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manygalaxiesinone · 6 months

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Disgaea 7 DLC Episode: Shaman King

Part 1: Anna, the Future Queen

Fuji: "Hey Piriko, you sure this is the right area?"

Pirilika: "Yup! According to the rumors, a lot of spiritual energy has been released lately around here. I bet it's a weapon of origin, Fuji!"

Fuji: "I would take you up on that... if I had the money for it. Unless if ended up being "her" I doubt anyone would use one of those weapons like that. You're just asking to become a target for thieves that way."

Pirilika: "But, that means if we agree to keep them save from targets, they'll definitely join our team, meaning one less weapon to worry about hunting down."

Fuji: "Heh, I'll admit, it's hard to argue against that."

Suddenly a loud boom could be heard from a distance.

Pirilika: "...I take it we found our target."

Fuji: "This is almost too easy. Something's not right."

-later...-

Young woman: "Hmph. What a complete waste of time."

Male fighter: "P-Please... allow me to apologize for my actions!"

Young woman: "Oh, you wish to apologize? That's funny. Last I recall, you said you'd rather be locked up in Hades then ever submit to someone of my stature."

Male fighter: "Y-You heard wrong! I was just trash talking. You know, getting myself into the fight."

Young woman: "Really, because I can simply send you to Hades myself if wish." takes out a talisman.

Male fighter: "Hold it, hold it!"

Pirilika: "What's going on here?!" runs in.

Male fighter: "Oh thank you! Please help! She's trying to kill me!"

Fuji: "Yeah, from the way you were screaming, it seems like she has a reason to do it, so why should we help?"

Pirilika: "Fuji! He must have a good reason for this. He must have been a talented warrior in the past, never backed down and never ran away no matter how difficult the challenge was, only to be defeated by a mysterious young girl out of the blue! He must be trying to make sure his reputation doesn't plummet from anyone learning about his defe-"

Young woman: "If you're quite done with your made up sob story, he promised to help me find someone only to try to rob and kill me."

Fuji: "Sounds about right. Which means you're the one that made that loud noise earlier, aren't ya?"

Young woman: "So what if I am? Are you after my beads too?"

Pirilika: "Beads? You were using those to fight? But that's not one of the we-"

Young woman: "I'm going to give you this one warning, because my patience and temper are running quite thin at the moment. Either leave or..." hits the fighter who was trying to sneak away. "end up like him."

Pirilika: "She looks real mad Fuji. Getting her to join us is going to be harder than I thought.

Fuji: "Hey, this was your idea Piriko. Then again, I think I figured out that power of hers." Gets ready to fight. "Alright, lady. You seem a little mad, so I'll cut you down a size.

Part 2: Ren, arrogant as ever.

Fuji: "Damn! This girl's a lot tougher than she looks. In fact, she reminds me a bit of..."

Young woman: "Fuji, was it? I must admit, you're very talented. So far, you're the most skilled warrior I've seen since I arrived here, even though you resort to dirty tactics."

Fuji: "Of course I fight dirty. This is the Netherworld after all."

Young woman: "The Netherworld? No wonder everything looked so...out of place."

Pirilika: "You're not from around here?"

Young woman: "My home looks similar to this, but for a while I thought I went back in time somehow. Well, that answers one question at least."

Fuji: "Just as I thought. Those beads of yours aren't one of the weapons of origin. You're just a shaman."

Pirilika: "A shaman? You mean those powerful ghost channelers that can bring hexes to their enemies like making voodoo dolls?!"

Young woman: "Something along those lines I suppose. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to find 2 other Shamen that got lost here like I have."

Pirilika: "Wait, why don't you come with us? We're exploring Hinomoto ourselves so we can help you find your friends. We WERE gonna offer you protection, but you can clearly handle your own... b-but we can show you around! It'll be like a tour."

Young woman: "...Very well. It would help to be around someone who's at least a bit familiar with the area."

Pirilika: "Nice! I'm Pirilika! Nice to meet you!"

Anna: "Anna."

Pirilika: "Alright Fuji! Mission accomplished!"

Fuji: "Yeah, not quite. Anna, one of those Shaman wouldn't happen to be a spear wielder, would he?"

Anna: "Yes...?"

Fuji: "Then you might want to look outside."

-elsewhere...-

Demon: "AAAAAAAGGGHHHH!!!"

Bason: "That makes your 25th victory in a row, Master Ren."

Ren: "Thank you for keeping track, Bason."

Bason: "Of course. Always happy to help."

Ren: "To think I found an ideal training place with so many fools bloodthirsty to fight me. At least it would be if they weren't random fodder. Perhaps I should have woken him up after all instead of leaving him there."

Anna: "Woken who up?"

Ren: ?? turns around and sees Anna. "A-A-Anna?!"

Anna: "This "who" isn't who I think it is, right Ren?"

Ren: "I- You... how long have you been standing there anyway?!"

Pirilika: "Just a few seconds."

Ren: "And who exactly are you two?"

Pirilika: "Oh, we're Anna's new friends!"

Fuji: coughs up blood. "Piriko, don't call us that?! We just met her anyway!"

Ren: "New friends? I expected this from Yoh, but not from you."

Anna: "They're simply helping me track down the two of you. Speaking of Yoh, where is he?"

Ren: "What am I, his keeper? We haven't been around each other for the past hour!"

Anna: "Is that so...? Then you left Yoh on his own to sleep for over an hour?!"

Ren: "Wait, that's not what I-"

Pirilika: "This Yoh person must be really important if Anna's this upset."

Fuji: "Yeah. I think I'd better stop her before that kid ends up unconscious...or dead. Hey Ren, how about a challenge? If I can beat you, then you take us to where Yoh is. Deal?"

Ren: "Fine. I have time right now and another victory on my streak wouldn't hurt. Bring it on!"

Part 3: Yoh, the Lazy Shaman

Ren: "I lost?! I don't believe this!"

Bason: "This now brings your current streak to 0, Master Ren."

Ren: "Not now, Bason! The only reason he won is because he played dirty!"

Fuji: "Hey, there were no rules against any of my tactics. If you don't like it, cry about it."

Pirilika: "A seal's a seal, Ren. Now, can you please tell us where Yoh is?"

Anna: "You mean "A deal's a deal", Pirilika."

Ren: "Ugh, whatever. This is starting to give me a headache anyway. Don't think I'll forget this, Fuji."

Fuji: "Yeah, yeah, heard it before, just take us to the last Shaman already."

Ren: (How did Anna manage to befriend these two of all people?)

-later...-

Young man: "..."

Spirit: "I can't believe he managed to take a nap at a time like this. He does realize that Anna's going to kill him the moment she sees him, right?" *sighs* "We've been transported to who knows where and completely separated from everyone and he doesn't have a care in the world. Who am I kidding. The world would be coming to an end in any second and Yoh would still sleep it off like it's nothing. I guess that's just the kind of guy that he is."

Anna: "You're telling me."

Spirit: -!!- "A-A-A-A-A-A-A..."

Anna: "Hello, Amidamaru..."

Amidamaru: "YOH!!! WAKE UP NOW!!!"

Yoh: "Huh? What's wrong Amidamaru? Is it lunch time already?"

Amidamaru: "No, but we ARE in grave danger right now!"

Yoh: "Really? Did Hao send someone after us?"

Anna: "Afraid not..."

Yoh: -!!- "A-A-A-A-A-A-Anna?! W-W-What a surprise! I'm glad to see you're okay!"

Anna: "Slacking off on your training again, Yoh?"

Yoh: "N-No! Of course not. I was just... enjoying the nice wind blowing through here, that's all."

Anna: "I warned you before Yoh, lying only makes it worse."

Yoh: "It's the truth, I swear!"

Fuji: "Oh, I know that look anywhere. Even I can't help but feel a little sorry for Yoh right now."

Pirilika: "Really? How come?"

Fuji: "He's about punished big time. It's best that we don't get caught in the crossfire."

Amidamaru: "You know the struggle, demon?"

Fuji: "Oh yeah. I have a master who's almost exactly like Anna."

Ren: "In that case, no wonder you're so powerful."

Bason: "Poor soul came face to face with death every single day."

Pirilika: "I feel like I'm missing something here..."

Amidamaru: "Try to keep it that way."

Yoh: "Hold on, Anna, I'll make it up to ya! I'll do anything!"

Anna: "...Very well."

Yoh: "Huh... really?"

Anna: "To be fair, it isn't your fault we got lost in this new world. I can't blame you for it."

Yoh: "R-Right! Thanks for understan-"

Anna: "That said, it's clear that you need to work on keeping your mind sharp. Therefore, I have the perfect plan. Fuji, would you be so kind as to fight against Yoh here?"

Fuji: "I'm on it! No problem!"

Pirilika: "Hey, how come you agreed to help her out right off the hat?!"

Fuji: "First, it's "right off the bat" and second, I'm not making her mad no matter what you pay me."

Anna: "Feel free to use whatever tactics you wish. Just make sure he stays alive."

Amidamaru: "Looks like there's no getting out of this one, Yoh."

Yoh: "Eh, it could be a lot worse. Come on, Amidamaru!"

-after the battle...-

Both Fuji and Yoh are out of breath after a lot of fighting.

Fuji: "Is that... all ya got?"

Yoh: "I dunno... you tell me..."

Anna: "That's enough. Thank you for whipping my fiancé into shape."

Fuji: "Please don't... thank me...wait...fiancé?!"

Pirilika: "No way! You two are getting married?!"

Yoh: "Did we...forget to mention that?"

Fuji: "Talk about...lover's quarrel..."

Yoh: "So... what now?"

Ren: "I suppose all that's left is to find a way back home."

Amidamaru: "That's going to be much easier said than done since we don't even know how we got here."

Pirilika: "If you all need a place to stay, you can stick with me on my ship. It's got plenty of room, so you're more than welcome."

Anna: "Are you sure that's alright?"

Pirilika: "Of course! I did say we'd show you around Hinomoto after all, didn't I? This is just the beginning of our tour!"

Yoh: "Sounds like a lot of fun. I'd say we take her up on her offer."

Ren: "You just want a place to eat and sleep as much as you want."

Bason: "I doubt that would be possible with Anna around him."

Pirilika: "Oh, since they're soon-to-be husband and wife, they can share a room together."

Fuji: "You're only going to make it worse."

Anna: "A rather sound suggestion, Pirilika. We accept."

Pirilika: "Awesome! You're all going to love it! I promise!"

#disgaea 7 #shaman king #yoh asakura #ren tao #anna kyoyama #pirilika #fuji

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grub-xd · 3 years

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The Cryptid Specter of Amity Park

Summary:

AU where the Ghost Zone and Human World are not dependent on each other.

In a tragic alternate future, the Ghost Zone is destroyed. Phantom is alone and suffers the fate of being forgotten and fading into myth. He remains in Amity after the events of the Ghost Zone but gains a new reputation.

Drawing included (at the bottom of the fic).

Link: AO3

Amity Park, once a smaller city, had grown to become one of the leading energy fuel exporters of the 21st century. During the late 2020s, the nations of the world had to come together to find a new way to generate electricity, as fossil fuels became scarcer and made the climate crisis worse, most of these nations invested into green energy. The town of Amity Park had decided to investigate whether it could harness a different type of green energy, ectoplasm, as a solution to these crises. By 2035, the Fentons, in collaboration with Axiom labs, discovered a way to harness ectoplasm and convert it into electricity. It provided the cleanest energy along with the highest energy yield output than any other fuel source, and the mines were relatively inexpensive to establish. With this success, many nations began investing in their own ectoplasm mines with makeshift portals using Amity Park's technology, while phasing out most other sources of fuel due to its incredible abundance and efficiency, but there was a hidden cost.

By the mid 2050s, most of the world's nations were mining their own ectoplasm from the Ghost Zone. At first, this wasn't a problem. Both humans and ghosts thought the supply was infinite, or would at least regenerate at a rate high enough to never cause an issue. Unfortunately, by the time ghosts started noticing that there were negative impacts from the mines extracting too much ectoplasm in the 2080s, humans were dependent on ectoplasm for energy to continue life, just as they had been dependent on fossil fuels.

Efforts to end ectoplasm mining failed. The detrimental effects of the lack of ectoplasm became evident in the 2090s and by the first decade of the 22nd century, ghosts who depended on the abundance of ectoplasm in the Ghost Zone to maintain their existence had faded. Ghosts who had been stronger in the Ghost Zone than on Earth no longer were, and the rebound effects from the scarcity of ectoplasm made the Infinite Realms hostile. It was no longer worth it. Those who had not fallen to the increasingly hostile environment of the Ghost Zone eventually left, in search of a place to settle on Earth. Many found their own niche places, but no ghost societies ever recovered. Most who fled simply remained as lone individuals, searching for a place to belong and fulfill their obsessions. The Observants disbanded. Clockwork faded from his form, though still maintained a somewhat ethereal presence. The monarchy collapsed. The Ghost Zone was a shell of its former self.

As king, Phantom stayed as long as he could, but even he was forced out too. Amity Park may have been the source of all of this mining and his family had a hand in his home's destruction, but this place still meant something to him. This was what he knew. The people he loved and cared for once lived here. All he has left of them now are in his memory. He didn't want to leave where these memories had been made, so he stayed. Phantom would wander about the town, observing all that had changed. His parent's house, Casper High, downtown, the Nasty Burger, the forest, among other things.

Centuries passed. Humanity was able to use older sources of energy to supply themselves before all the ectoplasm ran out. When it did, most ghosts on Earth had faded. Phantom remained for some reason. He never found Vlad nor Ellie. He's not sure if they are still around anymore. He's looked ever since he left the Ghost Zone but never turned up with anything. Hope of ever finding them left Phantom too. During the passing of that time, Phantom faded from the legend he was in Amity Park into myth. His story about defeating Pariah Dark and saving the town were forgotten. Records that showed his good (and bad) deeds, old newspapers and such, were lost to history.

As with many myths, the kids of the future Amity Park would grow interested in the myth surrounding Phantom. He had earned the name "The Cryptid Specter," as no one could ever get a true look at him before he would notice them and suddenly fade himself out of sight. Most never chased the lost legend. Some kids however would occasionally hear about this myth and attempt to find him. Most of the rumors suggested that he could be found near a specific spot in Amity Park's forest, near its edge where it meets the plain, at night, when the stars were at their fullest.

At that spot, Danny, that was my old name, right? he would think to himself, would hover and gaze at the stars, wondering why he had to be alone and pondering how he could have saved the Ghost Zone from the fate it had suffered. This spot didn't have much meaning to him per say, but it was peaceful and it could bring him a sense of calm that he could find nowhere else. It gave him the strength to just be able to consider these questions.

Why? Why must I travel eternity alone? It's been how many years? 300? Or was it 600? Time blends together more as more of it passes. It's funny, despite forgetting my own name, I can remember Sam and Tucker, Jazz, Clockwork, Vlad, my Parents... heck, I even Mr. Lancer! I guess that shows where my focus was, with others, more often than even my own self. He can't handle it; he breaks and falls to the ground, near a rock.

Finally vocalizing his pain, accompanied by his tears, "I blew it! I really blew it! I failed to protect the Ghost Zone and all of those ghosts. I wish I could have done something different! Something that would have prevented all of this! Something where I wouldn't be left with this fate! Left to suffer alone, in my old home town, but is completely hollowed! All of those who I cared about have moved on! Why can't I!? Why does it have to be this way!?" He collapses completely and falls on the nearby rock, letting the sobs go to hopefully expunge his pain. As Phantom lied there, a stick snapped. Its echo muted his sorrows and drew his attention back towards the dark forest. He heard a couple kids whispering and asking if they could see "The Cryptid" anywhere, and that they had heard the cries coming from this direction. They may have heard him but they are not going to see him tonight. They can't... I'm not ready yet, he thinks to himself as he quickly fades from sight.

#Danny Phantom #danny fenton #ectober #ectoberhaunt 2021 #ectober month 2021 #ectoplasm #Most characters die or fade #immortal danny fenton #ghost zone #au #ghost king danny #ghost king au #ectoplasm mining #ectoplasm harvesting

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brawlingdiscontent · 3 years

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the men of metal, menacing with golden face, 3/?

a.k.a sequel to terrible with the brightness of gold

(cherik fic, viking au, subtle a/b/o, mature rating)

(part one) (part two)

Hi all, I am so sorry for the space between these updates! - I am so close to finishing my PhD (not in any history or medieval studies field, lol) and things are just really hectic with revisions, publications and syllabi, etc.

A reminder that the last chapter (from 5000 years ago) ended with Charles being graphically/violently threatened by a mysterious man. (See the link above if you’d like to re-read it.

Warnings: Slightly gory description, mentions/implications of violence and sexual assault, child death (not Charles’ kids)

----

In the end, they don't set off that afternoon.

It’s decided in a council, a strategy meeting that Charles is not invited to, and reported to him curtly by Lehnsherr later that day that if they start off early enough it’s only most of a day’s ride to Eoforowic, and is the preferable alternative to the vulnerability of camping overnight.

He sees almost no one before the Danish king returns to the tent bearing an evening meal.

The man in question has forgone the advisors and trailing pages, leaving his subordinates behind for the night, as no loud voices or other signs announce his arrival. The denizens of the camp are likely off savouring the hours of daylight that remain in varied nefarious ways. The long summer nights are not yet over, but in the tent it’s darker, shadowed but not yet dim enough to warrant a candle or fat lamp. The canvas walls seem to glow faintly with the strange quality of early evening light.

Charles has arranged himself in a defensive position, seated at the small table on the lone chair facing the tent flap. He took advantage of his time alone to redistribute a number of the furs from the main pile, making the corner where he intends once again to sleep more comfortable and well-padded. Together with the extra things Alex brought him--when, under the watchful eyes of the guards, they risked exchanging only a nod to confirm his task’s success--he fashioned a warm berth for himself. His current placement, with its slight chill, is a tactical necessity. He straightens in the hard, wooden seat. It’s best to avoid being caught in a prone position lest Lehnsherr take it as an invitation.

When he enters, Lehsherr carries in two rough-hewn, steaming wooden bowls balanced atop an extra stool.

“You must be hungry.”

Charles scans him for ulterior motives, finding none for now. He hasn’t eaten since the food that was left for him this morning, but can’t seem to muster up much of an appetite.

“Yes. Thank you,” he says anyway. He needs to keep his strength up.

Lehnsherr sets the bowls on the small table, nudging one slightly towards Charles, and the stool beside it. He then turns away, once again going through the routine of divesting himself of his gear. If he notices or has any feelings about Charles’ rearrangement of his space he says nothing, leaving Charles to return to his own thoughts.

That afternoon, after the monstrous man retreated, slinking off to some other part of the camp while Charles stood shaken, Charles’ guards had suddenly and conspicuously reappeared.

As he was escorted back to Lehnsherr’s tent, Charles had, briefly, turned over the possibility of telling him what happened. Of what could be construed as nothing other than a violent threat. But the man hadn’t actually done anything, hadn’t even touched Charles. And what, even, were the chances that Lehnsherr would believe him—or that he would care? In any case what exactly could he expect the Dane to do? The bear-man, whoever he is, must be powerful, as he contrived some way—whether by bribery or sheer command—to send the guards away from their positions outside the tent.

—Or, the thought had occurred to him, both disturbing and the most plausible yet, perhaps Lehnsherr had sent the man to threaten him, to warn him off and keep him in line. It is this possibility that is nearest in his mind as Lehnsherr wanders the tent.

“I trust you found your men well?” Lehnsherr questions, not turning from where he is folding his gambeson.

Charles contemplates several responses. Acerbic: ‘Alive would be a more accurate understanding.’ Another part of him wants to respond in anger, Logan’s blackened eye, the morning’s events, urging him to confront and accuse Lehnsherr. It’s an urge he knows is at least partly the product of fear. He presses his palms flat against the wood of the table and feels its uneven surface press back. In the end, exhausted, and unwilling to cause a fuss, he settles on, “I did,” then turns towards the bowl before him.

The food is hot, rabbit this time. Likely commandeered from one of the many the braziers and fire pits that dot the camp as he doubts Lehnsherr has had time for hunting. It is good, and Charles feels some appetite flare again, even when Lehnsherr has divested enough weapons and layers and joins him at the table.

A silence falls between them, not exactly awkward, but not quite comfortable either. On Charles’ end, it stems from reservation. Lehnsherr, conversely, seems content not to speak.

Charles steals surreptitious glances between bites. He studies the lines of the other man’s face trying to puzzle him out as the shadows in the tent begin to lengthen.

He’s a man become even more confusing and inscrutable after the day’s events. If Lehnsherr had sent that beast of a man to threaten him in place of doing so himself, it speaks to a capacity for sophisticated psychological manipulation, one that goes beyond and complicates his reputation for sheer brutality. For all of Charles’ careful planning he hadn’t seriously considered the possibility that Lehnsherr might be worse than Shaw. He needs to know who he’s—getting into bed with, his mind supplies—getting involved with. Only then can he have any hope to defend himself. For who can say what will happen to whatever appeal he has—the tenuous sexual hold that had checked Lehnsherr the night before—once Lehnsherr finally gets what he wants and is sated. What then can Charles possibly do to hold him back, should he prove monstrous?

He must have been more transparent in his observation than he realized, an act which once again is misinterpreted.

“Relax, your Highness.” Lehnsherr says. “I’ll honour your wish to wait. I won’t touch you.”

“Until we are married,” Charles says aloud if only to remind himself, tracking with his eyes the slow advance of a line of shadow across the table.

“Until we are married,” Lehnsherr agrees, his voice carrying notes of something that has Charles turning back studiously to his food to avoid analyzing.

...

The sun is just ghosting above the horizon when they assemble to head off the next morning, gently bathing the plain in its orange-red glow. There’s a morning chill carried in the wind that batters at Charles’ cheeks. It wipes away the bleariness of the early hour, and makes him glad that extra furs were among the items that he’d requested Alex fetch. And yet the last edges of summer are holding on; it’s nothing compared to the winter they’ll face once the seasons change and even the memories of warmth fade.

Lehnsherr had woken him just before dawn, and they’d had a hurried breakfast in the tent by the light of a flickering taper. More of the flat, dry bread and some of the season’s last berries, foraged from a nearby bush.

They’ll be going overland to Eoforwic. It’s the slower route than sailing up the coast, which tells Charles that either Lehnsherr doesn’t want their journey observed or reported, or that he’s uncertain of what awaits them in Eoforwic.

Scanning the group, Charles counts about fifty gathered, all told. Enough to defend themselves if it came down to it, but still a small enough party to travel relatively unobtrusively.

His horse gives a restless shuffle, tugging gently on the reins in his hands. A nobleman's former mount, certainly. Fine little features stand out in the saddle, tack, and gear. The rivets in the saddle bags are detailed in a star motif, points radiating out in blades of light, as only the very wealthy could afford. It was probably scavenged from its slain owner, or, optimistically, was given up by a defeated city relinquishing its riches. Londres had given up several hundred horses in the surrender.

Lehnsherr, who’d gone off on an unnamed errand after seeing Charles matched with a horse, approaches once more. He’s leading not only a horse of his own, but a woman. Charles recognizes her dark eyes and small stature from the previous morning.

“Charles,” Lehnsherr says without ceremony, “this is Angel. She’s here to assist you.”

He looks back over at her, as she returns his gaze placidly. Assist him? The road, travelling rough as they are, is no place for an attendant. Then, focusing on her smooth expression, it all clicks into place.

Assist him. Ha. More like spy on him. He quickly re-assesses the meeting he interrupted yesterday as an intelligence report. Interesting. Sebastian, with his more traditionalist views, would likely not have thought to assign such a job to a beta or omega woman.

He manages, “a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Angel.” It’s a lie, of course, but Charles was raised with manners, and she can’t help the assignment she's been tasked with. While Charles is fairly confident in his charm, Angel proves just as enigmatic as her commander, offering merely a hint of a smile and a raised eyebrow before turning to see to her own mount.

With eyes on him secured, Lehnsherr seems relatively content to leave him alone, as he heads up towards the front of the column to rally the troops.

They set off, and Charles easily falls towards the back of the group, ghosted by Angel. If he had any remaining doubts about her occupation, they dissipate after watching her subte, silent moments, even on horseback.

Travelling en masse, they alternate bursts of speed with walking breaks to keep a sustainable pace for the horses.

He is content to pass the first canter course just relishing the abandon of the pace, the uneven terrain below the horses’ hooves. The sun gradually climbs higher until he can feel the warmth of it on his hair, and the wind blows across his face. He basks in the experience of being out in the open, running wild (if not free) after six months of siege.

The dusty roadside is lined here and there with dots of blue chicory, long stems stretching up tenaciously towards the sky. A flock of chaffinches, startled by their appearance, burst in flight. His spy, Angel, seems to have melted away into the group, perhaps prefering to operate in her usual mode when her targets don’t know she’s there. It is tempting to forget the circumstances and enjoy the moment.

But Charles is too pragmatic, hardened by bitter experience underlined by recent events, to let this lapse in Lehnsherr’s attention (Angel aside) go to waste.

In the first walking break, he looks around at the stragglers in the second half of the party for promising targets of some reconnaissance of his own. Just ahead and to his left are two burly men engaged in animated discussion. Inching subtly closer, he’s disappointed but not surprised to find that they’re speaking Danish. He has so little of the language, certainly not enough to make reliable sense of their discussion, but at the least perhaps listening might improve his facility. He listens amongst the glottal phrases for repeated sounds he might begin to decipher.

“It’s a blunt-tongued language, isn’t it?” a warm voice addresses Charles from slightly behind.

He starts and turns his body in the direction of the sound—as pleased to hear the softer tones of Saxon as he is startled at the sudden intrusion—to find another rider approaching on his right.

He’s a young man, a little younger than Charles from appearances, and clothed in unusual attire. A flat sort of cap, fashioned from a vibrant dark red material, adorns his head. His tunic, where it peeks through his furs, is woven of rich fabric: not over-ornamented, but of a quality far surpassing the coarse weaves and eclectic dress of the surrounding men. He carries himself with a cool confidence, perched lightly on his saddle, relaxed and much more poised than any other of Lehnsherr’s men.

Charles pulls gently at the reins, slowing his horse’s pace to allow the other man to draw even with him.

Even as he takes him in, the clothing stirs a memory at the back of his mind of a childhood long ago; Muslim traders at the Norman court. The memory is an old one; Sebastian’s kingdom was an insular one and didn’t get on with outsiders, let alone cultured guests from the learned centres of the world.

“Forgive me for startling you, Your Highness,” the man says. Despite Charles’ deliberate choice to leave his circlet behind at the tent, it seems that Lehnsherr’s scene in the banquet hall the other night has left him no chance of anonymity.

“That’s quite alright. Though, you seem to have me at a disadvantage.”

“The name’s Armando, sir.”

“Armando.” He says, rolling the name around in his mouth. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” It's the second time today he’s offered these words, but he finds he can be more sincere with them when not faced with a spy. “And what is your role here?” He’s a figure somewhat misplaced among the rough-and-tumble Danes.

“I’m a physician. Born in Cordoba, and trained in Alexandria.”

A frisson of excitement runs through Charles at this announcement. “You speak Saxon very well for an Andalusian. Better than myself, and I’ve been speaking it almost since birth.”

“Thank you. Once I had the first few, the next languages came easily enough.” He switches into Norman for the second part of explanation to demonstrate.

“How many others do you speak?”

“Fluently? I’d say seven--maybe eight.” He cracks a broad, warm smile at Charles’ astonishment. “What can I say? I’m adaptive.”

Mindful of his spy close at hand, Charles yet can’t hide his delight to be in the company of a fellow seeker in the pursuit of knowledge, one with personal experience of the madrasas of the learned world at that. Despite this, he tries to rein himself in before his enthusiasm overwhelms his caution. After all, no matter how much he may seem a kindred spirit, he doesn’t know Armando nor his agenda. And, after seeing firsthand the danger that lurks in the camp, he’d be a fool to count himself safe.

They settle into a comfortable rhythm. It’s in the next walking break that Charles, between probing questions about the scientific and medical developments out of Baghdad, catches sight of a head above the crowd. His heart stutters, and he almost jerks on the reins impulsively. Riding up at the front, near Lehnsherr, but a bit off to the side. He’s easy to spot, rising nearly head-and-shoulders above the men surrounding him, stature and bearskin robe unmistakable.

“Armando, what can you tell me about that man?”

Armando follows his gaze to the front of the party, and when he sees the man to whom Charles refers seems to hesitate.

“He goes by the name of Sabretooth. He leads one of the strongest factions among the Danish warriors.” He pauses so long that Charles thinks he might have to prompt again, before continuing. “He and his supporters are known for their unyielding savagery in battle. I’ve only ever seen the aftermath.” Armando looks towards the riders at the front, squinting into the midday sun at the outline of the man in question. His words seem improbably incongruous in the brightness of the day. “Going into battle they consume a potion to free them of inhibitions and drive away all traces of remorse. Many of his followers file their teeth, supposedly to more easily rend the flesh of their enemies. Except Sabretooth himself who they say likes the challenge of a duller edge.”

