#ectoplasm heightens instincts

[dclovesdanny]

Dead Serious x Omegaverse

Something most people don’t know about ghosts is that their instincts are even stronger than most alphas and omegas. Even liminals have stronger instincts, but halfas? Halfas may have lots of powers, but their instincts, especially in rut or heat, is cranked to 100%.

So when Danny’s crush, a boy who smelled like moonflowers and cinnamon, was taken as a sacrifice and tied to an alter, the cultists trying to offer him up to Danny like he was a toy…..

Well, the cultists were found frozen solid with broken bones and a few missing limbs. When they finally track down Damian, he’s in a nest obviously crafted by a protective omega, being nuzzled by a being that radiates power, his scent of pine, autumn leaves and something that reminded everyone of the Lazarus pits coating the area around them.

[spacedace]

Here have another dc x dp Super Serious Chaos snippet I remembered about lol

As always feel free to take this as a (too long) prompt if anyone is interested 😄

---

Ghosts and Kryptonians, as it turned out, had a bit of overlap when it came to biology.

Not much, admittedly, considering that ghost biology was largely…made up, as best as any of the League’s medical staff could figure and as best as the Yetis could explain. They were usually human shaped - at least those that had been human in life were usually human shaped - but they were made entirely out of ectoplasm, a highly mutable substance that could appear incredibly unpredictable in how it behaved if you weren’t intimately familiar with how it worked. A ghost’s biology, as much as it could be called, depended entirely on the ghost, what they thought their biology should be and how they felt at any given point of time.

Still, there were some things that were more or less standard that were familiar enough. Super strength and speed, heightened senses, flight. Fangs too, though those tend to vary a great deal more in size when it came to ghosts compared to Kryptonians. Most interesting of all though - at least as far as Jon was concerned at the moment - was the fact that like Kryptonians, ghosts could purr.

And they used their purring in much the same way as Kryptonians. Self-soothing, encouraging healing, expressing happiness or - as the case might be in the here and now - bonding.

That’s what Danny had said was the point of this purring when he’d shown up and taken stock of the situation. Elle, out of her mind on some weird strain of supernatural flower thanks to some demon deciding to try and drug her into compliance and marry her - gross, Jon was glad it had been torn to shreds, he was kinda disappointed he didn’t get to help really - was reduced entirely to very basic ghostly instincts. She’d lost human speech, lost understanding of the world around her, and lost grip on who she was. Something that could have been incredibly dangerous - and had been for the dumbass demon that had orchestrated the whole scheme, Elle had eviscerated it with a viciousness that threatened to awaken something in him if he thought about it too much - though thankfully for them Elle had some semblance of recognition of who they were.

Well. Some of them, at least.

She’d very much had not seemed aware of who most of the Justice League members that responded to the situation were and had been just as intent on doing to them what she’d done to the demon. Jon and Damian were for sure going to get a lecture later on it, but them jumping in between their out of control friend and the others had been the right call. They knew how she fought better than anyone, knew how to counter her without hurting her and how to use her own overwhelming strength and power against her if need be.

Besides, they knew Elle.

They trusted her. Even as she lost semblance of her form and started looking more like…well okay Jon couldn’t really say what Elle looked like at the time. Damian called it eldritch and Jon can’t help but agree that it was the right word for it. Looking at her straight on for too long while she’d been in attack mode hurt and his brain sort of just…slid off any attempts to describe just what he was seeing when he looked at her. So eldritch seemed the right fit, even if he felt a bit bad having to describe her as such. Elle hated Lovecraft with a fiery passion, she’d despise knowing that anything associated with him was applied to her.

Jon was getting distracted. The point was, even if Elle was reduced to base ghostly instincts and acting aggressive and trying to eat Green Lantern, Jon and D knew that she’d never hurt them. And for the record they’d been right!

She’d frozen in the air as they dove in front of GL and into her line of sight, furious screeching going quiet and form settling back down into a more familiar - and comprehensible - shape and let loose a series of chirps and trills and whistling notes. And while no one could understand exactly what they meant, Jon and Damian could feel the emotions she put into the sounds. Happiness and relief and safe-safe-safe that made them realize that some of her aggression must have been from thinking that something had happened to them.

The next thing either of them had known they were wrapped up in a whole lot of Elle - body significantly more human-shaped, though still a bit indistinct when it came to her features - as she gave low rumbling purrs. She wouldn’t let anyone else near them - hissing and growling warningly in ways that made ears bleed when his dad and Bruce tried to creep closer, pulling him and D behind her protectively - but she was at least content to not attack anyone so long as no one got too close.

“It should wear off in about a week.” Danny said, butting his head like a cat against Elle’s as he checked on them. Elle recognized her father as she had Jon and Damian and had been fine letting him close, though notable did not try and pull him in on their impromptu cuddle session. “Probably less if we can get her back to her Lair in the Zone. Having outsiders near her Grave after fighting off an enemy is probably making things worse.”

