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geekgirles · 4 years ago

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Your Heart

Chapter 2 -- The Invitation

Word Count: 8,903

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Hours could have passed since Sam received the letter and she wouldn’t have noticed, the events were so unreal her mind still hadn’t been able to fully register them. What was supposed to be a day like any other suddenly passed by in a blur. And no matter what she did, she just couldn’t make sense of it all.

The moment Star gave her the letter, the queen recognised the logo engraved on the seal closing the envelope. That forsaken logo had made daily appearances on the news for the last three years, when he started using and associating it to his person.

Danny Phantom.

The current Ghost King.

Nothing could’ve prepared her for the feeling of astonishment that came with that simple realisation. Such was her stupor that, once her back collided against her black mahogany vanity, her legs lost all strength to support her weight, slowly sliding down until Sam was seated on the floor of her chambers. Eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

Terror gripping at them at the sight of their, otherwise collected, queen, the handmaidens immediately scurried over her, checking for any sign that would imply their leader needed any sort of assistance.

A million thoughts materialised inside Sam’s head. How did the Ghost King know there were witches in Amity Park? Did all ghosts know they weren’t the only otherworldly creatures blending in with humans? How did the Ghost King know where to find them? Were her people in danger?

But most importantly, why did the infamous Danny Phantom write her for?

Grimacing, Sam figured there was only one way to find out. With a shaking hand, she gestured for Star to bring her the envelope. Concern still apparent on the blonde’s features, for her queen must have truly been too stunned to perform magic herself, she nonetheless did as she was instructed. “Fluito,” she whispered, and immediately afterwards an orange, fire-like aura surrounded the envelope, until the object came to them.

Sam gripped the envelope like a life line and, with trembling hands, broke the wax seal to get to the letter inside. What she found only made matters worse:

“Dear Madam,

I hope this message finds you well. I would not be able to reprimand you if my sudden writing to you took you by surprise; I found myself disbelieving of my own actions, after all.

I wish to inform you on an important occurrence I believe deserves your attention. However, I will not be able to describe said occurrence through this letter, unfortunately. I fear it might be intercepted by those who would give anything to see me fall, or perhaps by your own enemies if you were to have them.

It is because of such circumstances that I formally invite you and whoever you decide as members of your entourage to my lair in the Ghost Zone, in hopes that we will be able to discuss these matters without fear of our respective domains being put in jeopardy.

In order to save ourselves some time, if you were to accept my proposal, you and your entourage shall go to the outskirts of Amity Park in a week’s time, where one of my subjects will be waiting for you.

I eagerly await your answer,

King Phantom.”

Once she was done reading the letter, Sam could only gape at it. That had been an eternity ago, and now she was pacing up and down her room, massaging her temples as she tried making sense of it all.

When the initial shock from the Ghost King’s message had finally worn off, Sam proceeded to re-read the letter, in case she misunderstood the spectre’s motives and he was actually requesting something far more reasonable than her company. Like declaring war on them. Ghosts and witches going to war with each other made much more sense than members of both species ーthe leaders of both species, as a matter of factー willingly being near the other for the first time in 328 years.

But she came back empty-handed. And that could only mean one thing; she had to read the letter again because, clearly, her reading comprehension wasn’t as good as she thought. And so, Sam read the letter for the third time...and the fourth time...and the fifth time...

By the time she had already read the accusing piece of paper for the eleventh time, she finally understood her company was exactly what Phantom was requesting of her. But why?

“If you keep going in circles like that, you’re gonna get dizzy,” Paulina chimed in, watching as her queen paced around the room, muttering nonsense under her breath. “Or what’s worse, you’re going to make me dizzy.”

“Pauli’s right, Sam. Drawing a hole on the floor will get you nowhere.” Star agreed, her own eyes following the raven-haired girl’s every move. In any other circumstances, say, if Pamela were around, the two girls would get in trouble for addressing the Witch Queen so casually. However, once they were assigned to her and Sam discovered the usefulness of their talents, the three young women had soon agreed to treat each other informally whenever they were away from prying eyes.

Sam wholeheartedly believed familiarity was the key to winning someone’s trust. Because of that, she allowed for witches as loyal as her ladies-in-waiting to get close to her, while keeping anyone she suspected of being troublesome at a respectful distance.

Nibbling on her thumb, a clear sign of her distress, Sam shook her head. “Girls, you don’t understand. This simple letter could lead to disastrous consequences! And I’m not talking about whatever it is that that forsaken Phantom wants from me, which is a whole new level of worrying; I’m talking about the possibility of our clan being compromised!” The Latina and the blonde started when Sam abruptly stopped pacing, stomping her foot against the floor to get their attention. “If the ruler of a race we haven’t had any contact with in more than three centuries knows where to find us, who’s to say the rest of Amity Park remains blissfully unaware of our very existence? This is The Great Burning all over again!” She bellowed in anguish.

This was bad. This was very bad. Unlike ghosts, who revelled in wreaking havoc amongst mortals and drawing attention from it, witches had long decided to remain off the humans’ radar. For centuries, they blended in with normal men and women, pretending to be just like them, while they carried out their spells, rites, and ceremonies away from the public eye in the safety of their manor.

The existence of their society was their best-kept secret, and they’d be damned if such information got leaked. For starters, that pesky witch hunter they often brushed off could very well turn into a real threat.

The fact that their secret depended on a ghost of all things made Sam’s insides churn in fright and rightful outrage.

“Alright, you have a point,” Paulina conceded, but to her companions’ shock her worried gaze soon morphed itself into a swoon, “But you can’t deny that the Ghost King is a total hunk. I’m so jealous of you right now.” She sighed, her mind clearly elsewhere.

Scowling darkly at the Latina, Sam turned to her other lady-in-waiting, “Star, please, do me a favour and smack her. Hard.”

The blonde did as she was told and hit her friend on the back of her neck, eliciting a complaint from her.

Sending a glare to her fellow witch, Paulina began to gently rub the area. “You don’t have to do everything she tells you, you know?”

“Um, Pauli? She’s the Queen...You know, as in our boss? I literally have to do everything she tells me.” She reminded her, earning herself a huff from the aggravated girl. She then turned to her queen, her own eyes sparkling with excitement. “Paulina’s got a point, though. For a dead guy with ice powers, he sure is hawt. Watching him save the day is the highlight of my week!”

Sensing an aura filled with murderous intent, Star flinched slightly under Sam’s withering glare. “He’sーstillーaーghost.” Her queen said through gritted teeth.

Watching the interaction, the Latina beauty sniffed in displeasure, “Hey, no fair! You haven’t told me to hit her for drooling over the Ghost King!”, she whined.

“Girls, focus! This is serious!” Sam snapped.

Her fellow witches actually had the decency to look down in shame at her outburst. “Uh...right, sorry.” Paulina apologised sheepishly.

Somehow, something about the girl’s apology didn’t sit well with Sam. Their knowing smirks, staring down at her as if they knew a secret she didn’t, sent goosebumps down her spine. “What?”

Paulina raised her palms up in surrender. “Nothing. It’s just that I thought you’d be more appreciative of Phantom’s physique given your...preferences.” She finished with a coy smile.

That comment sent the Witch Queen reeling, which wasn’t helped in the least by Paulina’s smug look and Star’s snickering by her side. Her preferences? Was she serious? “Excuse me? Just because I’m a Goth doesn’t mean I’m necrophiliac! I’m not that hardcore, andー! ...why are you laughing?”

Sam’s indignant defence of her lifestyle was met with her two informants doubled over in laughter. Sam could do nothing but stare on, dumbfounded. After a few minutes, they seemed to finally calm down. Star, resting her weight over Paulina’s hunched over form, wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye as her laughter died down. “Sam,” she panted, “what Pauli means is that Phantom looks a lot like your ex. White hair, green eyes...Ring a bell?”

The young witch spluttered at that. Now that she thought about it, Danny Phantom was remarkably similar to her ex-boyfriend, Gregor...or Elliot, or whatever he called himself now. All the more reason to distrust the so-called ‘hero of Amity Park’.

“Whatever”, she huffed, before her expression turned downcast. Plopping down on the starry covers of her bed, she raised her hands to her head as she leaned forward. DeMilo came hopping to her, nuzzling her leg with its stem.

No matter how the Ghost King looked, he had still addressed her by personally sending her a letter. The location of her clan’s headquarters was a secret almost as well-kept as the very existence of her sisters. Whatever she chose to do could endanger hers and their fellow covens!

On the one hand, ghosts were treacherous and conniving. If she went to the Ghost Zone as per requested of her, she could be falling into a trap, bringing chaos and anarchy upon her own coven with her, for she was still too young to have an heiress of her own. And since there were no other purple-eyed witches, her demise would bring forth internal battles for control.

She couldn’t afford that to happen.

But, on the other hand, ghosts were also malicious and resentful. There was a reason why they remained stuck in their realm instead of moving on! If she were to refuse the invitation, they could either attack or reveal their existence to the humans in retaliation. Either way, it would have disastrous consequences for her coven...if they even survived the onslaught.

She certainly couldn’t afford that to happen either.

Sighing through her nose, in an effort to keep her head clear of any doubt, her gaze steeled. Turning to look at her handmaidens straight in the eye, all sense of familiarity gone, she gave but one simple order. “Arrange a Council meeting. Immediately.”

Understanding the gravity of the situation, her companions bowed down to her before hastily making their exit.

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

Council meetings took place in the attic of the manor. What in any other house would be a dusty, dark place clattered to the ceiling with old furniture, boxes whose descriptions didn’t match their contents, and the stuff of nightmares of any five-year-old, the attic where the Amity Park Coven gathered was closer in size to a ballroom.

The rows of seats formed a “u” shape, being close to the walls and leaving the middle of the room, which was dedicated to witches making their cases or taking the floor, empty. On the far corner of the room, between the rest of the witches acting as witnesses to the meetings, was the podium where the Council sat down and presided over the room.

The Council consisted of four witches. The leader was the Queen, who oversaw the process and spoke for her and her fellow members once they’d reached a decision. Her second-in-command, and therefore the one who was in charge whenever it was the Queen herself that brought up a case or proposal to deliberate about, was the witch with the most proficiency at spellcasting after the clan’s head. The coven’s “Minister of War” was the best potion-maker in the clan. And, finally, the sorceress in charge of maintaining their anonymity amongst humans was she who was the most proficient shapeshifter.

Her interlaced hands resting on the wooden table from where she’d make her proposal in the middle of the room, Sam met her colleagues’ curious eyes with a determined gaze of her own. She could feel her mother’s disapproving glare on herーPamela never liked it when her daughter brought attention to herself, because it would mean that, if things went awry, all eyes would turn on herー, she could hear her people’s hushed voices, whispering among themselves, wondering what could possibly be so important to deserve an impromptu Council meeting summoned by the Queen herself.

But her mind was made up. Informing the Council in hopes of approval was a mere formality she simply could not avoid.

Clearing her throat, Margaret, the clan’s best spellcaster, stood up from her seat, silencing the room by drawing attention to herself with that simple action.

Margaret was a woman in her fifties. Her Grandma Ida used to tell her that when she was Sam’s age, she used to be quite the lookerーher mother often had to use a spell or two to send her suitors running. Even now, the woman still retained some of her youthful beauty. A woman of average height, Margaret’s sharp features hinted at an equally sharp mind. With chocolate skin, her green eyes hid an intellect and common sense that had often saved the clan from ruin, even during her Grandma’s reign. Her salt-and-pepper hair was cut short, with slightly longer strands framing her diamond-shaped face. The woman’s fashion sense was a reflection of her responsible and professional nature, wearing a business suit consisting of a forest green jacket and skirt over a white shirt. Adorning her neck was a mustard kerchief and, Sam was willing to bet, she was wearing her favourite black heels.

“Your Majesty,” Margaret addressed her, “as you will understand, your sudden wish for a Council meeting has rendered us rather perplexed. We can only assume that whichever matters you wish to discuss must be of importance.”

It was Sam’s turn to stand up from her chair, “Of utmost importance.”

“Then, by all means, proceed.” The Council member nodded, gesturing at Sam.

“My dear subjects, just like your day has been disrupted by this sudden meeting, mine has been disrupted by a most unusual, and might I add disturbing, occurrence. As I was getting dressed in my quarters, readying myself to fulfill my duties of the day, one of my handmaidens came rushing in, a letter in her hand.” Sam braced herself for what came next, “The author of the letter is no other than Danny Phantom, the current Ghost King.”

Everyone gasped at the revelation. Soon after the surprise had worn off, chaos ensued. Indignant cries, questions asked aloud, and general confusion reigned. And who could blame them? Witches and ghosts had cut all ties that bound them centuries before.

“Order, order!” Wilhelmina, the coven’s greatest potion-maker and Minister of War, demanded as she repeatedly slammed the podium with her bare hands.

Once the commotion had died down, Margaret refocused her steely gaze on their Queen. “Your Majesty, please, do explain the contents of this letter.”

“Due to the Ghost King’s fear of the letter being intercepted by his enemies, the message was short yet direct. He wishes to discuss a matter of urgency with me, for which he has officially invited me and whoever I choose as members of my court to his lair in the Ghost Zone.”

Again, the room broke out in gasps and hushed questions Sam didn’t have the answer to. Then came the question Sam simultaneously dreaded and anticipated the most, “And what do you wish to do, your Majesty?”

“I wish to accept his proposal,” was her answer.

All Hell broke loose at her words, only this time, Wilhelmina herself was participating in it. Wilhelmina was a pudgy woman with a round face and a strong will. A woman in her late thirties to early forties, her fair complexion was spotted by countless freckles. She was relatively plain-looking, with auburn hair that she often wore in a tight bun and dark eyes, but judging from the rumours going around, her fiery personality landed her several conquests. Despite what her strong personality might imply, Wilhelmina favoured loose-fitting dresses, such as the dark blue and white polak-dotted one she was currently wearing, and sandals.

The potion-maker was one of the most outspoken in her hatred of ghosts, which in itself was common among witches. The resentment from all those years ago had never really faded, and ever since those damned spectres mysteriously reappeared, old wounds had reopened.

While both Grandma Ida and Sam advocated for steering clear from them unless provoked, Wilhelmina was a firm believer that they should have got rid of the spirits as soon as they first appeared, starting with Danny Phantom. A conviction that was only intensified the moment he was named King of the Ghosts.

“All in all”, Sam mused to herself, “she’s taking it way better than I expected.” The raven haired girl patiently waited until Margaret had, once again, everything under control. Due to her stick-by-the-book nature, the African American woman did not appreciate when one of her fellow Council members encouraged unruly behaviour.

“Your Majesty, this is preposterous!” Wilhelmina bellowed, slamming her hands down on her desk as she hastily stood up. “That husk of a person dares request your presence and you accept the invitation?! Forgive me, my Lady, but nothing good can come out of it.” A murmur of agreement could be heard throughout the room. Their Minister of War was right; what was their Queen thinking?

Then, she added, “Then again, what can we expect from a naive twenty-one-year-old girl.” Her words elicited a gasp from the crowd. On her part, although Sam was dying to tell her off, she masterfully remained impassive, only raising a questioning eyebrow at her direction. Her Grandma would’ve been so proud of her.

Margaret cleared her throat. “Although that last comment was uncalled for,” she admitted, shooting a glare at her colleague for her callous words, “Wilhelmina is right when she says attending this meeting would be...unorthodox,” ーSam had to admit, Margaret was almost as good as her mother at carefully choosing her words to appear as socially acceptable as possible. Almostー, “there is also great danger. We all know what happened the last time our people trusted ghosts; are we really willing to let them make fools out of us again?”