Charles masks his disquiet with a wry remark. “No doubt a firm favourite of his Grace.” He had heard tell of such stories, whispers of viking cannibals, but had always assumed them to be over-inflations of reality.

“You’re wrong about that, actually.”

He looks back over, surprised.

“I have the sense—mind you, this is just my perception—that His Grace dislikes him very much.”

Charles thinks on this. Armando’s explanation would seem to square with the disagreement he witnessed back at the camp. Furthermore, the man—Sabretooth—seems prone to unpredictable violence, of a sort that might irk someone as careful and controlled as Lehnsherr. And yet—

“If that's the case, why invite him on such a party?

Armando takes a moment to respond, looking between the two riders up ahead. “There’s a common saying in Alexandria. It translates roughly to: a wise man holds his enemies close to his breast but far from his heart.”

Charles nods in agreement as he notes the appropriateness of it, thinking of the justification he had used to convince Lehnsherr to take him along even as he once again reconfigures his knowledge of the man. He, too, is an enemy Lehnsherr has held close. But before he can take the train of thought much further, the low blast of a horn signals the return to a canter, and it’s lost in the clatter of advancing hooves.

…

In the late afternoon, the first sign of smoke on the horizon alerts them. It curls above the treetops a little ways off the road. Too dense and heavy to be from a cooking fire.

The nearby homestead is set back from the road, but after the party halts at another horn blast a few riders break away from the pack in its direction. Charles pulls his horse past the crowd of remaining men and follows after them.

It’s a desolate scene. What was formerly a cottage now smouldering ashes but for the charred edges of a door frame still standing. The field of crops outside is churned up and scattered. Crushed stalks of barley that were trodden under horses’ hooves are beaten into the mud. A handful of slaughtered animals lie along the path. But what is most evident is the woman crouched in front of the remains of the house, keening in grief. Her ragged dress is torn, at her side a small child with a soot in their hair and clothes.

Lehnsherr has already dismounted, handed off his reins to another rider in order to survey the scene. Charles follows suit without a thought, and once he gets closer, it unfolds before him tragic inevitability.

He sees the dead man lying a few feet away from the woman and child, his grotesquely splayed body telling the story of his violent end. Then, clutched in the woman’s arms, a boy. A mere child, perhaps thirteen summers. His small eyes are closed almost peacefully, his forehead smeared with clotted blood.

Armando, who has followed Charles from the road, is quick to be rallied to aid.

Insensible in grief, the woman seems to barely register their presence as they cautiously approach. The young child, likely too small to comprehend the events that have taken place, tugs on her dress to get her attention, until she at last looks up at them. Her gaze is empty as one beyond reach, already crossed over to the next world.

It strikes Charles deeply, who freezes, feeling her disconnection mirrored in his own. Dissociation is a strategy he’s used to make himself hard, hiding his emotions in a fortress to protect them from a scene that has and will continue to play out countless times across the countryside. Recognizing it now in this woman, he’s struck by its haunting unnaturalness, the hollowness it invokes.

Armando, who had gently nudged the woman aside to conduct an examination, looks up and shakes his head.

The young child shrieks suddenly, drawing back and cowering behind their mother, who, past caring, doesn’t noticeably react. The cause is soon clear: having finished attentively examining the scene and damage, Lehnsherr is making his way over. To his credit, in response to the child’s dismay he slows his approach and spreads his hands wide in the universal symbol of non-aggression. It’s the only reason that Charles makes no move to stop him as he nears the woman and child, and crouches down.

Charles watches as he starts a conversation in Saxon, gently asking a question or two. He thinks he hears Lehnsherr quietly mutter a few words following the woman’s stilted responses. Then the man pulls an aged leather drawstring pouch from somewhere on his person, and produces several small, glinting coins which he hands to the woman.

A weregild.

Blood price for so much death and evil, paid for with some mere pieces of metal. He rails internally at his own impotence, safe behind a palace wall while people are suffering; dying. And at the authors of the violence, as Lehnsherr’s actions here have surely confirmed, the very men he rides with.

He’s overwhelmed by a helpless rage that washes over him like a tide.

“A few coins” the words come out flat, subdued. “Do you think they can repair the loss of a husband, bring back her child?” It’s an accusation but empty, anger deserting him as quickly as it arrived for a dull hopelessness.

Lehnsherr turns to him, delayed. His gaze is a bit distant, as though he’d forgotten Charles was there.

“It will bring them food,” he says levelly, “buy them shelter for the winter. Nothing can bring back the dead.”

Charles stands there for an indeterminable span of time, consumed by the endless cruelties of men. By this tangible reminder of the pain caused and lives lost to men—no, not men, beasts, seeking only personal glory, an enrichment of power.

“You generals and your wars,” he says coldly and turns away, the smoke still stinging in his eyes.

#cherik #viking au #Charles Xavier #Erik Lehnsherr #x-men #subtle a/b/o #cherik fic #brawlingdiscontent #twtbog #encomium carolis regis

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mrsjadecurtiss · 3 years

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Another ask, if you have the inclination: I've just been rereading Reek III with all that entails, and Theon thinks about 'the son is just the shadow of the father' re Roose and Ramsay. Do you believe that Roose can actually be as bad or worse than Ramsay at this point? He's got to be worse than average and his morals very lacking, but it's hard to imagine us being made to abhor him more than Ramsay in the remaining books. Is it just Theon's terrified paranoia, or do you think it can pay off somehow? 🤔 Or am I misinterpreting that line do you think?

Do you believe that Roose can actually be as bad or worse than Ramsay at this point? He's got to be worse than average and his morals very lacking [...].

This is a trap, he is playing with you, the son is just the shadow of the father. Lord Ramsay played with his hopes all the time. - Reek III, aDwD

This is no man to jape with. You had only to look at Bolton to know that he had more cruelty in his pinky toe than all the Freys combined. - Reek III, aDwD

I believe quotes like these refer to the effect of the cruelty they enact, rather than the specific crimes.

Ramsay is vile and cruel, enacting heinous violence upon people like a slasher movie villain. We do not have any evidence that Roose personally inflicts the same degree of crass violence upon people, as even in his presumably candid retelling of the miller's wife story, while a horrifying and inexcusable crime, he does not reach the extreme level of violence Ramsay inflicts upon smallfolk on the regular with his hunts and torturings.

"Roose Bolton's cold and cunning, aye, but a man can deal with Roose. We've all known worse. But this bastard son of his … they say he's mad and cruel, a monster." - Davos III, aDwD

The point, i believe, is not who produces the worst feats of violence, but rather another facette of grrms criticism of feudalism:

Would Ramsay even have a chance to do these heinous crimes if his father, who knows about everything, had an ounce of morality in him?

[Roose:] "All you have I gave you. You would do well to remember that, bastard." - Reek III, aDwD

Everything Ramsay has, his high position, the freedom to do all the crimes he wants, the protection from law that would have otherwise sent him to the wall in no time, he has because of his father's selfishness. Roose could have stopped these crimes from happening, he could have given Ramsay the appropriate punishment, instead he keeps Ramsay around because he feels like it...

Roose is at the top of his society, answering to barely anyone except his overlord and his king; so much power is at his fingertips, and yet he uses it for selfish reasons, commits crimes, allows crimes to happen in full knowledge, and everything is handled as it benefits him instead of abiding to morality or law. Every crime Ramsay does is Roose' responsibility as feudal lord and thus his crime.

"When soldiers lack discipline, the fault lies with their lord commander," his father said. - Tyrion VIII, aGoT

Roose is called the leech lord, and indeed he is a leech upon society, bleeding his people dry to his own benefit while not lifting a finger himself. While he is not a literal vampire, obviously parts of his character are a play on vampire myths, and the aristocratic bloodsucking vampire is frequently used as a metaphor for critique of the ruling class (i hear Fever Dream by grrm plays with this, though i have not read it). He might not commit a Texas Chainsaw Massacre in person, but that doesn't make him any less morally bankrupt and despicable, and he still has the same blood on his hands.

There is a tendency where Roose tries to lighten his crimes in conversation - here are three examples showing different facettes:

"The arrogance of it! They do not expect the north to believe their lies, not truly, but they think we must pretend to believe or die. Roose Bolton lies about his part in the Red Wedding, and his bastard lies about the fall of Winterfell." - Davos IV, aDwD

[Roose:] "Tell me, my lord … if the kinslayer is accursed, what is a father to do when one son slays another?" - Reek III, aDwD

[Roose:] "The maesters will tell you that King Jaehaerys abolished the lord's right to the first night to appease his shrewish queen, but where the old gods rule, old customs linger. The Umbers keep the first night too, deny it as they may. Certain of the mountain clans as well, and on Skagos … well, only heart trees ever see half of what they do on Skagos." - Reek III, aDwD

1. Denial of involvement - Roose frequently either escapes blame completely (for example for Duskendale), puts blame on someone else (like blaming Ramsay's bastard blood for Winterfell), or lies about his crimes to evade blame.

2. Selectively invoking law - using the kinslaying law, he pretends his hands are tied when it comes to Ramsay, even though he could for example also send him to the wall as punishment. He frequently breaks laws as he pleases and also took part in breaking sacred contracts such as guest right (red wedding), so him invoking law in this instance is likely a tool to absolve himself of blame during the conversation.

3. Comparing himself to others to lessen his own acts, after failing to escape blame - by bringing the Umbers etc into the conversation, he tries to make himself look less bad; "look, everyone's doing it, and the skagosi are probably even worse than me!"

As opposed to Ramsay, he is aware of how the severity of the crimes he is doing would be received by others. He likes to present himself as a rational and civilized man, and thus has an interest to downplay his criminal actions, even if he does not see anything wrong with them as he did them for his own benefit.

"No tales were ever told of me. Do you think I would be sitting here if it were otherwise?" - Reek III, aDwD

"That annoyed me, so I gave her the mill and had the brother's tongue cut out, to make certain he did not go running to Winterfell with tales that might disturb Lord Rickard." - Reek III, aDwD

As the Mormonts were bannermen to the Starks, [Jorah's] crime had dishonored the north. Ned had made the long journey west to Bear Island, only to find when he arrived that Jorah had taken ship beyond the reach of Ice and the king's justice. - Eddard II, aGoT

The foolish Ramsay tries to pride himself in his crimes; Roose however knows of the importance of optics. He is aware that he frequently breaks the law, and tries his best to keep his reputation intact as to not attract unwanted attention; especially with an overlord like Ned Stark, who would not handwave any crime and would make sure justice is served.

From what we can observe, in my opinion the difference between Roose and Ramsay is that Roose doesn't see anything wrong with comitting violence as long as the result is of a benefit for him, while Ramsay additionally also commits violence because he merely finds enjoyment in inflicting it, violence for violence's sake. This is why Roose is able to control himself and always gives Ramsay the advice to be restrained, but Ramsay is unable and unwilling to do so and his acts are much more extreme. Roose is likely starting to realize this difference by aDwD.

Is it just Theon's terrified paranoia [...]?

I do also believe Theon's statement is fueled by paranoia, if you look at the entire context:

"I mean you no harm, you know. I owe you much and more." - "You do?" Some part of him was screaming, This is a trap, he is playing with you, the son is just the shadow of the father. Lord Ramsay played with his hopes all the time. "What … what do you owe me, m'lord?" - "The north. The Starks were done and doomed the night that you took Winterfell." He waved a pale hand, dismissive. "All this is only squabbling over spoils." - Reek III, aDwD

Roose is not necessarily tricking Theon here since it appears to be a correct statement; And he does have an interest to be on friendly terms with Theon (offering him fresh clothes for example) because he wants to make use of his position as heir to the iron islands, a goal he expressed as early as a Storm of Swords.

"Flaying Theon will not bring my brothers back," Robb said. "I want his head, not his skin." - "He is Balon Greyjoy's only living son," Lord Bolton said softly, as if they had forgotten, "and now rightful King of the Iron Islands. A captive king has great value as a hostage." - Catelyn VI, aCoK

"Serve us in this, and when Stannis is defeated we will discuss how best to restore you to your father's seat," his lordship had said in that soft voice of his, a voice made for lies and whispers. Theon never believed a word of it. - The Prince of Winterfell, aDwD

Note that here Theon does not believe him either, any trust he has shattered by Ramsay as well as Roose' unlikable personality. Still it seems likely Roose was really somewhat trying to be nice with Theon, because as he tries to teach Ramsay there's value in it:

"Power tastes best when sweetened by courtesy. You had best learn that if you ever hope to rule." - Reek III, aDwD

Do you think it can pay off somehow?

This is speculation, but i believe Roose' story is likely headed in the opposite direction - A Storm of Swords featured his greatest villainous feat, the Red Wedding, a showcase of cruelty and treacherousness. I do not think it will be followed up by an act of even greater cruelty; instead i think he will finally reap what he has sown.

Roose Bolton said nothing at all. But Theon Greyjoy saw a look in his pale eyes that he had never seen before — an uneasiness, even a hint of fear.

That night the new stable collapsed beneath the weight of the snow that had buried it. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

I believe the line about the stable is meant as a metaphor for his regime collapsing, as it is put directly after the line where he realizes the situation is growing dire for him.

It all seemed so familiar, like a mummer show that he had seen before. Only the mummers had changed. Roose Bolton was playing the part that Theon had played the last time round, and the dead men were playing the parts of Aggar, Gynir Rednose, and Gelmarr the Grim. - a Ghost in Winterfell, aDwD

Roose is likely going to continue the parallel with Theon as his arc goes steadily downwards. He is a foil to Ned; where Ned died but his legacy lives on, Roose will likely live to see his legacy crumble.

There is of course a possibility that he, when cornered, starts expressing more cruelty as a last-ditch effort. We saw the stable used as a metaphor for his rule in Winterfell; but there is another interesting detail about the reconstruction of the burned Winterfell:

Serve well, Lord Bolton told them, and he would be merciful. Stone and timber were plentiful with the wolfswood so close at hand. Stout new gates had gone up first, to replace those that had been burned. Then the collapsed roof of the Great Hall had been cleared away and a new one raised hurriedly in its stead. When the work was done, Lord Bolton hanged the workers. True to his word, he showed them mercy and did not flay a one. - the Prince of Winterfell, aDwD

Aegon the Conqueror had commanded [the Red Keep] built. His son Maegor the Cruel had seen it completed. Afterward he had taken the heads of every stonemason, woodworker, and builder who had labored on it. Only the blood of the dragon would ever know the secrets of the fortress the Dragonlords had built, he vowed. - Catelyn IV, aGoT

This is a crack theory, but perhaps Roose has something up his sleeve when it comes to the newly constructed roof of the Great Hall (a location that features extremely prominently through all of Theon's aDwD Winterfell chapters). Maybe he could make it crash intentionally to bury his treacherous allies or something like that...

I doubt however that he will do Ramsay-style extreme violence, i can't really see a reason and it doesn't appear to be his style. He seems more about cunning than flashy displays.

As always these are not PoV characters, so as long as we don't have a view inside their heads we can never say anything with 100% certainty.

#asoiaf #roose bolton #ramsay bolton #asoiaf meta #a song of ice and fire #asks #mzyraj #sorry if i went a little off topic ajsjdjfjxjd #im like roose i just love going on a tangent of someone gives me an opportunity to talk #also ive seen your other question its very interesting #ill see when i can get to it

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geekgirles · 3 years

Text

Your Heart

Chapter 3 -- Introductions

READ ON AO3

Word Count: 8831

Sleep. Ah, blissful sleep. The Holy Grail Danny had spent his entire high school life looking for, and that still eluded him from time to time. That wonderful feeling when he just collided on his bed after a long day of balancing his secret identity and his civilian one, of ruling over a race whose reputation had earned him the contempt of many, of fighting rebellious spirits...To just let the tiredness wash over and slumber take him was pure bliss.

Could there be anything more amazing?

At this point Danny’s perfect day had evolved from the amazing activities normal people looked forward to ーgoing to the beach with friends, binge-watching an entire season-worth of episodes in a day, ice skating…ーto the simple joys in life, such as getting a full night’s sleep (maybe even sleeping in, if he was lucky), going to the Nasty Burger with Tucker, and just having a normal day.

But, as an aggravating sound would remind him, those days were far and in between.

Twisting around in bed, eyes tightly shut and his face forming a grimace in annoyance, the halfa did everything in his power to ignore that damned noise. Trying hard as he might, there was no turning off the volume of that obnoxious beeping. Giving up, he reached out a hand from under his covers to tap the snooze button.The fucking alarm clock; his worst enemy after Plasmius. And the second most annoyingーthat title belonged to the Box Ghost.

Stifling a yawn with his hand, he got out of bed. Half-heartedly rummaging through his closet, he picked the first thing he could find and went inside his bathroom, having no choice but to start a new day. Once inside, he locked the door and took one look at himself in the mirror, well, as good as a look through sleepy, half-lidded eyes could be. He was greeted by the sight of his ghost form’s nuclear white hair and glowing green eyes. Seeing his reflection, Danny jumped back in surprise, until he remembered the previous day’s events.

After officially meeting the Witch Queen he decided to crash in his lair in the Ghost Zone, too exhausted to return home.

He attributed not realising it sooner to his chambers’ appearance. Soon after he became the Ghost King, he was instructed to create a lair of his own; to cement his current position as ruler among his subjects, and to have a place where they could go in case they needed his help that wasn’t Fenton Works. Clockwork helpfully pointed out that keeping his secret identity from his parents and the citizens of Amity Park would be considerably more difficult if the ghosts had to look for him around town whenever they needed him.

It was also Clockwork who gave him the idea of designing his lair taking himself as inspiration. “Try creating something both familiar and completely foreign; such as your own condition.” the Ghost of Time advised wisely, “Combine things that remind you of your human halfーtry not to make it very obvious, while you’re at itー with the sort of elements typical of the Ghost Zone.”

And hence, he created his lair.

On the outside it looked like a house belonging to the neighbourhoods he and Tucker grew up in, but on the inside he drew inspiration from Pariah Dark’s castle. Only it wasn’t nearly as frightening, just lavish enough to give the impression that someone powerful resided there. But his favourite room was, without a doubt, his own. An almost exact replica of the one at FentonWorksーthe main difference being that this one had its own bathroom and a few large one-way windows he used to oversee his realmー Danny could feel at ease. And, again, it explained why he hadn’t noticed he wasn’t back on Earth. That, and the sleepiness, of course.

Shrugging, he summoned the twin circles of light to surround his body, the familiar, chilly sensation running down his spine. Once he was Danny Fenton again, he stripped off the clothes he’d worn the previous day, got into the shower, and got the water running.

As he showered, his mind raced back to the previous day. In particular, to his meeting with the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park. She was a riddle, wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma. Even with his alter egos, both of his identities were fairly well-known in the public eye. Danny Fenton was the son of Amity Park’s most notorious ghosthunters, not necessarily for their skill or captured ghosts, but his parents had certainly always been very present around town. With their ghost conferences and pep talks, their field trips searching for ghosts around town, that one time they felt like dressing up like back in the 80’s and embarrassed him and Jazz in the middle of the Nasty Burger just because he’d forgotten his wallet…

Between his parents, puberty, and his new-found ghost powers, his teenage years sure were a blast...

And speaking of ghost powers, there was Danny Phantom. The ghost boy that one day appeared out of the blue, first seen fighting a giant meat monster. The public menace who once attacked the mayor. The spectral intruder who trashed Axion Labs, got one of its employees fired, and was responsible for the rise of the Red Huntress...who also happened to be his sorta-kinda-maybe-it-was-complicated ex-girlfriend. The young hero who valiantly fought against the terrifying, tyrannical Ghost King and defeated him, saving both worlds in the process...only to be then crowned King of the Ghost Zone himself and ignite the ire and distrust of the town whose respect he had just won not even a week prior.

The very same Ghost King who was still doing his best, day after day, to protect everyone from the most malicious ghosts who still challenged his rule. But did anyone care? Well, aside from a, thankfully, ever-growing fan club, if the burn he’d received the other day courtesy of none other than Valerie Gray was any indication...Nope.

Summing up, Danny was fairly well-known.

But the Witch Queen, on the other hand… The only reason he even knew of her existence or where to find her was because he’d found a few pages of Sojourn’s legendary journal flying around the Ghost Zone while he investigated the cause for the numerous portals opening. According to the wandering ghost’s notes, although there were several covens scattered throughout the globe, one in particular had settled in Amity Park after years of travelling around the colonies, fleeing from an event they called ‘The Great Burning’. Although Danny had no idea what that was, even if it did sound bad, what caught his attention was both their abilities, therefore his idea to ask them for help, and the last place Sojourn saw them before continuing on with his own search. He remembered his own eyes widening at the location. A location he knew from personal experience.

The fact that his messenger actually delivered the letter was pure luck, though. For all the halfa knew, the witches could’ve left Amity Park in the centuries between Sojourn’s disappearance and his accident.

Reaching his hand to the faucet, he turned off the water. He grabbed the nearest towel and wrapped it around his lower half while he used a smaller one to dry his hair off. Then he grabbed his clothes from the floor where he put them and got dressed. Combing his unruly hair with a hand, since he had long given up on doing anything with it, he stared at his, now, fully-dressed human reflection.

He looked the same as his fourteen-year-old self, except for the more defined physique that came with daily ghost fights. At least there were some perks to getting your ass handed to you on a regular basis. The only other thing that changed was his wardrobe. It was still casual, he wasn’t going to start wearing Giorgio Armani suits anytime soon (it’d make him look like Vlad), but more grown-up, too. In his sleep-induced blindness he managed to pick up some decent clothing: a baby blue shirt over a long-sleeved, white undershirt, dark blue jeans, and beat-up red sneakers. Not bad.

He left the bathroom after brushing his teeth in the sink. Walking down the corridors on his way to the kitchen, his mind went back to his encounter with Lady Arcana. When he became king, Frostbite served as a tutor of sorts. The leader of the Far Frozen made sure he knew everything he would need about the Ghost Zone and its history to be an effective leader. It was because of his lessons that he even knew who Sojourn was! But, most importantly, it was thanks to them that he learned of the existence of witches.

And what he’d learned about them and what they’d done...it was so horrifying he couldn’t blame the ghosts for having a grudge against them that kept them apart for centuries. Thanks to what he’d read and was told about them, Danny knew what to expect from the spellbinding group of women.

Witches were scheming, often fooling people into making a deal with the devil (figuratively speaking, that is) in exchange for things their clients would never be able to afford. They were selfish: the Witch Queen herself only cared about what happened to her people, never mind two entire dimensions! Much like Vlad, they only showed interest in a confrontation or making a deal if they had the upper hand.

Frostbite had every right to be wary of his decision to ask them for help. After all, not only were the witches malicious, they were dangerous. Even if they lacked the standard ghost abilities such as flight, invisibility, and intangibility; their knowledge of magic was enough to give any ghost a hard time. And it was said that the Queen was the most dangerous of them all…

Danny could definitely attest to that. Although he hadn't seen her in action per se, he could feel an inner strength radiating from her the moment they locked eyes. And the way she fiercely fought for her people's safety only proved that. Even if he really found it selfish that she only cared for her people’s sake, Danny had to admit, it made sense, it even made her a good ruler. The only reason he cared about both worlds was because he lived in both worlds. Had he been fully human or fully ghost, deep down he’d only have cared about whatever dimension he belonged to.

Despite all the red flags and warning signs, there was this part of him who truly believed Lady Arcana (what an odd name) was his only hope. He just hoped that part of him had some kind of clairvoyance and wasn’t just indigestion or something.

“Your Majesty, you’re awake!” A high-pitched voice broke him out of his musings. Looking around, he realised he was in the kitchen and the voice belonged to Dora, his maid. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like to eat, so I made everything I could think of.”

When his eyes landed on the food served on the table, he almost had to do a double-take. She sure went all out… Before him lay a carton of milk, eggs cooked in all ways imaginable (fried, scrambled, boiled, Benedict eggs…), over a dozen toasts, a few jars of different jams, bacon, pancakes, around three boxes of cereal, and an arrangement of fruit and juice.

Mouth watering and eyes as big as the saucers set down on the table, he turned to the ghost maiden, “When did you have time to do all this? Did you even sleep?”

The green-skinned spirit raised a hand to politely cover her mouth, chuckling in amusement. “My Lord, you forget we ghosts don’t sleep. So of course I had time to do this.” She smiled at his flushing face, embarrassment for having forgotten about that apparent on his features. “But, please, don’t trouble yourself with such things, your Majesty. Just sit down and eat.”

He did as he was told before reaching out for a few toasts and strawberry jam. He actually hated toast, but then again, that was probably because the Fenton Toaster always made them way too dry. As Dora poured some coffee on his glass, he spoke up, ignoring he was speaking with his mouth full. “I thought I told you to just call me ‘Danny’”, he swallowed, “We’re friends, Dora, remember? You are under no obligation to treat me as anything but that.”

Princess Dorothea, or Dora, was a ghost he met back in freshman year of high school. The first time they met her magical amulet got him in trouble, since it transformed his former crush into a dragon whenever she got angry. The next time they met, though, was when her asshole of a brother was looking for a bride but, being too out of the loop to try online dating, he forced her to organise a beauty pageant with him as the judge. When he defeated Aragon and freed his kingdom, he also freed Dora, who swore to be his ally after that. And the moment he rose as king, she offered to be his maid.

“I know, but what can I say? My brother kept our kingdom in the Dark Ages for 1600 years. Old habits die hard, I suppose.” She defended.

“But you have no trouble keeping up with the current time’s peech pattern.” He pointed out.

Dorothea just shrugged in response.

They stayed in silence for a while after that. While Danny ate his breakfast, Dora cleaned the kitchen. It was usually like that when he stayed in the Ghost Zone long enough to need the kitchen running. Looking at his cellphone, Danny almost spat his food. In an instant, Dora was by his side, making sure he didn’t choke. “Shit! I’m gonna be late!”

With that, he quickly finished his plate with a quick “See ya!” thrown at Dora and transformed, flying around the Ghost Zone until he could make out the Fenton Ghost Portal in the distance. It was still a little early for his parents to be up and running around the lab, so he didn’t have to turn invisible once he reached the lab. Phasing through the ceiling, he was about to make it to the door when the sound of footsteps startled him.

“Danny? Is that you?” came his mother’s voice.

Panicking slightly, he dropped the transformation. By the time his parents came down the stairs, he was nervously waiting for them at the door, fully human. “Hi, Mom. Hi, Dad.” He waved at them with a nervous smile. “Good morning.”

“Good morning, Son.” Jack patted his son, who almost reached his 6’1 height, being 5’9 now, on the back. “Did you sleep well?”

“Um, yeah. Fully rested. And you guys?”

“Oh, you bet, Danno!” the Fenton patriarch exclaimed as he poured himself a cup of coffee. “I dreamed I had that putrid, ectoplasmic apparition of a monarch right where I wanted him; with an ecto-blaster aimed right at his forehead!” Jack boasted, completely ignoring how his son suddenly lost some colour in his face.

Sipping at her own mug of coffee, Maddie chimed in, “We didn’t hear you last night. Did you come too late from college, sweetie? Did you need anything?”

Danny rubbed the back of his neck nervously. Although he’d got much better at lying to his parents over the years (a fact he hated), that didn’t mean he felt comfortable doing it. “Yeah, sorry. It was late when I was done studying at the university’s library, but before I could get into my dorm I realised I didn’t have the keys with me.” He explained, hating the way the lie naturally rolled off his tongue. “I came here thinking I must’ve forgotten them the last time I came to visit, but no such luck. Anyway, it was too late to return so I decided to crash. Hope that’s okay with you guys.”

His mother went over to place a kiss on his forehead, mug still in hand. “Don’t be silly, honey. This is your home! You’ll always be welcomed here.”

Jack came to stand beside his wife, a hand resting on her shoulder. “That’s right, Son. We were just a little confused. We didn't hear you coming in, that’s all.”

“Care for some toast?” Maddie offered.

“No, thanks. I already ate, besides, I’m gonna be late for class.”

“Then don’t let us keep you! See you later, Danno!” Jack said with a wave of his hand at the same time as Maddie said, “Bye, sweetie! Come back soon!” After closing the door behind him, he swiftly hid behind a nearby car to transform before leaping into the air and speeding up towards APU (Amity Park University). He wasn’t lying when he said he was going to be late.

Besides, he’d promised Tucker he would meet up with him and someone he was dying to introduce him to today.

...............................

When her alarm clock blared, Sam lazily reached a hand out from her covers to hit the snooze bottom. As the weariness wore off, she arched her back in an attempt to stretch and barely managed to cover her mouth as a yawn came to her. Yanking her red comforter aside, she got up from bed and walked towards her vanity, getting ready to start a new day.