Danny drifted back towards where the League was awkwardly huddled at a safe distance, giving a comforting trill when Elle’s purring stopped and she gave a nervous little chirp. She clung to Jon and Damian a little tighter from where she’d wrapped her wispy tail around them, glowing green eyes locked on the League suspiciously, but she stayed where she was. Jon purred himself, trying to match the low frequency she’d been using earlier to draw her attention back to them and keep her calm. Damian, unable to purr but undeterred by the limitation of human vocal chords, hummed softly as well. Elle gave an adorable little mrrp and pulled them even closer to her, nuzzling beneath each of their chins in turn, purr starting back up again.

“I was under the impression Phantasma wasn’t dead in the…traditional way.” Jon’s dad said, face pinching in concern. “Or that her grave would be near…” He motioned to the dark cave around them, lit only by literal hellfire in shades of red and orange. They were roughly a fifty miles from any kind of civilization, in some mountainous location in Europe. Possibly Finland? Jon hadn’t been paying much attention outside of following Elle’s distress beacon as quickly as possible without the wind speed suffocating Damian in the process.

Danny shook his head. “Oh she’s not. She’s Mirrorborn.” He waved a hand blandly, unaware or ignoring the League’s confusion at the term, “I don’t mean that kind of grave. I mean her Grave, capital ‘G’ and all. It’s like, hmm,” He paused, looking considering before offering, “I guess the closest thing might be like a pack? Like wolves, sorta. She’s in my Grave, since I’m her Reflected.” Danny motioned towards where Elle was now happily purring again, running her very sharp - and disturbingly longer than usual - clawed fingers through his and Damian’s hair. It was soothing, even with the vague notion that he should be worried about getting sliced to bits lazily popping up at the back of Jon’s mind. “But she’s old enough to go out and make a Grave of her own, and she’s claimed those two as part of it.”

“Claimed?” Bruce asked, voice lower than usual and definitely more dangerous. He hadn’t looked away from them the entire time, even when Danny showed up.

The older ghost gave a reassuring smile, “It sounds way more possessive than it is. It just means that her Core recognizes them as people she cares about a lot.” He glanced over towards them again expression going soft and fond. “The claiming is less a mark of ownership and more of like a ‘Back off’ sign for anyone who might try and fuck with them.”

Danny waved a hand in their direction again, “It’s what she’s doing now with all the cuddling. There was danger and she couldn’t find her Grave, so she panicked and lashed out. When they showed up she went into protection mode, it’s why she won’t let you near.” He glanced over to make sure the League understood, at their various nods he continued, “The cuddling is partially letting her know their safe, but it’s also making sure they’re absolutely covered with her ecto-signature so that anything that can sense it thinks twice before trying to go after them.” Danny’s grin went cheeky, “She’s basically giving them the Infinite Realm’s version of Scary Dog privileges. There’s not much in the Zone that’d be willing to fuck with the Grave of someone in our family.”

“Hn.” Bruce said, though Jon could see that some of the sharpness had left the line of his shoulders. “She doesn’t recognize us as members of her Grave?”

Danny shrugged. “Don’t take it personally. She likes you guys a lot - you’d probably be dead right now if she didn’t, even with those two keeping her calm - but there’s a difference from being friends with someone and having them as part of your Grave.”

No one looked terribly reassured.

Possibly due to the implication that Elle could kill them all more than the idea that she’d try while in such an altered state. And probably Jon should be worried about that too, but it wasn’t all that much of a surprise, really. He’d seen Elle beat Damian at Go before. They were usually tied 50/50 these days. If she could do that, there really was no hope for the Justice League - even his Dad, though he probably shouldn’t say that out loud.

Oh well. Point was, Damian absolutely could destroy the entire Justice League - Kryptonians and all - probably without even lifting a finger if he really put his mind to it and Elle was just as brilliant when it came to wily plays and unbeatable strategies and overwhelming force.

Okay so he might, a little bit, be totally in love with the both of them and believe they were the single most impressive and unstoppable people in the universe. That had no baring on his estimation on their abilities to take over the world if they ever decided they wanted to. It did, admittedly, probably skew his thoughts on if they ever would try their hands at world domination, but only a little.

Anyway he was 95% certain he could convince them to knock it off before they actually launched any world domination plans.

99% if he had time to get Ma to make cinnamon rolls before he went to talk them down.

Not the point, really. The point, right now, was that Elle had made him and D part of her Grave. That she cared for them enough that not even being reduced to her most dangerous, aggressive state, almost completely unable to distinguish friend from foe, was enough to keep her from knowing who they were.

(J’onn J’onzz - scanning the emotions and surface thoughts of the three young heroes to make sure no one was in danger or distress - would like to note to the young man that that was also not the point.

He had the distinct feeling, however, that any attempt to bring that up would go entirely over the young Kryptonian’s head.)

“So!” Danny said clapping his hands together decisively as he flashed a wide grin at Jon's dad and Bruce, “Who wants to pack these two some bags while I get them all moved to Ellie’s Lair?”