“I say this is ground for war!” Wilhelmina roared. “Your Majesty, you and your grandmother, may she rest in peace, gave orders to avoid confrontation unless provoked. Well, now we are being provoked, by being set up! We cannot let this...this...third rate ‘hero’”, she air-quoted with a scoff, “insult us like that and go scott free!”

“Wilhelmina, let her Majesty explain her reasoning. I’m sure she has thought this through.” Delilah, the clan’s expert shapeshifter, tried placating her fellow witch. Sam could only smile in gratitude.

At 28, Delilah was the youngest Council member, second only to Sam. Despite the usual naiveté and unrealistic optimism attributed to her youth, Delilah was also the one most willing to listen to the other side of the story. She preferred broadening her horizons before making a verdict, trying to understand where the witch in question was trying to get at. And this time, she was trying to understand why Sam would want to go to the lion’s den.

The shapeshifter’s natural beauty was also unmatched. Paulina would sometimes seethe in jealousy at the attention she would get or how effortlessly she pulled any look the Latina herself had trouble with. Narrow shoulders and hips, a well-defined burst, legs for miles… Delilah was any man’s fantasy! With her smooth, caramel skin. Her strikingly blue eyes and long lashes. And her silky, ebony hair she often styled in a long braid. Her fashion sense was so on point it could put any haute couture designer to shame. For instance, to that meeting she wore an off-shoulder, long-sleeved red mini dress, a black belt with a golden buckle tightened around her waist, and knee-high black leather boots.

Wilhelmina nodded reluctantly, crossing her arms. Smiling at that, Delilah turned to Sam. “Your Majesty, please, proceed.”

Sam breathed in deeply. Phantom’s request had piqued her interest; what could the ruler of the Ghost Zone possibly want from her and her people now that his kind roamed freely around the city? The last seven years both species had avoided each other like the plague, and even if they hadn't, nothing they could’ve done would warrant meeting up after centuries apart. Despite all her doubts and questions she wasn’t sure she wanted the answers to, Sam needed to know, above all else, if her people were safe. Determination coursing through her veins, she spoke up:

“As you all know, when I ascended to the throne, taking the mantle from my grandmother, I swore on my life and honour that everything I would do, every single decision I would take, would be with our safety in mind.

“When I read the Ghost King’s letter, I was as stunned as you are now. A thousand questions running freely through my mind. I have thought about this long and hard, until I reached my decision.” She lay her eyes on the potion-maker, “Wilhelmina, you are in your right to be suspicious of his intentions, for so am I, but just like this could be a trap, not answering their call could also very well be our downfall.

“Ghosts are mischievous, resentful, and self-centred. Everything they do is based on what gives them even the smallest amount of satisfaction, which often means that the only way to appease them is doing as they say.” When Margaret opened her mouth to intervene, Sam silenced her with a raised palm. “I wish it didn’t have to be this way, but it is. And that is not all. You might think I am making this choice lightly, but nothing further from the truth. In accepting Phantom’s proposal, I am trying to prevent the ghosts from retaliating, for they could endanger us if I were to refuse in revenge.”

Her violet eyes shone with fiery determination and unwavering confidence as she spoke her last words, “My decision is made. I shall go to the Ghost Zone, even if I must do so on my own. But I will protect our clan if it’s the last thing I do.”

A deafening silence hung in the air. Nobody even moved. Finally, Margaret intertwined her fingers, her shoulders resting atop her desk, her body moving forward. Her green eyes betrayed none of her feelings on the matter. “Very well. Feel free to request anything you might need from us. Have a safe journey, my Queen.”

And with that, every single witch present rose from her seat, bowing their heads to their leader as a sign of respect and submission.

She’d done it. She was going to go to the Ghost Zone.

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

Once the meeting was over, Sam got ready to leave the room to start preparing as soon as possible when a hand on her shoulder stopped her. Looking over her shoulder, she saw Delilah smiling at her. She smiled back.

“Is everything alright, Delilah?” Since the shapeshifter and her were close in age, she was one of the few witches Sam acted casually to, seeing her as some sort of older sister.

Delilah shook her head, the smile never leaving her face. “I just wanted to wish you luck, Sam. You’re not just our queen, you’re also the first witch to visit the Ghost Zone in centuries!”

“I know.” Sam looked down on the floor, feeling slightly uneasy.

Sensing her discomfort, Delilah soon changed the topic. “Also, I just wanted to tell you that your Grandmother would have been incredibly proud.”

Sam gasped. Family was taboo around Delilah, for her family had the misfortune of dying young. Delilah’s own mother had died when her daughter was just fifteen. For her to bring up Grandma Ida...she must have meant every single word she said.

“Thank you, Delilah. That means a lot.”

With one squeeze of her hands, the blue-eyed beauty left her alone.

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

That night, after a long, nerve-wracking day waiting for the Witch Queen’s reply, Danny was startled out of his musings by a ring of his doorbell. Taking off and changing his legs for a ghostly tail, the white-haired young man sprinted down his lair’s corridors until he was face to face with his door.

When he opened it, to his immense relief, he found the same ghostly postman he had sent to deliver his letter, only this time he was handing an envelope to him. Snatching the piece of paper with a quick, “Thanks”, Danny went back to his quarters in a blur.

Now that he had the envelope in his hands, he couldn’t help but eye it curiously. The envelope was of a rich, royal purple in colour, sealed with a black wax stamp, the relief of it drawing a rose.

This is it, he thought. Depending on her answer, we’ll either have to look for another solution, or for ways to protect ourselves the moment they turn their backs on us.

With shaking hands, he ripped open the envelope, taking the letter from inside. An immense relief coupled by a healthy dose of anxiety rolled off of him in waves when his eyes scanned over the words:

“Dear Sir,

I accept your proposal.

We shall meet in a week’s time.

Cordially,

Lady Arcana.”

Preparing themselves for a possible betrayal, it was.

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

Making it to the outskirts of Amity Park was a hassle Danny hadn’t anticipated. If it weren’t because a group of mysterious women and a ghost suddenly appearing in their lab, in front of the Fenton Ghost Portal, wouldn’t fly with his parents, Danny would’ve actually sent the witches there.

Then again, guiding Skulker out of his family’s ghost portal and around town until they made it to their destination was no picnic, either. Especially since the hunter kept giving him the stink-eye and challenging his authority; questioning his motives for choosing him, of all people, as the sorceresses’ escort.

On top of that, the hills surrounding Amity Park really were the perfect place to meet up with the magic users while keeping the secretive nature of their encounter. Not only were the hills a good forty minutes away from the closest highway, a dense forest grew there, protecting its visitors from curious, unwanted eyes.

“For the last time, Skulker, I am not throwing you to the wolves!” It was the tenth time since they left the Ghost Zone that the ghost had accused him of using him as a decoy. “Seriously, will you drop it already?”

The hunter crossed his arms in a disbelieving huff, “Well, forgive me, your Majesty,” he mocked, “for suspecting you of using this as an opportunity to get rid of one of your detractors.” His glowing green eyes narrowed in distrust.

It was only 11AM and Danny was already exhausted. Technically, Skulker wasn’t exactly a detractor of his rule. When push came to shove, he was always easy to convince to lend a hand in times of needーsuch as now. Having said that, their mutual respect and the halfa’s position didn’t stop Skulker from hunting him for sport now and then. “Listen, me choosing you has nothing to do with your personal feelings about me. You’re really the only one I could send to guide the witches through the Ghost Zone.”

“Nice to know I’m so easily disposable…” Skulker quipped sarcastically. “Why not ask your canine companion for help?”

“Come on, you really think I could send Cujo to do this job?” Danny asked, unamused.

“I was actually talking about Wulf, given he’s the only ghost capable of creating portals.” Skulker met his expression with a raised eyebrow of his own. “I can’t believe you’d actually mix them up.”

Danny actually flushed at that, “W-well…Some ghosts have so many things in common, i-it’s a little bit hard to follow without enough...details…”

The hunter took offence to that. Huffing, he shot the halfa a glare. “Well, excuse us for ‘having so many things in common’”, he air-quoted for emphasis, “not all of us can manifest into the body of a human youth, whelp!”

Exasperated, Danny ran a hand through his hair, sighing through his nose. “I still can’t believe Ember hasn’t dumped you yet…” he muttered under his breath.

Unfortunately for him, Skulker heard him just fine. “Says the boy who hasn’t had a girlfriend since he was fourteen.” Seeing the ghost boy’s offended expression plastered a smirk on his face.

“Why you littleー!” Danny stopped himself before he’d lose his cool. If dealing with Skulker, a ghost he’d known since he was fourteen, was proving to be frustrating, he didn’t want to think how meeting up with the queen of a feuding tribe would be like. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he gave it one last try. “Look, Skulker. As much as I’d love to bicker with you like an old married couple all day, we really don’t have time for this. You’re here because you’re one of the most versatile ghosts I know. If there’s anyone capable of handling a group of spellcasting, broom-riding, black-cat-owning ladies, that’s you.”

Before the metallic spectre could so much as get a word in, the young Ghost King leapt into the air after making a show of looking at his ーinexistentー watch. “Oh, look at the time! The witches will be here any minute now. Better hurry back into the Ghost Zone. See ya!” With a mock salute thrown at Sulker’s general direction, he was gone in a blur of black and white.

The hunter was about to take off after him when, from the corner of his eyes, he noticed three cloaked figures approaching. Well, he sighed in defeat, it’s showtime.

Sam arched a questioning eyebrow at the ghost standing on the appointed place. He looked like the lovechild of Terminatra, one her favourite monsters of all time, and a G.I. Joe. With a flaming mohawk worthy of the Ghost Rider himself. In a way, she guessed it was fitting. Her lip curled in disgust when she eyed the arrangement of weapons strapped to his person; a hunter, no doubt.

If the Ghost King expected to scare her and her guards with such a pathetic display, he had another thing coming. Any other would be at the very least intimidated by the ghost’s burly figure and his imposing aura, but to women who battled grotesque creatures resulting from spells gone wrong on a daily basis, that was nothing.

After getting the approval of the Council for her “little expedition”, Sam recruited two witches: Susan Zhou and Stephanie Baker. To an outsider, taking only two other people with her to face such a powerful entity as Danny Phantom, in unknown territory, no less, would seem foolish, even suicidal. But Sam was no outsider; she knew exactly what she was doing.

Susan was Wilhelmina’s apprentice, and therefore, the clan’s next Ministre of War and master potion-maker once her mentor passed down the mantle to her. Short in height, tall in ambition, the Asian girl’s brown eyes were calculating and, if you were foolish enough to cross her, unforgiving; but full of warmth and mischief if she considered you a friend. She held her black and red-dyed hair in a pair of identical buns, one on each side of her head. Susan always favoured comfortable clothing most people would dedicate solely for doing exercise; you never knew when you’d have to exert yourself, she always said.

Despite being only seventeen years old, she already displayed great proficiency in the art of combat, her dexterous fingers useful both for brewing concoctions and sporting weapons. Susan’s family emigrated from China in the early 19th century. After much traveling, they stumbled upon the origins of what would become Amity Park, where the first members of the clan had already settled. Upon finding out the Zhou family weren’t just witches but also warriors, the coven welcomed them with open arms.

Warrior blood ran through her veins. It was no wonder their war-oriented council member had personally chosen her as her protegée.

Stephanie, however, was more of an intellectual. The 21-year-old woman was an avid reader who spent most of her time holed up inside the manor’s archives, where the spell books and records on their clan’s history were stored. The only other person who knew the place better than Stephanie herself was Delilah, who was actually its guardian. But since Sam couldn’t risk leaving her people without a member of the Council, due to her departure being risky enough, she asked Stephanie for help instead.

In truth, everything about the young woman screamed bookworm. Stephanie was a rather plain-looking girl, with a lanky figure and a long face, whose pale blue eyes were hidden behind a pair of oval-shaped glasses. Her straight, strawberry blond hair reached a little past her shoulders, and she was wearing a purple and white striped t-shirt with an equally purple pencil skirt and white sneakers.

As soon as they neared the place where the ghost was standing, Sam nodded at him in acknowledgement; a mere formality given her low opinion on the spectre, which, she was sure, was mutual on his behalf.

Eyes narrowed in suspicion, Skulker warned the witches in his care, “No funny business, ladies. Or I might consider reforming my island so I can have more pelts hung on my walls.” He sent them a malicious grin.

While Sam rolled her eyes at the unnecessary threat and Stephanie flinched away from him in fright, Susan bore her teeth in aggravation. “I’d like to see you try, ghost.”

Both teenager and hunter stared the other down, but before they had the chance to jump at each other’s throats and brawl, the Witch Queen raised a placating hand, effectively telling her subject to stand down. Still, Susan would’ve given anything to wipe that smug look from the ghost’s face.

But Sam really hadn’t the time to keep those two in check. Focusing on the energy within her, she blocked everything around her, every possible distraction, out of her mind. All that mattered was her connection to her anima. Once she felt the familiar tingling of power, she extended a hand: Stephanie’s signal to take the magic grimoire out of the duffel bag she carried and hand it to her queen with a bow of her head.

Skimming through the pages, Sam stopped when she found what she was looking for. A section of the spell book portraying the silhouette of a person in front of a swirling opal, several runes surrounding it.

The spell to open up portals.

Once upon a time, any witch would have been able to conjure the spell without the need to check it out in a book, but ever since witches and spectres parted ways, her people no longer had the same use for it anymore. Nowadays, it was an almost forgotten practice.

Taking a deep breath, Sam extended her free hand in front of her and chanted, “Alium se orbem terrarum ad ianuam.” Soon, a familiar sparkly, violet mist emanated from her fingertips. The manifestation of energy rose into the air until it was the size of an average person, and then began to spin up and down, until a portal was in front of them.

Stephanie raised a confused eyebrow at Skulker when she thought she heard him mutter something along the lines of, “Show off”, but squeaked and looked away when the hunter lay his own eyes on her.

Handing the book back to the bestacled girl, Sam motioned for them to enter the portal. What they saw on the other side left them speechless.

The Ghost Zone was nothing like they had imagined. Instead of a clear difference between earth and sky, their world’s parallel dimension seemed to consist solely of a never ending abyss composed purely by ectoplasm, the most reminiscent thing to a floor it had being a few beat-up pathways made out of rock.

Floating in mid-air were all sorts of lairs. Some, like a faraway island in the shape of a skull, far more pretentious than others. Judging by how scarce those were in comparison to the countless doors with no building to be attached to in sight, Sam figured the more powerful a ghost was, the bigger its lair would be.

Which bore the question: what would Danny Phantom’s lair be like?

Sam was snapped out of her thoughts by the ghost hunter suddenly materialising in front of her. Susan was about to unsheathe a few of her most lethal potions when the apparition simply showed them the way with a motion of his hand. “This way.” He turned around and began walking, after a minute or two, though, he turned his head to them, “Oh, and by the way, if any of you is afraid of heights, you’d better not look down.”

Stephanie gazed down, unbidden, and almost fainted. Below them was nothing but an endless abyss, no land on sight. Feeling queasy, she squeaked, “Dutifully noted.”

They walked along the rocky path for what could’ve been hours or mere minutes, the absence of a sun making it difficult to accurately pinpoint the passage of time. After what felt like an eternity, Skulker abruptly stopped, almost making Sam and her entourage bump on him in the process, pointing somewhere in front of him.