Flopping down her chair, she hazardly opened her eyes to stare at her reflection. An over-sized Humpty Dumpty t-shirt she used to sleep hanging low from one of her shoulders; her disheveled black hair sticking out in disarray; a clammy, pale face contrasting greatly with the dark circles under her eyes… “Aren’t you a sex symbol, Sam.” She drawled sarcastically.

Well, things could only get better from there. Walking over her closet, she picked out the clothes she’d be wearing for the day and then got into the shower. Once she was out and dry, she sat back down her vanity chair and picked up her brush. People always said handling straight hair was easier, but they were wrong. Oh, they were so wrong. Untangling her onix mane was a challenge fit of Hercules himself, with all the tugging it required; case on point, whenever Paulina or Star had to work on her hair, they always marveled she wasn’t already bald.

With her hair taken care of, Sam slipped on her favourite tank top, a black one with a purple circle in its centre. Then came her pants; a pair of black shorts that were ripped at the sides she complemented with a white belt sporting a skull-shaped belt buckle. After that she slipped on a pair of thigh-length purple socks and her favourite steel toe combat boots; black with a row of three buckles on each side. When it came to accessorizing, Sam opted for her trademark black choker and bracelets and a purple opera glove on her left arm; Star recommended it, saying, “there’s just something so fashionable about asymmetry.”

Last but not least would be her make-up. Sam went for her usual style; not too over-the-top, but not too bland either. And so, she carefully applied a heavy coat of eyeliner and mascara on her eyelids and lashes, respectively; and her trademark violet lipstick. Now, the only thing left to do was the spell.

After listening intently and making sure no one was coming, Sam conjured in hushed tones, “Mutatio speciei.” With that, a swirly mist enveloped her head and, where once were her back-length inky locks framing her face, was now a different hairstyle. While the right side of her face remained the same, her left side was shaved with purple undertones, a tiny green ponytail in a purple scrunchie sticking out. Her lavender eyes had been replaced by a pair of hazel ones, and due to her hairdo, the two orbital piercings decorating her lower lobe were visible.

Satisfied with her look, she stood up from her chair, closed the door behind her, and descended the stairs to her kitchen. Yes, her kitchen. Not the one at the clan’s manor. While the large mansion located at 917 Maple Street, which the citizens of Amity Park believed to be an abandoned townsend place that could be rented for Halloween (they had to get funds from somewhere), served as her coven’s headquarters, training grounds, and shelter, the relatively lavish home in the upper class part of town was when she was raised.

In fact, every single witch had a house outside of the manor, for it was crucial to keep their identities hidden. Since having purple eyes and ebony hair was a huge giveaway of her real identity, Sam had to perform that one simple shapeshifting spell to make sure nobody ever recognised her. And now that Danny Phantom had seen her face, even if he didn’t know her real identity, all the more reason to be careful.

After her talk with the king of the Ghost Zone, Sam was almost tempted to think he was someone she could trust. Almost. Even with the explanation of their worlds depending on each other to exist, the Witch Queen still didn’t cross out the possibility of having been lied to. Phantom was known for being capable of anything if it saved the day. And lying to the leader of a tribe of magic users was sure to be nothing for him.

Even if he’d seen a lot less arrogant than he gave the impression of whenever he battled a rogue ghost, with all those puns and the constant taunting, he acted rather...humble towards her. He didn’t even show signs of animosity until she tested the waters and sneered at his kind. But that didn’t mean she was going to let her guard down around him anytime soon. If there was one thing dating that lying, good-for-nothing, Hungarian wannabe had taught her, it was that when something seemed too good to be true, it usually was.

After setting a carton of soy milk, a bowl with cereal and an apple down on the kitchen table, she sat down on her chair. Her dad, Jeremy Manson, read the newspaper with a steaming mug of black coffee beside him. Registering movement from the corner of his eyes, he lowered the paper. “Good morning, Sammy. Did you sleep well?”

Sam sent her dad a small smile. “Yes, Dad. How ‘bout you?”

Jeremy lifted a shoulder up, a nonchalant expression on his face. “Oh, you know… Same all, same all. It’s a bit harder to sleep when your mother’s away, planning events. But that’s how it is, isn’t it? While I oversee the company, she takes care of the social gatherings. We’re a great team like that.” He stated proudly.

“Yeah. You sure are…” Sam commented despondently. She didn’t have the heart to see what being married to a witch meant for her dad. Even though Jeremy was a true Manson, being Ida’s only child, the fact that he was a man meant he had little to no affinity to magic, and therefore, he could never be a part of their clan. The closest he got was marrying Pamela, a witch from a lesser family he somehow fell in love with. Neither Sam nor her Grandma put it past her that she’d been purposely hunting him down, since not only was he the Queen’s son, but Ida’s own father had been a successful and wealthy inventor.

Her Grandma often told her the main reason she accepted her mother was because she, somehow, made her dad happy and she’d given her the most wonderful granddaughter anyone could ask for.

Grandma Ida, on her part, always did her best to show her son how much she loved him, but their circumstances made it very difficult for them to spend time together; especially because Jeremy didn’t even know his mother was a witch. And neither did any other man involved with a woman from their clan, for that matter.

Being part of a secret, women-only tradition made it very difficult for them to have normal lives. It was imperative that the coven never died, which meant they needed children. There were only two ways of doing so: either a witch went downtown in search of a one-night-stand during her fertile days, or she used her civilian identity to start a family. The latter alternative also meant she’d have to protect herself and her children from a possible betrayal, hence, there was a special spell designed to keep their husbands in the dark when it came to their wives and daughters’ activities. In the worst case scenario, that is to say, that they’d been caught doing something suspicious or even performing magic, their partner was bound to forget all about it.

That was the reason why her dad thought Pamela was out planning social events for the sake of the company when, half of the time, she was actually in the manor. It was also the reason why he never commented on the way his daughter’s appearance would constantly change in ways it shouldn’t.

“I like what you’ve done to your hair.” He suddenly said, before taking a gulp of his coffee. “Did you use that new eco-friendly shampoo you wanted to try?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile at the way his father, who was incapable of remembering or realising certain things due to a spell, never failed to realise others. Especially if it concerned her. “Yeah. It’s got passion fruit, blackberries, and I don’t know what else.”

“Well, I like it!”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“I’ve been thinking,” Jeremy started, giving his daughter his full attention with a soft smile on his face, “since your mother said she’d be busy next Saturday, what do you say we go check out that new vegetarian restaurant you wanted to try out, um?”

Sam’s entire face lit up at that. “Are you serious?”

The blond man chuckled at his daughter’s child-like excitement; it’d been too long since the last time he saw it, “Yes, why not? I’m free that day and you’re always saying how much you want to go. So, what do you say? Do you have any extracurricular activities planned?”

‘Extracurricular activities.’ That was what she and her mother said whenever they talked about her role as the Witch Queen around the house. “I think I’m free, too. Sounds great, Dad.” The young woman smiled at her father warmly.

It was ironic, she couldn’t help but think. Due to all her responsibilities now and growing up, Sam never got to spend much time with her father; she was always near Pamela or her grandma. And yet, she was much closer to him, who actually made an effort to understand and encourage her interests ーespecially if Pamela wasn’t aroundー, than her mother. Then again, perhaps it was precisely because they weren’t together often that she was closer to him. Maybe she’d feel as suffocated around him otherwise.

After all, wasn’t that what people always said? ‘Distance makes the heart grow fonder’?

“Got any plans for today, Sammy?”

“Oh, you know, same as always. Go to class, pay attention in class, go to the library, my...extracurricular activities,” she coughed nervously at that, “come back home, and repeat.” Taking a bite of her apple, her eyes suddenly widened as she remembered something important. “Shit, I almost forgot! Today I agreed to meet up with a friend and someone he wants to introduce me to!”

Sam facepalmed herself. How could she have forgotten about that?!

“First of all, language.” Jeremy admonished her lightly. “And second, then I guess your day won’t be the ‘same as always’ after all.”

The raven-haired girl snorted at her dad’s sense of humour. Dad jokes. They weren’t her cup of tea, preferring witty remarks and dark humour, but they did the trick. Sometimes. “I guess not, Dad.”

“And who’re you meeting up with, kiddo?”

“Oh, my friend Tucker. I don’t think you know him because we mostly hang out at campus. Last week he came to me to ask me for a favour.”

“What sort of favour?” The blond middle-aged man raised an eyebrow, suspicious.

“He wants to introduce me to a friend of his. Apparently, he’s writing a paper on a subject I know quite a lot of.” She was just surprised there were classes teaching her subject of expertise that she wasn’t already a member of.

“His friend’s writing a paper on environmental law? Then you probably know them already!” Jeremy stated, setting his newspaper down.

“Dad, I’m in college, not high school, remember?” She sent him an amused look. “Even in regular classes there’s tons of people I don’t even know the names of.” Sam was tempted to tell him Tucker’s friend was probably not writing about environmental law, either, but she held her tongue. Better play along.

“Well, have a nice day anyway, honey.” He pointed at the clock hanging from the wall with a knowing smirk. “You should hurry up, too.”

Following the direction his thumb pointed at, Sam barely held herself back from cursing again. Eating the remaining food in a couple of large bites, she lunged herself out of the house the moment she grabbed her purple, spider-shaped backpack from a nearby chair. Once outside, she slid her arms through the straps before adjusting them. And with that, she ran to the nearest bus stop.

She couldn’t be late.

...................

“Did you have fun last night?”

The bespectacled young man watched as his best friend all but threw himself face-first at his bed on the other side of their room. A groan was all he received as a response. With a sigh, he set his tablet down on the table, directing his full attention to the exhausted half-ghost in front of him. “Could you please repeat that? My Groan-ish is a bit rusty.”

With great effort, Danny rose his head from his pillow, shooting a tired glare at Tucker. “Not in the mood, Tuck.”

“I’m gonna take that as a ‘no’”. He said before getting up from his chair to grab a mug and pour Danny some coffee. An intense espresso with no milk or sugar. Just like the dolt was addicted to.

Their room was an average one. Two beds, each on either side of the room; a kitchenette as you opened the door to step inside whose only appliances they used were the fridge and the microwave, both college students being way too dangerous to be trusted with their daily food. Each of them had a little, wooden desk on their respective side to work on projects and study, and in the middle of the room was a modest table where they ate.

When they first stepped foot in, he and Danny knew the room would undergo some major changesーor as big as the campus’ rules would allow. As time went by, though, only Tucker’s side looked almost identical to his own room back home. But since Danny often ended up crashing in his lair in the Ghost Zone or back at Fenton Works, that was to be expected. Case on point, while Tucker’s side was filled to the brim with screens, computer parts, wires, and the occasional top secret ghost-hunting project; Danny’s only way of telling there’d been some kind of change since they first got the room were his clothes in his drawers, and the occasional space and rock band poster on the wall. Other than that, it couldn’t be any more impersonal.

When he offered the mug to him, Danny snatched it from his hands like a dehydrated man in the middle of the desert would snatch a water bottle. “Correction: I’m gonna take that as ‘rough night doesn’t even begin to cover it.’”

“You have no idea…” Danny said in between gulps of caffeinated goodness. “Remind me again why I thought organising a meeting with the Witch Queen on a Sunday, knowing full well I had several killer classes the next day, was a good idea?”

“Probably because the rest of your week was booked anyway.” Tucker replied offhandedly as he grabbed his chair and got it closer to Danny’s bed. Spinning it around so its back was facing his best friend, he flopped down, a smirk on his face. “Speaking of, how was it? Was the Witch Queen as much of an old troll as we suspected?”

Turning around on his back, Danny rolled his eyes. “I’d wiー” he stopped himself short; one never knew when Desiree was lurking. Clearing his throat, he went on, “I mean, if only. That would’ve made talking to her easier. But, no! She had to be a purple-eyed, hottie brunette!”

Tucker perked up at that. “Wait, she was hot?” A nod from Danny. “Dude, that’s awesome! Wait a minute. Are we talking about Paulina-from-high-school hot, or regular hot?”

“Believe me, there was nothing regular about her.”

“So she was Paulina-from-high-school hot.”

“No, they’re completely different. Lady Arcana ーyeah, that’s her name. Don’t give me that look; I’m not the one who came up with it!ー has the kind of looks that come with a warning sign: ‘you can look, but if you so much as lay a finger on me, you’re dead.’”

“Okay,” Tucker drawled, “So, again, she’s basically Paulina-from-high-school hot.”

Danny shook his head. Tucker wasn’t there, so of course he wouldn’t get it. “No. If you got on her bad side, Paulina would throw the football team at you. Lady Arcana looked like she could kill you with her bare hands.”

The technophiliac tapped his finger against his chin pensively, registering the new information. “I see, so she was drop-dead gorgeous, but in a literal sense.”

“Are her looks all you’re going to fixate on?” Danny asked flatly, before conceding, “But yes, that is a more accurate way to describe her.”

Seeing as his friend was having none of it, Tucker limited himself to raising his palms up in a placating manner. “Sorry, dude. Just trying to dissipate some of the tension coming off of you. Serious talk, now, though. How did it go?”

The blue-eyed young man ran a hand through his jet-black hair, groaning. “Fine, I guess?”

The techno geek frowned. “Fine, you guess? What’s that supposed to mean? Did she or did she not agree to help you?”

“She did.” Danny nodded, but the uneasy expression didn’t leave his face.

Now it was Tucker who wasn’t having none of it. “So? Come on, man! Isn’t that supposed to be a good thing?”

“I don’t know. Frostbite has warned me several times now that asking the witches for help might bite me in the ass...Not with those exact words, of course, but you get the idea.” He elaborated as he repositioned himself on the bed until he was seated on it and facing Tucker.

“So you’re afraid that might happen now.” Tucker guessed.

Danny nodded. “But that’s not all. I have the feeling I might have brought this on myself.” Before Tucker could get a word in, the halfa stopped him with a raise of his hand. “I mean, I already knew I’d be risking a potential betrayal the moment I sent that letter butー.”

“Letters,” Tucker scoffed in disbelief. “In the 21st century. Only for that I already have a feeling I would never get along with one of them.” When he noticed Danny’s withering glare directed at him for interrupting him, the teal-eyed young man smiled sheepishly at him. “Uh, sorry.”

With a roll of his eyes, Danny went on. “As I was saying, I already knew what was on the line when I wrote to her, but I had a plan, you know? If she refused, I’d just have to look for an alternative. But if she didn’t, then I would keep my guard up. But something happened.”

He took Tucker’s silence and his raised eyebrows as a sign to continue. “She agreed to come to the Ghost Zone, she and two other witches came to the Ghost Zoneー.”

“Only two?”

“That’s what I said. Anyways, as I was trying to explain the problem, she basically made it clear that the issue with the portals was none of her business and made her way to the door.”

“None of her business?” Tucker echoed in disbelief. “But of course it’s her business. If there’s a problem in the Ghost Zone, that means the Earth’s next! How could she act like she wants nothing to do with the matter?”

“But that’s just the thing!” Danny pressed. “At first glance, it looked like she didn’t know. After I explained things to her, she seemed far more willing to associate herself with me, albeit very reluctantly.”

What was it with his best friend and never making sense? “Okay, so she accepted. She’s going to help you out. Care to enlighten me in regards to what the problem seems to be?” The techno geek crossed his arms, not following.

“I was getting there!” Danny defended. “The problem is that I was supposed to go on with my life if she said no. Well, she said no, and I practically begged her to help us!”

Okay, that sounded more serious, and not only because it must’ve been a huge blow to Danny’s ego. “Why’d you do that, dude? She’d just given you your ticket out of your,” he paused, thinking better of what he was going to say, “of your second death sentence.”

The halfa just shook his head, groaning. “I don’t know, Tuck. It’s just...One second she was making her leave, and the next there was this voice in my head that panicked. There was this...this...feeling that only she could be of help. So, against all common sense, I stopped her and tried reasoning with her. And now I’m stuck working with a woman who will not hesitate to stab me in the back with her magic wand.”

“Whoa. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say it was fate and you two are destined to be together.” At Danny’s murderous glare, Tucker burst out laughing. “I..I’m sorry...m-man! It...it’s j-just...t-too good!” He said in between wheezes.

Danny huffed. “As if! Lady Arcana might be pretty, but she is so not my type. Too brooding, with too many trust issues, and far too willing to kill me for real. The less I have to interact with her, the better.”

Sometime during his rant, he closed his eyes as he folded his arms over his chest as he leaned back on his wall, maybe to drive the point home. When he opened them, though, he found Tucker’s smirking face. The sight unnerved him; that was not what he was expecting to see. “What?”

“Are you sure she’s not your type?” The bespectacled young man asked in a teasing tone. “‘Cause you just described Valerie, and, unless my memory fails me, she was so your type back in high school.”

His smirk only widened at his blue-eyed best friend’s dark scowl. “Shut up, Tuck.”

Tucker threw his arms up in surrender, the teasing grin never leaving his face. “I’m just saying, man. Valerie has been hellbent on vaporising you with her ecto-guns for years and that didn’t stop you from crushing on her and giving her lovesick puppy looks even after she ‘broke up’ with you for the remainder of high school.”

Danny rolled his eyes at the reminder. “Trust me, Tuck. Falling for the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park would be like falling for Vlad.”

They both shuddered at the thought.

Finally, Tucker decided to let the issue go with a shrug of his shoulders. “Whatever you say. Just don’t forget we’re meeting up with Sam in an hour.”

That took Danny aback. “With whom?”

Exasperated, Tucker rolled his eyes. “Sam.” He repeated. “You know, that friend of mine I met last year in the library? When you told me you might be working with witches to solve the portal problem I arranged for us to hang out together.”

“Okay, now I remember. What I don’t remember, though, is how this ‘Sam’ is going to be of any help.”

“Dude! Sam knows a helluva lot of stuff about the occult! Probably because she’s a Goth…” He added then, as an afterthought. “Trust me, if there’s someone who can help you take whatever the Witch Queen throws at you, that’s her.”

Danny sighed in defeat. It wouldn’t hurt to try. “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to be on time for once, would it?”

“No, what would hurt is making Sam wait.”

Suddenly, Danny wasn’t so sure this was a good idea.

..........................

The You Mocha Me Crazy was one of Amity Park University’s hidden treasures. While most people gathered at the several Starbucks Coffee establishments spread throughout campus, only a few students knew of the Mocha’s existence or gave the quaint café the time of day.

A small store in the outskirts of campus, near the Law building, the café had more than enough to be the perfect place to relax, or hang out with friends. On the right corner of the store was the counter where people asked for their coffees, with a stand dedicated to displaying the day’s assortment of cakes, sweets, and sandwiches. On the left corner, in contrast, lay a small stage, surrounded by several tables and chairs, that was usually used for the café’s weekly Open Mic nights every Friday. On Open Mic night customers could do basically anything; read their poetry aloud, organise gigs for their bands, try some stand-up comedy… Anything, really. There weren’t organised events for each different artistic approach because the shop was well aware of its obscure status; they didn’t want to attract too much attention.

Summing up, the You Mocha Me Crazy screamed individuality and integrity, which was why Sam was hopelessly in love with the place. The fact that it also had a varied, high quality vegan menu didn’t hurt, either.

“Hi, Sam! Same as usual?” Robert, the barista that was usually manning the counter when Sam went to the café, asked her once it was her turn to order.

“Actually, I’ll start with just a macchiato with soy milk. I’m actually introducing this place to someone and I wouldn’t like to have already ordered without them here.” Sam corrected gently, smiling at him.

“You’re meeting up with someone?” The barista’s eyebrows raised in surprise as he hit the code into the cashier. “Have you found yourself a boyfriend this past week I haven’t seen you around?” He teased her goodnaturedly.

The hazel-eyed witch shook her head slowly with a small smile on her face. “Nah, I’ve been way too busy.” That wasn’t a lie. “Besides, you already know dating is the last thing on my mind at the moment.” That wasn’t a lie, either. “A friend of a friend of mine needs help writing a paper, so we’re going to meet up.”

“Yeah, that makes more sense. I mean, you made it pretty clear that you weren’t looking for a boyfriend when you turned me down.” Robert pouted. For a moment, Sam was worried he might still be hurt over it, but his teasing wink soon put her mind at ease.

She felt comfortable enough to joke around a bit herself. “Oh, please! You say the craziest things, Robert. As if I could ever choose somebody else over you; where would I get free coffee then?”

With an amused expression, the young man set her order down on the counter. “Here you go, Sam. Enjoy!”

Taking her drink, she threw him a quick, “I will, thanks!” and a generous tip as she made her way to a three chair table. Sitting down, she brought her laptop out of her backpack to work on her latest assignment to kill some time as she waited for Tucker and his friend to arrive, taking gulps of her drink now and then.

Her friendship with Tucker was an odd one. And by odd she meant they couldn’t be more different, they couldn’t have met in any weirder circumstances, and they couldn’t get along any better.

Sam met Tucker the previous year, during finals. She was busy studying at the library for her Law and Policy of Climate Change exam when this guy approached her.

He was an African American man around her age. Though he wasn’t what most people would identify as an Adonis, he wasn’t hard on the eyes, either, just...not necessarily Sam’s type. He wore thick-framed glasses, a white dress shirt under a mustard vest, fern green pants, black dress shoes, and a worn-off, red beret.

What truly was odd about their first meeting was that Tucker had tried to hit on her, and Sam didn’t even try to break his arm! When she told Paulina and Star about it the next day, the Latina was crying tears of joy while her blonde counterpart made sure their queen didn’t have a fever.

She had to stop him in his tracks the moment he tried setting up a date with her in a nearby grill. At the mere mention of her being ultra-recyclo-vegetarian, he immediately lost all interest. Despite everything, though, they started talking and, even if they couldn’t be more different ーTucker was majoring in engineering with a minor in computer science, Sam studied environmental law; Tucker was a bigger carnivore than a Tyrannosaurus Rex, Sam didn’t eat anything with a face; Tucker believed in progress through technology, Sam was all about an ecological agenda…ーthey hit it off just fine. After that day, they often texted each other or hung out around campus.

Today, however, was the first time she’d be meeting his famous best friend and roommate; Danny.

Sam was woken up from her reverie by the chime of the door’s bell. Looking up, she noticed Tucker, who happened to be wearing the very same outfit from the day they met, and a guy who happened to tower over him. Oh, great! She was going to be surrounded by giants!

Once they stepped foot inside the café Sam had told him to go to, which had to be on the edge separating Earth from the Ghost Zone, judging by how far from the dorms it was; Tucker looked around until he spotted a purple, gloved hand waving at him. There she was. Nudging at Danny with his shoulder, he pointed at the table where Sam was at before waving at her himself and making their way over.

Taking a good look at who she guessed was Danny, Sam had to admit, he looked kinda cute. With his unkempt jet-black hair that was either natural or a product of countless hours styling it in front of the mirror; the defined lines of his body, the awkwards yet somewhat assured way he carried himself…

The moment they made it to her table she got up. “Took you guys long enough. Did you have trouble finding the place?” She said as she pulled Tucker in for a hug. Normally she wasn’t one for physical affection, but she hadn’t seen him in over a month, so it wouldn’t kill her to be a bit more affectionate for once.

“Well, we would’ve arrived sooner if you’d told us this place exists in its own place of existence.” Tucker rolled his eyes as he broke the hug, his hands resting on her forearms. “I think coming here should qualify as physical exercise; my high school gym teacher would be so proud!” He pretended to wipe a tear from his eye in mock nostalgia.

While Sam rolled her eyes with a knowing smile on her face, she noticed Tucker’s friend chuckling beside him. “Please, Tuck...Knowing Tetslaff, she wouldn’t be proud unless you came here riding a monocycle at the same time as you juggle snakes.”

“Sad but true.”

“You must be Danny,” Sam addressed him for the first time since they entered the café. She held out her hand for him to shake, “Tucker has told me a lot about you.”

“Should I be worried?” Danny joked with a small grin as he took her hand.

The moment their hands touched, however, a familiar sensation ran through their spines. There was something familiar about the, seemingly, natural cold radiating from Danny’s body; and an unexplainable wave of heat coursed through his body the moment he touched Sam’s skin.

Now that he took a closer look, there was something familiar about her as a whole. As if they’d already met. Which was strange, because he was sure he’d never be able to forget a girl with a look as unique as Sam’s.

Before he could ask her, however, Sam beat him to it. “Have I met you before? ‘Cause you look really familiar…”

Somehow, that made more sense. With an uneasy smile, Danny tried to will the embarrassed blush creeping up on his face in line. “My name’s Danny Fenton. The Fentons, the ghost-hunters, are my parents. They...appear on TV often.” Although, in their case, it’s never something to brag about, he thought to himself.

Understanding seemed to dawn on her, for she exclaimed. “Oh, that must be it! Well, Danny, I’m Sam. Sam Manson.”

“As in Samantha?” Danny was immediately confused when Sam’s lazy grin morphed itself into a nasty frown.

“Yes. But call me anything other than Sam and I will bury you six feet under.” Something about the way she said it made him understand she would keep good on her threat. Why was he only meeting dangerous girls lately?

Looking down at their still intertwined hands, an impish grin on his face, Tucker thought it was the perfect time to intervene. “If you guys are done memorising each other’s footprints through physical contact, I’m starving.” He turned to wait in line. “Come on, Sam. You promised this place had food that’s not necessarily green and leafy.”

Looking down themselves and realising they were still shaking hands, the two young adults snatched them away, as if they’d been burned, muttering awkward apologies to each other.

“Yeah, come on...Let me show you what they have.”

As the three waited in line, Danny cleared his throat to get Sam’s attention in an effort to alleviate the sudden tension Tucker’s comment had caused. “Just so you know, I’m not here because I wanted Tucker’s help at picking up girls; I really need your help writing this paper. The topic is a bit hard to find in a school library and Tucker said you really know your stuff, so…”

Sam could only snort at his awkwardness. There was something endearing about his dorkiness, not like she’d ever admit it, though. She meant it when she said she wasn’t looking for a boyfriend. Besides, cute dork or not, Danny was too...normal, for her taste. “Oh, relax. I know that already. I wasn’t suspecting you of having ulterior motives; don’t worry.”

“Really?”

“Of course. I mean, do you seriously expect me to believe anyone would ask Tucker for help when it comes to picking up girls?” Putting a hand on her hip, she couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it all. “Please, I’m more popular with the ladies than he is.”

“You don’t say.” A devilish grin made its way to Danny’s face, who was looking at Tucker with what could only be described as endless mischief.

Having heard Sam’s uncalled for comment and sensing Danny’s unforgiving eyes burning a hole on his head, Tucker huffed, crossing his arms indignantly. “Okay, okay! That one cute girl did give you her number instead of me. But I’m not going to complain about not being dating material to a cute lesbian; that’s pitiful.”

“Actually...she was bi.” Sam corrected him, almost doubling over in laughter at the sight of Tucker’s eyes comically snapping open. By her side, Danny was doing a poor job trying to stifle his own snickers. “She just wasn’t into you.”

Under Tucker’s withering glare, Danny cleared his throat in an attempt to appear nonchalant. Once he got his laughter under control, he turned to Sam. “Oh, you’re comfortable enough to make jokes at Tucker’s expense! Either you two are good friends...or you two literally just met.”

Turning away from them in an indignant huff, Tucker muttered. “Introducing you two to each other has been a terrible mistake.”

Neither could help bursting out laughing at their friend’s comment. Sharing mischievous smiles, eyes twinkling in amusement, Danny and Sam stared at each other. Maybe they weren’t each other’s first choice for company, but something told them something good would come out of that coffee date, even if it wasn’t really a coffee date since, well, they weren’t looking for a partner in each other. But, hey, they both could use a new friend.

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pomegranates-and-blood · 3 years

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νοσταλγία (Chapter 20)

νοσταλγία Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Summary: This is a retelling/romantization of the Greek myth of Persephone’s abduction with Ivar as Hades and you as Persephone. The Reader character is a Byzantine woman, follower of the Greek Pantheon/Religion, and a devoted follower of Persephone. This takes place after 5A, but the universe of this is a little changed in relation with the series, of course. Thank you for giving it a chance, hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 2.5k

Warnings: The usual

A/N: So, here’s hoping you guys don’t hate this lol. Really, thank you for reading, hope you like it, and I look forward to hearing from you guys!

Sorry for posting this kinda early (just as it becomes saturday lol) but I suck at scheduling on tumblr and I can’t upload it tomorrow today morning. Thank you for understanding!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius @heavenly1927 @toe-vind-ek-jou @xbellaxcarolinax @pieces-by-me @angelofthorr @samsationalwilson

“I haven’t gotten a chance to congratulate you in person.” Freydis tells you as you approach a smiling Valdís and a few other women from the apothecary.

You offer a side smile, “You could have earlier,” You point out, meaning her previous approach to the throne. “But you were too busy reminding Ivar of what rewards pain brings, so I understand.

She stops on her tracks, and you turn around with a raised eyebrow. She doesn’t deny it, you will grant her that.