[valravnocs]

*screams* three boys in one!!! three boys in one!!! (the middle row is the Preferred Row™) (x, x, x)

1st column: Achim — a Sin-Eater who was poisoned to death, slowly succumbing to internal bleeding. He took a Bargain with a Geist (the Sobbing Child) and returned to life as one of the Stricken. He now fills the role of a Mourner, a devotee to the passions of death. Achim always looks gaunt and somewhat sickly, yet almost hauntingly, delicately pretty. Withdrawn at first, Dorin helps him come out of his shell. He has a strong bond with his Geist, which takes the appearance of a small child made of a crystalline substance, constantly crying (its hands always cover its eyes, even when it picks things up the objects just move as if gripped by some force); whenever the Geist experiences heightened emotions, its Sin-Eater manifests excessive tears as well, both crying in tandem. One of Achim’s powers, ceremonies he can access thanks to his Bargain, allows him to make Ghosts material from midnight until sunrise, within the room the ceremony is hosted in— he first experimented with relationships this way, so it’s not that surprising he ended up dating not just one undead being, but two.

2nd column: Dorin — a Gangrel vampire, he was born a dhampir. His father, a Toreador, impregnated his mother, and as soon as he was born she abandoned him to be Embraced. Floating through various foster homes in Romania, Dorin eventually found a Gangrel who promised to turn him if he followed his orders. For two years he followed the instructions, allowed himself to be abused and manipulated until finally committing the gravest sin a vampire could: Diablerie. He drained the Gangrel’s blood completely, absorbing his powers and finally becoming a true vampire. The year is now 1991, and Dorin has grown into his powers. His father’s blood is inescapable, leaving him with the mystifying presence of a Toreador, yet with all the wandering nature of a Gangrel, the disciplines Animalism and Fortitude lending him more strength than even the average vampire. He’d fallen in with the goth scene, having travelled from Romania to West Berlin, and now preys on the scene in underground clubs; recognized as somewhat of a local leader, he has no concerns about feeding in the clubs, and he even allows himself to frenzy sometimes— releasing control to his baser instincts and killing indiscriminately. This is what drew Achim to him, the sheer amount of death created by his frenzies. When moving among humans, he goes by the name Michael, but Achim and Emrik both know him as Dorin.

3rd column: Emrik — an Ulgan Promethean, a creature created from pieces of a corpse held together by ectoplasm and missing a soul. Created in East Berlin (he and Dorin have shared experiences with living under communism, though Dorin for longer than Emrik), Emrik eventually caused too much disquiet for his creator to stand being near him. As a last gesture of kindness (or perhaps they simply wanted as much distance from Emrik as possible), his creator helped him across into West Berlin before vanishing completely from Emrik’s life. Trying desperately to shape his sense of self while existing in a limbo between the living and the dead, Emrik was almost unavoidably swept up with the experience of death itself. Death became the key to humanity in his mind: to be human is to die without reviving, to release one’s soul without chance of it returning. This leaves Emrik in a limbo, because to become human is to die in his eyes, which means he doesn’t get to live as a human. Attracted to auras of death due to his nature, Emrik gets swept up in the early Norwegian Black Metal scene, which heavily influences his aesthetic style— these same auras draw him to Achim and Dorin as well, as Dorin frenzies and kills multitudes of people while Achim is there to guide the newly-created ghosts. Maybe getting into a relationship with two so unnatural is bad for his pilgrimage (towards humanity), but Emrik honestly isn’t sure if he wants to achieve humanity anyways, since his definition necessitates a final end.

[sasorikigai]

Nonverbal RP Starters || @grimsouled || accepting 

💋 Kiss my muse’s neck

Though Cassie is a lightweight, the sheer enthusiasm exerted by her, in her wanton desire and sensual administration, multiplies the force and Hanzo is thrown back against the tiles of the hot springs, the steamy deluge intensifying the insatiably consuming blaze. Beaming grin - that instinctually breaks the permanent downturn of his lips - spreads through his rounded cheeks and reaches the peak of his double-lidded almond eyes as his stubble chafes against her skin, he matches the all-consuming and exploring trail with a vibrating, guttural hum. Arm circled around the dimple of her spine, no amount of water washing over them is enough to draw out the continuing whoosh of his blood and hammering heart, becoming like a loose cannon. 

Between intense trail of her lips, gaining momentum as the path curves around the sharp angle of his thick neck, where the visible transparency of his veins lay beneath the bubbling conflagration, that only heightens the sensation further by the comforting ripe, the sheltering embrace of her arms around his neck. And the added sensation of insurgence, he lets an unscrupulous shiver traverse his spine. Instinctively, his hips cant as his gaze drips with both prey and predator’s. With her hand, then the press of her cheek, then her gaze turns akin to a sunflower looking squarely at sun. Taking everything in as she gives him a fair shake. “You are.. out of your mind, Cass.” 

A hand gently disappearing into her wet fiery locks, his head cocks to the side as another hand attempts to turn the faucet of their exquisite arousal off. Yet, how Cassie further instigates his fueling need, and he curses inward at the indescribable sensation of conflagrating his own body, - wide and alive - trapped in the seascape of his ribcage as volcanic chambers of his chest rises and falls in sweet and dark blood. What can he even do when he’s spellbound, beneath the conglomerating ectoplasm of their steam, surrounding them in a gentle fog as the atmosphere thickens further with his spiking heartbeat. Fingers curl, gently pressing against the back of her hair, combing, then scratching her scalp in a way that he draws her further in. Hanzo could simply melt like fresh clay, molded and sculpted under her exquisite touch. “You seem to have me under your spell. How could I even deny the way that will coax a hand of familiarity, your love in a way that is wired and desperately my own. 私はあなたのもの、私の愛.” I’m all yours, my love. 