“Well, this is it, ladies. The Ghost King’s lair.”

Standing proudly on top of a drifting piece of land was a brick three-story building. If Sam hadn’t known any better, she’d think she was looking at an apartment complex, rather than a king’s castle. Then again, Skull Island ーas she lovingly nicknamed the placeーwas very tacky for a powerful’s ghost lair, so for all she knew the building before her could be the latest scream in home decor in the Ghost Zone.

While it was a mostly modest space, the highest floor in particular stood out for its large picture windows, which were at least three times bigger than the rest. “That must be Phantom’s chambers”, the violet-eyed girl guessed. “Overseeing your subjects, eh, your Majesty?”

When they arrived at the door, they were momentarily startled when it opened on its own accord. The Witch Queen scoffed at her own ridiculous behaviour; she’d seen and done way scarier things on Halloween, for fuck’s sake! Once inside, Skulker guided them through several corridors, taking so many turns in so many different directions it was enough to render anyone disoriented. As they strode down the halls, Sam took notice of how...sterile the lair was. Most walls were bare of any decorations, at most they’d have some sort of blue wallpaper on. The few walls with paintings hanging from them were decorated by rather impersonal portraits: a picture of an ectoplasm swirl here, a portrait of a shapeless ghost there… Instead of a castle interior, this looked more like a cheap Halloween haunted house.

The place was so barren that she noticed the shift immediately. Suddenly, before her were two large, mahogany doors, which, once again, opened without any exterior help, revealing the throne room.

While still impersonal, the space was much grander in every single sense of the word. Granite, Corinthian columns stood proudly on the sidelines. Several tapestries depicting what Sam could only guess was Danny Phantom’s battle against Pariah Dark and a few other adventures she couldn’t recognise hung from the ceiling. Right in front of them a red velvet carpet was rolled down until it reached the throne itself ーa rather modest metal chair with black velvet upholsteryー where the infamous Ghost King was seated on.

Upon their arrival, the ghostly monarch stood up in respect. “At least he’s not arrogant enough to forsake manners”, Sam quipped internally. Standing at both sides of him were a bipedal, arctic-wolf like creature with an arm encased in ice, and a blue spectre wearing a hooded outfit, a sceptre in hand, whose physical form was constantly fluctuating between child, adult, and old man.

As the Queen and her companions neared the throne, and hence, the so-called Hero of Amity Park, she took him in. Snow white hair, glowing green eyes that appeared capable of staring right through you, a black and white hazmat suit over a well-built physique… Yep, in front of her was Danny Phantom, alright.

The only thing making it obvious that she would be addressing the Ghost King instead of the most controversial public figure in town was a very minor, yet significant, change in his appearance.

Draped over his shoulders was a cape, white on the outside and black on the inside, with two verdigris medallions which had engraved that wretched logo of his keeping the garment in place with the help of a chain. Resting on his shock white hair, reflecting the item’s otherworldly glow, was the Crown of Fire; its green embers burning almost as intensely as the Phantom’s radioactive green eyes. The crown’s partner, the Ring of Wrath, surrounded his white, gloved ring finger. One could feel the raw power emanating from its green material. The mere sight of the engraved skull and its unforgiving, blood red, ruby eyes was enough to send anyone subjected to it running.

But there was no way Sam would ever run away after making it this far.

Danny observed patiently as the Witch Queen and her two companionsーonly two?ー arrived before him. Once they were eye-level (or as eye-level as two people could be when someone was standing over an incline) the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park took off her hood. At the sight before him, Danny had to fight very hard to suppress a sharp inhale in surprise.

He supposed that, in hindsight, expecting the queen to look like an stereotypical wrinkly old lady was a tad narrow-minded of him, but in all fairness, nothing would’ve prepared him for the person standing right in front of him.

Upon taking off her hood, silky, raven hair came cascading down until it reached a little past her shoulders, the strands and diamond-shaped fringe framing her heart-shaped face. Smooth, ivory skin contrasted greatly with the mop of hair, black as night, resting on her head. Her full, velvety lips were emphasised by her purple lipstick. And her long, mascara-coated lashes surrounded a pair of amethyst orbs. Those had to be the most tantalising eyes he had ever seen; a galaxy of mystery lay hidden behind their depths.

Lady Arcana was the kind of woman he would’ve tripped himself over for, back in high school. Now a college student...he might’ve signed up to a couple of classes that had absolutely nothing to do with his degree if it meant seeing her again.

Looking down, and praying to all things above him it wasn’t noticeable, he took notice of what the sorceress was wearing. The Queen was wearing an off-shoulder ball gown, of a pale violet in colour, with a sweetheart neckline. The bodice hugged her body until it flared down into the skirt. Adorning its neckline and hem were embroidered black thorns. Resting on her head lay a silver tiara, with diamond-shaped obsidians running alongside the top ornament, and a noticeably bigger amethyst in its centre. A black and glittery cloak, resembling the night sky, rested atop the young witches’ shoulders.

Beautiful, yet deadly. A clear warning against the Queen of the Witches of Amity Park: get too close, and you will regret it.

Knowing they had much to discuss, the halfa bowed down before her, with a hand behind his back and the other in front of him, making a flourish, as a sign of respect. “Lady Arcana, it is an honour to have you here.”

Sam and her entourage curtsied in response. “King Phantom, the honour is all mine.”

“I will cut to the chase, since the circumstances are unorthodox enough: my people need your assistance.”

Well, at least he was direct… “And what, exactly, is that which you need help with, your Majesty? As much as I would like to aid you, there is not much I can do without knowing the details.”

“And you are in your right to question that, but first…”

With a motion of his hand, a green-skinned, red-eyed maid wearing a blue dress brought a smaller chair close to the king. When his eyes landed on Sam, she understood that was meant for her. If there was one thing experience had told her, that was that being invited to sit down meant it was going to be a lengthy discussion.

When Lady Arcana had sat down, Danny continued. “Now, that’s better.” Seeing her unresponsive expression, he cleared his throat nonchalantly. “What we need your help with is the Ghost Zone’s portals.”

The violet-eyed girl raised a confused eyebrow at that. “The portals?”, Phantom nodded. “But, King Phantom, my people have not had anything to do with your world in centuries! Today was the first time in over three-hundred years that anyone used a spell meant to open portals.”

Leaning forward in an attempt to appear closer and not intimidating, trying to get the witches to underestimate him per Frosbite’s suggestion, Danny explained. “My apologies, your Majesty, I did not mean to imply your people were responsible for the problem. No, what I mean is that only your people can help us control them.”

Sam didn’t understand where this was going. Taking her silence as permission, Danny went on, “As you know, the Ghost Zone has been opening up portals to Earth for millenia, however, many more gates have been opened as of late. Many more than any previous date has ever registered.” Understanding dawning on the queen’s face, Danny pressed. “We wish to ask you to help us close and pinpoint the cause for such bizarre occurrences.”

Sam had mixed feelings about the proposal. On the one hand, random portals opening up was never a good sign; the space-continuum fabric was very delicate. But, on the other hand, her people would gain nothing from it. Nothing but endangering themselves by putting their lives in the hands of ghosts. She had to make sure her trip hadn’t been for nothing and that her people were truly safer for it.

Resting her elbow on the arm of her chair, her legs crossed in boredom, Sam appraised the apparition before her with a pensive frown. “And how exactly, pray tell, would my people benefit from assisting your kind, your Majesty?”

The way she basically spat the word didn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired half-ghost. He narrowed his eyes on her. “Well, your people,” he snarled in return, “would be safe, of course.”

Sam’s hopes plummeted. He was all talk, just as she feared. ‘Her people would be safe’? Was he threatening her? Please, they were already in danger solely from his knowing of their existence, let alone their headquarters! With a huff, Sam stood up from her chair. The conversation was over. “Thank you for having us, King Phantom. But I am afraid we must depart.”

Although the original plan was to ask them for help and look for alternatives were they to refuse, seeing the queen walking away from him stirred a primal fear in Danny. Somehow, he knew she was the only one who could help him. They were doomed if he let her slip away. “Lady Arcana, wait!”

His frantic call got Sam to stop. Looking over her shoulder, she gave him her full attention. Seeing he had caught her interest, Danny insisted. “When I said your people would be safe, it wasn’t an empty promise: the sudden appearance of portals is a sign that something is amiss. The more portals open, the more unstable our world becomes.” What he said next was chilling enough to elicit goosebumps to run down their spines. “The Ghost Zone is a parallel dimension to Earth, if our realm is destroyed, so is yours.”

Sam’s eyes widened at his words, even Susan couldn’t stifle a startled gasp. If what he was saying was true, then her people were doomed, regardless of how well-kept their secret was. If she refused his proposal, her subjects and the other clans all over the world would pay greatly for her mistake. However…

Her gaze hardened, determination motivating her actions once again. In the off chance that Phantom was only making things up to get her to agree, she needed to ensure her people wouldn’t pay for her mistake. And there was only one way to do it.

Taking firm steps, she walked resolutely to where the green-eyed spirit stood. Staring deep into his eyes, she made her counterproposal. “Very well, I shall help you with your problem.”

Before Danny could let out the breath he didn’t know he was holding, Lady Arcana spoke up again. “But in return for my services you must ensure my people’s safety. Under no circumstances will anyone discover our existence or whereabouts. We already have to deal with a witch huntress coming after us.” She could’ve sworn the king choked at that. “If I find out our way of living has been compromised in any way, you and your kingdom are all alone. Now,” she extended her hand for him to shake, “do we have a deal, King Phantom?”

Danny eyed her suspiciously. Her violet eyes simultaneously held a fiery temper and cold determination, even with his powers, he could sense there’d be Hell to pay if he didn’t keep his part of the deal. Then again, everything they’d ever known was in danger, even if the Queen couldn’t care less for the Ghost Zone and its inhabitants, and her request was what any sensible and caring leader would ask for. On paper it looked like the perfect compromise…

He just hoped he didn’t come to regret it.

Holding the witch’s hand in a firm grip, he shook hands with her. “We have a deal, Lady Arcana.”

#Danny Phantom #DP #dp fanfic #my fanfic #your heart #amethyst ocean #danny fenton #sam manson #Paulina Sanchez #star #star dp #skulker #ocs #ghost king au #ghost king! danny #witch queen sam #witch queen au #enemies to friends to lovers

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lostbbygorl · 3 years ago

Text

LOOK WHAT THE RAIN HAS BROUGHT (LEVI X F!READER):

