He feels like jumping out of his own skin. He looks up, and then down, because Damian is short and a kid. And Jon isn’t, not anymore, and then Damian starts to open his mouth to say something but Jon doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t, because if there’s another thing he remembers of his best friend is that he’s mean, good intentioned and warm, a really good person once you know him, but also oh so damn harsh, and he usually could deal with that and see the real meaning lurking under his words but right now he’s tired, beaten and in the middle of a life crisis and can’t, doesn’t want to and won’t deal with it. So he bails. He just walks out and leaves him there, half a word out of his lips, he then goes back to his dad’s side and absconds from the encounter.

Some time passes, he settles, and doesn’t get in contact with anyone. Because it would hurt, right? He already proved he can’t face Damian; Kathy would either cry or smile and act like it’s fine, but he doubts she will see him as her friend and not a shadow of someone she knew; And he can’t actually tell any of his school friends… He’s ashamed to admit, he doesn’t really remember half of them.

So he stays in Metropolis and thinks what to do. He can’t just retake school where he left it, he will most likely have to work on getting a GED. He can’t hang out with people he knew, not now that he’s so different. He doesn’t think he will leave to do anything in space as long as he lives. And he doesn’t feel like looking for a job. So he stays with his parents dear Rao he missed them and throws himself into fighting crime, perfectly and completely, until it’s almost like he doesn’t have a civilian identity anymore. It makes for a good distraction, but there’s the risk of running into people he knows.

He thinks Damian is doing it on porpoise, working near Metropolis, sometimes in Metropolis, be it alone or with his Teen Titans team. He runs into him a couple of times, Damian’s heart beats real fast when it happens, and then he always tries to force him into talking when the fight is over, but Jon just keeps looking to the ground and running away. It must make him look like a jerk, hell, he feels like a jerk, but he can’t face it, the ‘you aren’t my Jonathan Kent’ he just knows is coming.

He’s walking through the city, pulling at his civilian shirt as he runs an errand for his mom. It feels like a costume, he wonders if normal clothes ever felt this fake as a kid, he can’t remember.

Suddenly, there’s a heartbeat in the crowd, a fast one he recognizes, moving right at him.

He tries to escape like the coward he is, but he can’t show his powers in public, and he doesn’t want to just walk over someone. Jon tries finding a place hidden from sight so he can take flight and disappear like always, but just as he’s entering an alley there’s a little hand firmly around his wrist and judging by how much force he’s applying there’s no real way he can get rid of Damian without tearing one of his fingers off.

It must look funny, the image of this young adult all but cornered by a tiny runt, looking like he’s going to pass out as he avoids looking at his face. It doesn’t feel funny, but, Jon thinks, it probably looks funny for someone else.

“Why are you ignoring me?!” Damian yells, his fingers hard enough against Jon’s skin that his nails turn white. “No, not only ignoring! Why are you avoiding me?!”

The accusation makes Jon flinch because, well, because it’s completely true. He forces himself to look at Damian’s face. His eyes are teal, so he was half right.

“Why do you think?” Is all he can say. Because really, it should be obvious, right? He isn’t the same person, barely remembers who he used to be. If he met a younger version of himself today, Jon’s afraid he couldn’t prove him they’re the same person.

The moment they talk for more than ten seconds Damian will realize he isn’t who he remembers and will lose all interest in him, maybe will even blame him for his loss, like he personally murdered the kid to occupy his place. No one shows it, but they’re just thinking of him as a bad copy, aren’t they?

“Tt.” Damian’s jaw tenses and his heartbeat skips a beat. “Of course.” He frowns really hard and then lets Jon’s wrist go. He doesn’t waste much time into flying away.

He doesn’t see him for a while. Damian stops invading his city and he doesn’t even hear of Robin for two or three months. Jon tries not to feel sad about it, but truth is the attention felt nice.

Around four months later there’s an alien invasion. The whole league joins to fight it and Jon helps too.

He’s fighting in the front lines, punching alien after alien after alien, when he hears a familiar scream and turns his head right on time to see Robin get hit and fall to the ground. The one who attacked has their weapon pointed at him.