For once, being the one with the knowledge, being the one certain and with solid ground under their feet; it feels like a small victory, you won’t lie.

“Don’t keep secrets from me, Freydis.” You warn her.

“Witch!” Valdís calls you over the ruckus of the ongoing feast, before ducking out of the way of an elder woman’s hit. The shieldmaiden smirks, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I meant my Queen.”

You shake your head with a laugh, and when you approach the shieldmaiden stands. She embraces you before you can react, and how you almost don’t reach her chin makes you feel once again like you are in a land of giants.

“Congratulations, may the Gods bless you both,” She whispers, honest and caring and utterly motherly in that brash way of hers. “For the woman you are, witch, I don’t think there could be a better man. Nor a better woman for the man he is.”

“You seem sure.”

Valdís shrugs, as if the answer is simple, obvious to all.

“He’d step over a less prideful woman, but a dumber one would get killed before long,” She whispers, face close to yours and eyes knowing as she smirks, “You’d shake off the fool that tried silencing you, but would scorn the one that didn’t challenge you.”

You remember when Sieghild heard of your betrothal to Narses, how she told you to fight, to fight the men in Greece, to fight the notions they had of you, to fight Narses; and you how retorted he was a good man that loved you, and that you wouldn’t fight him. Your mother’s words from that day echo in your head, certain and prophetic, you wouldn’t give your love without a fight.

You only look at Valdís with a slowly growing smile on your face, before questioning, “You speak so surely, yet I’m the arrogant little witch?”

“Well, you are small.”

She laughs at your affronted expression, and with an arm over your shoulders guides you to the table where the other women you’ve come to know and care for sit, who congratulate you and bow their heads in greeting. Before long the conversation between the women continues on other topics, and you allow yourself to drink and laugh and forget you are supposed to feel chained.

When you return to Ivar’s side, you find his eyes trained somewhere behind you, and even a blind woman would know his gaze -and his thoughts- linger on the stranger that embraced you.

“Who was that?”

You sit at his side and thank a thrall that hands you a goblet of mead with a smile, before answering, “Valdís, a shieldmaiden. A…a friend.”

“I don’t recognize her.”

“But you do recognize Freydis.” You blurt out before you can trap the words behind your lips, and Ivar turns his eyes to you.

“The slave.” He states, but it is a question. You nod, and adjust in your seat, trying to rid yourself of the nervous energy.

“She’s beautiful, surely not easy to forget. You’ve seen her with me before, yet you never told me you knew her,” You insist, careful eyes watching over the ongoing feast. When Ivar stays silent, you turn your gaze to him and find him smiling at you, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

From his throne, Ivar leans towards you, his hand moving your hair out of the way and his mouth almost by your ear as he whispers,

“If I didn’t know better, wife, I’d think you are jealous.”

“But you do know better.” You bite out and Gods, even a deaf man would hear the truth behind your words.

____

You are escorted in a truly bizarre fashion to your now shared room with Ivar, but you write it off to being some Norse tradition you couldn’t for the life of you understand, and try only not to flinch when the door to the rooms closes behind the last of the warriors, leaving you alone with your husband.

For the first time since you arrived in this kingdom of cold and death, you allow yourself to look at the bed in the King’s rooms.

It looks warmer than yours, spacious and surrounded in dark wood posters, with a leather panel on top. Are those chains hanging over it?

“Wife.” Ivar calls, taking your eyes off the bed and stalling the panic that started to set in your heart. You are still wondering what the chains are for, though.

You turn to him, joining your hands in front of you so you can make them stop shaking. He only signals for you to approach him where he stands, and you hesitate for a moment before you do so, taking him in.

He is a handsome man, and ever since Aneridge, much to your chagrin, you have known you want him. Even after he has imprisoned you, it would be a lie if you said you didn’t wonder what it would take to have the Viking underneath you, or the different ways you could make his proud façade crumble. If only, at times, in fantasies when you can be the one in power, or in rarer ones when you imagined what he could do to try and make you surrender to him.

Gods, infuriating and terrifying a man as he proves to be, you want him, like you have wanted no other.

Still, your father taught you the first sign of a people enslaved and defeated is when they go willingly to their enemies’ temples, to their enemies’ beds. You refuse to admit that you willingly lay with the man that took you captive, that forced you to be his wife.

When you walk in shaky legs until you stand before him, he says nothing, but a hand on your shoulder makes you turn your back to him.

It is with awkward gentleness that he moves your hair to the side. Not the tenderness of a cruel man failing at pretending, no; but rather the uncertain one of a man that knows nothing but war.

His fingers start making quick work of the laces at the back of your dress, and hoping you can make him ignore the tremble of your breath at his touch, the goosebumps on your skin at the ghost of a caress that goes down your spine; you ask,

“W-What do you Vikings do?” He hums in question, and you explain yourself, “For…for a bedding ceremony, or whatever it is.”

“We just went through it.”

“Your people have a reputation. Forgive me for thinking the loosening of a dress seems…tame.”

Ivar chuckles at your words, lowering his head and closing his eyes for a moment. Few times you’ve been able to make him laugh, and you’ve counted and cherished each one, but you do realize there’s something different about this time.

He’s tense, uncomfortable. Uncertain.

“Will you make me lay with you?” You ask, startling yourself at the brashness. Ivar shakes his head, a guarded coldness taking over his expression as he steps away from you. Still, against your every instinct, you push on, “You surely don’t have any qualms about forcing yourself upon me.

The way he says your name, a warning and a threat all in one, it makes your breath falter. You’ve never heard your name on his lips like that, like the warning sound a cornered beast makes before striking.

But you will sooner die than let a man make you fear him. So, you press,

“You abducted me and forced me to become your wife, you’ve shown you care not for my freedom to make a choice. Your honor or your desire to have me want you to aren’t stopping you.

An honest and shame-filled part of you knows you are only being like this because you hate being reminded of how close to surrender you’ve allowed to come. Wanting the man that took you captive, softening your heart for the King that forced you to be his wife, letting yourself feel something for the monster that took you from your people and home...you have no choice left but to remind him -and yourself- that you are no willing wife, no enamoured maiden.

“I can’t.”

You lift your eyebrows, the simple words stealing all words from your head.

“What do y-…?”

“Useless legs and useless cock,” He interrupts, tone disdainful as he gestures to his own body, “Boneless. Don’t tell me you haven’t heard the rumors.”

You shake your head mutely, for it is true no one has spoken of them to you.

He shrugs, the movement forced and unnatural.

“Well, it does not matter, now you know,” Oh, but it matters quite a lot, you gather. Still, you will say nothing of it, partly because you truly don’t know what you are supposed to say. Ivar doesn’t seem to want any words either, for he gestures towards you, “It is late and you are tired, go change.”

Who would have thought your wedding night would be the one night you actually obey him. You slip past him quietly until you are behind one of the partitions, and hear the telltale sounds of him settling in a seat by the hearth at the side of the bed as you start untangling your hair from the crown of flowers.

Shaking fingers trace over the dying and bloodied petals, and the reminder that, through a cruel twist of Fate, your Gods were here with you today; it calms you, it comforts you. It makes a small and easily quietened part of you regret the outburst.

You shrug off the red dress and leave it carefully folded for the thralls to pick up tomorrow, and put on the thin nightgown that will do nothing to protect you from Kattegat’s cold.

Your return to the King and find him sitting, with his hand by his mouth clearly thinking about something. When he sees you, he gestures with his hand to the bed.

“You can go ahead and sleep,” He instructs, and you nod your head and, with heavy limbs, move to the bed. But he stops you before you can move far with a call of your name, “If you dare try to divorce me on grounds of me not sleeping with you, I-…don’t.”

“Could I?”

“I’ll kill you if you ever try.” He promises, and it is a threat not for a second you believe to be a lie.

You accept his words with a curt nod, and realize you hadn’t actually thought of that. Being able to divorce him, not him killing you, of course.

That should have been your first thought, the rope thrown over the side of the boat that could help you climb to freedom. But you didn’t think of that, you didn’t think that at all, and it frightens you, the possibility of not seeing opportunities to escape for something as fickle as…

Never mind that. You close your eyes and, after considering your next words carefully, you insist,

“You know you don’t need a cock to sleep with a woman.”

“I will not lay with another woman that cannot stand to even touch me,” He states without hesitation, and though a part of you is dying to ask the story behind the words he speaks, you bite your tongue. “That is not what I want.”

“What is it you want, then?” You ask, turning around. And for the first time you do not demand to know the answer, you don’t intertwine accusations with the question. Your eyes search his and your voice hushes, “What did you marry me for? What do you want from me, Ivar?”

“I wanted to keep you at my side, make you my wife.”

But you shake your head stepping closer before you realize what you are doing. Your voice is quiet, soft, true, as you ask,

“Tell me, please. What do you want from me?”

His jaw clenches, and you notice his hands stay stiffly grasping at the armrest of his chair. His eyes search yours and the vulnerability in them shatters at something within you.

“Kiss me.” He whispers. A dare, a command, a plea.

It is not an answer to your question. And yet, Gods, is as honest an answer as you could ever get.

Your breath leaves your lungs in a shaky exhale, but you still step forward, closer, with certain steps.

Ivar stays still, as still as a marble statue and you reminisce of those first days in Aneridge, and how you thought you could shatter him with but a flick of your wrist.

But the realization that he could do the same to you settles within you like a rock on your stomach. No wrath, no fury, no cruelty, no King may have been able to make you cave, but…the vulnerability in his expression, the longing in his voice, the feeling of being lost written in his eyes, Ivar; makes your walls crumble and your heart stutter its beat.

You search his eyes and with one last shaky breath you lean down and press your lips to his.

He stiffens under your touch even if it wasn’t unexpected, he lets you lead his mouth moving against yours even if today he kissed you in front of a whole kingdom.

And you think of how many times you wanted to be the one to kiss him. There’s no use for lying, not anymore, not to yourself.

You think of Aneridge, and the foreign man you met when you lived in that fantasy where neither of you had names or lives outside of the two of you; and you know that if you had caved, if you had felt his kiss, you would have followed that man to the end of the world.

You think of those weeks of living in a limbo, where you could pretend there was no escape and yet lived without the invisible binds that today he set upon you; and you know it was only pride and shame what kept you from admitting you felt unburdened.

You think of the time since the certainty of this being Fate has set upon you, of what laid beyond the endless fight against the titles he wanted you to accept; and you know even if it lacerates at your heart and defies your very nature, you have felt safe, free.

Ivar chases after your lips when you pull away, tilting his head as if unwilling to part from your kiss. His eyes open and meet yours, and you lean closer once again, and kiss him again.

Not because he made you, not because anyone made you, because you choose to.

And with your choice comes a truth. What was it the witch said? It is easy to choose, it is not easy to live with what the choice we made says about us.

When you part a second time, your forehead rests against his and your breaths are one for a few moments.

And with your voice a hoarse whisper, you confess,

“If you had asked, I would have said yes.”

____

So...thoughts? Hope you liked this, really hope I don’t dissapoint with my writing that drags on and on.

Btw, ‘bedding’ traditions in Viking Age Scandinavia, as far as I could find, centered around the couple being escorted to their rooms/bed. Hence, the ‘we just went through it’ dialogue line. There’s so many Viking wedding things (and almost as many Ancient/Byzantine Greek wedding things) that I wish I could have included, but alas, I already ramble a lot with my writing, I don’t wanna bore you.

Thank you for reading, hope you have a nice day/night! Ik this chapter is kinda short and kinda open-ended, but this tuesday as scheduled chapter 21 us up :)

Love you all! <3

#ivar the boneless x reader #ivar x reader #ivar the boneless imagine #ivar the boneless #vikings #νοσταλγία masterlist

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clairefiredragon · 3 years

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My FFXV Rare Pair Fics for August 2021

So on Twitter for the FFXV Rare Pairs week, I wrote a fic for every day! Here are all the fics in one central location.

Day 1 Title: This Night Enchanted Theme: Fairies Pair: Ignis/Ravus Tags: Alternate Universe, Fae & Fairies, Fairies, First Meetings, Fairy Ravus, Summary: Ignis has been asked by King Regis to go out on a diplomatic journey to the fairy realm, to the fairy kingdom itself. The two kingdoms wish to make ties and peace between them, and so Ignis is sent to be the main representor for the humans. While there he meets the royal fairy family, including prince Ravus who seems to have a lot of distain for humans. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33436774

Day 2 Title: Ice and Fire Theme: Demi-Gods Pair: Prompto/Ravus Tags: Alternate Universe, Demigods, Demi-God Ravus, Demi-God Prompto, Fluff, First Meetings Summary: Ravus was a demi-god, a child of an Astral. He was a child of Shiva and throughout his years he had a bit of a reputation for not being the friendliest. Whether this was a trait of Shiva or just something that was his own, but he was always rather distant and cold towards others. He had the hardest time trying to befriend someone else, whether they were demi-god or not. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33462118

Day 3 Title: The Mysterious Behemoth Theme: Spell gone wrong, Familiar, Witch Pair: Gladio/Luna Tags: Alternate Universe, Witches, Witch Luna, Magic, Spells & Enchantments, Fluff, Cute Summary: Luna is a young witch out to find herself a little familiar. She comes across a mimi Behemoth and she thinks she feels a magical connection. Taking it home she finds that her new behemoth isn't actually what she thought it was. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33466999

Day 4 Title: When in Limbo Theme: Ghosts, Limbo Pair: Noctis/Ravus Tags: Alternate Universe, Assassination Attempt(s), Coma, Limbo, The Nox Fleurts don't exist in this universe, Ravus is a overseer in the Limbo realm, Angst, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, minor mentioning of blood and injuries Summary: After an assassination attempt, Noctis is left in a coma. But during that time, he finds himself in a realm that is limbo. Between life and death he waits to see what will happen, but he isn't alone. He finds that he will have someone to keep him company. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33488782/chapters/83199118

Day 5 Title: Miqo'te Shenanigans Theme: Animal Transformation Pair: Prompto/Y’jhimei Tags: Alternate Universe, Post-Canon, Fluff, Cute, Animal Transformation, Miqo'te Prompto, Dimension Travel, Post-Episode Ignis Verse 2 Summary: Prompto and Y'jhimei have finally decided to test the teleporter to take them to her world. They figured it would still work both ways, so they decided to give this a try and take a little vacation together. The only thing they didn't expect was how Prompto looked when they arrived in Hydaelyn. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33517108

Day 6 Title: The Hunt for the Adagium Theme: Monster Hunter Pair: Ardyn/Verstael Tags: Alternate Universe, Monsters, Monster Hunters, First Meetings Summary: There has been legends of a monster known as the Adagium. Verstael believed he could be the one to finally find the creature and defeat it. He didn't expect the encounter to go quiet like this. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33611932

Day 7 Title: Betrayal at Paradise Theme: Secret Relationship Pair: Loqi/Noctis Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Prophecy (Final Fantasy XV), There is peace between Niflheim and Insomnia, Angst, Fluff, Kidnapping, Assassin Creed Festival, Secret Relationship, Happy Ending Summary: Noctis is at the Assassins festival, enjoying his time there. But the day takes a bit of a turn when Nifheim soldiers show up to try and capture him. Part of him worries that word had gotten out about him being here, but the only one who could let the Niffs know would be none other that his secret boyfriend; Loqi. But is it true? Is Loqi even here? That's what Noctis has to find out. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/33629779

#Final Fantasy XV #FFXV #Ignis/Ravus #Prompto/Ravus #Gladio/Luna #Noctis/Ravus #Prompto/Y'jhimei #Ardyn/Verstael #Noctis/Loqi #rare pairs #FFXV Rare Pairs Week

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phantomphangphucker · 3 years

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Ectober Week Glow Stick/REDRUM - Glow Snap

Danny’s been king for a while and that means helping ghosts out sometimes. And that helping has repeated required dealing with humans treating ghosts like crap. But farming ghosts for glow sticks is a new one.

Danny Phantom was beginning to get used to his role as High Ghost King, the balls, the parties, the formalities and respect. The fashion was more difficult to adjust to than everything else in all honestly. Frock coats and even dresses. At least usually all he had to wear was his cape, that was just part of him now though. Another thing he had to get used to were the royal attendances, where he effectively had to just sit at his throne and hear ghosts out. Only if he accepted their request for an attendance of course. He usually rejected the Observants and Vlad, generally on principal alone. Especially since it was nearly a guarantee they were just trying to annoy him. If the eyeballs really needed to see him then they could go through ClockWork and Vlad could literally just show up at his house.

Now if anyone else put in a request to have an attendance with him then he usually paid attention, since that was a rare thing. Most ghosts wouldn’t even dare due to the ‘behaviour’ of Pariah giving the entire throne, title, and crown a really nasty reputation. Most of the Zone simply assumed or worried that this Phantom fellow, who defeated Pariah, was just like him or worse. The ghosts that knew him didn't even bother going through official routes, they just showed up in Amity or invited him to their lair. So when he got a attendance request from a ghost he’d never heard of representing an entire species of ghost that he hadn’t yet met, he accepted without hesitation and felt rather worried. This Brextex likely only knew the High Ghost King as the guy who overpowered the evil tyrant Pariah and was thus taking a chance by willingly asking to be alone in the throne room and lair of the new King. It didn’t help that most of the rumours about him involved the fact that he beat up other ghosts and had made powerful allies. So either this ghost was desperate, out of options, or just recklessly curious. Just in case it was either of the first Danny had elected to stick with his true ghost form rather than ageing himself up to look more ‘adult’ and imposing (or in the Observants case, remind them of Dan). Sure his true form was more visually impressive than it was when he was fourteen, but his seventeen-year-old ass did not nearly have the muscle, size, or defined body structure his mid-twenties self would. He’s honestly wondering when the heck that growth spurt was going to hit him in genuine. But hey, at least his fangs had grown in and he’s pretty sure his ears are beginning to taper.

But anyway, accepting that attendance request is what finds him sitting at his throne, one leg over an armrest and drumming his fingers in boredom on the other armrest. He’s tempted to start pulling down his crown in front of his face only to let go and watch it spring back up, small amusements. The FrightKnight comes in just as Danny had decided to go ahead and do that.

Danny rights himself as his High Dread Knight speaks, “Brextex has arrived, your highness. Are you content to see him now?”. Danny just nods and absently waves for the guy to just go ahead and let the ghost in. He honestly would appreciate the FrightKnight relaxing more on all the formalities, not going to happen but still. His knight nods, letting the ghost in and going to stand outside the doors.

Danny will admit, this is one of the odder looking ghosts he’s seen. He looked kinda like someone who was nothing but skin and bones but the bones under the skin glowed. The skin didn’t though, and he just had glowing light in sunken eye sockets rather than physical eyes. The fact that he walked across the hall towards Danny rather than floated was pretty odd for a ghost too. Eh, maybe he just preferred walking on solid ground; Danny often did.

Brextex immediately kneels when he’s considered officially close enough, not coming any closer. Which was pretty typical for ghosts who had never met him. What does catch Danny’s attention is that he can hear the ghost's bones creaking and straining as if they were real solid bones that had seen plenty abuse. Danny’s joints and spine would creak like that sometimes. “Bless you for seeing me, High King Phantom. May you bless me speak?”.

“You may”. Danny makes a point to smile warmly when Brextex raises his head, which seems to startle the ghost for a second.

“I’ve come to request aid, your highness. My kind, linchens, we- we’ve been suffering for a long while”.

Danny squints a little and leans forward, “how so?”. He thought he had made it clear to the FrightKnight that he wanted to know about any groups, clans, kingdoms, or tribes that were genuinely struggling. Either he’ll have to have a talking with him about what qualifies as ‘struggling’ again, or he didn’t know himself. The Zone was large, so he couldn’t really fault him if that was the case. But the FrightKnight was old, reasonably he should know about all of the different groups. “The FrightKnight was supposed to inform me of any genuine suffering or issues”.

Brextex shifts slightly, maintaining the kneeling position though, “well sire, I don’t believe the... FrightKnight looks beyond the Infinite Realms. See, my kind haven’t been part of it for ages. We’re... located in the Mortal Realm”. Okay, that gets Danny’s attention real fast. He probably looks more than a little surprised, since ghosts weren’t generally capable of staying in the human world for very long. Obviously this kind of ghost, linchens, could. But then that’s kinda weird that he hasn’t run into one yet. Heck, showing in Amity would have been easier than finding a portal and coming to see him formally. It’s not like the hunters in Amity were much of a threat now after all the truces he’s formed. Dora could come without a human disguise and buy tea even. Maybe these ghosts simply didn’t know?

Danny nods, “feel free to explain the issue then, I’m often in the Mortal Realm so I can certainly help”.

Brextex just blinks at him for a bit before standing up quickly and motioning with his hands as he speaks. Clearly forgetting the ‘proper etiquette’ at the serious possibility of Danny not being an unhelpful asshole. “Pariah used to keep us as pets to break our bones for fun so when one of the old ones found a portal to the living world we all fled there. But the living were quick to capture us and decided they liked our bones to and somehow broke our connection to the Infinite Realms”. Danny doesn’t like where this is going and if the G.I.W. have anything to do with this he’s going to be having some words with their head boss... again. “Or that’s the story that’s been passed down. Ever since they’ve been keeping us and harvesting our bones until we fade from the-”, Brextex jerks a bit likely from Danny’s eyes flashing a little angrily. By the ghost swallows and continues “-from the draining. The others were able to get me out since my ecto-field’s weaker and young. We had heard about a new king and thought that- that you would maybe be different. We had to take the risk. We had to-”.

Danny holds up a hand to pause the ghost, because frankly he doesn’t even need to hear more to be willing to help. A group of humans actively murdering ghosts to collect their bones? Hell no. That is absolutely not something he’s going to let fly. But right now he needs to get across that his flash of anger wasn’t aimed at the ghost. Brextex does not need to start begging to him. Standing up, which Brextex looks a bit freaked by, “I’ll help. Absolutely I will”. Walking down the throne steps, Brextex remembering himself and kneeling again as Danny approaches. Danny making a point to reel in the anger, because he does not need to stress this ghost more, and patting Brextex on the head, “you're fine. Humans treating ghosts like monsters and whatnot is something that ticks me off and that I’ve gone well out of my way to deal with. And to hear some have been murdering ghosts, I don’t give a flaming crap why, that is unacceptable”, sighing, “now come on, get up. I should probably at least know why, or what you believe to be why, you and the rest of your kind are being treated worse than animals at an unethical and illegal slaughterhouse”.

Brextex stands up more than a little stiffly and eyes him warily, giving a strained, “bless you”, then clearing his throat, “well... our bone enamel glows really strongly if we snap or break a bone”, he digs in the small little beat up bag he’s got around his waist and pulls out a little bag. Handing it over to Danny though clearly avoiding actually touching the king. “They shave our bones down after harvesting so they’re opaque-”, pointing at the bag, “-and look like that. We’re not really sure why and we honestly don’t care“.

Danny nods and scowls, opening the bag and pulling out a bunch of freaking glow sticks. Danny blinks, honestly a bit too shocked to really feel much of anything, “glow sticks?”. Sure his parents had used to rave about a conspiracy theory that glow sticks were filled with ectoplasm and had thus banned them from the house. But them being actually right was utterly insane.

Brextex furrows his brows, skin pulling tight, “you’ve... seen these before? Why? What are they for? Their purpose? Are they needed? Do the living need to do this to us?”.

Danny shakes his head immediately, because holy shit no. “They’re used for cheap entertainment. Completely unnecessary entertainment”, then scowls deeply, even growling a little, “this is absurd and I’m not having it”. Looking to Brextex, who looks nervous, “where are the other linchens being kept? Because I’m about to have some very not nice words with whoever assholes thinks torturing and murdering anyone for freaking glow sticks is remotely okay”.

Brextex nods and grins a little, “I can take you”. While Danny lifts a hand to form a portal in the air, the ghost watching in a bit of amazement. Danny doesn’t need to tell the FrightKnight he’s heading out, the guy can sense it just fine.

They step out onto a rooftop in Amity, Danny sending away his crown and cape as he turns to look at Brextex who’s looking around, “this place... it is your lair too”, then adding on like he’ll get in trouble otherwise, “your highness”.

Danny waves him off, trying not to seem ticked off, “don’t bother with royal titles here. Humans don’t know and I'd mostly prefer to keep it that way”. The G.I.W. knew but that was purely so he could threaten them more effectively. “Yeah, welcome to Amity Park, the place I usually am. The one place the G.I.W. are banned from”.

“The... G.I.W.?”.

Danny shrugs almost aggressively, “group of anti-ghost terrorists. Almost blew up the Zone once. I’ve had words with them”, nodding curtly, “now, where to?”. Brextex stares at him for a bit before pointing off to the east, a bit of green light sting shooting off. Danny plucks it to see how far it goes. The area seemed just a bit outside of a populated area.

Danny nods, “alright, I’ve got it”, looking to the ghost, “do you want a place to rest? I live with ghost hunters but they’re cool with good ghosts that don’t run around attacking humans. They’re pretty knowledgeable too, so if you need anything they can help. My friends could keep you company too. I don’t want you coming off with me and straining or hurting yourself”.

Brextex stares a bit more before furrowing his brows, “you are... very different. Kind”. Danny smiles at that, “my friends say I’m a little too nice sometimes”, and quirks an eyebrow.

Brextex nods a little, “I’ll... take the offer then”.

So Danny teleports them down into an alley and changes back human. Though that makes Brextex jump back and look incredibly confused. Danny chuckles and rubs his neck, “ah guess you don’t know. I’m a halfa”.

“A... halfa?”.

Danny nods and starts walking, the ghost following behind, “yup, half a ghost, half a human. This is how I look as a human. The people I live with are my human parents”. Danny sends off a quick text for his friends to get their butts over to his house as he pushes in his home’s front door, “mom! Dad! I’ve got a friendly that needs a place to crash for a bit!”.

His mom sticks her head out of the kitchen, glances at the ghost and back to Danny, “well he’s an interesting one”. Danny doesn’t even let her finish that and points at her, “no labs”.

“Alright, no worries sweetie. He’ll be staying in your room?”. Danny just nods as he heads upstairs, his friends joining him and Brextex just as the two had gotten halfway up the stairs.

“Oh! New ghost huh dude?”.

Sam just smiles at the confused-looking ghost.

Danny nods at Tucker, “you guys hang with him while I go unleash ghostly wrath on some people”.

Tucker pats the ghost on the shoulder and the two walk into Danny’s room. Sam raising an eyebrow at Danny, “what is it this time?”.

Danny scowls, “glow sticks are ghost bones apparently”. She scowls immediately herself, “you have my full support”, and nods at him as he turns to leave. Danny promptly teleporting away as soon as he’s back outside.

Danny floats above the little factory-looking building, arms crossed and scowling. It’s not even a debate him taking his mid-twenties full ghost looking form, the fact that his royal cape had a flaming white collar and large green skulls pinning it shut with a shadowy chain only made him look slightly more threatening than Dan did with his simple tattered cape. His crown wrapped around the flaming hair pretty darn well too in a way that just emphasised the crown even more. But before he does anything drastic he’s going to check this place out invisibly.

And what he finds inside is frankly, disgusting. The first thing he comes across are these tools that looked like potato peelers and piles of what he’s sure are ‘bone peels’; which he scowled at, feeling his lips pull over his other fangs. The second looks to be a literal vat of ‘discarded’ glow sticks, ones that were misshapen, damaged and leaking; the fact that they were taking these ghosts body parts and just throwing them away very explicitly pisses him off. Who knows how many ghosts faded for these damn scraps. It wasn’t like fucking glow sticks were important or even necessary, to kill to make them was beyond wrong and idiotic. The room with just boxed up glow sticks doesn’t really bother him beyond just how much was here. How many ghosts had faded in this place? Was there a risk of extinction? If he were to ask the FrightKnight the guy would probably claim to have thought this species of ghost already had gone extinct.

Getting to the centre of the factory is when he finds the ghosts. There are at least twenty or so ghosts that looked similar to Brextex stuck inside plastic cases that were practically skin tight around them, with little hinges and doors that could be opened for access to their arms, legs, fingers, toes, and ribs. There was tubes hooked into the back of the cases that appeared to be feeding the ghosts ectoplasm, Danny can tell by smell there’s some kind of drug mixed in. He’d place money on it being a type of tranquilliser or complacency drug. Especially with one of these linchens ghosts having escaped recently. He can tell from looking at the ghosts faces that the drug(s) definitely weren’t any kind of pain medication.

Floating over to one of the cases and putting his large clawed hand on it, he can sense the ghost inside is a child ghost. Scowling, first thing first, he needs to get them out of here. At the very least there are no alarms set to the cases, even if there were cameras he quickly shorted out with a little ecto-electroshock, meaning he can immediately start disconnecting the drugs and start tearing open the cases; duplicating so he can catch/carry the ghosts when they effectively fall out, either too weak or too out of it to really be aware of him or what’s going on fully. One of the ghosts particularly worries him as she’s gooey to the touch; making damn sure to teleport her to his room immediately with a duplicate, the rest he gives a more thorough look over to before sending them off.