AU: PRIDE AND PREJUDICE BY JANE AUSTEN

~~~~

The dark gray clouds that hung in the sky perfectly described the mood of the young woman who ran as fast as she could, hot tears streaming down her rosy cheeks, and feet aching out of exhaustion. But no matter, she still ran with her burgundy dress so soaked she was positive it even reached her corset. The rainfall grew heavier and heavier by the second.

At last, Y/N reached the pillars in the vast garden that offered her some shelter. Her back hit the walls with an inaudible thud, and she shut her puffy eyes and felt pure misery as well as icy rain.

Her head hurt and her mind raced with depressing thought after depressing thought after depressing thought… and then anger!

Levi Ackerman was behind her dearest sister, Christa’s, unhappiness!

Christa had previously been madly in love with Ackerman’s bestest friend, Erwin. The entire family was expecting a proposal when Erwin explained his departure from Trost in a letter which broke Christa’s heart. Christa was still mourning over the man as he had left so suddenly and with barely any explanation. Seeing Christa so broken had dampened Y/N’s mood as well, and now that she found out that the man she most hated was behind this outrage, she wanted to burn all his miserable property to the ground!

Speak of the devil.

Just as the rainfall had gotten calmer, Y/N noticed a figure dressed in an expensive black suit approach her. Even in the pouring rain Y/N could make out the expressionless, solemn, infuriatingly handsome face of Levi Ackerman: one of the richest but also one of the most arrogant, rude, and unfriendly men to walk on earth.

Levi’s usually neat hair was tousled by the raindrops, and his usually spotless attire was spoiled by the mud he was trudging on to reach Y/N. Still, the young woman jumped slightly at the intrusion of a deeply vulnerable moment.

Levi didn’t notice the woman’s tears or her red eyes. His mind was too preoccupied with the heavy confession and proposal he had planned.

It was the two of them alone now, just as he had always wanted it to be. Levi took a deep breath, and with a soft gaze, he stared into Y/N’s eyes.

“ Ms. Y/N, I have struggled in vain and I can bear it no longer”, he started, still very much focused on the young woman’s eyes, completely oblivious to her now confused expression.

“These past few months have been a torment. I have come to Shiganshina with the single motive of seeing you, I have to see you”, he continued, surprising not only himself but Y/N as well. Levi had never confessed feelings to anyone, especially not deeply romantic ones. Y/N was different. She made him feel warm. She made him want to come out of his comfort zone, and she brightened his day whenever they met with her charming wit and honesty.

“ I’ve fought against my better judgement, my family’s expectations, the inferiority of your birth, my rank, and all these things and circumstances I’m willing to put aside. I ask you to end my agony”, he finished. He thought he made himself very clear. Apparently not.

“ I don’t understand”, asked Y/N, confused and with no hint of anger in her soft voice. Y/N always was sharp and intelligent. 9 times out of 10 her intuition and hunches were right, but god she hoped that wasn’t the case now, as this hunch seemed absolutely ridiculous!

Levi was screaming inside, but as always, maintained his perfect composure. The time had come, and for the very first time, he was about to say three words he had never ever dawdled on in his life.

“ I love you”, he breathed, his stoic expression softening further. His usually cold expression melted into one of sincere affection and hopefulness. But Y/N wasn’t impressed! Her prior anger had returned, and this time, it was more intense than ever! With her mouth agape, Y/N stared at the man in front of her with eyes as wide as saucers.

“ Most ardently”, Levi cut through the white noise that was the rain with his crisp, deep voice, gray orbs never leaving Y/N.

“ Please do me the honor of accepting my hand”, Levi requested.

“ Sir, I”, she stuttered, her mind reeling once more. She was repulsed, but she’d be maintaining her composure too. Y/N decided to gracefully reject his proposal.

“ I appreciate the struggle you’ve been through and I’m sorry to have caused you pain. Believe me, it was unconsciously done”, she said, her tone as cold as ice. Levi was taken aback. He hadn’t expected such a cold, curt response to his proposal. Now it was his turn to have his temper rise…

“ Is this your reply?”, he asked still in disbelief

“ Yes, sir”, Y/N confirmed

“ Are you laughing at me?”, Levi asked, his heartbeat quickening

“ No”

“ Are you rejecting me?”, he said, his already pale skin growing paler, making him look like a ghost.

Y/N didn’t know what part of her response wasn’t going through his skull, and decided to make her point clear once more, this time with less civility.

“ I’m sure that the things you’ve told me which hindered your regard will help you in overcoming it”, she spat, riling Levi up more.

“ Might I ask why with so little endeavour at civility I must repulse?”

“ And I might as well enquire why with such evidence of a design of insulting me you chose to tell me you like me against your better judgement”, Y/N spat back, all composure gone.

“ No, believe me, I didn’t mean-” Levi began only to get off by a fuming Y/N.

“ If I was uncivil then that’s some excuse, but I have other reasons, you know I have”, Y/N shouted back, pouring all her frustration and unheard thoughts onto the man.

“ What reasons?”Levi asked, genuinely lost.

“ Did you think that anything would tempt me to accept the hand of the man who has ruined the happiness of my dearest sister, perhaps forever?”, Y/N finally voiced, lips quivering.

Levi made a little “oh”, realizing what put a damper on their possible relationship. Still, he didn’t back down. Levi may have been in love with Y/N, but his stubborn nature and pride made him refuse to let her off. He didn’t let anyone win in a fight, not even Y/N.

“ Do you deny it, Mr. Ackerman, that you’ve separated a young couple who really loved each other, therefore exposing your friend to the censure of the world for caprice and my sister, to its derision for disappointed hope?”, she began again, this time with a slight cry in her voice.

“ I do not deny it”, Levi deadpanned.

“ How could you do it?”Y/N demanded with a soft voice.

“ Because I believe your sister is indifferent to him”, he said honestly.

“ Indifferent?”

“ I watched them most carefully and realized his attachment was deeper than hers”

“ That’s because she’s shy”, Y/N yelled!

Levi took a second to process her words. That may be true, he thought, but still, he wouldn’t give up.

“ Erwin, too, is modest and was persuaded she didn’t feel strongly for him”,

“ Because you suggested it”

“ I did it for his own good’

“ My sister hardly shows her true feelings to me”, Y/N exclaimed, shaking with a rage so pure she could hear her heartbeats in her ears!

Levi’s eyes widened, and he was unable to close his mouth. He realized the depth of his mistake, and internally cursed at himself when he realized that this mistake was nearly impossible to fix. But even now, he still had one last argument to make, and this argument was the strongest and most heartfelt of all. Infact, even Y/N didn’t have much in her mind to counter it!

However, before he could speak, Y/N started talking again.

“ I supposed you suspected his fortune had some bearing on the matter”, she accused.

“ No, I wouldn’t do Christa the dishonor”, he denied, almost offended.

“ But it was suggested”, Levi admitted.

“ What was?”, Y/N asked, loudly, her previously hung head now erect.

“ It was made perfectly clear that an advantageous marriage-”

“ Did my sister give that expression”, Y/N was outraged!

“ No, no, no”, Levi countered, trying to calm her down.

“ There was however the matter of your family”, Levi added. He knew it’d make things more heated, but he had to be honest. Honesty, brutal honesty to be specific, was something Levi was always known for.

“ Our want of connection? That Mr. Smith didn’t seem at all bothered by?”

“ No, it was more than that. It was the lack of propriety shown by your mother, your three younger sisters, and even on occasion your father”, he revealed. The look in his eyes was one of regret yet sternness. He knew that his words had deeply hurt Y/N, perhaps more than hers had hurt him. Y/N was grossly offended! How dare this snobby man insult the people she held most dear? How dare he hit her with the cold truth that she herself knew deep down…

Y/N remembered how boisterous and embarrassing her family was being at the ball where she and Mr. Ackerman had first met. Everyone was staring disapprovingly at them, and some of the wealthier attendees had whispered amongst themselves about her younger sisters. Y/N knew her family had a lot of improvements to make behaviour wise, but that didn’t stop her from feeling hurt.

" I’m sorry”, Levi apologized. He truly was sorry, but he couldn’t change the truth or take back his words.

“ You and Christa are excluded from the category I put the rest of your family in”, Levi added, hoping it’d make things better.

It had done nothing, as Y/N still had more points up her sleeve.

“ And what about Mr. Zeke Yeager?”, she questioned. Zeke Yeager had charmed Y/N months ago, and told her about how Levi had wronged him so terribly without reason. The mention of his name had hit a nerve in Levi. What was that expression on his face now? Jealousy, bitterness?

“ Mr. Yeager?”, he repeated.

“ What excuse do you have for your behaviour towards him?”

“ You take an eager interest in that gentleman’s concerns”, Levi seethed, confirming that he was indeed jealous. Levi strode up to Y/N, shortening the gap that was between them before Yeager was brought up. Levi’s eyes searched for any hint of pettiness in Y/N’s. Maybe she was just as stubborn as he was and continuing an argument that should’ve been resolved by now. But no, to his sadness, Y/N’s eyes were full of affection for Yeager, and anger at Levi.

“ He told me of his misfortune”, Y/N said.

“ Oh, yes, his misfortune is big indeed”, Levi scoffed sarcastically.

“ You ruined his chances and yet you treat him with sarcasm”, Y/N noticed with disgust.

Levi wanted to scream and tell her that her impression of Yeager was completely wrong and that she was deceived. He wanted to defend himself, but for the first time in his life, he couldn’t bring himself to do that. Levi’s stubbornness faltered, and he felt that winning Y/N’s heart would be near impossible now. There was so much she didn’t know, there were so many misconceptions she had, and there was so much she had against him rightfully. Levi hid the sorrow in his heart by letting his usual monotonous tone return to his voice…

“ So this is your opinion of me”, he asked, trying to sound calm and indifferent, but accidentally letting a sliver of sadness seep into the question. Y/N noticed everything, but she couldn’t get herself to care about his feelings right now. She was seeing red, but so was he.

Y/N’s silence agitated the man more.

“ Thanks for explaining so fully. Perhaps these offences might’ve been overlooked had your pride not been hurt by my honesty in a bit of a scruple about our relationship”, Levi let his tongue fly! He knew his words had stabbed Y/N in the same places hers had stabbed him! He couldn’t keep his calm anymore. His patience and grace was tested, and now Y/N would face its consequences.

“ Could you expect me to rejoice in the inferiority of your circumstances?”, he questioned, his voice raising with each syllable. Y/N could feel tears welling up inside her again. My god, she hated this man. He insulted her family and status, then proceeded to hurt her pride and scathingly expose it, and now he was showing his superiority complex!

“ These are the words of a gentleman?" Y/N wondered aloud, her glare burning holes in Levi’s face.

“ From the first moment I saw you your arrogance, your conceit, your selfish disdain for the feelings of others made me realize that you are the last man in the world I would ever be prevailed upon to marry”, she yelled! As always, Levi was silenced by a remark made by the spunky, sharp tongued Y/N L/N. Levi’s heart was glass, and Y/N had dropped it on the floor without a care in the world. How could he have been so stupid to think he could lash out at a woman as strongheaded as Y/N, insult everything she held dear, an get away with it with no harm done? Y/N’s glare lost its intensity as she blinked a few times. Her sight didn’t leave Levi, but it faltered. Levi came even closer to her. Even though she had left scars on his heart, even though she had yelled at him and called out every single one of his biggest flaws, he loved her. He wanted her, and he warmed at the thought of being with her. He looked longingly at her lips, then her eyes, and then her lips again. There was no touching, but Y/N was disarmed.

She felt herself softening, and for the first time she noticed Levi’s attractiveness. Like a magnet, she subconsciously felt herself nearing Levi’s lips. She was attracted to him, yes, but she hadn’t forgotten the prior row, and that stopped her from closing the gap between them officially. She didn’t pull away, much to her surprise, Levi did.

“ Forgive me”, he said once again, knowing she wouldn’t forgive him so easily, but still meaning the apology. Now that his head had cleared, all the most miserable emotions hit him like a cane. There was sadness at the rejection, bitter jealousy at Y/N’s affection going to Mr. Yeager, the pain of having one’s pride being minced to shreds, and of course: heavy remorse for yelling such mean things at the woman he loved…

“ I’m sorry for taking up so much of your time, madam”, he whispered loud enough for Y/N to hear. And then he walked away without taking a single look back, leaving Y/N to drench in the rain some more.

Y/N stared at his back as he walked away, thinking of the argument and her feelings towards him. She didn’t understand how a man could infuriate her so much, but still disarm her with barely any effort and make her feel intense warmth.

Meanwhile, Levi’s heart cracked with every step he took. His love remained the same, even worse, it grew more severe. He wasn’t sure he had given up on winning Y/N over, but for now, he’d give her space, and pray to any lord up in the heavens who’d listen to him to change Y/N’s opinion on him, and to make him a better, more deserving man so that he could have her and make her happy, and of course: to make Y/N forgive him for all his grave mistakes which had caused this mess.

#aot fanfiction #aot x y/n #aot x reader #captain levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader

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literameera · 4 years ago

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White Sails

2433 words

The oceans going to swallow him whole some day and only then could he die happy.

Caspian already gave his soul to the sea, his first great love. Initially I was excited for him and how he got to live out his dreams. He’d write to me about his exploits, I’d gasp and laugh when appropriate, as if he can see, and finally when the stories ended, I’d write to say that I’ve been living the same way: wake up, work, eat, sleep and mostly anticipate. He’d tease that I live like a widow refusing to believe her husband's dead, wasting away staring out the window, hoping for him to someday return to her. Like the ship of Theseus every time he left a part of him had been replaced, how long has he been a man I couldn't recognise, a ghost wearing my lover’s skin.

Only the wooden planks stepped on by Theseus himself belong to the original ship, the rest are imposters high off the glory of His name. Your skin cells regenerate every twenty-seven days – and it’s been longer than that since my hands held his, the wind already swept all memories of my words from his mind. He can only belong to one and she’s infinitely larger than me. To him, her cold embrace feels like coming home. It’s selfish – I’d remind myself – selfish to want to steal what makes him happy all because I feel lonely, he’s loved the ocean long before he’s loved me, and he will long after. I can only hope she’s kind when she does finally take him. I’ve heard that saltwater burns your lungs and that a body only sinks for a moment and as it fills with water it floats to the top, I don’t want them to find his body, he wouldn’t want them to either. I hope his clothes weigh him down and 80% becomes all of him, that he sinks to Atlantis and the sun never feels him again, we don’t deserve it.

But then he comes home, the wind in his hair, salt clinging to his skin and horribly chapped lips, he kisses me hello and I get a taste of what he feels. He tells me he’s missed the warm water from the shower while I wash his locks, that his land legs haven’t grown back yet so can I hold on just a little tighter ‘to make sure I don’t fall of course’. I tell him our neighbours' gossip and he laugh and gasps when appropriate and says that he’s missed the shop at the end of the street, in the morning he’ll grab groceries and those chocolates he’s loved since he was a kid, and some things never change. When it’s quiet and we lull we watch the sun set, sitting on a linoleum countertop in the kitchen, he glows orange in its light and tells me he’s missed me.

When a whale dies its body sinks to the benthic zone, there where there’s no sun, no blood, no heat, no me, or him the oceans creatures eat on its flesh, their entire life's sustenance reliant on an animal they’ve never seen alive and blobfish get their namesake feature from the rapid shift in pressure, they essentially burst while being pulled up by fishermen. The universe is kept spinning by forces we don’t know and can’t name and one day the sun could burst, and we wouldn’t know until 8 minutes later when its light should touch us and won’t. But it did that day, the light travelled through a solar system to shine on him, and shine on me, and that’s how we met. It was fate. Eight years later it’s still fate when Caspian wakes up beside me, his skin a warm brown, like the terracotta pots he brings back to accommodate my ever-growing garden, and his tousled hair a sun-bleached orange, the roots betray their natural umber colour (the same as the eyes he was currently hiding behind tired palms), men like him are born out of stardust, and they can’t help but to replicate its heat. He’s looking at me now, his warm hands place a stray strand of my own umber hair behind my ear and pauses on my cheek, my bronze skin a slight contrast to his, brown eyes reflecting brown.

‘Let’s go over the plan, alright Leya?�� He breaks the silence, ‘we’ll lock up, give the keys to Theo and Honora, they promised to water our plants and dust the place while we’re gone, we pick up your jumper from the market –Eilidh promised it’ll be done by then- and then it’s me, you and wherever you can land your finger on a map.’

‘Yeah, I can’t wait. Me, you and The Caspian’ the smile I give him falters and my bottom lip trembles. He frowns.

It was my idea to come with him, I was tired of being alone and he was tired of forgetting synonyms of vast for his letters home, I knew he exhausted all the ways to say I love you when he started to transcript theology to me:

‘They believe that next to Christ, that’s what they call him, there was a man that lived in sin, two in fact but only one of them matters. They don’t know anything about this man, not even his name, except for his last words. And they were that of forgiveness and salvation. A man whose entire history is left out of the book that chronicles it. We know nothing of his home, his family, his life, not even his crimes, but we know that he loved and was loved in return. I don’t believe a lick of it but by God these people are good storytellers.’

I did want to go. Maybe the second I see the flickering reflected crescent moon on the ocean waves I’d decide I never wanted to leave, that the past 25 years of living and four years waiting can all be justified by that one experience. But I also couldn’t just leave. He was the one with adventures and loose ties and sea salt, and I’m the one that waits. The diligent partner with a cup of tea and open arms for him, who were we if not that? Who am I without anticipation and loneliness? For years, my life was contingent on feeling and watching a ticking clock, and now I just get to be free? It doesn’t sound real. It doesn’t sound fair on the woman I used to be, the one still waiting. He knows how I feel, he must, from the furrow of an eyebrow I know he’s got me pegged.

‘Remember the night before I left- the first time that is- and I kept going over lists, obligations and checking everything twice, I even meal prepped your food for months in advance. And you told me everything will still be here when I get back...’ He pauses to hold my face in both hands, brown eyes locked on brown eyes to make sure I was listening, ‘everything will still be here when we get back. If you don’t want to go that’s fine, we won’t, I’ll spend the next six months right here with you, and every day after that if you want me to. I’m tired of you being alone. But if you do want to go... We lock up, see the world and come back, it’s that easy.’ With that he kisses my temple -the most delicate part of the head – and climbs out of bed.

Honora and Theo promised to give all the leftover perishable foods to the family around the corner, they have seven kids and not enough to feed them all. They also ensured once a week every plant will be watered, all letters brought in, and the surfaces periodically dusted. The jumper Eilidh had made was beautiful, she told us wool is preferable when wet because it resists water and keeps you warm. She made it green, in case I miss the trees, and Caspian paid her double. I had hoped the air would be electric, brimming with something, as if it knew I’m leaving this time too. Everything was the same, same as it's always been and same as it always will. And I won’t be, I’ll go out there, replace my ships planks and come back me, but not wholly or maybe as more, and if Caspian’s with me the whole time who would notice the change, all of my red strings connect back to his.

It was half a day's journey to the port, and I felt it all. At some point my head was pulled to rest on his shoulder and every time the sun shone particularly bright he held a hand over my eyes to shield them. When we were close to enough to the sea to smell it, the briny tang light in the air, he came into himself, as if he swallowed sunlight, and grinned.

I hate this. Caspian told me I will at first, I haven’t got the familial love he has. A runaway father that was only 19 when he met his future wife at the port. The family was forcibly moved to a landlocked town when opportunities dimmed and Caspian's childhood was spending every holiday possible making the hours long treks to the beach, with just enough time to wiggle his toes in the sand and swallow lungsful of water when learning to swim, and when he was older it was learning how to sail with his father. Finally, it’d get too cold to continue so his mother would swaddle him in towels and place him on her lap, until he eventually grew too big for her, together they’d watch the sun set. He told me once that it was like the water was just a mirror and everything radiated pink and orange and golden hues until finally... darkness, and there was twice as many stars as usual. Then they’d go home and count down till the next summer. His love was intergenerational, it’ll grow on you, trust me. But it won’t, I hate this. I feel sick & disoriented, it’s too loud and quiet at the same time. Like when people move from a bustling city, heavy in smog and movement, to a quaint village, and there they find the crickets and pollen too much to bear. There was none of the sounds I was accustomed to and all too many of ones I wasn’t. I can’t even swim.

How did we plan for weeks and not think that I would need to know how to swim?

Caspian had finished prepping the sails and letting us go in the wind's direction, promising he’ll take us as far East as he can find – and then carry on. He had tried to explain all the terms to me, but words like ‘jib’ and ‘hull’ and ‘tiller’ easily slipped out of my mind like water. Instead, I stood by the helm and just watched him work, focusing on the beads of sweat running down his forehead and pushing supper down as far deep as it goes, as to not ruin this for him. When he had finished, he gave me the tour, showing me the saloon, where to cook, where to rest, where to pray, how to store in such a small space and when I was overwhelmingly exhausted from the information swimming in my head, he grabbed some pillows and blankets and led me back to the cockpit. There he prepped everything like it was our bed at home and laid down, gently pulling me down with him, our knees were bent awkwardly, and we were closer together than usual. That’s when I understood When I was younger my mother would bring me to visit her friends and after the initial gasps and hugs and ‘my how you’ve grown!’ they would largely ignore me to talk to each other. One of her friends, Mariam, had a baby boy that would sleep in a wooden bassinet pushed to the wall closest to where I was sitting, when he did stir, they’d finally address me again and tell me to rock him slightly, let him be lulled back to rest. Here, we were lightly rocked side to side by Poseidon himself and entire galaxies shining down on us, like a sleeping baby in a bassinet. I didn’t know there could be so many stars and still such a vast darkness. Caspian told me about the constellations he knows and the ones he’s made up, his own mythologies mapped out above us. And when I was too tired to listen, eyes drooping and his words bleeding into each other he tenderly held my elbow to help me up, shifting so I could rest my weight on him, and walked me to the bed, trying as best he could to push my dead weight into the cramped space. Leaving only for a moment to bring the pillows back in, before climbing into bed besides me.

The next morning, we stopped on still waters, and he taught me how to swim. In the afternoons, after I showed him my grandmothers' recipes for the cold, he tried to teach me more sailing terms and by the evening I’d read to him under the dimming light, I’d have to stop after a moment, too nauseous to read the words. It was a routine we near perfected in a month. I could tell he was happy; he was drowning in it. Shockingly, I was too, a saloon that smelled like garlic and spice, secured down potted herbs, dry storage spaces filled to the brim with my books, and his slow breaths when I should be asleep, was enough. On days the wind was too bad to pause he’d make me use the knots he taught me and shout what I need to do if we tip over, the exhilaration was more than anything I’d ever known.

Resources would run low, and he’d dock in the port of a country I'd never heard of, a culture unfamiliar and language unknown. With limited communication and lots of points & smiles we’d buy what we need and when our food was restocked, I’d ask to stay a few days more. We’d integrate ourselves in the local community and learn how to say ‘hello’ and ‘thank you’ and plan to return in the holiday season. We’d make pocket communities across the world and relish in hot water and write letters to the people back home.

#tw religious themes #tw death mention #tw drowning #writing #writers #writers on tumbr #prose #writeblr #studyblr #white sails #ask to tag

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schrijverr · 4 years ago

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Can’t help it

How Blake befriended Scho through sheer stubborness and touching.

On AO3.

Ships: Blankefield (could be read as platonic)

Warnings: WW1, PTSD. Tell me if I missed anything or if you want me to tag something!!