[dannyphantomisameme]

Not What I Want

~ Chapter 4 ~

(Click for prologue, chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3, and fan fiction link)

‘You need me.’

‘No I don’t.’

‘You want me.’

‘No I don’t.’

The devil began to multiply and evolve, growing in number and size to surround Daniel. Their smirks gradually took over their faces, spreading like the Cheshire cat. Their stances unveiled dominance and madness. Behind them roared the intense inferno, red flames blazing to touch the ceiling. ‘You will never escape.’ they said in unison.

Behind the numerous devil’s rested a cage with an indistinct figure inside. Daniel ran through the mob of monsters, pushing them aside to reach the cage. Their eyes continued to follow him, searing into his fragile skin. Instinctively, he recognized the need to save whoever was in there. As he neared the silver restraint, he noticed a ghost with flaming blue hair sitting on the floor, bawling her eyes out. His pace slowed as he reached the cage.

Ember. Was it really her? Was she back?!

She suddenly stopped crying and her head pivoted to face him. ‘YOU DIDN’T SAVE ME…’ she shrieked as she began to ooze into a pile of ectoplasm. The noise pierced his ears and he fell to the ground, clutching his ears to stop the noise.

‘THIS ISN’T WHAT I WANTED!’ Daniel shouted just as the largest of the devil’s monstrous hand lept for him. Daniel squirmed to be set free, but he was stuck within the palm of the demon. The devil’s all began shrieking, their laughter ringing through his head and tearing the little sanity he had left.

‘You will never get what you want.’ The largest devil’s voice echoed. The fire thundered to match his words. ‘You’re my little pawn. You do what I want. Understood?’ The laughter picked up again and rumbled throughout the inferno.

‘Stop. Please. STOP!’ Daniel shrieked as blood poured out of his ear and dripped down his face. He couldn’t hold consciousness anymore.

Daniel gasped and sat up suddenly, only to bump his head on the table above him. It was cramped in the vehicle with all the pieces of furniture, but there was enough space for a half-ghost teenager to fit in. The events of yesterday hit him like a train, prompting him to lie back down and sigh. He rubbed his head as a migraine began to form. So he really was free. Away from the devil. Closing his eyes, he continued to doze off.

With his heightened hearing he heard a screech and noticed that the vehicle had stopped moving. Realizing he needed to take off before anyone noticed him, he went invisible and flew through the wall. Just as he exited, the back doors opened and two men began unloading the furniture.

He flew off into the sky, not understanding where he was. The van had stopped in a suburban neighborhood. According to the sky, it was late morning. He flew out of the neighborhood area into the parking lot of a strip mall. Becoming visible again, he landed on the floor and rounded the corner. His back contacted the stone wall as he slid down into a sitting position. He placed his pounding head into his hands.

Now what?

He couldn’t evade his father forever, right? At some point his money would run out and he wouldn’t be able to provide for himself. He needed some way to fit in and save money.

Lifting his head he noticed his hands covered in soot. I need a shower. A warm shower. He needed to change his clothes too, before someone noticed a ash-coated teen with a tattered attire walking around. He got up, went invisible, and sprung into the air. He ground was covered with a thick blanket of snow, making it harder to spot what he was searching for.

After soaring through the frigid atmosphere, he discovered a forest filled with pine trees. He knew he could find what he was looking for within the thicket of timber, but overlooking the woods he couldn’t see under the large evergreens. Plunging to the ground, he landed swiftly on his feet in front of the forest. He trekked on foot, searching and searching. The forest seemed deserted, except for the little wildlife not hibernating.

Finally noticing a glimmer from a distance, he raced towards it. Upon closer inspection, he came across a frozen pond.

It’s not ideal, but I’ve been through worse.

Blasting a hole onto the pond, he shattered the layer of ice that sat upon it. He didn’t notice any fish in the pool of water unfortunately. He lightly tested the water with his fingers, a cold sensation running up his spine. He manifested ecto energy on his palms and placed it down onto the pond. Soon he saw the water begin to smoke, fog rising into the air. He removed his hands and checked the water temperature again.

Perfect.

Removing his clothes and tossing them aside, he stepped into the water. The liquid rose up to his armpits when he sat down. His muscles softened as he relaxed into the warm sensation. He had created his own hot tub.

Ha, beat that, father.

He scrubbed himself clean of the ash. Once he was finished, the water had returned to its original temperature. He got out and fished for a new pair of clothes in his backpack. Realizing he had only packed one outfit, he was careful to not get it dirty. Slipping his collared shirt, boxers, blazer, and pants on, he tied his shoes and stood up. He grabbed his backpack and took out a packet of Chex Mix.