Glancing around the room and nodding to himself with a huff. All clear. Now to scare the crap out of some assholes. Letting himself return to visibility as he heads to walk out, slapping a hand on the wall to send ice out coating everything in the room. Try ever using any of that shit ever again.

It doesn’t take long for an invisible duplicate to find the boss over in the ‘office’ building section, which he smirks over as he kicks in the main doors and blasts blue ecto-flames around him; making damn sure his footprints scorch the ground. The receptionist and people hanging around in the lobby jump over the loud sound before standing up and freaking out. Danny comes to a stop and crosses his arms, forcing anyone with the guts to try and flee to have to squeeze past him. He has no clue how involved any of these people are so he’ll let them off with singed jackets, jolts of cold, and a healthy dose of fear. Most people chose to just huddle in corners and radiate fear.

Danny huffs after a bit and continues stalking towards the big bad bosses office, completely ignoring the secretary as he goes. Though he does grumble with a deep voice, “I suggest you get a better job. There won’t be much left of this company soon”. Let her take that threat however she wants to. He wasn’t about to burn the place down, but an ecto-blast or two should do the job.

Kicking in the bosses door hard enough to blow it clean off its hinges and into the far wall, it just skimming past the guys head. Said guy is too stunned to do more than jerk and stare at him, which Danny snarls at him for. But at least that makes it easy to grab the guy's face and slam his head into the back wall, hard enough to give him a nasty headache but not outright kill the guy. He’s not here to add on to the death-toll.

“Alright fuckface, you and I have a few issues to settle. And this is a non-negotiable communication offer. Specifically about your little ghost harvesting setup”. Dropping him and watching the guy groan before scooting away from him across the floor with his hands and feet. While Danny moves his hand to coat the open doorway with flames, blocking off the only real exit here. Flicking a wrist to make one of his thrones form, simpler than his official throne but still pretty stunning-looking; all in sharp angular black and white and peppered in ectoplasmic gemstones.

Danny sits down while staring the guy down, growling at him, “I suggest you take a seat”. The guy nods and scrambled up without hesitation, reclaiming his average black office chair. Danny snapping immediately, “name and position”.

The guy swallows, “Brillar Glühen. Head of the Kialuma Company”, Brillar clearly tries to force himself to relax into the back of his chair, “and you are?”.

Danny grins very meanly, making sure his fangs are very noticeable, “Phantom, High Ghost King and ruler of the afterlife”, then just to be mean, “some might prefer to call me Hades or perhaps Satan”. No one called him Satan, like, ever. But there were plenty who considered the Zone to be Hell, so he’s fairly sure he can claim the name just to scare some asshole.

Brillar is visibly shaken and swallows, “nice to... to meet you”. Which Danny huffs a mean laugh at, “no it’s really not”, Danny scowls and leans forward on the guy's desk, “look here fuck-stick, I don’t know how someone who’s clearly barely fucking thirty is running a company older than that, but not only do I not care but I also am not going to change my course of action because of that”, pointing a clawed finger in his face, he’ll give him points for not moving back even if the prick goes stiff as a board, “obviously you damn well know how your company goes about getting its end product, if you don’t then you’re an idiot that deserves to be yelled at anyway”. Brillar nods stiffly so Danny scowls at him before continuing, “tell me then, why the fuck do you think it’s okay to tear out a beings bones repeatedly till they effectively die just to sell as a party novelty item”, growling, “last I checked, even humans knew better than to commit needless murder”.

Brillar swallows, “the creatures are already dead-”. Danny snapping, “so’s your mother, your point?”, making the guy jump a little.

“They- they don’t feel pain and-and one moving on is a mercy”,

Danny rolls his eyes harshly, “let me guess, you got that load of horse crap from the previous boss or the G.I.W., well here’s a tip for you. That’s wrong. We feel pain as much as the living. And since you might as well be an informed asshole, ghosts can not ‘move on’ by being murdered. It happens naturally”, scowling, “so knowing that, you see why you and I might have a few issues”. Brillar gulps and nods slowly. Danny growls over the lack of an actual answer, so he stands, grabs the guy's collar, and smacks his face down onto the desk. Lighting a ball of ecto-fire in his hand and holding it in front of the guys face, growling, “so what are you going to do about our little issue?”.

Brillar sounds more than a little shaken, “f-find a different resource. And- and let the-the glowing creatures- uh, ah, ghosts go?”.

Danny bares his teeth in his face a bit, “don't say that like a question, mean it”, shoving his head against the desk a bit more before releasing him and sitting back down, “this is a company that sells a cheap novelty item, that’s it. You have no place torturing sentient beings. And bones? Seriously? Do you even think the living public would be okay with that? You disappoint me”, scowling, “at least if you were some kind of ecto-phobic bigot, your stupidity and cruelty would make an ounce of sense”, shrugging aggressively, “and I’d have an excuse to beat the shit out of you”.

Brillar sits back up slowly and stares at him, Danny flashes his eyes just to freak the guy out more. Brillar swallows, “I- please don’t”.

Danny sighs and rolls his eyes, “I won’t. You’re just an idiot fed some bullshit information and handed a company that was already spinning its wheels financially fine so you felt no need to change anything. Ethics, common sense, and basic decency be damned. Oh and if you think I can’t use human methods to sue you into oblivion or politically murder you, then you are gravely mistaken. So take fucking heed and watch your shit or I will be far far less nice if I have to show up here again”, snarling, “now good day and have fun fixing all the shit I destroyed in your factory”. Then making his throne and himself burst into flames before turning invisible. Let the prick think he ‘road the fires of Hell’ or something. He does have to restrain a laugh when he invisibly watches the guy right himself, pull out his phone while shaking so bad he can barely type, and says, “h-hey dad, uh, can you um, when does the church open?”.

Danny smirks to himself and decides to speak as darkly as possible into the phone, “someone needs to repent and get off of Hell’s naughty list”. Making the guy shriek, launch himself across the room, and throw his phone into the air. Danny rolls his eyes and silently snorts as Brillar eyes his phone warily.

Danny flies out, gathers all the ‘discarded’ glow sticks/bones and the ‘bone peels’, then teleports home. He’s honestly not surprised to see his friends and all the ghosts in the yard rather than in the house. Brextex looking to be fretting over the other ghosts of his kind. All the ghosts jump and go bug-eyed when Danny suddenly appears. All the ghosts quickly and jerkily moving to huddle together when they actually get a good look at him; obviously frightened. Brextex looks less frightened but far more confused than the others.

Ticker comes over and smacks him on the bicep, “dude, maybe take your true form and cool your jets before you scare them even more”.

Danny rolls his eyes, “yeah yeah, but first”, snapping a clawed finger and making all the ghost parts he stole/reclaimed appear in his yard, “you know I have more energy at my fingertips like this”, then changing back to his true ghost form.

Walking over to the group of huddling ghosts, who shrink back from him some. The whole being feared thing may please his ghostly nature a lot but he still doesn’t particularly like being feared. Brextex is the only one who doesn’t actively noticeably shrink away or seem fearful. Danny waves and smiles friendly at them, “relax, please. One of my powers happens to be a pretty heavy dose of age slash form manipulation. That previous form happens to be good for scaring the crap out of assholes”, smirking, “I don’t think you have to worry about being bone harvested anymore and a few humans definitely need to change their pants”. Tucker snorts on the side, the ghosts just look slightly confused but do relax some. Danny looks around and spots the child ghost he was the most worried about, promptly moving to her and kneeling down. Grabbing her hands and checking her energy levels, “glad to see you’re looking a bit better”, frowning slightly, “you’re still lower than I’d like, you can take some from me if you like?”.

She shifts and fiddles with his fingers some, “really?”. He nods so she grabs him and gets rather clingy, Danny picking her up and standing; carrying her around as he moves to check on the others. Easily hearing Sam laugh a little and speak at some of the more surprised looking linchen ghosts, “told you he was a kind soul who’s stupid protective”. Catching a few ghosts looking at her and nodding jerkily, but the group of ghosts do start to seem less nervous and timid around him.

Once Danny’s satisfied with the state of everyone, eyeing the child ghost, “Alright, you’ve had enough. No getting greedy now”, she just hums innocently at him as he puts her down. Turning to face the group, “so I have a question for you all, Brextex said y’all have been disconnected from the Zone. So my question is if you want to stay here in the living realm or be reintroduced into the ghost realm”.

Danny watches as they all look to a linchen with stringy red hair and red ‘eyes’, he felt older than the others so Danny’s guessing he’s their leader, or as close to one as they have. He clears his throat and steps forward, “we don’t have... fond memories of this realm. While we believe our kind left the Infinite Realms for safety... I don’t believe we have to fear there anymore. You... are not Pariah. We’d like to go home... your highness”.

Danny nods curtly and smiles, “then that’s what we’ll do. Now it might take some time for you all to reconnect fully and properly. That’s just the nature of things I’m afraid. So I’ll have some knights keep guard over wherever you chose to set down your roots, that way the miasma and local flora and fauna won’t damage any of you. Alright?”. They all nod looking a bit stunned though. Danny gestures to the bone stuff he brought with him, “these are yours to do with as you wish, as far as I’m concerned they belong to you. If you remember your traditions for respecting the faded, then maybe these will help you do that”. They just nod, clearly only getting more stunned; which makes Danny chuckle a bit.

Sam and Tucker share a look and shake their heads, while Danny makes a portal and guides the ghosts through.

Danny speaks at the FirghtKnight while watching the linchens settle down from afar, “let me guess, you thought they were extinct?”.

The FrightKnight nods, “I rather assumed that when they disconnected from the Infinite Realms it was due to being whipped out. Ghosts being able to exist amongst the living indefinitely as you do is uncommon, my king”.

Danny snorts, “I’m uncommon, Frighty. There any other ghost species that fled to the human world and were never heard of again?”.

The FrightKnight seems to almost sigh, “‘fraid so sire. The fallen mad king chased many off”. Making Danny actually sigh, guess he now has a bunch of things to look into. Hopefully there wasn’t, like, horror movie companies using real ghosts as movie ghosts.

End.

#ectober #ectoberweek2020 #Danny Phantom #phandom #danny fenton #the frightknight #ghost king danny #implied/referenced murder #implied/referenced torture #glow sticks #dark history #unethical #fan fic #phan phic #my writing #have a fic suck my dick #phantomphangphucker

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blackstonesandtrapnest · 4 years

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Hello! I'm pretty sure I didn't send this in already (If I did I'm so sorry just ignore this one ^^') But I really really loved your Yugi relationship headcanons! Could we maybe get some of those for Yami/Atem too? SFW and NSFW if you're okay with that, if not that's fine! Thank you in advance, you're awesome! (also side note, I've never heard of the anime Nana before your blog but now I'm kinda interested in it haha)

No this is my first time getting the request ^_^ I was waiting for someone to request this honestly XD You should definitely watch Nana when you get a chance! I swear it’s amazing!

Also I’ll be doing these headcanons as if Atem got his own body to make it easier to do!

~~SFW~~

Unlike Yugi who’s more shy and lacks confidence, Atem is definitely more charming and confident in himself. Approaching a beautiful woman or man (he’s bisexual obviously) is no skin off his nose. Yes he’s helped Yugi get dates before. Such a good friend am I right?

Atem has a reputation for being a player and yes it’s true to some extent. He likes to play the field and just like Yugi, he gets bored easily. You gotta be a special person to keep his attention for long. Atem is a free-spirit and settling down isn’t exactly easy for him because of how hard it is to keep him interested. Atem especially values intelligence and if you’re a duelist, that’s even better. Traveling is also a requirement for being with Atem. He wants to get out and see the world and being with his S/O while doing so is a dream come true for him!

Atem is definitely more open to one-night stands and flings than Yugi is. But he isn’t one of those asshole players who uses people for sex and then ghosts them later. Atem is very upfront and honest about his intentions and wants for any potential suitors to do the same. He doesn’t get why people deceive and lure others to get sex or money from them. Why do that when you can just be honest?

Atem will definitely treat you like the King or Queen you are! Unlike Yugi who’s more frugal and down-to-earth, he’s much more lavish with his dates and gifts. Fancy restaurants, awesome clothes, the works! Atem may not be as rich as Kaiba but he’ll definitely spoil you the best he can! If you do the same in return, Atem will be so touched that he might actually cry. Awwww!

If you actually manage to keep Atem’s interest, congratulations. You’ve already found your way into his heart and you’re gonna stay there. He’s gonna chase you like a jack rabbit chases a carrot and he’s not gonna let you go. If he ever does, you must’ve done something unforgivable and he’s not taking you back. Please don’t take Atem for granted or it’ll be the biggest mistake of your life.

Atem has had his heart broken many times in his 5000+ years of existing and he’s been through pretty much any dating disaster you can imagine so don’t be too nervous and shy when you’re around him. His amount of heartbreaks have caused him to become more reserved and cautious so be patient if you want a long-term relationship with him. He’ll open up to you but you have to gain his trust first.

Pride is gonna be the biggest hurdle in your relationship honestly. Atem puts Vegeta to shame in terms of how prideful he is and ohhh boy are you in for one hell of a fight whenever you two get into an argument. Atem does NOT like to lose and admitting that he’s wrong is like a Kuriboh trying to defeat a Blue-Eyes White Dragon. He’ll argue with you all damn day and he will push your buttons like no man can. If you’re the headstrong type who doesn’t take any bullshit and won’t back down, that’s perfect for Atem because he needs someone like that to bring him down to Earth sometimes. He has thick skin so don’t worry about hurting his feelings. Atem actually gets turned on when you get mad and he likes it when you put him in his place. He’s never really dealt with that kind of person before so it intrigues him. He’s used to people just bowing down to him and honestly he’s tired of it. Sometimes Atem will start arguments for the hell of it. It’s great foreplay according to him.

Atem likes PDA but is subtle about it. Small things like holding hands or wrapping arms around each other’s waist is more of his style. He likes security and when you’re around him, having some kind of physical contact gives him that feeling. A hug here or a kiss there may happen too depending on the situation and how Atem feels.

If you’ve dated any of his friends (especially Yugi), Atem isn’t dating you point blank period. He doesn’t believe in dating his friends’ exes and he and Yugi actually wound up dating the same girl once! The outcome wasn’t pretty either. The player doesn’t like being played. Not. One. Bit.

Unfortunately Atem has had all the major issues that comes with being a player. Fatal attractions, paternity scandals, bitter exes, getting a taste of his own medicine, you name it, it’s happened to him at some point and he’s got stories for days. His past will eventually come back to haunt him and if you can’t handle it, he won’t stop you from leaving and he’ll definitely understand. Loving Atem isn’t easy and it’ll definitely test you in every way possible but he’s definitely worth fighting for and he will spend the next 5000+ years proving it to you if he has to. He’s not gonna lose you without a fight and his love for you is eternal no matter what happens between you two. You’ll always have a special place in Atem’s heart.

~~NSFW~~

Atem has lots of experience which is a given considering how old he is. He knows how to please his partners and he can adapt to his partner’s needs at the drop of a hat. Want slow and steady? You got it. Want rough and hard? Atem’s your guy. Want a threesome? Atem will happily oblige!

He doesn’t care if you’re short, tall, big, or small. Atem’s been with all kinds of people of various sizes so he’s not exactly picky. Does he have a specific type or preferences? Of course he does. But he doesn’t go out of his way to find what he wants physically in a partner as opposed to mentally. Atem knows better than anyone that looks don’t completely matter and that it’s what’s on the inside that truly matters.

Atem is a switch but mostly prefers to be the Dom. He definitely loves to roleplay and he always makes sure to have a safe word in place so no harm is done. Can you guess what his favorite kind of roleplay is? Remember he is a 5000 year old Pharaoh ;)

When Atem is dominating you, sexy doesn’t even begin to describe it! His voice is deep, his words are filthy, and his dick is hard. You’re gonna feel his hands all over your body and he’s definitely gonna make you beg. You’ll be a complete mess when he’s done with you and you can forget about going to work or school the next morning.

Atem’s aftercare is on point! He’ll praise you like no other, take a luxurious hot bath with you, make some delicious food for you (yes he can cook and quite well might I add), and top it all off with a glass of very fine wine. If you have any bruises or scratches, Atem is gonna make sure they’re taken care of so you’re not too sore.

Atem’s pride also extends to the bedroom. If he’s not your first lover, he’s gonna make damn sure that he’s one of the best you’ve ever had if not THE best. If he’s your first, then that’s even better. You’ll want no other man once he’s done with you trust me. You’ll need at least 5 guys to do what he does in bed!

He wants to know everything about you sexually. Your fantasies, your kinks, your dislikes, bad experiences, you name it. Atem likes to know what he’s getting himself into and what he’s up against. He wants to have an open dialogue about sex so if you’re shy or prudish, you’ll have a very rude awakening with Atem.

If you thought Yugi’s secret stash was something to shocked by, just wait until you see Atem’s. Hell he has a secret ROOM instead! Sex dungeon anyone? But he won’t reveal it to you until he’s opened up to you a bit and has settled in with you sexually. Atem doesn’t want to scare you away by revealing everything at once! He’s made that mistake a few times before.

Whenever Atem is the sub, he’s a bratty sub to the fullest! If you wanna dominate him, you’re gonna earn it damn it! He’ll egg you on, challenge you, defy you, the whole nine yards. I hope you have a lot of patience because you’re gonna need it with Atem if you’re the dominant type! But the right to dominate him is well worth fighting for! He’ll obey your every command and will be putty in your hands. You’ll feel on top of the world!

It should go without saying but Atem lives to please and he wants to make you happy both in and out of the bedroom! Not only because of his pride but because of how much he loves you. You see, Atem is simply one hell of a lover and he’ll make sure you don’t forget it either!

#Yu-Gi-Oh #yugioh headcanons #yugioh imagines #yami yugi #atem #bringing sexy back #anime headcanons #anime imagines

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aion-rsa · 3 years

Text

15 Best SNES Platformers Ever

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Platformers have long been an entry point for new gamers. Video games may have greatly expanded in scope over the years and now offer so many different genres and experiences that it’s nearly impossible to keep track of them, but that’s actually a big part of the reason why it’s still so much fun to look back at these timeless games where the main objective was often to simply jump from one place to the next.

There is no console that celebrated the brilliance of the platformer better than the Super Nintendo Entertainment System. The SNES may be best known for expanding the adventure and RPG genres, as well as raising a generation’s expectations for video game graphics, but few consoles have come close to rivaling the Super Nintendo’s library of classic platforming titles.

It’s hard to narrow this list down to just 15 games, but from action-based platformers to pure platforming classics, these are the best examples of this timeless genre that the SNES gifted the gaming world.

15. Jelly Boy

Putting you in control of a jelly baby (a candy that is popular in the U.K. and surrounding areas), Jelly Boy was only released in Europe when it debuted in 1994. The game has a colorful aesthetic and some unique platforming elements built around the main character’s ability to transform into a myriad of vehicles, tools, and other objects. Those metamorphoses will be familiar to anyone who has played a Wario Land title or Kirby’s Epic Yarn.

Admittedly, Jelly Boy‘s mechanics can be a little clunky and the controls are deficient compared to some of the later games on this list. Still, you will be hard-pressed to find a more original platformer on the console that isn’t made by Nintendo themselves. You can even play it now via the Nintendo Switch Online service.

14. Demon’s Crest

Released by Capcom in 1994 as the third game featuring the character Firebrand (who debuted in the Ghosts ‘n Goblins series), Demon’s Crest is a forgotten gem in the SNES catalog. It adds some variety to the traditional action-platformer by giving the playable protagonist the ability to fly and shoot fireballs as well as access other upgradeable attacks and maneuvers as their quest rolls along. That feature adds a little Zelda-like adventuring to the mix, and you’ll certainly need those late-game power-ups because this platformer means business.

There are many difficult platformers on this list, but few boast the plethora of boss battles seen in this one. It’s actually similar to Mega Man in terms of its fighting style and jumping requirements, so if you are looking for an alternative to the Blue Bomber that keeps the basics of the genre intact, you’ll have a hard time doing better than Demon’s Crest.

13. Joe & Mac

Joe & Mac is honestly a fairly basic platformer for its era. What gets it onto this list of the best games in that genre, though, is the creativity and execution of its setting.

The game sees you control two different cavemen who rely on basic prehistoric items such as fire, bats, bones, etc. The bosses are pretty cool (dinosaurs are fun for all ages) and the controls hold up well enough that you won’t ever feel like you have to force the avatar into doing something that the interface simply won’t allow for. The game spawned a sequel that was also released on SNES, but the original is unique enough to get the nod here.

12. Super Ghouls ‘n Ghosts

Despite what the title may suggest, Super Ghouls ‘n Ghosts is actually the third game in the Ghosts ‘n Goblins series. Like the previous games, this classic sees you battle various monsters and bosses that fit the setting nicely. Although the game is maybe a little too action-heavy to get the nod over the SNES’ best platformers, it uses its platforming elements to elevate the entire experience.

The difficulty is insanely high and the sheer amount of sprites on screen at once can lead to some lag that only adds to the frustrations of this arduous journey, but the game has a way of keeping things light and humorous when the frustration sets in. How many other games see the protagonist stripped of their armor, quite literally, when he takes too many hits?

11. Donkey Kong Country 3: Dixie Kong’s Double Trouble!

The third installment in the beloved Donkey Kong Country trilogy certainly isn’t hated by many, but it is usually viewed as a step down from the first two games. Whether that has to do with a change in composer for the soundtrack, the inability to play as Donkey or Diddy, or the fact it was released after the Nintendo 64 was on the market, the title’s sometimes mixed reputation often prevents it from being appreciated as a divine platforming experience.

The environments and storytelling in this game are well-executed. If you’re observant, you may even notice that the developers were trying to say something about the sad state of ape habitats and pollution in the wild. Even if you didn’t dive too deep into that surprising bit of social commentary, you’ll likely find that the platforming in this one remains top-notch and that the overall experience remains severely underrated.

10. DoReMi Fantasy: Milon’s DokiDoki Adventure

As the only game on this list that wasn’t initially released outside of Japan, many gamers may not know that DoReMi Fantasy is a whimsical experience that features some of the key elements of Mario and Kirby’s best adventures in terms of gameplay and graphics. Starring a young child whose objective is to reclaim music for the forest, DoReMi utilizes some clever puzzles that may not be unusual for the platformer genre but certainly add to the fun.

The game got a Virtual Console release in North America in 2008, but that’s sadly the best chance many gamers have had in recent years to take a chance on this title. It’s a great example of how people should be more open to experiencing games that weren’t localized the first time around.

9. Donkey Kong Country

Perhaps the most famous game starring Nintendo’s lovable ape, the original Donkey Kong Country was Rare’s first big title for the SNES and practically started their decade-plus long relationship as a second-party developer with the Big N. Tasked with showing off off the console’s pre-rendered graphics system, the crew from Britain proved to be up to the task. Honestly, this game still looks halfway decent in 2021.

While the actual platforming is not as good as the Super Mario games on the SNES, it offered a different flavor of jumping that is still very much appreciated. The “weight” of Donkey Kong and Diddy means that the platforming is less flighty than in Super Mario games, and the rideable animal buddies you encounter along the way add a little flair to the experience.

8. ActRaiser

As a game that serves as both an action-platformer and a God simulator, this underrated and forgotten gem from Enix and developer Quintet showed off the visual and audio capabilities of the SNES in the early days of the console. You play as the “Master” who is tasked with building towns around the world and fending off the evils that threaten them. It’s hard to juggle two completely different genres like that, but ActRaiser finds a great balance.

The game was re-released for the Wii Virtual Console in 2007 but has otherwise been paid little attention in the years since its release. That’s unfortunate because there aren’t many games from 30 years ago that provide this much depth and versatility. Both parts of the experience are extremely solid in their own right, and together add up to become something truly special.

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7. Kirby Super Star

Even the most ardent Kirby fans would probably agree that the franchise can get a little stale at times. There are only so many ways Kirby can suck an enemy up, transform his powers to match theirs, and ultimately defeat King Dedede. That’s why Kirby Super Star is still arguably the best game that the pink cutie pie has ever starred in.

Featuring eight different games within the game, the genre-mixing in this one is really off the charts. There are racing elements, adventure tones, and shooting sequences amongst the different sections of the playthrough. The experience was so beloved that it was eventually remade for the Nintendo DS as Kirby Super Star Deluxe. There is something for everyone in this package, and it shows the best parts of Kirby’s history.

6. Mega Man X

The original run of NES Mega Man titles are arguably still more famous than all of the others, but Mega Man X just has more of what makes those games great. It retains the eight bosses and weapon upgrades that can be completed/acquired in whatever order the player chooses, and it even has that same incredible soundtrack that the Blue Bomber’s adventures are always famous for.

Mega Man X‘s graphical upgrades admittedly take some of that eight-bit nostalgia out of the experience, but the game ultimately makes up for it by offering new gameplay experiences. Jumping on walls and acquiring upgrades to defensive maneuvers gives Mega Man an even more badass skillset, and the game generally does an excellent job of emphasizing the “platforming” parts of its action-platformer mix.

5. Super Castlevania 4

Super Castlevania 4 is actually a kind of soft remake of the original game, and the developers at Konami did a great job of making that game more digestible for newcomers while keeping all of the iconic elements from the classic NES title.

The Castlevania basics are all here (you still control Simon Belmont, equipped with his famous whip and ax, and battle through the game’s 11 stages before reaching Dracula), but an ideal mix of combat and platforming makes this one of the most irreplaceable platformers in the SNES catalog. It’s still an airtight action-platformer experience in 2021.

4. Donkey Kong Country 2: Diddy’s Kong Quest

The second game in the DKC trilogy took all of the best parts of the first title and refined them to create a truly unique platforming game that was a lot more than fancy graphics (a reputation the original game has had a hard time shaking). Diddy’s Kong Quest expanded upon the game design that fans loved while keeping the jungle hijinx, masterful soundtrack, and weighted platforming intact.

That last part is what truly separates the middle installment of this franchise from the other two. Many people have said that these games were sometimes more style than substance, but after playing through the myriad of environments on display in DKC 2, it becomes clear that this title has endured over the years because its tight mechanics are executed at a high level.

3. Super Metroid

If this list were just a ranking of 2D games or if it encapsulated the entire SNES library regardless of genre, Super Metroid would most likely take the top spot. Alas, this icon of game design settles in the third spot because it isn’t the best example of a “pure platformer.” It’s more of an action/adventure affair, though the game’s platforming elements are still as satisfying now as they were in the 1990s.

What separates this game from so many that have tried to emulate it in the nearly three decades since release is that every ability upgrade and every part of the map fits together with nearly flawless foresight and execution. It’s never a hassle to re-explore a section that you’ve already seen. The game has a masterful flow that is incredibly modern and perhaps even more popular today because of the prominence of this design style on the indie game scene.

2. Super Mario World

With its flawless controls, colorful sprites, cheerful soundtrack, and ageless platforming, Super Mario World is the title that all other 2D games in the genre are still compared to. The extra graphical power of the SNES gave Nintendo the opportunity to expand upon Super Mario Bros. 3‘s best ideas while exploring new concepts that simply weren’t possible before.

That is why this game remains so playable. Super Mario World combines the most enjoyable elements of the NES Super Mario classics and then elevates them to fully realize the world that Miyamoto imagined when this basic concept was created. It still doesn’t make sense to have a plumber jumping on top of turtles and occasionally getting lost inside of a house full of ghosts (those damn Boo mansions still haunt me), but when you combine this much creativity into one package, you have no choice but to admit how special it all is.

1. Super Mario World 2: Yoshi’s Island

Shigeru Miyamoto and his team knew that it was futile to try and surpass Super Mario World simply by emulating it. So when developing the sequel, they made the decision to craft an entirely different type of platformer in which Mario isn’t even the main protagonist. The concept was bold, but the execution needed to be flawless if the game was ever going to be more than another disappointing follow-up.

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It’s safe to say Yoshi’s Island exceeded all expectations. Putting Yoshi at the forefront of a platformer that included mini-games, evasion, puzzle-solving, item collection, and the most timeless color palette in gaming history was brilliance personified. Yoshi’s Island is not as famous as its older sibling, but its daring creativity and irreplaceable charm have inspired many to argue that it is the better game in retrospect. Whatever your opinion is, the fun and escapism of the green dinosaur’s finest hour (as well as the horrors of Baby Mario’s screams) will be remembered until the end of gaming.

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five-rivers · 4 years

Text

Prompt by @fruity-hub-blog. Phor the Phic Phight.

The night was auspicious for a summoning, all the stars and planets in their ideal locations. The date, Beltane, was excellent. The mansion was old, Gothic, and had more than a passing reputation for being haunted, not to even mention the town. The candles were high-quality all-natural beeswax. The chalk was the purest white. The altar at the center of the geometrically perfect chalk circle was of clean-cut marble. The practitioners were experienced. The ritual...