~~~~~~~~~~

William Schofield didn’t know what to think about Thomas Blake. The man, more a boy, was soft, cheerful, full of life, all the things you wouldn’t expect or want in a war-zone, but it made Blake, Blake and Schofield couldn’t find it in him to want to change the other man.

Another unexpected thing that came with the blaze that was Blake, was his love for touching people, in particular Schofield.

It had started the moment they had met, really. Schofield had been lying in a field looking at the clouds go by and telling himself that he should get up, do something useful at least, but still he didn’t. He just lay there and watched the clouds.

Then a shadow fell over his face and before he could react there was a pain in his side and a yell above him.

Within seconds Schofield was on guard, ready to fight this new threat, but it turned out not to be a threat at all. In the grass opposite to him was a soldier, English uniform, cursing a bit while rubbing his head.

When the man turned back to see what he had hit, his eyes widened and he quickly said: “I’m so sorry. I kicked you, I totally kicked you. I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there, I was looking at this map and I wasn’t paying attention at all and I should have been paying attention, but I didn’t and I’m so sorry. Oh and you’re a Lance Corporal, I’m so sorry, sir.”

As he was spewing words, he had pulled himself up to his feet and Schofield as well. He also had put his hands on Schofields shoulders and checked him over while he rambled apologies. Although he did let go of Schofield shoulders when he noticed the rank of the man he had hit and did a quick salute with his last words.

For a second Schofield just stood there, quietly and unblinking as he tried to process what had just happened.

The longer he said nothing, the more anxious the other became, he noticed how the smooth forehead got wrinkles and how the soft jaw clenched with stress. He then realized that he should probably say something, so he settled on: “It’s okay, I probably deserved that for lazing around. You can stand down.”

With his words the other relaxed as he let go of the salute. Then he smiled and he seemed even younger then before, he held out his hand and said: “I’m Private Blake, Thomas Blake. I came in new with the others to supplement the forces after the Somme.”

Schofield tensed a bit at the mention of the Somme, but he couldn't find it within himself to blame Private Blake when he smiled at him like that. So he grabbed the extended hand and said: “I’m Schofield, William Schofield.” then he went on and asked, “What were you trying to do with the map?”

“Oh,” Blake looked surprised at the sudden question, and frankly so did Schofield, he hadn’t been talking much since the Somme and most of his left over comrades had learned to leave him be, so the fact that he was offering up conversation at all was noteworthy, not that Blake knew that of course.

He just went on to explain: “I’m trying to figure out where we are, but all the fighting has deformed the land so much that it’s kind of hard to pinpoint, but I guess I’m mostly trying to look busy so they won’t send me out to do something. Is that bad?”

Schofield smiled a bit at the innocent question before saying: “That isn’t bad at all, mind if I join you?”

Blake shook his head and allowed Schofield to walk next to him, unconsciously bumping their shoulders together as they did.

After that Blake just kept showing up everywhere. He was there when Schofield was assigned to dig the trenches, he showed up at the mess when Schofield was getting dinner and he sat down next to him when they had time off.

Always with a story that needed great gestures, always nudging Schofield with his shoulder, elbow or hands, always pulling him along to something he absolutely needed to see and always with that smile.

Schofield didn’t understand why the boy kept coming back and he was desperate not to figure it out, because he would have to grow close to the other in order to do that and the last thing he wanted was forming an attachment to someone out here.

He used to have a few friends, before the Somme, but everyone he was close with had died, so he had vowed to not grow close to someone again. Everyone here was a person on borrowed time, just waiting till the final day when the war would become too much.

So, no attachment to Blake, not if he could help it.

He couldn’t help it. The boy would just show up and start talking to him, nudging him and Schofield couldn’t help it, he laughed, he smiled, he acknowledged the person next to him. Everything he had decided to do was thrown out of the window the moment the other pushed him away while giggling after a bad joke.

Schofield was finally getting a bit over the apprehension of forming a friendship, when the Germans attacked. As soon as the first bomb landed a cold hand gripped Schofields heart as he silently prayed for Blake to survive.

It surprised him that he prayed, he didn’t believe in God, not anymore, and not only that, he had also prayed for another life instead of his own.

After the attempted siege of the Germans, Schofield walked through ruined trenches along the bodies of fallen men, in search of his friend. His insides felt hollow as he tried to remember where the other was supposed to be before the attack.

He knew he shouldn’t have tolerated the endless chatter or the small touches that made him feel human, he knew that befriending Blake was a bad idea, because he was sure that the other hadn’t made it and he was alone again. He wouldn’t have been alone again if he hadn’t befriended the other, but here he was.

Hollow and alone.

He slumped down on the ground, it would be pointless to find Blakes body. He didn’t need another ghost to haunt him in his sleep, to accuse him off surviving while they couldn’t. Blake was always pure and seemingly uncaring of the violence around them that needed to be preserved in Schofields memory.

He later learned that Blake survived the attack and was promoted to Lance Corporal, same rank as Schofield. He didn’t go looking for him. No, keeping his distance was a safer route, a route which could hurt him least when the inevitable came.

Blake didn’t agree.

It was only three days after the attack that Schofield is awoken on an early morning by a foot nudging his side. Once he had grudgingly opened his eyes he was met by Blake, arms crossed and determined look on his face. Blake stated: “You’ve been avoiding me.”

Schofield closed his eyes again and ignored the younger soldier. He was nudged again, but he didn’t react.

That didn’t sit well with Blake, who had gotten used to Schofields company, his surprisingly dry and funny comments or his silent acknowledgments that Blakes story was being listened to as well as the way his face would loose a bit of the lines when he would slightly lean into Blakes touches. It was strange, how a person could crave both touch and isolation.

Set out to fix whatever happened to his friend, Blake crouched down in front of him and placed a hand on Schofields shoulder, the other on his chin, forcing Schofield to look at him. The stubborn man kept his eyes close. Blake pouted and said: “You’re gonna have to open your eyes at some point, Scho, and I’m not leaving until you do.”

Schofield was determined not to give in, but not reacting also felt wrong, so he said: “Piss off, Blake.”

“Why?” Blake asked, “Just a few days ago you smiled when you saw me, you know how long it has taken me to get there? You’re always frowning, you’re gonna look eighty soon if you keep doing that.”

Schofield ignored the ribbing, but cracked open one eye to suspiciously glare at Blake. It didn’t work, because Blake smiled when he did so, completely ruining the attempted effect and lowering Schofields defenses.

He quickly closed his eyes again and stated: “It’s unwise to form attachments, I don’t need to worry about your life when I should be worrying about my own. Now, piss off, please.”

Blake put the puzzle pieces together. The lives lost at the Somme, the detachment to reality Schofield had when Blake first met him, the unwillingness to socialize, the recent attack.

It all clicked.

He sighed softly and let go of Schofields jaw, when the hand left Schofield unconsciously leaned forward a bit, chasing the contact, Blakes sigh deepened.

When nothing happened for a few more moments Schofield opened his eyes to shoot Blake a questioning look. Blake said: “I missed you, Scho. You can’t just laugh at my jokes and then go. I got a letter this morning that Myrtle was expecting, but no one who I told cared.”

“Really?” Schofield asked, he couldn’t help it.

He had to listen to Blake ramble on about his dog every day and through the stories he had gotten quite attached to the dog. Blake brightened immediately and said: “See, you care. Come on, my presence can’t be that bad.”

Schofield rolled his eyes, then he looked down and quietly asked: “But what if you die?”

Blake let go of Schofields shoulder and knelt down in the grass, knees bumping Schofields thigh in the process. He hardened his jaw and stated: “I’m not going to die.”

Schofield raised an eyebrow at him, but the knot that his heart had been tied in loosened at the factual manner it was said in. The odds of surviving were low, but Blake was convinced that he was going to survive and Schofield couldn’t help, but believe him.

Then he smiled and said: “Okay, but only because I will be saving your dumb ass.”

“Will not, I can protect myself, thank you very much, Lance Corporal Schofield.” Blake pouted.

Schofield rolled his eyes and said: “If that helps you sleep at night, Lance Corporal Blake.”

Blake smiled: “You noticed! I was gonna wait to tell you until you addressed me as Private, just to throw it in your face, but you are one observant little bugger.”

“I’m taller than you.” Schofield shot back.

Blake waved it away: “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Come on, we are digging more trenches today, to help fix the ones destroyed in the attack.”

“What? Why?” Schofield said as he grabbed the hand Blake was offering him to get him up to his feet.

“Cause I volunteered us.” Blake said with a grin.

Schofield blinked a few times then he said: “Why would you do that?”

“Well, it gave me an excuse to talk to you without you running away and if you were a dick it would be a punishment for you.” Blake said like it was the most natural thing ever.

“I hate you.” Schofield told him.

Blake pushed him and said: “No, you don’t.”

Schofield was quiet, but didn’t deny it. He just walked next to Blake with his little touches here and there and listened to the other mans chatter. It was just how it was, Schofield couldn't help, but follow Blake wherever he went.

It was good and he hoped it would last forever.

#RR writing #tw: war #tw: ptsd #will schofield #tom blake #blakefield #1917 movie #1917 #is this fandom still here?

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thepaladincosplays · 4 years ago

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The Wraith Order

A small coalition of Ghosts founded by Pariah Dark, the Wraith Order are part of the next generation of Ghosts from the Ghost Zone. A mysterious individual leads their group, and even they know little about him save for the fact he fought against the ever famous Danny Phantom. Last seen fighting against the Men in White, along with other various Ghost Hunters, their current location is unknown.

Demetri Technus (17) is the group’s information specialist and tech expert. He has a bit of a snarky attitude with the second-in-command of the Order. Much like his father he’s capable of manipulating technology, though he specializes in overshadowing and traveling through it in order to obtain intel better.

Boyd (18) is the group’s muscle. Physically the largest of the Order, Boyd goes above and beyond to ensure that the group follows their leader’s orders to the letter. He’s not above using threats and violence to get the others to listen, though Duchess has been trying to convince him to ease up on being so strict.

Rachel 13 (15) is the group’s newest member and spy. She likes to cause trouble for anyone that happens to cross their path, often going a little too far and needing to be reigned in by Boyd. As the youngest she’s also considered the most immature by the others, though that isn’t far off from her general behavior.

Duchess Dark (17) is the group’s second-in-command, often mistaken as the leader of their group. She’s unafraid of bossing her comrades around, often using her commanding tone to “guide” them to listening to her. She answers only to the leader of the Wraith Order or her father, though the latter seldom contacts her. Above all else she wants to impress her father and curry his favor.

Jason (17) is the group’s main weapons expert and the group’s tactician. He’s usually the one to come up battle plans the most, as well as get away plans in case they need it. He’s normally the one who talks Demetri into plans he’s not comfortable with, and they’re often paired together for stealth missions. He tends to keep the group’s weapons under strict lock and key.

So yeah, here’s a group of next gen Ghosts I’ve been working on for a hot second. They’re all gonna be the main focus for my next big story, The Fog. If you have any questions feel free to ask!

#thepaladinrambles #the wraith order #demetri #boyd #rachel #duchess #jason

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missksj · 5 years ago

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choose your hero!nct127

ﾐ☆ genre: punch inspired!au, video game au!, superhero au!

ﾐ☆ word count: 7k

ﾐ☆ warnings: mentions of greatest fears and nightmares, fighting, death, light smut but nothing too vivid, and sm ceo and dispatch make an appearance ew i know

ﾐ☆ author’s note: ah my first nct 127 headcanon and second creation on this site! yes i know it’s been a long time coming since punch dropped but ever since i saw the music video, this idea popped into my head. i heard of other nctzens talking about this aesthetic when mentioning the mv, but hopefully you like my take on it! please enjoy and look forward to more writing from me in the future! thank you so much! ps this is not proof read yikes sorry

Velvet clouds of psychedelic purple with the scattered rays of sunset hues made an unnatural background for the logo’s electric lettering with lightning strokes cracking the static screen in your stuffy apartment. Outside was a different matter. A thunderstorm jolted the placid crimson sky to a violet that only nature could create, although the graphic designers of PUNCH: NCT 127 came close. It was rather befitting for the stark opposition of the hurricane raging outside to the retro sparking aesthetic that you’ve witnessed for the ninth time, and it was the most pivotal. It was as if the thunder was the applause, the lightning rallying behind you, the pelting of the raindrops reverberating the hammering of your heart. Almost victorious in a way, the non-player hero that lurked in the background of the other eight paths taken would finally be the alternate hero to your player. He was a prize in the reverie that you constructed solely from his brief bio to the artificial mannerisms and quotes that he generated in the story lines which enabled you to project your fantasy on mundane men. The comparison was cruel, fictional characters were even crueler. Nimble fingers and darting eyes fell into a comfortable routine, familiar with the introduction story, it was a race between the controller’s buttons and the spiteful lightning that would sever the power.