He ate as he considered what his next objective was. He couldn’t leave behind any evidence, so he decided to burn his clothes and trash. Throwing everything into a pile along with a few pieces of kindling, he sent three ecto-blasts towards it. The clothes immediately lit up, blazing red and orange. Although there would still be some indication that someone was here from the now black stained snow and smoke, it would wear away after some time.

He was proud of himself for surviving this long away from his father. Although his entire life he desired to be away from him, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt. He had stabbed his father, threw him into a wall, and set ablaze his only ‘safe haven’. That wasn’t exactly the best goodbye he could have given his old man. But no matter, he was quite a distance away from the devil and had no intention of returning back to hell.

Daniel decided to trek through the forest instead of flying since he had all the time in the world. He also settled to return to the strip mall and find a way from there. Walking through the forest felt like bliss, the cold radiated through his jacket, but it was better than the devoid sensation of the stone halls back home. He hadn’t the slightest idea from which way he came, but luckily his footprints still showed through the snow, so he followed them.

He began humming a song as he strolled, but he couldn’t recall the name of the song or where he heard it from. But then he realized. He stopped in his tracks, glaring straight ahead subconsciously.

Ember’s song.

It was the last song he heard her sing. Shaking it off and continuing his journey, he remembered the last visit he paid her.

‘Hey Ember’ Daniel said sheepishly, grinning as he entered into the living room.

‘Hey Babypop!’ she squealed as she hugged him tightly. A light green blush tinted his cheeks, but they vanished just before she noticed. She stretched out her arms to look him in the face. ‘You’re just in time to see to hear my newest song,’ she said as she grabbed his hand and pulled him further into the room. ‘come on!’

He smiled as she yanked him through the living room, past the kitchen, and into her bedroom. Her guitar rested on her black comforter detailed with skulls. They both hopped onto the bed, giggling as she picked up her guitar and pic.

‘Just a sneak peek alright? I still want to keep you waiting for the entire performance. You are coming right? Remember the tickets I gave you?’ her mouth moved a mile a minute. She was so passionate when it came to music.

‘Y-yeah. I’m coming.’ he said as he rubbed his neck nervously. No way would his father ever approve of him going to a concert in the ghost zone. But he couldn’t tell Ember that. And it wasn’t like he would be seen in the crowd of thousands of ghosts anyways.

‘Great! Now here’s a little something I like to call Remember’ she exclaimed. Ember began to strum her guitar singing the chorus of her future hallmark song. ‘Ember, you will remember. Ember, one thing remains. Ooh Ember, so warm and tender! You will remember my name.’ With a final strum of her guitar, he clapped for her.

‘That’s amazing.’ he replied beaming. ‘Your fans are going to live again with that hit.’ her vocal range was quite impressive. And with her song, she was going to have so many swooning over her. They surely were going to remember Ember Mclain.

Just like him.

But he would remember for the wrong reasons.

He returned to consciousness, blinking away the surreality. His smile from earlier faltered as he tripped over a log, catching his balance before tumbling into the snow. He was living a life of luxury while Ember was who knows where. And it was all his fault. Maybe if he had disobeyed his father he could have saved her. He knew he should of swung the hammer at his father’s demonic glare instead of Ember’s core. But now it was too late.

He finally reached the end of the trail of his footprints. Going invisible, he vaulted into the air, continuing the rest of his path in the air. He couldn’t remember where he came from, so he resolved to go to the nearest store. Within a mile of flying, he spotted a link of stores. He headed for the shopping center, descending to the ground. Once he contacted the floor, he turned visible and whirled to walk to the front of the store.

Now what?

He didn’t want to buy anything, but he also didn’t want to do absolutely nothing, so he entered the store. Inside, he realized it was a grocery store. Produce lined the right side of the large space. Next to it were refrigerators stocked with dairy products. On the left were shelfs equipped with non-perishables and other food items. Maybe he could buy something for dinner.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in school?” a voice out of nowhere said. Daniel turned to see a woman with blonde hair tied into a messy bun. The cashier. She stuck her finger out at him with a lazy expression on her face. She couldn’t be older than 25.

“I -uh.” before entirely responding, he dashed out of through the automatic doors and into the parking lot. He heard a muffled cry behind him, but he didn’t bother to listen. He continued to run into the streets, using the sidewalk as a guide. Once he was a safe distance away, he swiveled to hide behind a bare oak tree. His hands were on his knees as he panted softly. Droplets of sweat descended down his forehead. Even in winter he could find a way to sweat. So maybe he used a bit of his supernatural strength to race out of there, so what? Hopefully the cashier didn’t notice.

But she did have a point. A teenager roaming the streets wasn’t the ideal situation. Since he wasn’t 18 yet, he was sure to be called either homeless or a runaway. He didn’t need the police involved. If they found him, he would receive a one-way ticket back to his father. And back to hell.

Deciding to research some more, he resolved to find a library and use a computer. Although, he didn’t know where to find a library. Entering back into the open and walking along the sidewalk, he noticed someone walking towards him. He waved frantically, hoping to grasp their attention.

As the figure came closer, he was able to make out a man wearing athletic wear. The man noticed him and removed some white bulbs from his ears that were connected to his phone by wires. Were those earbuds he had heard of once?