Jon is there in less than a second, his eyes red as he stands between Damian and the other guy. Jon isn’t sure why, maybe it’s because he just recovered all this life and is still half expecting to lose it, maybe it’s because he hasn’t had someone he cares about actually being in danger in forever, or maybe realizing he’s the older one now is getting to him more than he first thought, but there’s just this surge of protectiveness running through his veins that builds up and comes out in a “Don’t touch him!” That resembles more an animalistic growl than human speech.

It’s over quickly, a leap and a well aimed hit is all it takes. He’s next to Damian before he even realizes. He offers to help him stand up but Damian slaps his hand away.

“I don’t need your help, don’t treat me like a kid.”

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, you could have died!” Damian’s heart jumps at that, for a moment Jon doesn’t know why, and then realized it’s because he isn’t used to hearing him swear.

The feelings of the last couple months come back but he pushes that aside, the middle of a war zone is not the time to worry about his interpersonal drama.

Damian tries to get up and then trips, Jon’s there to catch him and then looks what’s the problem with his X-RAY vision. He’s got a broken leg, a bruised rib and some injuries on the left arm. He probably won’t be able to walk unassisted right away.

“Here, let me…” He moves to pick him up and Robin, surprisingly, doesn’t put up any resistance. Jon doesn’t even need to use more than one arm to fit him, Damian’s so damn tiny.

“Put me down.”

“No.”

He looks around. The battle’s almost over, but there’s still people fighting and shots firing up nearby. Jon trusts the others to hold up without him for a while and starts flying towards safety.

“Just let me down, I can wait until Father comes for me.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not taking any risks.”

“You shouldn’t be wasting time with this, you and Superman are our biggest hitters.”

“You’re important too.”

“…Why?”

The word comes soft and broken, and it makes Jon pause mid air. He looks down, at the boy in his arms. Damian isn’t looking at him as he holds a handful of his red cape.

“Because you’re my best friend.” The words come easier than he would have thought, like they were just waiting to leave his mouth. Damian lets go of the fabric and then looks at him, his face a mirror of the expression he had when Jon just came back.

“But I thought…” He trails off. Jon resumes moving and after a while Damian speaks again, barely a whisper “Then why have you been avoiding me? I… Thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“I guess that’s a normal conclusion to get to.” He mutters, because, well, it is. Why is he so damn clumsy with people? Sometimes it’s as if his mere existence was hurting those around him. “But, no, that’s not why.”

“Then why?!”

This is the point on the conversation that Jon would chicken out and disappear, but he can’t do that while carrying the person he’s talking to. So he takes a deep breath and conjures all the guts he can get. “I didn’t think you would like the person I’m now.”

A beat of silence, a pang of anxiety, and then “You’re really an idiot if you thought that.”

Jon laughs, there’s no other answer he can give to that, he laughs and ever so slightly holds Damian a bit closer. They stay in silence the rest of the trip, and soon he’s leaving his friend at the safe edge of the battle field.

He starts turning around, ready to go back, when he feels those little fingers around his arm.

“Jon.” Damian’s voice is calm and steady, but his heart is going fast and filled with adrenaline. “You haven’t changed at all.”

It’s the first time Jon’s heard that. It’s been months since he made it home, and it’s the first time he hears that sentence. Those words go to stab him right on the chest, and he has to look away and bring a hand to his face to clean the tears that are peeking from his eyes.

“Yeah.” He nods, not sure what he’s agreeing to. Damian smiles and his fingers release him. “After this… Can we hang out?”

“Do you really need to ask?!” Damian huffs, and then, softer. “We have a lot of catch up to do.”

“You have no idea.” He laughs again, Jon thinks this is the most he’s laughed ever since that reunion with his parents.

As he leaves to re-enter the battle, he hears behind him a “Come to the manor later, we can play video games and you can see Titus and Alfred again!” He stops just long enough to wave, and then flies into the war zone.

Jon thinks, for the first time in a long while… That things are going to work out just fine.

#jon kent #damian wayne #super sons #superman #superboy #robin #fanfiction #my writing #my fic #adult jon kent #canon compliant

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