[FOR OFFICIAL USE ONLY]

[PROPERTY OF THE NCT 127 DIVISION UNDER THE SM AGENCY]

PRIORITY IDENTIFICATION

[NAME]...F/N L/N

[ID #]...07201607

[STATUS]...Active

[CLASS]...Agent

[ALIAS]...Punch

[TEAM AFFILIATION]...N/A

Welcome to the NCT 127 Division, Agent L/N. I am Lee Soo-Man, the Director of the SM Agency and your guide for your latest mission: THE FINAL ROUND. On behalf of the whole SM community, we apologize for the abrupt summoning, but your presence and skills are crucial if we are going to defeat the DISPATCH terrorist. For too long, the person that cowers behind the mask that claims itself DISPATCH has tormented South Korea for too long, and only you can stop them. It cannot be done alone though, if you so choose to take on this responsibility, I will assign one of the nine superheroes of your picking to share this task. Do you accept it?

CLICK [YES] TO CONTINUE

CLICK [NO] TO RESTART

I am pleased that you have accepted the assignment. For the duration of the mission, the NEO ZONE will be the location of the base for you and your partner. Intel, equipment, and training will be at both of your disposals. Now that you have been briefed on all inner workings of the mission and the NEO ZONE, there is one last obstacle until you defeat the enemy. The selection of your partner is based on compatibility and trust, I implore you to consider wisely until you make a final decision. The designated superhero of your liking will be under one of two teams, FUTURE OR DREAMER. Both equally beneficial, but the bonds of loyalty run deep between the members, you have to determine which one of their morals you value more. Heed my warning though, with the right set of skills and talent, you and your partner will be unstoppable but tread lightly your connection with him. After all, you are his only weakness. Which team and hero will you choose?

CLICK [TEAM FUTURE]

CLICK [TEAM DREAMER]

You now have the option to choose your hero.

Before your perplexed mind could comprehend the change of dialogue, a streak of lightning had pierced the stillness of the undisturbed bedroom and released the tempest that was once contained to reality. With the abundance of consuming darkness, shards of glass pricking your paling skin, and tree branches pounding for entry--your white knuckles and twitching eyes fathomed the only connection you had with actuality; a plastic controller and the flickering avatar of your destined hero you chose only seconds before. Your heart had been thumping, not from the anticipation of a new adventure, no, it was pure fear that jolted your numbed muscles to sprint to sanctuary. The thunderstorm mocked your failed attempt at fleeing as another surge of electricity enveloped the room in white and sparks rippled at your ankles as you ran away but the tethering currents from the screen wrenched you back.

SOUL TRANSFUSION NOW COMPLETE_

Team Future

Taeil

Power: Pyrokinesis

A very vocal opponent when he’s on the battlefield, you might be on the other side of the area but you can always figure out where he is located by listening to his strange grunt/growl combos, enemies usually have to process the inhuman sound that came out of a small man but you just roll your eyes and toothy grin grows as you run to him for back up

Says “let’s get it!” any chance he gets, always attempts to make it your team chant before going on a mission but everyone votes no, even you

Loves to wear long sleeves as a staple piece of clothing despite his already burning temperature, he claims it eases him as if it were security blanket, and he enjoys when you tell him he looks adorable with his sleeved paws

During winter though, he always has to stock up on sweaters because you are always stealing them, whether it’s the feeling of his residual heat ghosting over your skin or look of complete adoration glazing over his eyes as he devours that look of yours, it’s a great excuse to wear one

If you had to assign ‘roles’ in the relationship, you would so be a top, he’s the most chill boy out there as you throw tantrums or squeal out of pure joy when you are finally promoted, it’s either purring hums out of his mouth or a silly smile as he gazes at you

Physical affection is minimal between you two unless you initiate it, but it’s mostly wrapping his arm around you, it’s in no way conveying that he doesn’t love you, but rather love to him is experiencing moments with you, making memories while watching a funny movie or dancing horribly to a playlist he created

An exception is when you end up falling asleep on the couch as you two watch a movie, he secretly loves to carry you back to bed as he tucks you in and truly soaks in what you mean to him

His hair gradually transitioned to its current red as his powers grew throughout the years and he would always dye it but his genes overpowered any artificial color, not until you said you liked his hair like that, he decided to keep it

King of making you smile especially when you are down, he can’t stand seeing you sad so he insists on becoming a goofball until your sides hurt from laughing so hard

Takes training way too seriously, you always start off competing but by like the 100th crunch you are wiped but he’s still going

Becomes sulky when his Disney Hades costume doesn’t come out as planned because his fire is red and not blue, but it was the best decision ever when you suggested Ghost Rider for the Halloween party, Taeil never looked better with just a leather jacket covering his bare skin

You finally convinced the clothing department to give you a fireproof uniform because Taeil has really bad aim, and your clothes are rags after a mission

Figured out you had a crush on Zuko when you were younger, so he would rewatch it with you and definitely cosplay Zuko, perhaps even role play with it if it’s something you were into

Having sex with Taeil was searing pain shooting through your thighs, tender love handles, heaving chests and lactic acid seeping through your muscles as he cheered you onto the last lap--it was a workout in itself with a sweltering room that reflected his aroused emotions

Both of you are constantly battling, whether it’s a rap battle or a cooking battle, Taeil is in love with the passionate side of you

Breakfast in bed is a tradition held during the weekends, he says he loves to spoil you but he just loves tasting his own food while you give him compliments on how delicious it is

Taeil is usually saved as a last resort for dangerous group missions, you’ve heard stories of his past battles as if he were legend already, but you’ve only witnessed his true power once by scorching down the enemy in one go, flames clawing his body as the inner glow within him exploded like he was a supernova--someone had to drag you out before the building collapsed on itself from the stifling heat and the roaring fire

You pinch his bouncy cheeks as often as possible just to see him roll his eyes while he fights off the widening smirk that makes his doe eyes curve into crescents, but it’s the blooming crimson of his cheeks that you indulge in, lightly sizzling your fingertips until you can’t take the pain any longer and yelp slips out, but Taeil swiftly swoops in and kisses your fingertips in an apology, it was a good pain though

It’s a normal night for both of you, 2 AM and your blabbering about everything and nothing, and Taeil always ends up the saying the same line to you as he coaxes you to sleep because he knows how grumpy you become in the morning, “I’m grateful we’re together, who would make you a fire if you were stranded on a deserted island? You definitely can’t, so, hmm, I guess it has to be me”

Johnny

Power: Lycanthropy

You’d suspect him to be bear when he morphed with his build and height, but he’s a hulking chestnut brown wolf with gentle eyes

Basically a puppy on steroids always expects a treat and good belly rub after eviscerating all his targets

Has the ability to shift at will, so during winter nights you can find him nestled around you for added warmth

During the colder months, he usually wears knitted sweaters and oversized coats in his human form because it reminds him of his fur, and he claims he likes to keep you warm while he holds you in any form

Creates video tutorials of both of you sparring with each other, lots of constructive criticism and compliments on your ‘form’

Begs you to ride him into a mission just for the sake of it, he can so see you as a badass warrior on their monstrous steed

Johnny’s favorite time of day is during the end when you wind down with him and you tell him every detail of your day despite you two being joined at the hip as partners

Always asks questions out of plain curiosity and simply in love with the sound of your voice, it’s the equivalent of you petting his sweet spot on the back of his ear

Without a doubt, he howls in bed while having sex, he’s always teetering the edge of shifting and even though you repeatedly tell him it’s fine to let go, the splintered wood of the headboard and floating feathers of a slashed pillow is evidence of how much concentration he puts in to keep you safe

Manicures and pedicures on a regular basis in the Suh household got to keep those claws clean

Adamant about not getting a pet dog with you, his excuse is he would get too jealous of another canine but his stance is weakening with your improved puppy dog eyes

Multiple jokes about ‘starting a pack’ with you

While in his wolf form, he can understand human language but he doesn’t have the ability to communicate, so both of you rely on subtle gestures

Naturally has a small smile, always nudges you with his snout, and whenever you make a joke to him, he bears his canines that are frightening to most but to you it’s comforting

Johnny’s greatest fear is if you two are ever in an argument and his anger blinds him to the point of him unconsciously shifting and accidentally harming you

Even clumsier in his wolf form, he doesn’t realize actually how massive he is which makes him a hazard to normal-sized beings

Gets most of his stances and moves from the wolves from the twilight series, he won’t admit but he’s certainly inspired by them

Sexual appetite is at a peak when the full moon comes out, growl central!!

The most treasured item you two have is a portrait of wolf-Johnny on his hind legs, attacking your face with slobbering kisses and you grinning brightly because nothing can compare to the bliss of that snapshot

Taeyong

Power: Superhuman Speed

After every assignment, Taeyong’s personal mission is to dote on you, this usually happens by using a covering or his own jacket and slinging it over your shoulders, if there is grime or blood on it, he lets out soft ‘sorry’ even though you always tell him not to

He knows it’s his job, he understands the need, but that doesn’t mean he is comfortable with the bloody side of it, and so he loves talking to you after incidents, your voice is soothing and it helps him process all the trauma, he says it’s for your sake but you know in these moments you are his crutch and you gladly accept the job

Naturally, a faster walker than you so he always manages to be a few feet ahead of you, but when he sees you fall behind, he holds your hand and tugs lightly while matching your pace

After enhancing his speed, he always has flushed cheeks and a glossy sheen across his forehead, so you make it a habit to kiss his forehead, cheeks, and lips to cool him down

It doesn’t work, his heart his pulsating harder than ever and does that exasperated airy laugh as an attempt to stabilize his heightened emotions while walking away so you don’t witness his even redder face

You give him piggyback rides after missions, his energy is basically depleted by then, so a jacket for a piggyback ride seems like a fair deal even though he fights you the whole way but you know he adores being cared for

You were the one to convince him to dye his hair pink in an effort to have an easier time spotting him during assignments and now he’s pink blur racing off to defeat villains

When he lightly peppers kisses on your face, the smacks get louder until he finally lands on your lips and it’s the most exaggerated sloppy sound he can make while he squeezes your cheeks

Weekdays for him are for cooking dinner, and you occasionally join to help him but mostly it’s him feeding you bits asking if everything is seasoned well and by the end, he is cursing because half the dinner is already gone

Type of boyfriend to remember you mentioning something you like and a few days later, he buys it for you or he randomly buys you things that remind him of you and leaves it for you as a surprise

Always doodling on you or leaving you notes with drawings so he can remind you that he loves you or to hydrate

After stressful missions, he just plops on top of you, his nose inhaling your scent as he forces his heart to match your rhythm, it lasts for about twenty minutes or until he can finally recharge

Taeyong’s gym locker in the NeoZone is plastered with couple photos of you two and photos of you modeling or candid while he directed you with his camera

The only way you can convince him to give you ten more pushups or five more pullups is if you bribe him with kisses and it always works

Very sacrificial, it’s one of his main flaws, he’ll get super flustered and annoyed when he sees you in the line of fire, so he’ll ultimately take all the heat and scold you after to put yourself first

His face usually has a cold blank stare to it as he observes his surroundings but once you collide into him and coil your arm around his, he grows this massive grin that only you can create

Never takes advantage of his speed with you, his surroundings are always in a constant race and he’s always anticipating the next move, but with you, your a serene presence washing over him; calming him, grounding him to capture every moment of you so it isn’t a blur but a vivid mural

Definitely tender and sensual in bed, once tried to spice things up by using his speed but he almost broke you, so now he only changes his pace if you request it

With your head on his chest every night, the last thing you hear before you fall asleep is the rapid thumping of his heart; it’s the only lullaby you’ll ever need

Yuta

Power: Supernatural Swordsmanship

Cut his hair with his kodachi and you most definitely needed to clean up the edges

Villains dread combating with Yuta, not just because he’s insane with a sword but he only talks about you and your relationship while fighting as if the opponent will answer his question of whether he should give you a cookie or ice cream cake for your birthday or even both

Rather than making you feel better when you feel down, he would be your soundboard, a shoulder to cry one, a great pair of ears; patience and multiple ‘mhms’ as you unravel your worries while his fingers swirl on your thigh and he kisses your temple

You two could be on opposite sides of the room but his eyes would always gravitate to you and he would wait until you notice so he could meet your gaze and he would do the dorkiest faces, especially his famous lion rawr aegyo, it makes you realize how good of a father he would be

Goes wild when he sees your body tremble beneath him as the cold metal of the kodachi glides along your skin

The only thing rivaling his love for you is his love for his katana, it’s bond that can never be severed and it’s a trust that only develops between soulmates, you could never understand but you accept and allow it to be the third partner in the relationship

It shouldn’t be possible for Yuta to look like a prince walking out of an otome game right after a battle, but there he is, glistening skin with swept hair and twinkling eyes as he sheathes his katana across his back as if he’s going to ride his horse in the Sengoku period

It’s usual occurrence to catch him absentmindedly talking to his katana, you wouldn’t be surprised if it could talk back, he can summon it by hand already, that sword and he shares one brain cell but he usually uses it as a mirror

You’re a killer couple, not only with looks and fashion but it’s quite a sight to experience as you shoot a bullet to his katana so it can ricochet at a target eighty feet away

Manages a rigorous training session before you wake up and when he’s done, he ends up collapsing on top with his sticky body as you screech at him to get off

The training facility in the NeoZone is rarely used because Yuta is a big believer in fresh air and beautiful scenery will motivate you more, so your sparring on the edge of cliffs and sprinting along the seaside

Alternates between reading books with you outside in your backyard with a makeshift picnic or both of you cuddled in bed with the open windows and the only source of light is the sun

If you have missions abroad, he convinces the agency to always give both of you one day free so you can act like tourists, nobody can say no to his dashing good looks and he knows it

One year for Christmas, you got him custom made tiny katana earrings and it’s literally the one pair he uses now, at least on his lobe

Yuta isn’t the overbearing type when it comes to jealousy, he shouldn’t have a say in what gender your friends are but when he sees a certain person obviously flirting with you it just takes slight glint of his katana to blind the intruder and they are already scurrying off

Gets a kick out of playing real-life fruit ninja

Decided to shave a slit in his eyebrow with his katana one spontaneous night, he got out of the bathroom with a huge grin and asked, “does this make me look more badass?”