“What’s up kiddo?” The man’s said in a friendly tone. It felt strange to hear an actual human voice that contrasted his father’s greatly.

“Uh- do you know where I could find a library?” Daniel asked softly. Hopefully the man wouldn’t answer his question with more questions.

“Yea, your in luck. It’s only a 20 minute walk from here. Take a right on McBerry street, then continue until you hit an intersection. Turn left on Winona street and then from there you should be able to see a large building on your left. That’s the library.” the man said as he gestured the directions.

“Thanks!” Daniel replied quickly, not waiting for the man to reply back. He took off, following the mans guidance. He continued walking till he noticed a pole with a green sign displaying the words ‘McBerry Street’. He took a right and progressed forward for another 15 minutes. He passed by more homes that looked almost identical in shape, other than their different colors. Most of the homes looked vacant with their dark windows. Daniel guessed that the residents were off working or studying at school. The chain of trees situated in the front yards were all stricken of their leaves, bare to the twig. The sidewalk was somewhat slippery with chunks of ice forming a rocky sheet, but he was able to keep his balance majority of the time. Nearing Winona street, he turned left and noticed a building in the distance. He headed in the direction of the building presumed to be the library.

Nearing the library, he noticed a sign outside the building. Johnsville Library. So he was on the correct path. Opening the door, he felt a wave of warmth hit him. The air conditioner blew his hair away from his right eye, but he returned the strands back to its previous position. Entering the library, he was reminded of the one back home, however this one was more vibrant with its posters and modern looking furniture. Shelves stacked with books filled the area. In the center, sat a table peppered with computers ready to be used. Few people actually were inside the building, most of them sitting on the couches in the far corner reading a book.

He took a seat at one of the computers farthest away from the checkout. The desktop was already opened to google. In his lifetime, he had used a computer several times. His father occasionally graced him with the opportunity to search the internet for a maximum of two hours. Typically three times a month. He always said yes and learned more about the world around him. His research was the only reason he was still surviving, otherwise he would have been like a newborn child entering the world for the first time.

He first searched for his current location.

Amity Park, Minnesota.

What? He went north? It made some sense considering there was more snow here than his father’s mansion back in Colorado. He then searched for the distance between the two states.

992 miles. 16 hours and 27 minutes.

Was I asleep in the van for 16 hours? He hadn’t slept that long since he was an infant. The rest was helpful though, as he recalled being quite energized after being startled awake. But there was still no way his father could find him here. Out of all the places he could be, Minnesota was one of the most unlikely. It would have been better to get out of the country, but then he would have to waste some of his money on a plane ticket. Unless he flew, but flying over the ocean would be next to impossible. Although he could hitch a plane ride by sitting in the cargo… he set that as plan B. He still had some things in mind he wanted to accomplish.

Daniel proceeded to research about Amity Park. He found some interesting information. Amity Park was among the smallest of cities in the midwest state of Minnesota. So small, that they only had one high school, Casper high. That was good news. He could stay here for the time being till he found a better way to provide for himself. And what better way to amuse himself than going to school?

To be able to interact with other humans his age would be a life-altering experience. He didn’t care if he had to work through it, anything was better than roaming the frigid streets of the petite town. He googled Casper high, coming upon a website with a raven as its mascot. Toying around the site, he found a link to application forms.

Score!

He entered his information, changing some of the details.

Full name: Daniel James Masters. Being accustomed to his name, he knew he wouldn’t reply to any fake name he could provide. But he never had a middle or last name. James was a name he had seen on one the portraits in the hall. His father’s last name was Masters, so it seemed the most reasonable. He kept it the same since he anticipated his father would be looking for a Daniel with a different last name, not something so obvious as his father’s last name.

Gender: male.

Date of Birth: February 15th, 2001. Originally his birthday was April 3rd, 2001, but he needed to switch it up.

Age: 17 years. He couldn’t fake his age even if he tried.

Origin: USA. He kept his home simple, although he knew people would ask where he came from. He would have to think of something by then.

Reason for Application: Previously homeschooled, looking to join a school.

He filled in a couple of other questions, answering them to the best of his ability. At the bottom of the document, it requested him to make an appointment and notify the school when he wanted to join. He decided to see the school tomorrow, and join immediately the next day. Once he finished, he pressed the enter key on the computer and smiled.

He was going to high school.

[arcanakrp-blog]

KWON NORA – DEATH. AGENT 13.