Well, that remained to be seen.

But still, they couldn't ignore the opportunity to summon the Dark King, the Lord of the Afterlife, the Ruler of All Ghosts and Spirits. It was the kind of thing that only came along once in a lifetime, if that.

Each of the thirteen of them had their lines, their part of the ritual that they had memorized after months of practice. It was complex, but also oddly simple. Elegant. Refined. Perfect.

The grandfather clock in the drawing room began to toll midnight, the signal to begin. The practitioners' voices wove together, reaching up, up, up, and hopefully through the veil separating the mortal world from the one belonging to the spirits.

The candles flared, first yellow, then red, then green, reaching higher and higher until the circle looked like a cage with bars of fire. A wind whipped through the room, twisting and tangling the flames. The hoods of the practitioners' robes were blown free, exposing their faces. A few put up their hands to shield their faces from the flames, but none of them stopped chanting.

The leader, their high priest, took his dagger from beneath his robes and drew it smoothly across his hand. He let the blood puddle there, before flinging it out, towards the altar at the center of the circle. The book they had read had suggested that the ritual was more likely to be successful if the high priest made a more significant sacrifice at the altar, or if the high priest made the sacrifice at the altar, in the circle, thereby putting himself at the King's mercy, but, well. The practitioners were all dedicated. None of them was that dedicated.

A few drops of blood hit the altar, and there was a flash of light that was bright and somehow dark all at once. The practitioners had to avert their gazes.

"What have you done now, Daniel?" asked a mature, highly annoyed voice. It echoed weirdly around the room.

"I didn't do anything," said a much younger, but still male voice. "I never do anything. Whenever something happens, it's because you decided to go all power h- Ellie!?"

"Ow," this third voice was younger and female. "That was weird. What happened? Where are we?"

"I don't- Oh. Hello. Uh. Hm." Two pairs of green eyes and one pair of red blinked out of the circle at the practitioners. "We seem to have been summoned by a cult. Hi, Mr. Thunder." As the practitioners' eyes adjusted, they saw one of the three (three!) ghosts they had summoned wave to one of their more junior members.

Lance Thunder made a strangled noise. "Phantom? And the Wisconsin Ghost?"

The smallest ghost snickered. "The Wisconsin Ghost? Really?"

The largest ghost growled. "That is not my name. I am-"

"Oh my gosh, is that blood?" asked Phantom, pointing at the altar. His finger traced the line back to the high priest. "Dude, you're bleeding. Are you okay? You should probably get that looked at, it looks pretty deep from here."

The high priest blinks for a minute, then turns his gaze to the eldest ghost. "You... must be the king," he said, forgetting his planned speech, "and these," he hesitated for a moment, "phantoms are your attendants?"

There was a beat of silence then an uproar of laughter. "Him? King? You're joking right?"

"He's so bad at getting people to listen to him that he makes his own followers from scratch!" exclaimed the younger ghost. "And I still told him to stuff it!"

"People hate him more than they hate me!" Phantom took a deep breath and seemed to settle himself. "Why would you think he was a king?"

"We were, er, we were trying to summon the King of All Ghosts," said Lance Thunder when it became clear no one else was going to answer.

"Pariah Dark? Why?" asked Phantom, clearly taken aback. "The heck would anyone want to do that? Don't answer, we all know you're the lunatic that let him out last time."

By this point, the ghosts had moved so that they were standing on opposite ends of the altar, the Wisconsin Ghost on one side, and the two green-eyed ghosts on the other.

Lance glanced at the high priest again. "To... ask a boon."

"Right," said Phantom. "Well, it's a good thing you didn't get him, honestly."

"But-" said the high priest, reemerging from his stupor. "Why you? Why three of you? This doesn't make sense! This was for one, specific, ghost! There shouldn't be three."

The ghosts exchanged glances. Phantom, with the air of someone trying to be subtle, tested the boundary of the circle and winced slightly as his hand met an impenetrable wall.

"Most likely," said the Wisconsin Ghost, clasping his hands behind his back and standing straight, "it is because Daniel and I were the last ghosts to be in Pariah's presence, as we were the ones to defeat him."

"Please, you showed up at literally the last second and turned a key. You didn't fight. I guess you were there, but that doesn't explain Ellie. You secretly a king, Ellie?"

"Nah, but I bet I'd make a great queen." She struck a pose then let it drop, shrugging. "I'm going to be honest, though, I have no idea what you're talking about."

"The similarities between Danielle's ectosignature and yours probably confused the spell. Now, if you are all quite satisfied that we aren't the ghost you are looking for, release us. I'd prefer not to have to waste time breaking out. My night has been disrupted enough."

The high priest twitched, then clenched his uninjured hand. "No," he said.

The Wisconsin Ghost raised an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"No. Perhaps you aren't the ones we wanted, but we would be fools to throw away this opportunity." The high priest took a deep breath and uttered a word of binding.

Lines of light sprang up from the circle, wrapping around the ghosts. The boy was the first bound, then the older ghost, and finally, after what almost seemed like confusion, the girl. The lights tried to arrange them on the altar, but that only resulted in the ghosts being mashed together in a confusing pile.

"Oh, come on!" said Phantom, wriggling. "I've already filled my ritual sacrifice attempt quota this week!"

"Stop that at once, Daniel, you're kicking me in the face!"

Phantom wriggled harder.

"Bring the book," ordered the high priest. "Perhaps it can shed some light on these events and tell us how we might reap benefits for ourselves."

"Are we going to put them in thrall?" asked one of the practitioners, excitedly. "Make a bargain? Collect their powers? Sacrifice them to higher beings?"

"Wow, all of that sounds terrible," said Phantom, craning his head back so that it hung off the edge of the altar. "Like, really terrible. You shouldn't do any of those. Trust me, they'll all backfire horribly."

The book, an old crumbling thing that had long been in the family of the high priest, was brought forward and opened. He flipped through the pages, slowly. He had read the book cover to cover many times, but some kind of power had been infused into the pages, and he often found passages in them that he would swear he had never laid eyes on before. That was how he had come across the ritual to summon the Ghost King and extract a boon from him.

The priest stops, a sentence catching his eye. Should a title be contested, it may be that all spirits with a claim to it are called. This gives the priest a sacred task, to mediate the dispute. The priest read through the next few pages.

In all honesty, the high priest didn't put much stock into things like sacred duty. Although his great-grandfather had been invested in the art and ritual for spiritual reasons, the high priest was of a more practical bent. So what if ghosts existed? People had always at least suspected that. All it meant was that you had to secure your position in the afterlife, too.

One of the other practitioners cleared their throat. "Master," said Lance Thunder. "I really think that we should just let them go. I mean, Phantom is a tutelary spirit."

"I mean, thanks, but I'm actually terrible at school."

"Be quiet, Daniel."

"So?" asked the high priest.

"So, we need him to keep the town from being overrun with ghosts," said Lance Thunder.

"With the powers we can gain from this, we could protect the town ourselves," said the high priest.

"You know," said Phantom, "saying 'could' sort of implies you won't. And this is a really uncomfortable position. The last cult I got kidnapped by was much better about positioning. I'm definitely going to have to give you a negative review."

"This happen to you a lot?" asked the girl. "Where do you even go to review cults? Yelp? What are the criteria?"

"Oh, the usual. Comfort level, sincerity, complexity, effectiveness, originality... I'll give them points for originality, since I'm usually summoned by myself. I mean, I don't summon myself, but I'm the only one summoned."

"No, no, I get it."

The high priest pinched the bridge of his nose. He knew there were spells to shut up summoned spirits, but he needed them talking, for now.

"One of you," he said, "will be King."

"No, we aren't," said the girl. "We just established that."

"Hold up," said the boy. "'Will be?' Not 'are?'"

"You are the contenders for the position," said the high priest, with as much authority as he could muster. "You must determine which of you it is to be."

"Well," said the Wisconsin Ghost. "Clearly I am the only suitable option."

"Oh, come on. You have to see he's trying to play us," said Phantom. "We pick one of us, and then that's the one that has to do this 'boon' thing, and they'll turn the rest of us into 'thralls' or whatever."

"Perhaps. But, then, you should have no trouble acknowledging me as King."

"I literally just outlined why I would have trouble doing that."

"What does 'thrall' mean, anyway?" asked the girl.

"Like, slave or something. I don't know. It was in a song that S- uh, a friend likes."

Obviously, they weren't going to cooperate. The high priest would have to get more serious. "Fetch the water of life," he ordered, pointing at Lance Thunder. It would do the junior practitioner good to remember who was in charge.

The man scurried off, light from the next room briefly spilling past the doorway.

"Isn't that vodka?" asked the girl. "Like, alcohol?"

"I don't know. Ask this guy. Reminds me of a sci-fi thing, though."

"What about this situation is sci-fi? I'm not up on genres, but, still, this has to be horror."

"Or humor, yeah."

"Oooh, burn."

"If you two are quite done," said the Wisconsin Ghost. "Perhaps you might share your plan to get out of this mess."

"You don't have a plan," said Phantom, "you have a power grab. A really dumb one, that won't work, just like all the other ones."

"He's got a point, though. How do we get out of these ropes?"

"No idea."

"I thought you did this all the time."

"Not this specific variation," protested Phantom. "None of the others had this glow-y rope thing going on. They don't exactly feel like real ropes, though, if you get me. A human could probably put their hand right through them."

"Wonderful, Daniel, but that isn't exactly something we can take advantage of, is it?"

"I'm just pointing it out, you don't have to be a jerk about it," said Phantom. He shifted again, very deliberately putting his feet in the older ghost's face.

"Daniel, stop that."

"Stop what?"

"Weren't you complaining about being enslaved a moment ago?"

"Oh, yeah, I'm totally on that. Got it covered," said Phantom.

"What do you mean, you have it covered?" said the high priest, aggravated by the constant banter. "You can't possibly believe you're getting out of this. This circle was designed to hold the King of All Ghosts!"

"Sure," drawled Phantom, "and government was designed to keep things in order, but it doesn't do a particularly good job of that, does it? Not to mention, you got three for the price of one, here. Ghost King is pretty singular, generally."

The high priest let his eyes flick over the circle and the bonds. Nothing was out of place. Everything was secure.

"Also, I'm pretty sure Mr. Thunder bailed on you, dude."

"Yeah," said the girl, "unless this house is way bigger than it has any reason to be. Even bigger than Vlad's."

"Or if he can't find it, I guess."

"Or if he has to buy it from the nearest liquor store."

"Nice. Hey, guess what, guys? If any of you want to bail, now's your chance." Phantom smiled, showing off a set of too-sharp teeth.

"No one is going anywhere," snarled the high priest. Lance Thunder had been gone for much longer than he should have been, however. He frowned at the door.

"Oh, hey, I got the blood," announced Phantom.

"I'm sorry," said the girl, "you got what?"

"The blood. I knew there was some on here. I saw it before. Really dumb leaving it out like this, you know. There's lots of stuff people like us can do with blood. It's way better than hair."

"Daniel, are you implying that you know magic?" said the Wisconsin Ghost, completely incredulous.

"That's the part of this situation you're having trouble with? But, yeah. Enough to screw with cultists who don't understand the meaning of 'personal space' or 'bio-hazard' and leave their stupid blood everywhere."

"You're going to have to teach me," said the girl.

"My friend, you know the one, is way better than me."

"That makes sense. So, are you going to blow him up?"

"I was thinking about it, but that would leave all the other guys."

"Not if you made the explosion big enough."

"That's true, but I was thinking about maybe turning him into, like, a werewolf or something. Have him tear apart all these other guys. I did say you could bail, it isn't my fault you've stu-"

"You can't do that!" snapped the high priest. "He can't do that. He's trying to trick you into letting him go free."

"Are you sure about that? I'm a ghost after all. I'm old enough to have seen Rome burn. I know more than you, even if I like playing the teenager. It makes people underestimate me." Phantom's lazy smile turned sinister. "Don't you feel what I'm already doing to you? To all of you. You could still escape," his voice buzzed uncomfortably. "All you need to do is let us go."

A few of the practitioners shifted.

"Don't-" started the high priest.

It was too late. One of the others had darted forward and upended a candle. Wax spilled over the clean chalk lines, breaking them, obscuring them. The lights flickered. The ghosts were gone.

"You don't actually know any magic," stated Vlad as they hovered over the house.

Danny rolled his eyes. "I know enough to scam a cultist," he said. "But, if you're asking if I could do what I was saying? Nope."

"Aw, that's too bad," said Ellie. "I was excited."

"Clever, I suppose," admitted Vlad. "But this doesn't resolve our previous business. Which of us is King?"

"Oh my gosh, Vlad, let it go," said Danny.

"I can't do that. This is a very important matter, not that a child like you would understand." Pink sparks leaped from his fingertips.

The other two ghosts drifted back, their dropping body temperatures making mist condense from the air around them.

"Well," said Ellie, "I'm not sure that it counts for anything, but I nominate Danny. Full offence, Vlad, but you suck."

There was a tiny popping sound, very like the sound a tiny firework might make, and a green and glowing crown expanded into being above Danny's head. All three ghosts stared at it for a minute. Danny was practically gaping.

"Oh," said Ellie after a moment. "I guess it does count."

Danny made a very strangled sound before diving out of the way of Vlad's attack. Ellie responded with a ghost ray of her own. The chase was on, and soon they had left the mansion far behind.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic phight 2020

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years

Text

The Switching Hour

A/N: it’s been just over a week since halloween but i finally got this piece done and i’m quite happy with it! :D i hope you guys enjoy and feedback is always welcome and cherished!! ilyyyy

masterlist | ask

word count: 8.4k

content: dramatic perfectionist demon!h, fluff, and a lil bit of smutty sexual tension

preview:

Her voice chimes up, prickly with annoyance and just the slightest bit of awe. “Are you always this picky when it comes to your Halloween costume?”

Harry rubs the material of a Jack Skellington pantsuit between his thumbs and forefingers, humming in absentminded disapproval at the flimsiness of the fabric. “Always.”

“Why?”

He drops the article of clothing, watching it sway back and forth on its hanger for a second before glancing up to meet her irritated expression, answering with a prideful undertone. “Because Halloween is the best holiday of the year and I’ve built quite the reputation for myself amongst my group. I always outshine and I tend to keep it that way, darling.”

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Right, I forgot how competitive you are.”

“Actually, I like the praise,” Harry gives her a slow, sultry once-over, lips buckling with a sly smirk, “but you already knew that.”

Her arms tighten instinctively across her body.

Harry goes back to filtering through hangers, scrunching his nose in distaste at yet another Dracula ensemble. Drac never even wore a cape, he preferred tapered vests. He was the one who taught Harry how to style flared pants centuries before they came into fashion. With the way humans stained his cherished outfit designs, he’d be rolling around in his grave right now if he had one. He wasn’t even a vampire— just a crossroads demon with a very peculiar taste in beverages.

Y/N toys with the visor of an astronaut helmet, staring at her warbled reflection in the grey plastic and sighing with defeated boredom. “Why don’t we just get the Purge masks and go?”

Harry gives her a look of incredulous disdain. “And cover up one of my most prized assets? I’d rather let a hellhound disembowel me again.”

///

Harry was aiming to be an angel.

Well, not literally. Hell forbid it, in his opinion. Most of them are wound so tight, they wouldn’t be able to fly if they tried.

Plus, he actually quite enjoys being a demon. Immortality, flexible work hours, free range of the human world, and not to mention a pretty sick gig with the sorcery. It’s a sweet deal, once you get past the decades of excruciating torture and training, of course.

So no, he’s not aiming to be a literal celestial being. Rather, he’s planning to be one for Halloween on behalf of Y/N’s approach to switch identities as a couple’s costume.

The idea had stemmed from when they had been walking around Party City a few days prior, trying to gain inspiration for the annual costume party a friend of Harry’s is hosting.

Y/N hadn’t really been keen on going, despite the invitation being extended to her through Harry. She felt like she never really fit right with her boyfriend’s inner circle and it was for an obvious factor: they were all demons.

She’d only ever gotten along with one demon before (granted, she’d only ever put effort into befriending this single one) and she was perfectly fine with that number. It isn’t that Harry’s friends treat her coldly in any way (they were pretty welcoming, much to her surprise), but she could practically drown in the awkward tension that milled whenever they had to interact. She stuck out of place in a painfully obvious manner and she refuses to force herself into bonding with them; it would just make the situation a whole lot worse.

The connection remained as a polite acquaintanceship, and from what Y/N could tell, both parties are more than happy for it remain as so.

Either way, Harry had managed to sway her into accompanying him. She wanted to give out candy to the children from the complex and he wanted her to be his plus-one, so a compromise was settled. They would hand out candy from six in the evening until eight, then get ready and leave for the party at nine.

After agreeing upon the terms, they’d spent well over forty minutes in pursuit for their costumes at the store.

The choices they had weren’t very compelling, according to Harry.

He outright refused to be a vampire, warlock, or werewolf— the overuse of the genres made them tacky. He’d rather be caught dead (a second time) than have to wear a cowboy hat, so that was a bust on Y/N’s part. No aliens, no zombies, no Frankenstein (which he filed under zombie and it was an entire five minute bicker session between them before Y/N finally let it go with an exasperated sigh).

No superheroes. He’d cycled through all of them already, including Black Widow. He looked great in a bodysuit, if he does say so himself.

Historic figures were a bore considering there isn’t anything truly scary about King Tut, other than his crippled foot and untimely demise. Animal costumes are for children, as well as ghosts and ghouls. Mummies were too messy.

Due to his selectiveness, they ended up circling the store five times, coming up empty-handed. Y/N had stopped giving him suggestions after he’d used a release spell to make her drop the Elvis wig she’d been inspecting.

Her voice chimes up, prickly with annoyance and just the slightest bit of awe. “Are you always this picky when it comes to your Halloween costume?”

Harry rubs the material of a Jack Skellington pantsuit between his thumbs and forefingers, humming in absentminded disapproval at the flimsiness of the fabric. “Always.”

“Why?”

Y/N rolls her eyes lightly, crossing her arms loosely over her chest. “Right, I forgot how competitive you are.”

“Actually, I like the praise,” Harry gives her a slow, sultry once-over, lips buckling with a sly smirk, “but you already knew that.”

Her arms tighten instinctively across her body.

Y/N toys with the visor of an astronaut helmet, staring at her warbled reflection in the grey plastic and sighing with defeated boredom. “Why don’t we just get the Purge masks and go?”

Harry gives her a look of incredulous disdain. “And cover up one of my most prized assets? I’d rather let a hellhound disembowel me again.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

He pulls a pirate costume out from the metal rack, eyeing it judgingly. “You don’t get crowned best costume every year without being dramatic.”

The outfit holds a decent aesthetic with the passable material and colorful gems. The embroidery on the cosmetically tattered vest holds up and there’s no stingy parrot accessory in sight, though the cheap plastic sword is a bust. He’ll have to rummage through his storage and find a real one (probably the one he used during the American Revolution). If he’s lucky, maybe it’ll still have some dried blood on it.

With a bit of smudged black eyeliner and a pair of silver hoop earrings, he just might strike gold at the party.

Best of all, the costume gives him an excuse to show off his broad chest (not that he needs one, but the fact that it adds to the genuinity of the look is a win).

“Harry, look.”

The giddy hilarity in Y/N’s voice draws his attention upwards from examining the purple buttons on the potential candidate.

She’d clad herself in a bright red glittering cape that goes down to her knees, the button of the collar a large pentagram and perched atop her head is a pair of bedazzled devil horns about five inches in height each. In her hand she holds the rest of the costume— an attachable pointed tail and a three foot tall blood red pitchfork.

“What do you think? Kinda reminds me of someone, but I can’t quite place my finger on it.” She looks up in faux thoughtfulness, tapping her chin for effect.

Harry’s cheeks twitch with a grin of endeared amusement, dimples blinking. “I think you look absolutely adorable. Although...”

He trails off as he drift towards her, tugging lightly at hem of the cape, looking past his girlfriend towards the array of other devil costumes. He reaches for another, pulling it out and holding it up for consideration, shrugging his brows suggestively. “I think I’d rather see you in this skimpy little red dress and fishnet stockings.”

Y/N’s eyelids droop into a stern scowl. “And I’d rather not have my ass hanging out in front of all your friends.”

“That’s the whole point, minx.” Harry holds the hanger up in front of her, humming admirably as an image swipes over the front of his eyes of her prancing around in a pair of glossy red-bottom heels, a pentagram choker, and some bold cherry-colored lipstick. “Just wanna show off my girl.”

Y/N shoves the garment back towards him, tone cocky and pointed. “If you like it so much, why don’t you wear it, then?”

He lowers his arm, slinking his head slightly to the side and tugging his bottom lip between his teeth, the edges of his mouth twitching cheekily. “I don’t think all my bits and pieces would fit inside these stockings properly.”

She unclasps the pin that holds the cape closed, pushing it off her shoulders as she sing-songs her words teasingly. “Won’t know until you try it.”

Harry puts the articles of clothing back into their designated spot. “You’re no fun.”

His focus dances to a few hangers down, a random twinkling nabbing his curiosity. He moves the surrounding pieces away with the back of his hands to get a better look, a smile creeping across his face at the fit.

“Hey, babe. What d’you think of this one?”

Y/N glimpses up from fiddling with the bendy devil tail, scoffing in entertained delight at the sight before her.

Harry stands with his elbow propped on the top of the metal clothing rack, his legs crossed at the ankles with the tip of his worn tan boot tapping at the sleek black floor beneath it. He’s decked himself out in full angel attire, a light-up, wire-supported halo flashing brightly above his head, alternating patterns between quick bursts of yellow light and longer, drawn-out fading. The wings across his back span about four feet in total, strewn with white and gold holographic feathers, some covered in glitter.

“I think you look dashing.”

Harry pushes off the metal rail, the whole set-up quaking a bit under his strength. He ambles over until he’s right in front of his girlfriend, holding his arms out to his sides grandly. “I think I look dashing, too.”

He then turns his torso to the side, propping his chin on his shoulder and batting his lashes, going for a faux effect of adorable pureness. “Personally, I feel like I’d blend right in.”

His eyes suddenly ink black, dark veins protruding under his waterline and snaking their way down his cheekbones. “I’m as innocent as they come.”

Y/N glances up at the ceiling with pretend mild annoyance, irises focusing back on Harry with the left corner of her lips curved, her sentence deadpan. “I beg to differ.”

Harry drops the act, a look of insulted shock painting over his features as he carefully removes the halo headband from his quiffed curls. “You don’t think I’d play off being a good angel?!”

Y/N reaches over his shoulder and gives the tip of one of the fluffy wings a signifying tug. “Frankly, I don’t think you’d get past the gates. You’d get smited on sight.”

He gently grabs the hand that was playing with a gold polyester feathers, sifting his fingers between her’s and thumbing over the back of her knuckles temptingly. He cocks his head sideways a tad, stepping forward until his chest is ghosting over Y/N’s, the air of his sultry words just barely caressing her lips. “Maybe you could sneak me in, then?”

Y/N squeezes his digits playfully, snorting softly. “And why would I do that? So you can wreak havoc in the dining hall?”

Harry releases a boyish giggle, the edges of his eyes crinkling as his nose scrunches. The childish grin slowly melts into a brazen smirk, teeth gnawing at the inside of his lower lip as some very explicit scenes bounce around the inside of his skull. He shakes his head lightly, making a low mm-mm sound to hint that he has other plans in mind.

“Want you to sneak me in so you can take me up to your room. Show me around a bit— beginning of the universe memorabilia sounds interesting.”

“Yet something tells me prehistoric rocks aren’t why you’d want me to sneak you up to my room.” She gives him a knowing stare, the pad of her thumb toying with the glossy black surface of his painted index nail.

“Well aren’t you a clever little thing?” Harry leans in closer, his lip piercing grazing the skin along her jaw, settling nice and snug right against her earlobe. Her blood feels like it’s boiling.

His whisper send tendrils of electricity revving across her temples and down her neck.

“You’re right, though. Honestly, I just wanna fuck you on your bed instead of mine, for once. Make you whine and whimper for me to let you cum, all right under your dad’s nose. Make you stain your sheets and leave a few nail notches on your headboard.”

“Harry, we’re in public...” Y/N’s urgent murmur is warm against his neck, causing him to whine deeply in the back of his throat as the heat washes down his jugular, leaving his ears tingling.

His voice is thick and full of gravel as he answers. “I know, makes it so much hotter.”

He pauses his breathing for a heartbeat and Y/N gets the sensation that he’s analyzing her. She then feels him press a conceited grin across the back of her jaw, his two front teeth nipping at her earlobe tauntingly. His tone is heavy with arrogant certainty. “You’re wet.”

She digs her nails into his knuckles, looking down at her feet out of embarrassed instinct. “Shut up.”

He ignores her request. “I’d have to muffle those pretty sounds you make— we both know how loud you are. Would cover your mouth with the palm of my hand while I spread your thighs with my hips and fill you up with my cock until you feel it at the pit of your tummy. I’d run my lips across your stinging nose and hot cheeks, hushing you and mumbling dirty things against your skin. Telling you what a good girl you are for me and how tight and warm you feel. How good you’re taking me and how cute you look all sweaty and needy, trying to keep quiet so no one finds out you snuck a demon back home, all because you wanted to get your brains fucked out with everyone right outside the door.”

A sudden prickling slithers up the back of Y/N’s neck, her muscles tightening in heightened anticipation. “Someone’s watching us.”

Harry’s arm wraps around her waist, the hand holding the halo sliding over Y/N’s hip and maneuvering her out of sight of the prying eyes he can feel burning into his broad back, piercing right through the material of his leather jacket. He glimpses over his shoulder, catching a snapshot of the culprit peeping into their exchange: an elderly woman, partially hidden behind the black and orange tensile decorations, staring at them with disgust.

Harry mumbles a quick basic spell under his breath. “Dis.”

Push.

The aged woman spontaneously jars forward, stumbling out of sight down the aisle she’d been loitering.

Harry cranes his neck back towards his girlfriend, a happily satisfied smile staining his lips. “Took care of it.”

Y/N’s wide, astonished gaze leaves the empty space where the target had been, zoning in on her boyfriend with alarmed outrage. “You just shoved an old lady!”

His giddy grin immediately drops into a confused frown. “And?”

Harry didn’t think it was possible for her eyes to go wider, but she puts rest to his doubt.

“And?! She could be hurt!” She immediately slaps his hand off her hip, releasing their conjoined fingers and smacking her palm across his chest as a repercussion for his actions (though he barely feels it).

He rolls his eyes at her theatrics. “She’s fine! It was a light graze.”

“It was a satanic spell!”

“She was intruding!”

“Oh, and that warrants you pushing her down the aisle?”

There’s a halt in the argument, followed by Harry’s eyes darting across different points of Y/N’s face— her tinted lips, her creased brows, her slightly flaring nose, and her faintly glowing eyes. The look in them is intense and begrudging.

He hadn’t even realized his lips were parted in aroused surprise at her vehement outburst— she always looks so hot when she’s mad. He licks over them lightly, willing them closed and exhaling loudly through his nose. His eyebrows jolt upwards with salacious intent, the corners of his pursed mouth following suit. “Are y’gonna spank me for it, then?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Don’t act like you don’t love it.” Harry pecks the tip of Y/N’s nose and steps sideways, purposefully leaving just enough space for Y/N to squeeze between his chest and the clothing rack.

A swift peek at the designated aisle confirms that the woman is indeed fine (just a little bewildered) and Y/N is finally able to move past it, though still grumbling condemnation.

She pulls at the thick clear straps of Harry’s fake wings thoughtfully. “We still haven’t found any costumes.”

“Speak for yourself. I think I’m gonna go as Captain Jack Sparrow over there.” He hooks his thumb towards where he’d hung the pirate costume while he tried on the angel props.

Y/N squeezes the cushioned bedazzled devil horns, an idea dawning. “What if we go as each other?”

Harry raises a single brow, intrigued. “Well, that’s an idea.”

“It’d be a cute couple’s costume!”

He removes the wings from his back. “I dunno. I quite like my pirate costume. I look great in black liner.”

Y/N pouts, though he doesn’t think she notices, which makes it all the cuter. “Pleaseee?”

He lightly tugs at the collar of Y/N’s striped t-shirt. “I could be persuaded...”

She huffs. “Why are you such a handful?”

He taps the pad of his index finger against the faint hollow at the center of her throat. “I’m more than a handful and you’re well aware of that.”

She forces herself to keep a tab on the electricity threatening to brim into her irises. “Please?”

“Say it again. Love the way your voice sounds when you’re begging.”

She narrows her eyes at him, irked (and slightly aroused, though she’d never admit it) at the way he’s being so crude. “Pretty please?”

The sensual touches at her neck halt, the atmosphere suspended for an elongated second. “Pretty please...?”