Your hands always end up somewhere around his stomach, gliding across the lean muscles, squeezing around his hips, twiddling his piercing, you name it, you can’t keep your hands off him

Nakamoto Yuta is a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, the pang of fear thrills you as you witness his lack of mercy and fiery anger at injustice as he slaughters anyone that stands before him, but that wicked glint in his eye softens just for you and then you see the scrawling of your name engraved on the hilt of the katana, and you know you are the only one that knows the true Yuta and you feel so blessed

Doyoung

Power: Precognition

You beg him every possible waking minute for him to allow you to do his makeup if only to contour his insanely sharp cheekbones, he finally relents but he has a scowl on his face the whole time

You’ve become quite a baker with Doyoung but he always has to guide you so his arms snake around your waist as an excuse yet he acts completely innocent when he knows it makes you distracted

Playlist for every occasion, especially when he’s having sex with you, the house ends up feeling hollow whenever he’s away without his angelic voice but to your surprise, Doyoung leaves you secret audio files lulling you in a trance

His mouth becomes a cherished part for you, especially the way the corners of his lips curl up naturally, the small smirk instantly widening when in front of food, or the blinding white teeth as he’s gritting them when approaching an orgasm or laughing at you, not with you

It takes about five minutes for Doyoung to arrange his plushies in the right position so you both don’t ruin them as you cuddle

One arm draped over a plush and the other wrapped around your back, or him in a fetal position with his plush embraced into his chest as you act as the big spoon

Hand holding is strictly for the bedroom with him, but he knows you admire his hands often, so he’ll have him some type of connection with you when out in public; whether it’s his pinkies wrapped around yours, curved into the loop of your pants, or his delicate veiny hand wrapping around your sleeve

End up catching him more than once, gushing over the phone with his brother about how in love he is with you and you may not lurk in the background for a few minutes until you interrupt the conversation by saying hi to Donghyun

Downtime for you two is building a puzzle, coloring some pages, playing board games and him smug with his victory, watching some documentaries or kdramas, and if you two bought some new furniture for your renovating house, he would most definitely want to do it by himself as you laugh while handing him pieces

Manages to still be shy when you both kiss, it’s you who initiates the subtle peck on his pouting lips, but soon the soft curve of his lips invites you more while your hands cup his warming cheeks--he’s a contradiction of being timid but with all the confidence as he nibbles your lips as if you were a delicacy

Training for you two equals nap time, his power allows him to rely on his mind rather than his body, so when you ultimately force yourself to exercise, Doyoung is laying on the couch, lazily cheering you on

Always giving you little compliments in your earpiece as he guides you around for a recon mission, and still holds his breath when he tells you about the unforeseen event that you need to be prepared for even though he knows you can handle it with ease

Studies multitudes of intel before a mission because he can never be too prepared, and it eases his nerves knowing that he can take every precaution in ensuring your safety

Would dedicate a photo album of himself on your phone, and even send you his recent selfies, telling you to choose one of them as an updated contact photo

You clown him 24/7 but he clowns you right back, it’s always a constant playful banter between you two, his eyebrows would furrow when you called him cute, the trembling of lips broke his facade, and when he does it to you, you essentially become his baby as he bites your cheeks but tell no one or he would deny it

From the moment you two wake up until you both arrive at headquarters, he has sullen look across his features, he would brush his lips across your temple and a hoarse good morning would escape his mouth in a notion to acknowledge you, but until he gets coffee in his system his energy hasn’t been restored yet, but your use to it as you tug him to the break room with his lidded eyes

Alone time is a must for you two, it could be both of you in the same room doing your own thing without communication or different parts of the house or mostly you would leave to run errands and Doyoung stuck in his room, but at the end of the day he crawls to you and says a small ‘hey’ as if his day just started from the moment he set eyes on you

Doyoung was always on alert, aware of incoming predictions that he had no say in but easily accepted, it’s a strain on his mental being, a reason why he needs to center himself by being alone, but then you come

Your blank, just like him, you’re unpredictable and foreign to him, but it’s not until you two kiss for the first time, that a hazy premonition reveals itself in a form of two children that share your hair but his feline eyes, it’s fragile though and uncharted, he knows that he needs to do right by you to get to the last level that seemed like paradise to him

Team Dreamer

Jaehyun

Power/Being: Android

During his exoskeleton stage, Jaehyun requested that the scientists create dimples during his living tissue transplant because he heard “they’re to die for”

Definitely thought it was a weapon utilized to kill his enemies

You make a habit to poke at his dimples until you feel the exoskeleton underneath, an oddly comforting sensation that makes you realize that Jaehyun doesn’t have a heart but his actions say otherwise

Literally the personification of steam coming out of ears in cartoons with scalding red tips, this only happens when you’re in danger or when he sees you in what he perceives as provocative

It took five hours to draw an array of tattoos on him for a disguise on a reconnaissance mission, and a certain neck tattoo was going to make you abandon the mission and your sanity

Sadly, he had to erase them because the “the bad boy” persona was an official disguise in his hardware and couldn’t be revealed to the public

Jaehyun kept one design, however, a soft beauty mark on the apple of his left cheek, he claims it’s your signature as his owner but you like the word partner better

Programs all your training sessions and signature moves to his hard drive because he believes there is no better instructor than you (except Bruce Lee)

The first time you helped him clean his internal munition unit, you couldn’t decipher any of the weapons so you gave them your own personal nicknames, he kept correcting you but he got tired so he now calls them “wholly fist” and “boom boom pow by the BEP”

You joke around with him that because he was created on valentine’s day, he should be credited as a sexbot but he always frowned at that comment until he figured out he could turn the tables on you by saying “I could be your sexbot”

Whenever he sees another person eyeing you in what he perceives is attraction, he activates his instant kill function with laser red eyes and declaring “target locked”

Suave and intimidating when you two first meet but truly transformed into a ‘soft boy’ after downloading your Pinterest board

Whenever both of you are out in public, eyes ogle him and mouths gawk, but Jaehyun is oblivious to it all until he turns to someone and starts up the most wholesome conversation about something mundane and you know that person melts with ease because Jaehyun was built to reflect human nature, but he was doing better than most in your opinion

Lots of arcade dates with him, he quickly figured out the algorithm of each game just so he can overflow you with gifts and so he can show off his basketballs skills because he knows you love eyeing his arms in action

When he’s with you though, he’d rather listen and absorb every action and word that you produce, he wants to immerse himself in you because he truly believes that you are all that is good about humankind

Archives every single detail that you speak, and replays it for you when you forget something or to prove you wrong, there is no in-between

Robot sex!!!! That drilling option though...oof

The moment he realizes the blaring internal alarm warning him of his elevated temperature and the shorted circuits whenever you are near, he correlates it to what humans label “love” so he downloads files on expressing these so-called feelings

Instead of saying “I love you”, he says “I dopamine, serotonin, oxytocin you” when he first confesses, and you assume there is a chemical imbalance within him so you rush him to the infirmary but for the first time, Jaehyun stalls and his eyes are clouded with retrieved information glowing neon green until he settles on “I love...I love...I love you” (yes, he stole it from Mr. Darcy, so sue him, he’s a fracking android)

Jaehyun sometimes doubts his ability to love you and even you sometimes question if you can love a piece of metal, but then you observe him before he joins you in bed that he triples check his instant kill function is disabled and he gushes about the new song he discovered and you are so sure that he was made for you

Jungwoo

Power: Lightning Bolt Projection

Gets easily flustered with the most pouty lip ever when you call him ‘Zeus’, it was his failed superhero name when he was trainee, but to you, he is much better than that jerk of a Greek god

Dressed up as the actual Zeus once for the office Halloween party and the year after that as a lightning bolt and you a storm cloud

Whenever Jungwoo craves attention but you’re occupied with another task, he repeatedly zaps you, not enough to harm, but until you cave in yet when you want to be annoyed with him, his owlish eyes and trembling lips easily subdue you

Your shoulder is a sacred space for him, it's the perfect fit for his head to settle in with a toothy grin and the warmest ‘mhms’ as he listens to you speak

Jungwoo was never much of a fighter, his powers were swift enough to eradicate enemies with not much mobility, but training sessions with you were more than enough of an excuse to spend time with you

Lately, your skin has been electrifying, not only the amorous glow you were emitting, but everyone you came in contact with felt a slight spark

Hair treatments are a must, the frizz is wild with Jungwoo, you really need to ask about his hair products because his hair so fluffy despite the amplitude of currents running through him

While brushing your teeth with him, he always shoots out finger hearts to you and winks through the mirror, it’s a great way to start the day

Never felt more grateful for his power until you were attacked on an assignment and your heart failed, it took four shocks to revive you with streams of tears and muttering to any God to hear his prayer

He’s most himself in the rain, umbrellas have never been on your shopping list

Definitely shoots bolts out of his finger guns and then blows on them afterward, if he’s feeling flirty, an added wink explodes your heart

Your biggest cheerleader when you are kicking ass during a mission

It’s a tradition for him to rake his fingers over your back with slight ripples of electricity while you cuddle in bed, it does wonders to relax your muscles

It’s been months of practice to improve his bolt voltage and range, but he finally managed to write ‘I love you y/n” in the sky, he couldn’t help it, he’s bursting at the seams with adoration for you

Both of you in the kitchen is a sight to see, you season but he cooks the food, his specialty is slightly charred chicken

Packs both of your lunches so you can eat together on break

Gets scared easily and as a result will discharge a lightning bolt as a defense, so pranks are off-limits between the team members

Literal sparks when you kiss, numbing and exhilarating as currents pass through your molding bodies to create goosebumps and raising hairs

When he thinks of home, his first instinct is to be cradled in your arms, watching trashy movies as a thunderstorm quakes the earth

Mark

Power: Compulsion

Mark might excel in whispering but when you turn the tables on him, with your sultry murmurs, he can’t help becoming a puddle of blushing mush

Never once used actual compulsion on you, the only exception is when you figured out the surprise birthday party he was planning for you, he redirected your attention to grocery shopping

His favorite part of you is your right ear because it’s where you naturally tuck your hair at and he just loves to twirl a strand of it in his finger while he mutters sweet nothings to you

You’re his bodyguard during missions, he can’t possibly get that close to targets while they attack if you aren’t watching his back

Even when he is supposed to be acting intimidating during an assignment, he can’t help but stutter and repeat ‘uh’ a thousand times, but he gets the job done eventually

Your literally breaking sweat, contorting your body so four targets don’t reach Mark, and he’s over there oversharing with another target

“The love of my life is about to kick your ass and you aren’t going to do a single thing about it, booby head” or “make the password ‘mark and y/n forever’ or else”

Naturally whispers in his sleep with his stinky breath in your ear, and you try to push him off but he just clings onto you like a koala

In the morning though, the slight breakage in his voice from pitched to croaky as he says good morning to you is on repeat in your head for the whole day

Mark’s give away when he is about to use compulsion is him licking his thin lips, and almost makes you get knocked out by the enemy because your already under his spell

Does a tiny dance for any occasion, from doing the laundry, stripping naked, or when you two had your first kiss

It’s the strained grunts, the heavy breathing, and the showering of hushed compliments in your ears that makes you reach your peak in bed, Mark always sounded better when he was being pleasured

To him, your voice is the loveliest sound across the universe and your adorably awkward cackle that you so desperately try to hide as he reenacts vines to you is what happiness is to him

Ice cream dates consist of him bringing a tub of ice cream to a yogurt shop because he knows you prefer it

Coughed over his first fart with you but now he loves to fart on you as you pretend you are suffocating and gagging

Has a folder in his photos dedicated to you where it ranges from blurry to candids and in during most of them he was either hyping you up or teasing you

Greets you with a ‘yo!’ whenever he enters the room

Will always buy you any lip product associated with watermelon and you’ll always buy him baseball caps for him to wear

Despite being loud for 90% of your relationship, he is most vulnerable with when he whispers his greatest fears, future goals, and nightmares to you because your the only one he can trust

With the many decibels that Mark Lee varies in, your favorite by far has to be the ascending chortle from the low HAs to the high HEEs with clapping hands and a scrunched nose that puffs out his cheeks-- it’s pure bliss to you

Haechan

Power: Light Manipulation

Haechan is utterly in love with your cheeks, instead of biting them or pinching them, he opts to kiss them whenever he has a chance, it’s rushing heat of your blush and the swelling of your smile that he lives for

The little spoon in bed, just so he can wrap his leg around you and nestle his head in the crook of your neck just like a koala

Literally always a brat to you, it’s the many ways he shows you affections

You asked him once to paint your nails, and now he does it every Friday ever since he discovered the ‘my hands look like this so hers can look like this’ meme even though his hands just have bitten nails

A man of action, Haechan shows you love through his movements with a heart framed by his fingers or blowing a kiss

Needs to always be physically attached to you, whether it’s hugging you from behind, leaning his head on your shoulder, or falling into you when he’s in a fit of giggles, he needs you to know that he will never let you go

Snarky remarks and cheesy jokes define your relationship with Haechan

Manages to always wake up before you on those lazy mornings with you burrowed deep into his side, and he can’t help but be memorized by your presence but soon feels selfish when he moves a ray of sunlight to your eyes so he can just peek at the explosion of colors in your eyes when you flutter them open--ah yes, this is his favorite part of the day

Loves to play video games with you into the late hours of the night, especially overwatch, but your always the first one to pass out, so he makes sure to tuck you in and dim the light of the screen so it doesn’t bother you

Most nights the both of you are wide awake so you end up playing ‘what the light?’, a game where Haechan creates 3D objects out of light and you have to guess what they are before he finishes them

Oh, and shadow puppets! He’s become quite the expert with them, he creates the most ridiculous stories with them but you join him by voicing the characters

In addition to ‘I love you’ as a goodbye, you have a secret intricate handshake with him, his excuse was that if you two ever question’s one identity if ever an enemy swapped bodies, you two would know the truth with the handshake but in reality, he just loves that extra time with you before you two part

It’s either Haechan teasing and making fun of you or he’s doting on you, there is no in-between because after all, you are his idiot

If he’s in the mood, he’ll solidify light photons into the shape of a sword and call it ‘sunflower’, he just loves to tell the tale that he took out fifteen assassins with a sunflower, but usually, he blinds them or burns them

Goes the extra mile for you to create a spotlight on you when you are giving a mission brief at headquarters, that’s the love of his life right there and he’ll make damn sure everyone notices them

Recreates Edward’s sparkling in the sun scene just so he can see you beam with laughter

Master of mood lighting during sex, and don’t even mention when he hits his climax, bulbs flickers and lamps explode

It might be a trick of the light, but Haechan’s eyes are vividly bright and he’s drowned in golden hues of sunlight, it makes you wonder if he was plucked from the star itself

Yet, as your lips quiver and your glassy eyes blink the last remnants of tears in Haechan’s cupped hands, there is an inner glow from them as you bask in their warmth, he can’t help but proclaim that you are the sun of his world, you are the light of his life even when it feels like his is diminishing

#NCT 127 #NCT #nct 127 punch #nct 127 au #nct 127 x reader #what did i even write #im choosing either jaehyun or yuta #taeil x reader #taeyong x reader #mark lee x reader #johnny suh x reader #kim jungwoo x reader #jaehyun x reader #haechan x reader #doyoung x reader #yuta x reader #nct scenarios

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transarchivist · 4 years ago

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do you have any podcasts recs? I want to listen to archive 81 but I need some backup and I've already listened to the more "famous" ones, like all of them I binge podcasts like they pay me for me it ajsjjshfje

!!!! ok i'm sorry it's taken me a hot minute to get to you BUT i think i have a good amount of reccomendations :o

these first few are kinda "famous" but i thought i'd point em out just in case! some of them ended a few years ago and they were more well known back when they were running

wolf 359: gotta point this one out juuuust in case you haven't listened to it! amazing sci fi... would drama be the right word? it's very intense and has some really interesting meditations on morality and the self But it's also so extremely funny. complete, ended in 2017

ars paradoxica: america during the cold war, the red scare, intense government conspiracies.... And Time Travel! complicated but amazing plot and a big cast- i would recommend not pausing and listening to something else, it gets complex! mischa stanton directed it so you Know it has stellar sound design (added bonus: lgbt main characters) complete, ended in 2018

the bright sessions: people with superpowers go to therapy! plus: shadowy capitalistic conspiracies, amazing romances and phenomenal character development! i'm not a fan of romances and i Loved the ones here (it's not heavily romance focused though!) (added bonus: lgbt main characters + main lgbt romance) complete, ended in 2018. i think a spin off series is running rn tho!