                                                [   FILE TYPE: CLASSIFIED   ]

//: LOADING PROFILE: KWON NORA …

international age: 24 birthplace: seoul, south korea arcana: death team number: nine

//: LOADING MUTATION: GHOST PHYSIOLOGY  …

application one: fear aura — a distinct FEAR AURA surrounds nora, something that cannot be contained or controlled to the best of her knowledge. it exists in a latent and quiet manner in her daily life, permeating the air around her, seeping out into a ten to twenty foot radius around her. this aura affects the subconscious of those within the radius, inciting a vague sense of unease that is largely inescapable. when in her fully “ghost” form pursuant to application two, this heightens twofold and the unease she radiates becomes actual fear, in the sense that it will raise goosebumps, the hair on the back of your neck, make the affected parties feel strangely suspicious and jumpy, and so forth.

application two: ghost form — the most characteristically ghostly of her powers is her GHOST FORM, a malleability of presence and form that allowed her to initially identify her ability. just being vaguely creepy to people had been hard to pinpoint, and until this aspect manifested she had no access to the third, which left her somewhat uncertain when her abilities first began to manifest.  in full force, nora becomes a spectral entity in appearance, distorted and silvery. in this form she can enact the most damage in terms of heightening fear around her and accessing the third application of her powers. there are various shades, however, to this ability. she is also able to become intangible but purely visible, invisible but purely intangible, and additionally can be also intangible and invisible at once. this is ideal for her role in infiltration missions, allowing her to pass purely undetected through dangerous areas or subvert physical attacks.

application three: spectral energy manipulation — far and away the most useful of her abilities is SPECTRAL ENERGY MANIPULATION. colloquially known as ectoplasm (but not the gross weird green kind from children’s “scary” shows), this is what makes up her being when she is in her fully spectral form (application two). she is still able to do a decent amount with this, in terms of the manipulation of her own form to various evasive and defensive effects. s at that point she is able to propel herself in a manner akin to flight (though more restricted, and perhaps better likened to floating in terms of how close to the ground she remains), adjust her appearance and how others perceive her (most commonly into many of the stereotypical horror movie ghost features), and so forth.  truthfully her last ditch effort in situations of trouble is her ability to briefly possess a target, which is to say when in pure spectral form she may invade via the mouth, funneling into a person’s consciousness and taking it over briefly. she is then able to use their physical form, though she is unable to access their memories or consciousness, as her own replace theirs for the time being. the target remains consciously aware of her presence but unable to act, except in cases of extreme mental fortitude in which she may be forcibly ousted.

overall strengths and weaknesses: — to deal first with the obvious weakness of her fear aura, it is difficult to find people willing to sustain the constant uncertainty, discomfort, and anxiety that are associated with being in her presence, much less considering the fact it is amplified to great degree when she is actively using her powers. this means her partner had to be rather carefully vetted, as one of weak mind or heart would be unlikely to fare well alongside her for long.

additionally, nora is distinctly lacking in offensive powers, which leaves her vulnerable, particularly when she is exhausted or in some other way unable to accurately harness her abilities. in many cases she is able to work around this by simply becoming invisible, intangible, or some combination of the two, rendering it exceptionally difficult to land a hit. however, she is still quite vulnerable to surprise attacks.

given her ability to literally disappear and walk through walls, nora is ideal for her roles related to gathering information, infiltrating enemy compounds, or assessing locations undetected. when it comes to subtlety there are few more suited to the task than she.

given her partner’s capability of assuming human forms, nora works well in tandem with them, particularly when given the cover of their distraction techniques, or when able to move ahead and open doors, assess the layout of the area, and so forth, in order to determine potential threats to the other’s forward movements. in this way the scope of their actions is able to broaden a bit from purely infiltration related. further, she is able to briefly possess individuals, as stated above. while she is unable to access their knowledge, powers (if an arcana), etc in this state, she is able to control their body, which allows her to pass undetected, or to transfer her own training in combat to a sturdier form than her own, giving her a higher likelihood of success in a brief hand to hand situation. this further works well to distract or disorient opponents in a group, should one of their own suddenly begin fighting them, and so on.

//: LOADING HISTORY ..

PRE-MUTATION

tw: self harm, sexual abuse 'tis in my memory lock'd, and you yourself shall keep the key of it.

kwon nora is not a baby, she is a tool. 

born to a mother intent on salvaging her affair with a married, wealthy businessman, kwon inha overestimates how much her beau is willing to sacrifice for his new daughter, his new girlfriend. his wife, his current family? its not on the list. 

and so kwon inha finds herself pregnant for no reason, and the resentment begins. 

it does not diminish when nora is born, with wide dark eyes and a powerful set of lungs. she screams already as though the world as wronged her and indeed, it will, time and again. perhaps she has seen some portent of this in whatever realm is beyond consciousness.  it is the beginning of an inauspicious life, to say the least. 

she is left to her own devices as a child. her mother begins dating again and a series of men pay for the series of nannies and babysitters that raise her. nora learns through observation that femininity is the key to success, that her power will come in soft words and soft touches, in all things pliant and promising. 

kwon inha marries quickly, and at five years old nora is a flowergirl dressed in lilac, flowers braided into long dark hair. she is paraded out for pictures where her mother dotes on her pointedly, where her newfound step father smiles benign and bright, adn then she is shunted to her room and instructed to be still and silent, lest the party be disrupted. 

nora is a trophy, even then. she is a commodity, bred to be beautiful and silent, to speak when spoken too and to smile endlessly, softly, less she be the burden her mother promises her she is. 

with her mother as a role model, nora learns too quickly what powers she can wield, what the soft promise of her truly is. she grows into a beautiful young woman, everyone is keen to tell her this, as she is steered through functions and fundraisers, dressed in pastels and lace. she is always this pure thing, this precocious trophy of a girl. 