His tone suggests he’s waiting for her to utter something more, eyes waltzing with pompous appeal at the way she’s stroking his ego.

Y/N grinds her teeth, jaw muscle visibly ticking. When she speaks, her voice is low and timid. “Pretty please, Daddy?”

The amusement swimming in the amber specks around his pupils translate across the ends of his mouth. “Sounds like a plan. Cliché, but I’ll bite.”

She clears her throat to break the puncturing sexual tension. “We just have to figure out the outfits to wear with the accessories. It can’t be that hard, right?”

Harry smiles confidently, dozens of combinations of clothing already buzzing around his mind. “You leave that to me, sweetheart.”

He doesn’t disappoint. He brings the rest of their costumes home the next day after three grueling hours at the shopping mall, carrying two frosted plastic covers over his shoulders (as well as an exhausted yet triumphant expression) when he saunters into the living room.

Y/N falls in love with her fit before it’s even fully out of the bag.

It’s a two-part velvet design and it’s absolutely dazzling. The main statement piece of the garment is the actual pantsuit: flared cuffs that cut perfectly just below her ankles, the soft fabric a pigment mix between a bright red and deep maroon. As the eyes draw upward, the suit ombrés into a murky black; by the time one’s sight gets to the bando-style top, the color is solid. The accompanying second half of the outfit is a blazer, tinted the same shade of maroon and covered with carefully embroidered crystal clear gems, resulting in material that both absorbs and reflects any light that hits the jacket, giving it bewitching juxtaposition. The cuffs and grand folded collar are lined with elegant glittered lace— a small detail that makes a world of a difference.

The beauty of it draws attention, clutching it effortlessly and Harry knew it would match her ideally the moment he laid eyes on it at the store.

He even managed to work an aspect of his little skimpy dress fantasy into the mix: the red-bottom heels. They compliment the look down to the detail with the chic, dark glossy surface on top and the flashy red lining along the underside. The model of the pumps is sleek and tapered, made to give an air of sensual confidence to anyone who dons them.

He doesn’t regret a single cent of the thousands he’d spent— the way his girlfriend’s eyes are twinkling with enamored awe makes it more than worth it.

Y/N had been rendered speechless as she passes the pads of her fingers gingerly over the plush velvet, almost as if she’s scared it will disintegrate if it wrinkles. Her voice is a stunned murmur. “Jesus, Harry...”

“You like it?” He sets his own protective carrier down along the arm of the couch, the blurred plastic keeping its contents hidden.

She holds the top portion of the pantsuit up to her chest, trying to imagine how it’ll look with her hair and makeup done. “Like’ doesn’t even come close.”

Harry smiles shyly as he takes the spot beside her, chest fluttering at the notion of making her so happy, fingers rising up to mess with the hoop piercing hooked along his eyebrow— a bashful mannerism. “Good. Always love making your eyes glow like that. Metaphorically speaking.”

Y/N laughs lightly at his joke, face shimmering with a certain loving warmth that makes his insides stir.

Harry drops his hands into his lap, leaning a bit to bump her shoulder jestingly with his. “Where’s my thank you?”

Y/N returns his gesture, hugging his gift to her stomach gratefully. “Thank you. You spoil me rotten, honestly.”

He ducks his head down to press a lingering kiss to her temple, inhaling her scent of lavender and cherry blossoms and baby powder and another odor he can’t quite place but it reminds him of a time in his life long ago when he was happy and fulfilled and loved. “I’d do anything for you.”

“You better stop before my eyes start glowing non-metaphorically.”

Harry’s full-hearted chuckle chimes the air like a thousand bells. It dies down slowly, his forehead pressing against her cheekbone, the tip of his nose brushing across her skin in a caring manner. When he speaks, his voice is gentle and raw. “Can I have a kiss?”

Y/N bobs her head, craning her face towards him, their noses bumping. She flushes her forehead to his, gazing deeply into his irises as they twinkle with delicate admiration.

Contrary to the usual, there’s no lascivious teasing or suggestiveness in Harry’s behavior; just simple, subtle affection. And the fact that he’d asked permission makes it sweeter. It’s intimate moments like these that make her cherish giving love a chance.

She buttons her lips to Harry’s tenderly, feeling him sigh dreamily through his nose. It’s not a messy kiss, there’s no desperate sexual drive behind it. It’s homey and mellow, like a hug from someone long lost.

It lasts a solid ten seconds before Y/N draws back, dwindling the singular kiss into a dozen tiny pecks across Harry’s cheeks, nose, and eyelids until his face is puckering up at the feathery sensation, lashes fluttering open sleepily.

Y/N sponges her lips between her boyfriend’s brows with finality. “Love you.”

“Love you, too.”

She attentively eases the cover back over her expensive present, zipping it closed and making sure the metal bit doesn’t catch on the cloth. She lays is out across her lap, already glancing over Harry’s shoulder investigatively, trying to make out what he had bought for himself.

“So what’s yours look like?” Her hand stretches out towards the costume with the intent of undoing the zipper.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Harry’s fingers come town over the top of her own, smacking them away humorously.

Y/N’s head reels back quizzically, insulted.

He shrugs his brows ominously, one of his large, ring-clad hands streaming across the bag protectively. “It’s a surprise.”

“That’s not fair!” She exclaims adamantly, though the giggles escaping her are doing a horrible job at backing her claim. “You got to pick mine and I can’t even take a peek at yours?”

Harry defends his secret with another playful slap at her insistent hand as it attempts to reach below his arm. “You know how much I love edging.”

Y/N slumps her shoulders dramatically, the weight of the mystery already itching the back of her brain. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to put up with it for the next couple of days. “Can I at least see the shoes?”

Harry shakes his head, an evilly delighted simper coiling onto his face. “Nope.”

“Unbelievable.” She snips, crossing her arms over her stomach.

“‘Good things come to those who wait’ and all that.”

He’s having way too much fun with this.

Y/N narrows her eyes at him challengingly. “I’ll have my way when you’re asleep.”

He belts out a laugh. “Over my undead body.”

With that, Harry springs up from the couch, jetting towards the stairs that head up to the top floor of the condo, the forbidden costume in tow.

“Hey!” Y/N vaults up to chase him, well aware of all the possible hiding places scattered upstairs. It’ll take her ages to find it; by the time she does, it would already be past the date.

Harry has a decent amount of time ahead of her, his lanky legs taking the steps two and even three at a time, easily leaving her in the dust. How he keeps from slipping on his jack o’lantern socks is beyond him.

Y/N scurries up the spiral staircase after him, both of their airy giggling bouncing off the intricate metal railings and dark hardwood panels.

Harry stumbles into their room and slams the door shut behind him with a simple spell, the lock magically flicking shut. He’s laughing so hard his stomach aches, whipping around on his heels to keep alert as he backs into the room, picking his brain for a proper enchantment. He mumbles the invisibility incantation out of breath and half-snickering, but gets it out nonetheless.

“Fallax flamma, ignis de potentia, et in abscondito, ego ignire te evanescit.”

Cloaking flame, fire of power and concealment, I ignite you to vanish.

A blinding red and blue flame engulfs the entirety of the plastic cover, extinguishing almost immediately, leaving behind no trace evidence of the object he had under his arm moments ago.

And without a second to spare, the door flies open, Y/N rushing in with a victory elating her features. “Gotcha—!”

Her head swivels from side to side, confusion furrowing her brows as she takes in the image of her boyfriend’s empty arms, alongside his smug, self-satisfied expression. “Where’d it go?!”

Harry creases his brows to mimic her own baffled appearance, mocking. “Where’d what go?”

She ignores the dig. “You can’t possibly have hid it that fast! Not unless you used…”

Realization floods her face. “Cheater!”

“It’s not cheating, it’s called using my resources.”

“Cheater!” Y/N reiterates, lunging forward and koalaing her arms and legs around Harry, sending him stilting back and crashing into the mattress, the duvet rising up in a puff of fluffy black cloth.

His back bounces three times against the bed yet she manages to stay latched on, her knees digging into his hips as her hands fumble to pin down his wrists.

He fights back, wriggling from side to side to try and shake her loose, kicking up his legs wildly in hopes of teetering her off. “This is wrongful punishment, I didn’t even get a fair trial!”

Y/N ducks down, running her soft lips over the spot where his neck meets his jaw, knowing full well it’s one of his most ticklish places. She whispers her words warningly. “Let me see it.”

Harry can’t help the high-pitched, half-suppressed laugh that escape him, jitters coursing through his bones, stemming from the area where her mouth rubs along his heated skin. He wills the bubbly shrieks to die down, teething at the ring that adorns his bottom lip, eyes alight with pure ecstatic energy. “No.”

Y/N shrugs off his refusal, her supernatural strength proving valuable as she manages to keep her boyfriend stretched to the sheets. “Fine, then. Guess I’ll just have to torture it out of you.”

Harry sticks his tongue out at her mockingly, the ruby gem piercing glinting in the faint, grey evening light streaming in freely through the large glass wall that overlooks the city skyline. “Guess you will.”

Her method backfires almost immediately.

Harry’s sneaky ways and matching inhuman strength accomplish to outmaneuver her. After a fair share of complaining grunts, palms slamming against cheeks, carefully coordinated pinches to side, and a somewhat harsh tug to her hair, she ends up splayed over the mattress beneath him, heaving shallowly as he traps her forearms against his chest, nimble fingers wrapped around her wrists.

Harry kinks his brows up boastingly. “How’s that, then? Taste of your own medicine.”

Y/N squirms excessively, but slipping free seems unlikely. “I could totally kick you in a really sensitive place right now, but I won’t.”

He calls her bluff, words sticky and warm against her chin. “It’s in your best interest not to considering you’ve taken a liking to bouncing on it.”

She yanks at her arms almost savagely, snapping her head sideways to avoid him taking a piss at her as her irises flare up a pale neon blue.

Harry ends up getting his way. The costume remains unseen until the night of the Halloween party, hidden in some tear in the universe where he knows she won’t be able to find it.

It remains in its magical alcove until Harry summons it out after his shower, hanging it on an unused towel hook on the marble wall.

He gives it a calculating once-over, chin propped on his loose fist, elbow supported by the wrist of the arm he has swung across his torso. He sways ever so slightly, the towel clinging to his hips dangling dangerously low on his structured pelvis. His wet curls caress the back of his neck, mopping over his small ears and itching his brows, resulting in Harry combing them out of his face with his fingers and sighing lightly.

He taps absentmindedly at the center of his plump lips, running the pad of his index digit along the ridges of his bottom one, feeling the smallest bit off since his piercing is lacking in its rightful spot. The things he does for the authenticity of the look.

The hand across his stomach clenches and unclenches thoughtfully as he chalks up the details of the full costume in his head, cracking each of his knuckles one at a time with his thumb as he dwells on his ideas. He can never seem to stay still when he’s plotting.

He glances down at his nails, smiling fondly at the white lacquer Y/N had painted on them to go with his theme. He knows the suspense has been killing her and it amuses him to no end.

Harry rummages through the bathroom cabinets, retrieving his hair drier along with his favorite mousse. Y/N’s makeup bag also makes it onto the counter, as well as his Dove Fresh Cucumber deodorant, cologne, and a pair of dangley pearl earrings he’d acquired as a gift centuries ago from a French noblewoman more than willing to give him what he wanted (in more than one sense).

He knows exactly what his costume is going to look like now and he doesn’t waste a second in beginning preparations.

On the opposite side of the door, Y/N thinks quite the contrary— he’s taking forever to get ready, the minutes wasting away just like her patience.

The plan had gone as intended, to an extent. They’d handed out candy to all the children that had come and she’d even weaned Harry into buying a cute jack o’ lantern bowl to set the mood. She enjoyed seeing all of the creative costumes the kids had conjured up; she thinks her favorite was probably the ten year old girl dressed like Thanos from the Avengers movies. Y/N’s favorite part had been the gauntlet, which had carried different colored Jolly Ranchers in place of the Infinity Stones. Quite clever, if you asked her.

There was an incident with a twelve year old who gave them attitude for their choice in the candy they gave out, but Harry handled it before Y/N could even react. He’d crouched down to her level, mumbled something unintelligible, and then from what Y/N could see in the split second that it occurred, flashed her his demon face. The preteen fled without a single word.

He had pushed himself back up with his palms to his knees, brushing past Y/N into the apartment, grumbling under his breath. “Entitled miscreants.”

No more kids ventured towards their door after that.

She had been the first to get ready, well aware of how long Harry tended to take when preparing himself to go out.

He casually suggested that it would go by faster if they showered together, not to mention it’d “help the environment and what not,” though she knew his intentions would likely set them on a detour. He was playfully insistent, however, and she ended up having to shove him out of the bathroom with his underwear already half off.

After she had cleaned up and blow dried her hair accordingly, she left the bathroom to him, deciding to finish getting ready in the bedroom to avoid being late (and also because she knew he wasn’t going to let her see him putting on the costume).

“I know we have an eternity to live but try not to fill it all up with your showertime.” She’d quipped as she drifted past him on her way out of the foggy, humid washroom.

A sudden tug at her towel had sent her hands fumbling, just barely managing to keep her chest covered. Harry’s snickering had bounced off the shell of her ears. “I make no promises.”

Now Y/N sat on the large bed, distractedly rocking her heels back and forth against the thick-carpeted ground, running her fingers over the silky velvet fabric of her flared pantsuit as it bunches around her thighs.

She isn’t one to brag or boast because she had been wired to be humble, but she doesn’t think she’s ever looked better. The suit fit her perfectly, all of the seams and cinches falling exactly where they should. The jacket was loose enough to be comfortable but snug enough that it hugged her shoulders properly, not to mention the inside was made of velvet, as well. The wide-legged portion of the fit stopped just below her ankles, giving away to the shiny, midnight-tinted glassy shoes. She’d practiced her walk for about ten minutes.

Her hair is parted to the side, the front section pinned back from her face to showcase the makeup she’d applied. She’d tightlined her eyes with black kohl eyeliner and a red lip pencil she’d had to make due with (which she’d ducked into the bathroom to get, disappointed when she didn’t see the familiar plastic covering hanging anywhere along the walls) and applied the bright red lipstain Harry had gotten for her.

Around her neck lays a delicate gold chain, Harry’s large ruby ring glittering at its center. He always loved seeing something of his on her and he always joked about how this specific act was a vintage antic that dated back to the nineteen twenties; girlfriends would wear their boyfriend’s rings around their necks as a symbol of love. The first time he’d mentioned it, she had fallen head over wings for the idea— fallen for its simple yet deep meaning. And it just confirmed to her that under the layers of the hard exterior he donned, Harry was a hopeless romantic at heart (despite the fact that his no longer beat).

Y/N thumbs over the big stone encapsulated in the aged gold band, sighing restlessly through her nose as the pattering of the water echoes through the walls of the bedroom. He’s probably taking this long on purpose and she has half a mind to stalk in there and drag him out by his wet curls, but she refrains. His surprise better be worth it.

The water spout creaks to a stop, the only sound resonating in the bathroom being Harry’s faint humming to Thriller as the door to the shower cracks open loudly. Fucking finally.

Y/N scampers onto her feet, nearly breaking an ankle as she forgets her choice in shoes. She heads towards the washroom door with an attentive stride, rapping her knuckles on the wooden door lightly, voice tinged with irritation. “Are you done?”

Harry chimes back, tone full of airy, cocky humor. “Not quite. Still balls-naked, but I suppose I could go like that, if you want me to. Don’t mind it.”

“Just get dressed already, would you? You’re taking forever.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of being ‘fashionably late?’”

Y/N growls in exasperation, crossing her arms and pacing back and forth in front of their bed, trying to reign in her nerves. Going to a party where she barely knows anyone is bad enough, but Harry isn’t easing her woes any by being a little shit.

On the other side of the wooden door, Harry is finger-combing mousse through his hair as he harmonizes to Monster Mash, twirling strands here and there around his index finger to accentuate the ringlets just the way he likes. He flips his head over, mussing up the roots to ensure the soft volume and fullness he’s so known for. He always takes his hair seriously— a residual mannerism from when he had it shoulder-length for almost a decade.

Blow drying doesn’t take long and he’s buttoning up his top before he knows it, leaving the last three buttons undone to expose his swallow tattoos and upside down cross necklace, the antennas of his butterfly inking peeking out from the edge of the open shirt, along with the curved tips of its wings.

He fishes out a couple of products from Y/N’s cosmetics pouch as he wiggles his toes into his new shoes, zipping them up with finality and leaning in closer to the mirror for the makeup application.

Once he’s finished and everything has been returned to its rightful spot, he spritzes a few pumps of his Tom Ford cologne across his flexing necking and down his jaw, capping it and giving himself a thoughtful once-over in the mirror. He’s proud of what he’d achieved.

He murmurs a spell, retrieving the halo and wings from the magical storage facility he’d placed them in, fitting them onto his costume and humming in approval.

The door to the bathroom swings open, startling Y/N enough to trip up her angry loitering.

Harry steps through the frame of the door, completely decked out in his attire for her to witness in its fully glory. “Let the switching hour begin.”

Y/N can’t stop her jaw from dropping in astonishment.

Harry looks incredible— breath-takingly ethereal, to say the least. She scans the look from bottom to top, taking in every detail slowly, feeling almost as if time had slowed down around her.

It starts with the footwear. They’re a pair of glossy, bright white heeled boots, silver metal tips adorning the front of the shoes. She’s never seen anything like it and knowing how dramatic Harry can be, she wouldn’t be surprised if they’re custom.

The boots disappear under the flared cuffs of the off-white, wide-legged pants he is sporting, the fabric ironed and crisp, complimenting his height. They’re high-waisted, ending just above Harry’s navel, the front embellished with two parallel rows of gold buttons, each engraved with a capital, Roman-font letter G that glints under the soft, buttery low light of a single lamp.

His top is probably the statement piece of the layout. It’s a baby blue long-sleeved button-up blouse with a frilled collar and cuffs, the buttons decently-sized opal crystals that shimmer holographically with every movement. The fabric of the cloth presents a similar effect, the material frosty and see-through with reflective, multi-colored sparkling fibers sewn in. The shirt is tucked into the high waist of Harry’s pants, fitting loose and flouncy around his torso, the twinkling faintness of the thread juxtaposing the darkness of his tattoos in an unexpected yet flattering manner. It hugs his shoulders and back tightly, muscles rippling the cloth in a way similar to how a stone wrinkles the surface of a still lake.

The layers of the collar ornament Harry’s sharp jaw and grace the intricate pearl earring dangling from his right ear. She takes notice of the inversed cross necklace resting at the center of the valley that is his chest, glinting with a type of poetic irony. His fingers are garnished with his usual plethora of rings, his two blocky initials hugging his second middle finger and pinky amidst an array of gems and carvings.

Though the dazzling clothes and expensive jewelry are eye-catching, Y/N can confidently say Harry’s makeup is the real caviar of the entire look.

White liner runs across his waterline and over the crevices of his top lashes, opening up his eyes and making the olive tone of his irises pop more than usual. Glitter has been strewn across the curve of his cheekbones and faded up onto his temples, the holographic flecks of pastel blue, baby pink, and snow white glued down securely and glimmering under the flickering light-up halo. The lustery specks have also been combed into his fluffy, soft curls with a dash of gel, twinkling like a billion little stars. Evenly-spaced rhinestones decorate along the curve of Harry’s thick eyebrows— a final touch of grandeur that pairs adequately with the rest of the accessories.

Harry lifts the palms of his hands upward expectantly, giving a slow twirl and showing off the glitzy wings (which mold into the look effortlessly). “So, what d’you think?”

Y/N puts all of the pieces of the costume together in her brain, attempting to process it all at once and being rendered utterly speechless. The broadness of his body— the thickness of his chest, how his biceps and back muscles strain the dainty material of the top, his towering height with the heels, his sharp, defined features— contrast the delicateness of the fit, but it somehow it works. It somehow makes heat pool at the pit of her stomach and makes her ears crackle with spurts of electricity.

All she manages to croak out is a quiet, tender, “You look pretty.”

This sends Harry into a round of light-hearted giggling, his smile more blinding than any of the flashy props he carries. He glances down, zoning in on the metal tips of his boots to avoid her noticing the blush invading his cheeks. He pushes it down, scolding himself for being so mushy.

He clears his throat lightly, giving a quick glimpse over her own costume. “You don’t look too bad yourself.”

Y/N instinctively looks down at her outfit, grabbing the excess fabric around her thighs and curtsying jokingly. “Thanks, my boyfriend picked it out.”

Harry tilts his head to the side, his two front teeth digging into his bottom lip, eyebrows jolting knowingly. “He has great taste.”

Y/N steps closer to her boyfriend, draping her arms over his strong shoulders, the corners of her lips twitching. “Yeah, but he takes centuries to get ready. That’s kindof a trade-off.”

Harry’s hands coast onto his girlfriend’s hips, squeezing jestingly as he draws her body flushed against his, the golden buttons of his pants cold against the ombréd cloth of her pantsuit. “He sounds like an ass.”

She wobbles her head from side to side as if mulling over his comment, eventually nodding in agreement. “He is.”

His jaw falls open into a shocked smirk, raising his eyebrows in silent objection. “Is that so? Why do you stay with him, then?”

Y/N’s palms glide down the taut muscles of Harry’s arms, the pads of her fingers pressing into his skin suggestively. “He’s got a few redeeming qualities.”

Harry’s heavy lashes dust over the tops of his cheeks, catching a few stray particles of glitter that shimmer alluringly in the dim lighting. His forearms suddenly tighten harder around her waist, pulling her so close she can feel his groin pressing into her thigh. His tone is slathered with arrogant self-assurance, the ghosts of the words dancing across her stinging lips and her eyes nearly roll back as whiffs of his intoxicatingly delicious scent numbs her sinuses.

“Oh, yeah? Like what?”

Y/N has a hard time swallowing, feeling her voice lodge in her throat as he begins brushing his lips up and down her jaw. “I’ll keep that to myself.”

Harry chuckles deeply and she can feel the vibrations down to her bones. “S’okay, I’ve got an idea of what you meant.”

“You sound awfully confident.”

“I speak from experience.”

Y/N moves her face back a tad, noticing that her fingers had somehow ended up tangled in the chain of his necklace, tugging at it so hard it's bruising Harry’s throat. He doesn’t mind it— he liked the burn.

He ducks down further, wisping his mouth over her’s, groaning lowly in the back of his throat when he sees her lips are stained with the tempting red color he’d picked out. “Your mouth looks so pretty like that. Bet it’d look even better skimming down my chest and over my thighs.”

His hold has her leaning back so far she’s now balancing on the tips of her toes, her chest heaving slightly against his. “Bet it would.”

Harry reaches one hand up, cupping her jaw with his fingers, his thumb rubbing slowly over her bottom lip, watching the color transfer faintly. “Wouldn’t mind some of the glitter on my face ending up across your inner thighs, either.”

A small whine strains the back of Y/N’s throat at the image of Harry’s head ducking between her legs over and over, the white liner smudging under his eyes due to sweat while her damp skin rubs the glitter off his cheekbones, his ringed fingers clamping over her plush thighs as the light from the moon bounces off the glossy surface of the white nail polish.

Harry presses a warm, sloppy kiss to the center of her jugular, her knees quaking as heat surges through her veins. “Some of it on your fingers, too, from pulling at my hair.”

He slowly dips his thumb past her lips, it’s weight heavy on her tongue. She acts on impulse, closing her mouth around it and sucking drunkenly.

Harry’s teeth skim along the side of her neck, a breathy purr of, “That’s my good girl” simmering her nerves.

Her words are muffled and weak, but she manages to get them out into the open. “We’re gonna be late.”

It’s not that Y/N doesn’t want to because, fuck, she wants to, but she knows that Harry would leave her a disoriented mess for the rest of the night, and it’d be pretty obvious. The last thing she wants is his friends teasing her about it— the mortification would be eternal.

He sighs grandly against her throat— which nearly sends her crumpling to the floor— and reluctantly pulls away.

Harry knocks his forehead against her’s, his sparkly lashes dusting her eyelids as they barely conceal the puncturing sexual hunger glinting in the amber flecks around his pupils. “You’re lucky the pantsuit is a one-piece or I’d have you riding my face right about now.”

With that, he refixes her crooked demon horns atop her head, retrieving the cape, clip-on tail, and pitchfork from where she’d placed them on the bed. He tangles their fingers together and yanks a very hazy, unbalanced Y/N towards the door.

She stumbles after him in her heels, gaining enough footing to avoid rolling as they descended down the stairs, the sounds from both of their shoes pounding hard inside her temples. Harry hands her the rest of her costume, grabbing his favorite navy blue trench coat from it’s hook next to the entryway and shrugging it on, carefully working his hands through the sleeves to keep the frill detailing from bunching up. He pats down his pockets to make sure he has his keys, fishing them out with his index finger as he unlocks the front door.

He steps off to the side for Y/N to go through first, kissing her cheek chastely as she brushes past him with a tiny, soft, “Thank you.”

“Of course, darling.” Harry follows her lead, turning back to lock the door to their apartment, checking the knob the same way he’s done his entire life.

Y/N loops her arm around his as they walk towards his car, the chilly air rustling her velvet jacket and drying the light sheen of sweat that had accumulated across her hairline. The moon hangs calmly amongst the stars, illuminating the high points of Harry’s face in a very fitting heavenly manner, the soft sounds of chirping insects and hooting owls setting a comfortably spooky tone for the rest of the night. A few straggling trick-or-treaters are turning in for the night, exchanging happy halloween’s and heading towards their complexes.

The beeping of the car rings across the still air along with the quick flash of the headlights. Harry opens the door for Y/N, just as he’s always done, helping her get settled into the passenger’s seat. He then leans down a tad through the frame of the door, fingers tapping at the hood of the car, eyes half-lidded in a sly simper.

“Just thought I’d tell you in advance, you might wanna get the situation between your thighs settled before we get to the party. I’d be able to smell how wet you are from a mile away.”

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recentanimenews · 3 years

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FEATURE: Where Are They Now? How Far Our Favorite Long-Running Anime Characters Have Come

This article written by Carlos Cadorniga was originally published on December 30, 2020.

In many of our favorite long-running anime series, the main protagonists go through some immense change. Whether they’re driven by their lofty ambitions or a never-ending quest, they’ve each had their own humble beginnings and have since come so far on their own journeys. We’re continually inspired by these heroes, whether their stories are concluded, ongoing, or simply timeless.

In honor of some classic anime heroes, we’re taking a look back on their illustrious careers as ninja, pirates, Hunters, and Z-fighters alike. Let’s see just how far our favorite anime characters have come.

Naruto Uzumaki (Naruto)

Where they started: As a social outcast and the host of a powerful beast, Naruto Uzumaki long dreamt of being the Hokage. His penchant for mischief masked a deep-seated longing for companionship, but he was stalwart in his dreams and was on his way to forming many strong friendships. What he lacked in knowledge and experience he made up for with plenty of grit and attitude as he learned and mastered advanced-level Jutsu at a young age. But even with one or two elite techniques under his belt, his journey to becoming Hokage would be far from easy.

Where they are now: After burying the hatchet with his closest friend and rival and saving the whole world, Naruto has long since achieved his dream, having become the seventh Hokage of the Hidden Leaf Village. He’s now married to Hinata Hyuuga with two children, a daughter named Himawari and a son named Boruto, who sets off on his own ninja adventures. He’s even reconciled with the demon living within him, who often joins Naruto in his fights to protect his village and his family. Though the focus has shifted toward his son, Naruto’s story still continues long after becoming Hokage.

Son Goku (Dragon Ball series)

Image via Funimation

Where they started: After the death of his loving adoptive grandpa, Goku lived on his own for some time with a special charm to remember him by, a Four-Star Dragon Ball. Upon learning from his new friend Bulma that his grandpa’s keepsake is part of a set of seven artifacts that can grant any wish when collected, Goku heads out on a globe-spanning journey to retrieve them all. Along the way, he meets new friends, becomes more powerful, and comes closer to the truth of his mysterious origins.

Where they are now: Among every candidate on this list, few have a history quite as large as Goku’s. While he’s still a loveable oaf who loves fighting as much as eating, he’s become a true savior after defeating incredible foes like Frieza and Kid Buu and continues to grow stronger as a fighter. From a Super Saiyan to Ultra Instinct, his increasing power level knows no bounds. As of the interdimensional Tournament of Power in Dragon Ball Super, he’s currently one of the strongest fighters in 12 dimensions. And to this day, he’s always looking to become even stronger than he was yesterday.

Monkey D. Luffy and the Straw Hat Pirates (One Piece)

Where they started: As the Great Pirate Era kicked off, the rubbery pirate Monkey D. Luffy embarks on his ambitious dream of becoming the next Pirate King, following in the footsteps of Red-Haired Shanks, a renowned pirate in his own right. The first time we meet Luffy is when he emerges from a barrel stowing away on an enemy ship while trying to set sail himself. With little to his name but a simple boat and a tiny ragtag pirate crew, they each enter into a brave new world of untold dangers in order to fulfill their own dreams. Luffy met each of his crewmates in dire straits, but each of their ambitions led them toward each other to form something great.