the adventure zone: this isn't an audio drama, it's an actual play d&d podcast! the first season (balance) is amazing- hilarious and heart wrenching! (the heart wrenching takes a while to kick in but MAN it's so good) the first season ended in 2017. i haven't finished the second big season (amnesty) but i loved what i did listen to, same with the currently running season (graduation)

sayer: starts off as sinister night vale but with an ai and in space, evolves into a complicated save-the-world plot concerning several ais. it's in second person and it's Amazing! lots of meditations on the self and personhood. currently on hiatus but will be ending when it resumes

alice isn't dead: from the people who did night vale! starts as a trucker trying to find her wife, evolves to include shadowy government conspiracies and the power of regular people banding together. ending made me tear up it's really good! it's Big on the horror (the first ep is the only podcast that's ever truly scared me and it continues to scare the shit out of me to this day) but its Extremely Good Horror. very americana too! complete, ended in 2018.

ok that's the more well known ones out of the way, i think? i'm not too confident about how well known some of them are nowadays ^^' all i can say is that i heard abt them frequently in 2016. now onto the lesser known ones ! the ones that are complete are generally pretty short listens (relatively- they're still a good handful of hours at the least)

zero hours: by the wolf 359 people, it's a short anthology that released all at once last year. to pharaphrase/quote the official blurb: each episode is a take on the end of the world, whether the apocalypse is planetary or personal. each episode is separated by 99 years, starting in the past (1722) reaching the present and then overtaking it. surprisingly hopeful ending, made me <:')

i am in eskew: you've probably heard me holler about this before- it follows the trials and tribulations of david ward, who lives in the nightmarish and otherworldly city of eskew. 30 episodes long and complete, with a phenomenal ending! i can't rave about this enough i could Keep talking but i'll cut myself short. it's horror and it's damn good horror! does deal with extremely heavy topics, please be careful!

janus descending: sci fi horror with what has to be the most interesting formatting i've seen in ages: the two points of view alternate each episode... but one is chronological and one is backwards! amazingly done, keeps you guessing until the end! complete. follows peter and chel as they undertake a survey mission on an alien planet

midnight radio: made by @/theradioghost! big on the idea that "all ghost stories are love stories". a 1950s radio hostess gets letters from a fan. horror, big on the 1950s aesthetics, focus on the relationship between one and one's hometown. lovely ending! it's sapphic too :]

the far meridian: by the same people who did ars paradoxica! follows peri, a bit of a hermit who has extreme social anxiety, who lives in a lighthouse that suddenly begins to teleport. each morning peri wakes up and the lighthouse is in a different place! there are like... some horror elements? kinda? but it's not intense imo. it mainly follows peri learning to cope with her anxiety & helping others, with each episode usually having a one off encounter (usually pretty strange!) often has wholesome vibes. s3 is currently in production and is the final season. plus: lgbt characters, and kinda spoilers but peri uses a cane later on!

old gods of appalachia: honestly it's what it says on the tin! a collection of short stories set in historical appalachia that deal with entities beyond human understanding. they're good about trigger warnings, but it's Horror. produced by actual appalachians! stellar music, a Lot strong female characters, and a good amount of lgbt rep! killer music!! it's currently releasing but the latest short story is finished. (do listen in order though!)

the deep vault: by the archive 81 team! in an "almost-post-apocalyptic" america a group of friends chase a rumor about a secret hidden vault, only to Find it! follows the group as they traverse the deep vault. horror, actively points out capitalism a Lot, definetly has an interesting ending! amazing sound design, which is to be expected from dan powell!

tides: the official blurb is short and sweet: "tides is the story of dr. winnifred eurus, a xenobiologist stuck on an unfamiliar planet with hostile tidal forces". extremely snarky and endearing main character and fascinating worldbuilding! i don't know the status of s2, but s1 was really good!

limetown: follows one lia haddock, a public radio reporter, as she tries to unravel the mystery of what happened at limetown. all she knows is that 10 years prior, over 300 men, women and children vanished. horror, mystery, and some sci fi elements. presented in a found footage kinda way. i really enjoyed it, especially the first season. complete.

mabel: horror (big on the haunted house type specifically), sapphic romance, fun take on the fair folk/fae! follows anna limon, an in home carer who's trying to get in touch with her client's estranged granddaughter. evolves into a big fae-horror-romance-thing! really interesting romance tbh. amazing imagery and prose- lots of prose + almost poetry, but it's really good i promise. currently on a post season hiatus

spines: horror but it evolves past just horror in an interesting way (keeping the horror bits, of course). follows wren, who woke up in an attic surrounded by the remains of a cult ritual without any memories of who she is or what she was doing. she searches for answers, encountering creepy shit along the way. really interesting take on the super-secret-organization-that's-always-been-there trope! really good ending. one of the main characters is nonbinary + there's other lgbt main characters.

mirrors: by the people who did spines. also starts as horror but evolves past just horror (it's also sci fi). follows three women in three different centuries who are all experiencing the same haunting. phenomenal take on ghosts! like i can't articulate how cool this angle on ghosts is! s3 is supposed to start this year :] one of the main characters is sapphic, and her wife is a supporting character.

the six disappearances of ella mccray: also by the people who did spines and mirrors. evolves past just horror but keeps more of the horror elements? follows the 6 povs of the people who witnessed the surreal disappearance of ella mccray. each saw something different and surreal, and as they search for her, surreal things start happening to them. unsure abt the status of s3 but s1 and s2 are really good! lgbt main characters, including a trans lesbian (played by a trans woman!)

the bridge: horror. follows the crew of watchtower 10 on the transcontinental bridge that spans across the atlantic ocean. i listened to it back in like 2016-2017 so my memory is hazy, but i remember really enjoying it! currently on hiatus.

within the wires: sci fi... horror..? i listened to the first season a few years ago and enjoyed it and i've continued to hear really good things. it's by the people who make night vale! my memory isn't great but iirc the first season is a sort of romance that's formatted as a set of relaxation/meditation cassettes. it's a few seasons in and i think each is generally self contained, im unsure if it's currently running or not

the orbiting human circus of the air: also by the night vale people! again i listened to this a few years ago so im hazy. follows julian the janitor who works at a radio station that broadcasts from the top of the eiffel tower! surreal but in a wholesome way, iirc! i remember tearing up with happy tears at the s1 finale ^^' really good music! i think the second(?) season ended recently

stellar firma: i've only listened to a handful of episodes, but i've liked what i've heard. sci fi improv comedy that follows the newly made clone david 7 and the mess that is trexel geistman as they try and design custom planets. i think it's currently running but i dunno

rusty quill gaming: also another one that i've only listened to a few episodes of. actual play pathfinder (basically d&d) podcast set on an alternate earth. alex newall (martin's voice actor) is the dm. i've heard really good things from a lot of people! i think it's currently running but again i don't know for sure

right! that's. that's what i got.

i mentioned @/theradioghost earlier (shes behind midnight radio) but i would absolutely recommend looking at her rec list tag! she has impeccable taste

#ask #anon #podcast recs #cae speaks #mine #long post #<- incase the read more doesnt work

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apocryphalia · 5 years ago

Text

Ghosts

[This was written for day 23 of @drawlight‘s 31 days of ineffables prompt list. It is only somewhat related to ghosts, and contains a single Christmas reference, but I wanted to write about Aziraphale and Hirschfeld, so here we are.

CW on this one for Nazis, vague references to things that Nazis did, and historical homo/transphobia. It’s also rather long, so the rest is under a cut, or you can read it over on AO3.

Thank you to @moveslikebucky for the beta/reassurance on this while I was at work with it stuck in my head. <3]

---

England, 2020

Aziraphale was an angel. As such, he knew exactly what happened to the souls of the dead, and he did not believe in ghosts. Still, there was a certain box of books he had kept in the back room of his shop for the better part of a century which he rarely dared to open, unable to shake the feeling that it was haunted by the horrors inflicted on its authors.

When he and Crowley relocated to their new home in the South Downs, the box miraculously found itself at the bottom of a pile of similar-looking boxes in his new office. Over the following months, Aziraphale slowly and meticulously unpacked the boxes in the pile, shelving each book according to a haphazard system that made Crowley twitch. It was autumn by the time he made it to the bottom of the pile, the first truly cold day of the year. Aziraphale had wrapped himself in a thick blanket and carefully piled logs into the fireplace. When he finally lit the tinder, ready to curl into the sofa with a book and Crowley in his lap, he was instead confronted with the demon's distant stare, with Crowley's hands balled into fists at his sides, his jaw stiffly set. Suddenly, a year’s worth of tiny moments came crashing down on him: candles mysteriously extinguishing themselves, matches disappearing from the bookstore, Crowley hovering over him anxiously while he lit the stove for tea. Of course, Aziraphale realized. Of course he doesn’t like fire anymore.

Later, when the fireplace was long since extinguished and Aziraphale was assured of Crowley’s safety, he settled himself into his office with a glass of rich red wine. After carefully extracting a number of delicate scrolls and some medieval illuminated manuscripts from their crates, the angel lifted the lid of a particular box and found its contents wrapped in a worn red cloth. He froze, the tips of his fingers aching with the ghosts of old burns.

Berlin, 1933

A fire raged in the midst of the public square. Aziraphale stood among a crowd of onlookers, watching uniformed men in red armbands haul the contents of the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft’s archives from the building and prepare to destroy Magnus Hirschfeld’s life’s work. Aziraphale knew Hirschfeld himself to be abroad at the time, and sent up a silent thanks to someone for his friend’s safety.

He had met Magnus some 28 years prior, while the German was in England. They had bonded over their shared grief for Oscar Wilde, and Aziraphale had received regular letters from the man ever since, updating him on the establishment of the Institut, Hirschfeld’s scholarly publications, and his campaign to repeal the German law which outlawed homosexuality. Things had been growing more difficult in Berlin for some time, though. Aziraphale remembered coming to Hirschfeld's aid the previous decade after he had been beaten nearly to death for his research and activism. He could still feel the blood, slick on his hands, as he willed Magnus's veins and arteries to knit back together, his bones to heal, his heart to keep beating while the angel worked.

Aziraphale now watched as Nazi soldiers began to toss his friend’s work into the flames. He could hear the speech being given to the assembled crowd, and his mind automatically translated the vile German words, but he was not processing its full meaning. His world had narrowed to red and orange, to the dull brown of burning paper, to the smell of smoke. He watched the edges of book covers and pages curl in on themselves as they caught flame, saw the sparks fly across the square as the inferno grew and grew, fueled by the knowledge and bravery it consumed.

The angel willed himself to go unnoticed by the crowds and the soldiers and the Minister of Propaganda as he took a deep breath and approached the fire. He stood at the edge of the flames, next to the young man who was currently tossing the last of the Institut’s books onto the pyre. His hands followed them into the blaze, retrieving the volumes one by one until his fingers were raw and their prints nearly gone. He carefully piled the rescued books into a hastily miracled bag and left the square, resigning the remainder of the library’s thousands of volumes to their fate.

London, 1941

There was a brown leather bag sitting on Aziraphale’s desk, thrown unceremoniously on top of the existing mess of papers and books in various stages of careful restoration. The angel stared at it in the flickering light of a spare few candles. The shades of the bookshop were still drawn, the air raid sirens ringing somewhere in the distance. Aziraphale was alone, a glass of wine in one shaking hand, his face burning with a confusing mix of shame, love, and painful memories.

He left his glass on the desk as he stood, clutching a single candle, and made his way over to a particular box in the back room of the shop. He went to his knees in front of it, blowing away the fine layer of dust that had accumulated on its lid. He lifted aside the cloth protecting its contents and picked up a single book with trembling hands. As he turned it over, thumbing its charred edges, he remembered the shining pink skin he had been left with after rescuing it from the bonfire. He could have healed the burns, yes, but it hadn’t seemed right somehow. Instead, he had clumsily slathered his own fingers with the gel of an Aloe vera plant that had been rescued from Crowley, and wrapped them awkwardly in cotton bandages. The week he spent aimlessly wandering the shop without use of his hands felt like penance, a too-brief but appropriate mourning period for the books and the men he had left behind in Berlin.

He considered returning the box to Magnus, but received word of the German’s death before he had the opportunity. Over the following years, he heard nothing but terrible news concerning the rest of the staff and patients at the decimated Institut. So in London the books stayed, packed away with the ghosts of those who had written and read them.

When Aziraphale was offered the opportunity to infiltrate and betray Nazi agents in England, recruited by a woman he believed to belong to British intelligence, it felt like revenge. The angel glowed a little more brightly in his skin as he sat with the woman calling herself Rose Montgomery. He had to hold himself together carefully to keep from sprouting wings and extra eyes, from transforming into a true avenging angel as he listened to her plans. His hands ached with phantom burns, with the echo of long-dried blood, with the desire to tear out the hearts of those who dared to round up and slaughter their fellow men.

Now, Rose was gone, the Nazis were gone, he was in love with Crowley, and still, something inside him felt hollow. He was alone in a war zone with another bag of books touched by flame, his friends were still dead, and the camps were still open somewhere out there on the Continent.

A Cottage on the South Downs, 2020

Crowley found Aziraphale later that night, still on the floor of his office with an empty glass beside him and a charred book in his hands. He was staring at the cover, but clearly seeing something else entirely. His unfocused eyes were shining with old grief and unshed tears.

“Hey,” Crowley said gently, falling to his knees beside the angel and laying a carefully, deliberately steady hand over the shaking fingers clutching the book. “Aziraphale?”

"I didn't save them," Aziraphale said, still staring down at the book. "I should have tried harder."

Crowley gently pried the object out of the angel's hands to examine it, sucking in a breath when he realized what he was holding. After a long moment of silence, the demon spoke, gazing somewhere off into the distance. "The Nazis were one thing I never took credit for," he said quietly. "The Spanish Inquisition, the sack of Constantinople, bloody trench warfare… I let Hell think I had a hand in all of it, but not… them." He shifted his gaze over to Aziraphale. "I tried to stop them, you know."

"So did I," Aziraphale replied bitterly. "But I was a fool, and I failed."

"No, angel," Crowley answered softly. "Look at what you have here." He gestured with the book still in his hand. "They tried to destroy these, and you saved them."

"With my own bare hands," Aziraphale said, looking down at his fingertips. "But the people…"

"I know," Crowley breathed, looking troubled. "Come on, angel. Leave them be for now." He replaced the book gently in its box and closed the lid, tugging on Aziraphale's arm until he stood and followed Crowley out to the living room.

Two steaming mugs appeared in Crowley's hands, and he pulled the angel onto the sofa, offering him one of the mugs. They drank their tea in silence, leaning on one another, as they each remembered the ghosts of fires past, of human lives loved and lost over six long millennia.

The box sat untouched for weeks, as Aziraphale slowly unpacked everything around it, wondering whether to banish its ghosts once and for all or leave them be. Finally, one day it disappeared, and the local historical society found itself with an anonymous donation of extremely rare German books on human sexuality, just in time for Christmas.

Two years later, they opened an exhibition on Magnus Hirschfield and the Institut für Sexualwissenschaft, and Aziraphale and Crowley were in attendance. As they walked in, Aziraphale spied a familiar book, now carefully propped open on a foam support and protected inside a temperature-controlled case. He pressed long-healed fingertips to the glass that covered it and smiled softly, leaning closer into the demon at his side.

#31 days of ineffables #good omens #fanfic #ineffable husbands #aziraphale/crowley #material culture series

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