nora learns things no young woman should ever know. 

she learns them as she ages, as eyes begin to follow her. learns them late at night when the door creaks open, when hands pull and tug and tear. 

but with this knowledge comes a deadening, and a breaking, and also a surplus. she is given anything she could dream of or want. she is dressed in silks and satins, her life becomes streamlined, state of the art. her external world has all the comforts she lacks emotionally, void of love or trust, an aching chasm that spreads in her, splits her in two. 

years pass in fragments, bits and pieces. 

she's lost much of this to her own mind, shuttered off in large swathes, months and days blanketed in a fog of forgetfulness. she remembers instead, small things. the smell of wildflowers on her walk home from school, a teacher's kindness, the sunlight filtering through the windowed hallways of her school building. champaign flutes and crystal glasses and violin quartets and interminably long parties.

she remembers the sick twist in her gut and the leer in the eyes of her step father's friends, some perceived knowing. as if they can tell what he has done. as if he has bragged of it, his conquest. his toy, his victim. he flaunts her like a prize he has won and not something he has stolen and destroyed. 

shortly after she graduates high school, something in nora snaps. 

there is a deadened coldness in her, one she thinks must have permeated her skin, rendered her as frigid and steely as the knife she slips beneath her pillow. 

she waits. 

he comes as he always does, as he must - slave to some baser instinct to ravage and ruin.  and when he's there, over her, she moves, slips the blade into his side in a movement that is the utmost in satisfaction. the white linens, her white nightgown, the pale expanse of his torso, the moonlit line of her arm; these things are all drenched in crimson and she glows with satisfaction and with fire. 

he is unharmed, ultimately, aside from the stitches. 

she, however, is cast out. she is tossed onto the streets, told that this is her penance. vile creature, her mother calls her, a sick and twisted serpent, eve tempting adam to his doom. eden - the most lush trap, built for the condemnation of souls, the introduction to sin. 

she wonders when her mother found religion and how on earth she had so woefully misinterpreted it. 

there is a teacher at the school, an old family friend, a young man a scant few years her senior. he takes her in, but this too sours. 

demanding and controlling, nora is slowly hedged into isolation, rapunzel in a tower that is built block by block. he's concerned, you see, about the influence of her friends. he worries, of course, that she could be hurt. she's so fragile, is all, so delicate. he wants only to protect her, he says, and slowly, so slowly, nora finds herself in a world that revolves around him, as if he is some burning sun. 

it becomes clear to her in time, however, that there are many planets in his orbit. 

this is the final straw - she has dignity enough to hate this, possessive as she is; possession that she is. 

with an inheritance from her estranged maternal grandmother, she leaves. soundlessly in the night, without a word, she takes the bus to seoul and never once looks back, leaves the salt spray of busan in distant memory. 

two months later the call comes. 

found, hanged, from the ceiling fan in the bedroom. in their bedroom. 

perhaps her mother was not so wrong, she thinks, in fitful starts between mouthfuls of liquor, in lucid moments between pills. perhaps she is worse still than eve or eden. perhaps she is the snake, some slithering and sinful thing, bred to bring temptation and destruction. 

POST-MUTATION

there's rosemary, that's for remembrance. pray you, love, remember. 

the meteor shower is dimmed by the ambulance lights, a violent cacophony of yellows and reds and whites. too many pills and too much liquor, and a kind partygoer who finds her on the bathroom floor. she chalks the dreams up to the effects of this, an iv in her arm and bruises around her eyes. she is sunken and sallow, a shadow of her past.

she dreams herself a ghost. she longs, desperately, to sink into the sheets and sleep - the sleep of the dead. dreamless and peaceful and everlasting.

what she gets instead is some cruel play on this wish.

the ability develops slowly, and with it come crushing migranes and sleepless nights, cold skin and a shiver of uncertainty from those she meets. of course the fear comes first. of course.

she spends days upon days as a ghost, drifting listless through the world around her, as if the depression that claws at her senses now manifests physically in her form (or lack thereof, when she finds she can become this misty substance, or nothing at all).

when the ar compound finds her she wonders how on earth they've managed it, when she has spent so long now being hidden and silent and absent. ghost stories travel, however, and she is a live haunting.

they bring her to a compound and they tell her she has a purpose now. she scoffs at this, at all of it, but the lure of wealth and safety is at least something. the therapist who patiently smiles at her is something too - something grating and unappreciated. she takes prescribed pills and she learns to fight. she favors the knife, with its cool, long blade. there is a comfort in this still.

she's assigned missions and teammates and it is with great disinterest that she proves herself formidable. she cares little for boundaries, for their targets, for what she is doing. she moves in conditioned, blind obedience.

and on some days, she doesn't.

on some days she is all fire and fury and empathy, she is hateful and horrid, she is hurt and hurting, broken and breaking. nora's instability is obvious and she is monitored closely, for her aggressive recklessness and her cold dissociation, for the pendulum swing of her responses.

but nora, as always, gets what she wants. she has the tools for this - in the curve of her hips and the flash of her eyes, in the knives she keeps tucked away, in the flicker of mist and promise as she twists from girl to ghost.