Where they are now: As of today, the Straw Hats' quest to find the One Piece and achieve their goals still rages on. But so much has changed since then. The ship is bigger, the crew is stronger, and their captain’s power over Haki and mastery over his rubbery body has propelled him and the Straw Hats to infamy. The bounty on Luffy’s head alone is one of the largest in the world, and wherever the crew goes, revolutions and overthrown dictatorships follow. Currently, they find themselves on the Feudal Japanese island of Wano. Having recently broken out of prison, Luffy is gathering up his splintered crew to face off against Kaido, one of the Four Pirate Emperors residing over the isolated nation as a tyrant.

Gon Freecss (Hunter x Hunter)

Where they started: As an aspiring Hunter, Gon is unlike many of his fellow applicants in the treacherous and life-threatening Hunter’s Exam. When he begins his journey, he doesn’t aspire to be a noble hero for hire or to acquire riches, but he simply seeks to understand how being a Hunter is so fascinating that his own father would leave him for it. Having grown up on an island, his physical prowess and senses are well above average, and the Hunter’s Exam was the perfect place to put them to the test.

Where they are now: As of the final episode of the anime, Gon was able to meet up with his father. By the time he finally caught up with Ging, he'd undergone rigorous Nen training and faced all sorts of arduous and terrible trials. From the Phantom Troupe to the game world of Greed Island and the horror of the Chimera Ants, Gon experienced what it was like to be a Hunter from several different perspectives. Having overcome severe hardships and strife, he was able to hear directly from his father what being a Hunter meant to him, and why he was willing to sacrifice so much in order to do it.

Ichigo Kurosaki (Bleach)

Where they started: An infamous high school delinquent, Ichigo was born with the power to see the ghosts that frequently haunt his town. When his strange ability allows him to encounter Soul Reaper Rukia Kuchiki, he learned of the existence of Hollows — malevolent spirits who attack the living and the dead alike. After Rukia was wounded defending Ichigo from one such monster, she transferred her powers over to him and made him into a Substitute Soul Reaper. Using his newfound and considerably immense power, he was charged with fighting Hollows in Rukia’s stead.

Where they are now: Ichigo’s reputation throughout Bleach stretches far and wide. He rescued Rukia from execution, uncovered Sosuke Aizen’s conspiracy, became a Vizard in order to defeat the Arrancars, and even went so far as to sacrifice all of his Soul Reaper abilities in order to defeat Aizen.

When last we left him, Ichigo took on Xcution, a group of human outcasts with the spiritual power of Fullbring. Through these newfound abilities, Ichigo regained his Soul Reaper powers and was able to continue his work as a Substitute Soul Reaper. With the final arc of the manga receiving an adaptation in the future, the true conclusion to Ichigo’s story is nearly in sight. In the meantime, the world of Bleach continues in its spiritual successor, Burn the Witch, further expanding the universe of Soul Society.

Whether they've achieved their dreams, are still going strong, or their adventures are neverending, there's no doubt that so much has changed about our favorite anime heroes! Some changes have been for the better while others have resulted in life-altering traumas. Nevertheless, they've each gotten stronger and wiser after all these years. We'll certainly never stop cheering for them!

Which classic anime are you still keeping up with? Are there any series you've always wanted to pick up? Let us know in the comments below!

Carlos (aka Callie) is a freelance features writer for Crunchyroll. Their favorite genres range from magical girls to over-the-top robot action, yet their favorite characters are always the obscure ones. Check out some of their pop culture editorials on Popdust as well as their satirical work on The Hard Times.

Do you love writing? Do you love anime? If you have an idea for a features story, pitch it to Crunchyroll Features!

By: Guest Author

#Anime #News #Latest in Anime News by Crunchyroll!

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alarriefantasy · 5 years

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Halloween Fic Rec 2019

Demon

Trade Mistakes by ifancylou, Taayjaay

Words: 3k

Harry summons a crossroads demon without realizing that he'd be giving up his soul in exchange for the deal. He offers the demon something a little different instead.

Demons by CarlyLovesLarry

Words: 4k

or where Harry is a demon and Louis is a hunter, and Harry fuck Louis into oblivion

Sealed With A Kiss by ty_madison

Words: 6k

Harry has been having dreams about a boy, every night since he turned sixteen and everytime he has opened his eyes in the past the boy has disappeared. But now he is awake, the boy is here and he has a deal to make with the innocent Harry.

Paper Planes by cathedralhearts

Words: 7k

Louis sold his soul to the Devil when he was sixteen, tear-stained and miserable, grief wracking his body as the doctors told him his mother had days to live. Lucifer prefers to go by the name Harry, wears Louis’ soul around his neck as a pendant, and spends the next five years following him around.

Shadow Holding Me Hostage by scribblewrite

Words: 26k

Harry's a demon, basically the king of hell and the source of all evil, and he needs an heir. Louis's a normal human, unsuspecting of what's in store for him.

The Devil's Angel by lilacsweaters_ivorylilies

Words: 86k

Ezekiel 28:13 - For Lucifer has been in Eden the garden of God; every precious stone was his covering, the sardius, topaz, and the diamond, the beryl, the onyx, and the jasper, the sapphire, the emerald, and the carbuncle, and gold: the workmanship of his tabrets and of his pipes was prepared in him in the day that he was created.

Fantasy/Supernatural

got me losing every breath (i'm latching onto you) by kissingiscool

Words: 14k

(or an au where louis is a fairy with a fear of thunderstorms and a talent of knitting and harry is a vet with three cats and a lot of love.)

A Love So True You Don't Have To Be Afraid by homosociallyyours

Words: 14k

In a world long ago but not so far away, where true love is valued above all else, Louis and Harry have already found one another. Their lives are shaken by the arrival of Simon, whose heart is more than a bit shit, and who longs to sow unhappiness.

When Louis is changed into a dragon and Harry is the knight meant to vanquish him, it would appear that Simon has succeeded. But love wins, every time.

Waiting For Someone Who Needs Me by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 17k

AU: Harry is a genie, and Louis doesn't think he needs anything.

The Prince Of Light by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 35k

Louis was found abandoned at a hospital at six months old and adopted by an older couple who raised him. Now twenty, he studies by night and by day works as a live-in au pair for a family with three little girls. One of the girls, Holly, swears there is a Garden Fairy coming and eating treats she leaves out in the cubby house each night.

When the family goes away for a two week holiday, Louis is secretly tasked with feeding the Fairy. While laying out the food one night he falls from the cubby house and is found by Harry. Harry is different and Louis is fascinated. But as Louis learns how different Harry really is, he discovers his own true home and a very surprising past he never knew.

Cue badgers, bananas and cookies, soulmates, a whole other world, and a future he’d never imagined.

like cabbages and kings by you_explode

Words: 60k

When Louis was a kid, he had a series of very vivid dreams about a place called Wonderland. There were rabbits wearing waistcoats and talking cats and ridiculous tea parties, and amidst all the absurdity, there was a boy. A boy with dimples, big green eyes and the sweetest soul Louis has ever known. Louis has always kept a place in his heart for that boy and for his funny dreamworld, and when he’s twenty-five and his life falls apart, it turns out Wonderland might not be so imaginary after all.

there's no fair in farewell by we_are_the_same

Words: 218k

When Harry and Louis, two Cupids who have been bringing people together for decades, are tasked with making Soulmates Liam and Zayn fall in love, it proves to be much harder than expected. But maybe, just maybe, that isn’t such a bad thing after all.

Ghost

The Haunting of Louis Tomlinson by HelloAmHere

Words: 31k

OR: Louis is a plucky Gothic Heroine, Harry is a Mournful Spirit, and Big Country Houses are full of mystery and suspense, as Big Country Houses ever are!

Close to Nowhere by angelichl

Words: 34k

Louis and Harry are psychics who kind of hate each other. They go to Tennessee to investigate a haunting.

you look so good in blue by patdkitten

Words: 20k

Or: Harry Styles hears about a perfect flat from his roommate Zayn's boyfriends and decides to sign the lease. The only problem is: the flat has a reputation for being haunted. It certainly doesn't help that Harry's cat is seeing things as soon as they move in...

The Case Of The (Definitely Not Haunted) Styles Mansion by BriaMaria

Words: 40k

Or the Nancy Drew AU where Marcel is a man of logic, Louis is a private detective who believes in ghosts, and the Styles Mansion is definitely, absolutely, positively *not* haunted.

Tied to Fate by littlelouishiccups

Words: 52k

After his estranged father’s death, Harry inherits a castle in England that has belonged to his family for generations and he knows nothing about. When he breaks up with his boyfriend, Harry decides England is the perfect place for a small vacation. He isn’t prepared to meet Louis Tomlinson, a ghost who once lived in the castle and has haunted it for over five hundred years. He’s even more unprepared to fall in love with him.

Through Eerie Chaos by MediaWhore

Words: 102k

The Ghost Hunter AU where Niall lives to prove ghosts are real, Zayn is a skeptical librarian and Harry gets caught up in a century-old mystery and catches feeling in the process

Halloween Themed

Trick-or-Treat (Cheer Up) by writingstylinson

Words: 2k

Louis Tomlinson is the single father of a little girl named Finnley, and they’ve been living in Holmes Chapel for a year. This Halloween is the first one they will be celebrating without Louis’ younger siblings or his own mother. It’s because of this that his daughter, who is usually outgoing and fearless, starts to have some worries about going trick-or-treating alone with her father.

Then Louis comes up with the perfect solution.

This is Halloween, everybody make a scene by allwaswell16

Words: 2k

When Louis takes his son trick-or-treating in a stormtrooper costume, little does he know by the end of the night he will end up gaining a Luke Skywalker, a Chewbacca, and a Rey. He doesn't mind the additions, and if Rey's very hot dad wants to come along as well, he doesn't mind that too much either.

this kitten's got your tongue tied in knots by ballsdeepinjesus

Words: 3k

[it's halloween, harry is a kitten in a tree and louis is a (fake) firefighter.]

A gold and green Halloween by Tita

Words: 8k

Harry and Louis are strangers who, dressed as Drarry, compete on a Halloween couple's costume contest. It's exactly as much of a mess as it sounds.

Black Cats Steal Hearts, Not Souls by SLD24

Words: 9k

Harry finds a kitten in a pumpkin patch the day before Halloween but it turns out not to be a kitten at all.

Horror

All The Songs That You Sing In The Dark by pukeandcry

Words: 10k

What happened was that first people got sick.

What happened after that was that they died.

But the worst thing was what happened after that. After they died, they came back.

The Skeleton Key by photo41

Words: 18k

Harry Styles, a good-natured nurse living in Manchester, quits his job at a hospice to work for Violet Winston, an elderly woman whose husband, Ben, is in poor health following a stroke.

When Harry begins to explore the couple's rundown mansion, he discovers strange artifacts and learns the house has a mysterious past. As he continues to investigate, he realizes that Violet is keeping a sinister secret about the cause of Ben's illness- and tries to convince the Winston's estate lawyer, Louis Tomlinson, that he really isn't going insane.

Loosely based off the movie of the same name.

Insane by prideinlou

Words: 20k

Or in which Louis Tomlinson and Harry Styles are two dim-witted, drunk teenage boys that take a Halloween night dare too far, and end up in a life or death situation in the clutches of a haunted mental asylum.

Will they make it out alive... or will they go insane?

Mermaid

seaside improvisation by tinyweirdloves

Words: 6k

[harry is a mermaid who has lost his tail and he lives in louis's bathtub for a month.]

at least as deep as the pacific ocean (i wanna be yours) by writtensoul

Words: 9k

louis is the very entitled prince of the seven seas!! harry is a goofy sailor boy!!! a lot of hijinks ensue involving slippery mermaid tails and happy fun little sea creatures!!

Define Dancing by asphodelknox

Words: 20k

Death has a way of making certain things crystal clear. After Jay’s death, Louis returns to the summer cottage he always considered home. Unbeknownst to him, he’s also returning to the merman who has been his best friend through everything and finds that maybe there’s a chance for more.

Don't Let the Tide Come and Take Me by kiwikero

Words: 28k

Or, the one where Louis decides to set a merman free and ends up finding his own freedom along the way.

Still Deep In Us by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 41k

AU. The village Harry has called home his entire life sits on six shaky legs, held aloft from the ocean which claimed the entire world twenty years ago. Harry's just a grieving tinkerer trying to do his best, and Louis is a mermaid that ruins The Village's delicate balance of power (and perhaps, just maybe, wins the heart of a boy).

Pirates

Captain Harry Styles... And The Faerie by spaceboyharry

Words: 8k

“You have today been defeated. Remember this forever as the day you were bested by Captain Harry Styles.” Louis zoomed past, shouting “AND THE FAERIE!” I sighed, rolling my eyes. “And the bloody faerie.”

must be something in the water by hattalove

Words: 3k

They all remember, somewhere deep down, why they gave up everything they had for the Mermaid.

The last vestiges of kindness and bravery and everything that is good in the world are on board that ship. Louis’s heart is on it, moored by some nameless jetty.

In Your Black Heart (Is Where You'll Find Me) by graceling_in_a_suit

Words: 35k

Louis Tomlinson has been lying for five years. His crew sees him as a pirate, a Captain, and an alpha; only two of those are the truth. He was content to let the illusion go on forever, but an omega named Harry Styles just had to join his crew and get his warm-vanilla stink all over Louis' best laid plans.Or: the story of The Captain and The Carpenter.

Si Pudiera Volar by messofgorgeouschaos

Words: 68k

When Harry’s fiancé leaves him for his cousin, he looks the other way for the sake of his happiness. He’ll do anything to forget about him, including joining a monastery. It isn’t until his cousin’s former lover, a pirate, appears that he realizes everything is not as it appears, and an honest pirate might be the only person worthy of his heart.

Or, a fic loosely based on Corazon Salvaje.

Vampire

Call Me the End of Your World by captainsftlouis

Words: 3k

or, the vampire AU where Louis is addicted to vampire venom, and Harry is addicted to Louis.

Waiting On You: A Christmas Drabble by emma1234

Words: 5k

On their first Christmas Eve as a couple, Louis and Harry decide it would be a great idea to exchange one special gift with one another to mark a new tradition. Of course, things never go as smoothly as they planned.

I Wanna Do Bad Things With You by lesbianphrodite

Words: 7k

Harry goes to his favorite pub with the intention to drink and feel bad for himself after a terrible break-up. Instead, he ends up hitting it off with a handsome vampire.

Forever And Always by jacaranda_bloom

Words: 25k

OR the one where Harry’s neighbour is a crotchety old witch who hates vampires, Niall is the unsuspecting human who ends up inhabiting Harry’s body, and Louis is the caseworker who is assigned to swap them back. How it ends up a love story is anyone’s guess.

we should open up (before it's all too much) by disgruntledkittenface

Words: 43k

Struggling with grieving and depression since his dad died, Harry has never felt so alone. It’s too much to cope with on his own, but he feels like a burden when he tries to open up with people.

Then he meets Louis.

For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry by amomentoflove

Words: 49k

Harry is cold. His bones ache. Every movement draws a whimper from his cracked lips. The stone underneath him is practically like ice. He’s numb, but can clearly feel the sharp pains on his neck every timeHe visits him. Below the icy cold, the achy bones, and the pain on his neck, Harry Styles is pissed. There’s a fire burning in his mind and the anger for the man who keeps him imprisoned is the fuel. He despises him, the man who feeds from him and is a daily reminder that Harry’s suffering won’t end. The man who keeps Harry so weak that he can barely move most days. Harry’s waiting for the day when his owner will go too far and finally kill him. Death must be better than this cold hell he is in.

It won’t happen, though. He has a way of keeping Harry’s heart beating. So for now, all Harry can do is wait for death to come.

He’s been waiting for years.

Witches

what's inside your imagination (is as real as anything else) by suspendrs

Words: 3k

Or, Harry's a witch who likes to pretend he's a human pretending he's a witch, and Louis's the human in a not-so-clever costume that keeps catching his eye.

A Kind Of Magic by mellagreens

Words: 12k

Louis feels the urge to tell Harry he's in love with him.

Spellbound by lovelarry10

Words: 22k

Louis’ a shifter. Harry’s a witch. The only problem is, they’re hiding those things from each other.Will they be able to keep their secrets hidden at the most spooky time of year?

Call It True by abrighteryellow

Words: 48k

With dreams of being a successful novelist, Harry’s been working so hard that he almost doesn’t notice the smoothie shop that just opened down the street. But he can’t miss the mysterious, irresistible boy who works there, nor the strange but entirely positive effect his drinks seem to have. Harry needs to know what’s going on and he wants to get close to Louis, though not necessarily in that order.

A Spell and A Spark by dinosaursmate

Words: 73k

Louis is a teenage witch, living and attending university among mortals. He has to keep his secret whilst studying on both his degree and his witch's licence. His friends don't suspect a thing, even as spell after spell goes awry.

Our Place By The Moon by PearlyDewdrops

Words: 108k/WIP

Or: a late 90's urban fantasy AU in which Louis wants to befriend the strange boy next door, Harry is just trying to keep his family together, and falling in love is most inconvenient for a witch that may have accidentally reignited a centuries old curseꟷone that kinda messes with that.

#this is long #whoops #halloween fic rec #larry fic rec #larry fics #larry stylinson

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sepublic · 4 years

Text

Xian Characters, Features, and Landmarks (Pt. 1)

Roodaka- Roodaka is the ruthless CEO of Vortixx Industries, having secured a practically permanent position there from a young age after she scaled The Mountain. A cutthroat business-dealer, she helps direct the company’s actions, oversees stocks, and surveys the occasional experiment or investment, providing a personal hand of involvement every now and then. She has done business with just about every major power in all of Xia, and is among the Powers That Be. With an eye for potential, she has led Vortixx Industries to the top of Xia’s arms-manufacturers, and is not just content with her current success either. Roodaka is an opportunist, and will and has back-stabbed others and crushed enemies for the total domination of Vortixx Industries.

She is cold-hearted and ruthless, and believes whole-heartedly in the idea that might makes right. Roodaka has been conditioned both by experience and by others that only the most powerful have the authority to lead; If one cannot prove their merit and mettle, then they are a liability and must be cast out, not to be trusted by neither peers or even themselves. Regularly Roodaka does puzzles and tests her intelligence, reflecting on and questioning her own progress. And despite being a noble, Roodaka despises most other aristocrats like herself, seeing them as pompous, lazy fools who have become atrophied from resting on their laurels. A sharpened wit is the key to victory for Roodaka, and she sees challenges as the ideal whetstone for her mind.

She has no intent of letting herself become weak and arrogant, and seeks to do more with her life and purpose than just a live a pointless, meaningless life of hedonism. For Roodaka, she wants something more; More than what the other rich fools on Xia typically have to offer. She has no intention of living and dying like any other fool, and for that she sees little difference between most of Xia’s upper-crust and its lower-class. Control is all Roodaka cares about, and she prizes the ability to strike fear in one’s minions in order to keep them in line.

Roodaka herself is not necessarily a fighter, and is thus often flanked by a trio of Exo-Toa Lerahk, machines she helped oversee the design and construction of. But even without her bodyguards, Roodaka is not entirely defenseless- She has access to a Rhotuka Gauntlet that allows her to spawn a wheel of energy, one that drastically mutates whatever target it comes into contact with. Roodaka possesses a cruel sense of humor, and has used her Mutation Rhotuka to dispatch enemies of hers, often leaving them to suffer their cursed forms as ruined outcasts of society. Roodaka herself is highly intelligent, able to read and understand others well, and is a master-manipulator and complex schemer.

Sidorak- Known as the ‘Visorak King’ in some sectors of Nynrah, Sidorak was once an esteemed, celebrated war general with a wide collection of medals on his chest to honor him. However, his boldness eventually got him in trouble with one of the Powers That Be; And incensed, the powerful individual had Sidorak exiled to Nynrah as a death-sentence. Stripped of his title, rank, and badges, most would have despaired and left themselves to die in Sidorak’s place- But Sidorak himself continued forging on, making a new path for himself in Nynrah.

He eventually came into contact with a pack of Visorak Spiders, and recognizing that the creatures wanted to be free from their Nynrah Ghost masters to hunt as they pleased, Sidorak offered them freedom. He defeated the Visorak Spiders before letting them know that underneath his command, they could have total freedom and impunity to hunt and kill as they pleased; And having been won over by his strength, the spiders obliged to Sidorak’s offer. Ever since, Sidorak has slowly begun to amass a Visorak Horde of spiders under his command, and has become an enemy of the Nynrah Ghosts for providing their creations an outlet with which to go rogue.

Now, Sidorak frequently roams Nynrah with his packs of Visorak spiders, leading them on hunts for prey. A bold, charismatic commander, he has won the loyalty and respect of his soldiers, and is now adorned with a ‘medal’ made up of webs, gunk, and other unsavory materials that he treasures as a personal token of comradery. Sidorak is a true commander, personally leading his armies into battle and fighting alongside them. He desires to help his Visorak spread and hunt as they please, and this has put him at odds with multiple Vorox Clans.

Sidorak is a skilled combatant and a brilliant strategist. He wears a breathing apparatus over his lower-face, covering his nose and mouth in order to protect himself from airborne pathogens and other contaminants. On his left arm, he wields the Herding Blade; A powerful artifact that can cast a brilliant crimson light that will summon and herald Sidorak’s armies to himself. As for Sidorak’s right arm, it is cut off at the elbow; Instead, it has a mechanical implant. Hovering slightly beyond this implant is a mechanical tri-claw that can shoot energy-beams from its palm, or Rhotuka that instill loyalty and obedience within targets. Sidorak can launch this cybernetic arm of his forward, latching it onto surfaces before using it as a grapple to pull himself forward with the electro-magnetic connection it has with his implant.

Turaga Dume- Once a lowly errand-boy in the Artidax District, he has since risen to power as a totalitarian dictator controlling most of the region. Dume is strict and harsh, believing in the evils of free will, and desires total control as a means of peace; He has command over the Vahki to enforce his will and the laws that he passes. Local powers frequently ally with Dume, letting him use his Vahki as a replacement for traditional law enforcement, allowing Dume a wide reach over Xia. He is the island’s head of security, and is responsible for cracking down on dissidents and punishing them, as well as brainwashing and encouraging the Xian population to become mindless, obedient workers for all of eternity.

Dume has a stern, tall face, and angular shoulders, constantly walking with his back hunched forward and his arms folded behind him. He wears a clean, dark-red uniform, with a coat, hat, and black boots to match. Dume believes in total discipline over himself, and can be found frequently strutting the halls of a Vahki Hive, allowing zero reprieve in the face of his duties. He oversees all actions and data from his Vahki and frequently collaborates with Xian powers on suppressing riots, unions, and other forms of rebellion.

The Shadowed One- An ancient warlord and the leader/co-founder of the Dark Hunters. The Shadowed One has no known origin nor name; His earliest appearances were as far back as the War of Six Kingdoms, at least. Back then, he led a cruel mercenary organization known as the Dark Hunters alongside his lieutenant and co-founder Ancient. Centuries of success on various missions and assassinations have earned him Xia’s most powerful crime organization. The Shadowed One operates from within the Odina Fortress, having a hand in brutal murders, thefts, and other various crimes as he seeks to consolidate power for himself.

Prideful to a fault, he is a twisted and charismatic individual with a cruel sense of humor. In his quest for power, The Shadowed One has employed researchers and invested others in the creation of unique and dangerous assets for his Dark Hunters. Recently, he has attempted to gather the six fragments of Makuta’s Mask of Life, all of which are inexplicably on Xia, hoping to recreate the world-ending artifact. What exactly he has planned for it is unknown, but knowing him, it certainly can’t be any good.

The Shadowed One can conjure powerful eye-beams that disintegrate and deconstruct anything they touch on the molecular, even atomic, level, granting the warlord the ultimate offense. He wields a staff capable of summoning and creating crystalline formations that he can control and carry through the air as if by telekinesis, and The Shadowed One has used many gems to slaughter enemies or subdue them. In addition to this, he can conjure a Rhotuka; One that temporarily inflicts devastating madness of any sort onto victims. The Shadowed One is a skilled, experienced combatant, and with his skills combined with his powerful abilities, he is an unstoppable opponent.

He possesses one additional, terrifying ability as well; Those foolish enough to challenge The Shadowed One in his own throne room will sometimes find themselves unable to move from their positions upon confronting him, as if their own feet were attached to the floor. By the time his rebels realize this, it is too late- The Shadowed One will unleash his eye-beams, vaporizing them all as they cannot move out of the way. Whatever the nature of this invincible ability, it is the final seal on the apparent unstoppable power of the mercenary-king.

Spiriah- A brilliant and disgracted scientist, Spiriah was once a member of the Nynrah Ghosts. However, his own incompetence and poor handling of the Nynrah Incident, in addition to being somewhat negligent in containing the leak of VISORAK, led to his reputation being tarnished. Even so, he retained membership amongst the Nynrah Ghosts, until a botched experiment involving the Skakdi Clan of Zakaz resulted in them becoming far more dangerous, temperamental, and difficult to control than intended.

With the Skakdi incident as the final straw, Spiriah was exiled and disgraced from the Nynrah Ghosts. Cast out and bitter, Spiriah quickly found work from The Shadowed One, who was eager to employ his skills. Spiriah happily performed experiments with the intent of furthering the Dark Hunters’ power, proving his intelligence and hidden potential. With Spiriah clearly a viable researcher, The Shadowed One eventually entrusted him with Makuta’s notes, gathered from the Mask Hoarder’s abanoned lab by Dweller. With additional resources straight from Okoto, Spiriah set to work dissecting and discerning the very nature of Life energy itself, eventually implementing his findings into various experiments, many of which became Dark Hunters themselves.

Having turned his life around after his past failures, Spiriah went on to help lead experiments on the Kanohi Dragon alongside Vortixx Industries. However, he disappeared after going on an expedition to Nynrah, hoping to gather resources and intel; Attempts to locate him (or his body) have failed, and the Dark Hunter Tracker has been unable to find anything sufficient enough with which to track down Spiriah. Presumably, he has been killed by the Vorox- Or perhaps by the Nynrah Ghosts, who did not want their academic knowledge to be shared amongst the Dark Hunters, regretting their exile of Spiriah?

The Shadowed One himself in unsure… Regardless, Spiriah was an innovative individual who could’ve unlocked many more forbidden secrets of Life had he not disappeared- Perhaps, with the proper resources, he could’ve even gone on to rival Makuta himself! Not that it mattered, because Makuta, too, has perished…

Trydahk- The leader of the Nynrah Ghosts and its ‘high priest’, Trydahk is considered the most brilliant and esteemed member of the group. His intelligence and work has helped spawn and pioneer multiple Xian inventions, including the lethal VISORAK, or the Zamor Launcher. The space-warping Trydahk Pods are named after the Nynrah Ghost himself, and he desires to unlock the secrets of reality at any cost; No matter how many innocent lives must be sacrificed, or how much destruction he must cause. To him, understanding everything is the only thing that matters, and Knowledge is his peace of mind.

Intriguingly, Trydahk has been around since the very inception of the Nynrah Ghosts, several decades ago. And yet, he does not seem to be any older than he currently is, despite his age back then meaning he should be dead by now. Who knows what experiments he performed on himself to allow this?

Nektann- A brutal Skakdi warlord, Nektann was named after the powerful Xian war-machines that plagued Zakaz alongside other machinations of destruction. An unstoppable brute, Nektann quickly rose to power amongst the Skakdi, challenging other warlords and defeating them in combat. Now, he has practically reunited the Skakdi clans back into one, promising his brethren glory and conquest upon the rest of Zakaz.

Tall and thuggish, Nektann is nevertheless cunning enough to have earned control over the Skakdi. He wields an ornate Crescent Scythe in combat, and is a loud and boisterous individual who will happily partake in carnage. Unsurprisingly, Nektann is seen as ‘undignified’ by other Xians, but he doesn’t let this get to him. He knows the Skakdi are looked down upon as modified ‘freaks’, but he figures that will change when he marches upon Zakaz and becomes one of the Powers That Be.

Nektann frequently rides to combat, leading his armies on mobile war-machines and vehicles. He himself rides a large one equipped with a massive grinder-wheel on the front. Additionally, he has a pet Muaka adorned in spiked armor. He got the beast after buying it off of the Dark Hunters, who themselves got it from Umarak on a whim. Nektann is proud of his exotic pet and likes to boast of its foreign, mysterious origins, but some Xians doubt the validity of his claims- They believe the Muaka is just another manufactured bioweapon, an assertion that greatly angers him.

#bionicle #bionicle rae #xia #roodaka #sidorak #dume #the shadowed one #spiriah #tridax #nektann #trydahk #nynrah ghosts #vortixx #visorak #skakdi

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