#this story's been around

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep? Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses- Ovid

Chapter tags & warnings: Dark Romanticism, Inspired by Castlevania, personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Castlevania Season III, POV Original Character, Imprisonment, tension, Not your usual meet-cute, Paranoia, Not Canon Compliant, 'Alucard being unreasonable' is an understatement

III. My chains to rattle

When she stirred, her body felt sore and immeasurably weak, from the tips of her fingers to the toes of her feet. Her eyelids fluttered open to the shafts of light filtering through a window. Ravenna groaned, confused, her mind a whispering desert storm where recent events whirled at will, with no clarity or sequence. She wanted to rise, but something was not right. She looked up and saw that her arms were suspended above her head. In chains. Lovely.

Dread gripped her mind, and she struggled against her bonds. The woman promptly looked herself over and saw she wore the same traveling garb she had arrived in. Her cloak lay abandoned on a nearby table, but she still had her leggings, boots, and tunic. Her dagger was gone. Ravenna breathed a sigh of strangled relief, for she was yet alive and whole, but the meager consolation faded when she remembered who... what had brought her in this state to begin with. Looking about the place, she saw the makings of a chamber. It was as derelict as the others the woman had seen in the short time spent in this forgotten abode.

This is ridiculous.

There was a metal leash fastened around her neck, strung from another chain in the stone walls. Each movement caused a desolate rattling sound.

Not a dungeon, at least.

But still a prisoner.

There was no sign of her savior become captor, and her thoughts returned to inhuman eyes that severed her consciousness from her body with a single stare. And the teeth... no, not teeth, fangs. She had heard the grim tales of this land, come from far away as she was. She had heard of the one called Dracula, king of vampires. Was this...? Had she unknowingly stumbled into the lair of the greatest horror the world had ever known?

"Is anyone there?" she asked, her voice raspy with disuse. Only silence greeted her back.

She slumped against her chains with a sigh. The strain in her arms and shoulders hurt, and the more she struggled, the more intense the pain became.

Hours passed this way, leaving the woman alone with her worries until Ravenna saw the sun slowly make its descent as dusk fell over the world.

In the fading light, she cursed her luck - or lack thereof - which hurled her straight into the clutches of this sinister place and its apparently ruthless owner.

"Who are you?"

The words startled the woman so much she yelped and sprang forward with a metallic clank of her chains.

Flowing shadows filled the space, welcoming the manic lord of the castle who deigned to make his appearance known.

She was afraid, but she was also bitter, and it overran whatever threat was looming behind those cold eyes. "My arms hurt," the young woman muttered, looking away.

"I trust they do," the menace tilted his head to one side, regarding her as a hunting cat would a stray mouse.

She straightened against her chains with a grimace.

"I thought you might need to stand at some point, hence the length," he continued, turning to the sole window in the room.

"So very thoughtful," Ravenna growled, only to be met with a blazing gaze of red. It lasted only a moment before it faded from his countenance.

"Gall. Why am I not surprised," her captor drawled.

As he turned his head to the window again, the woman could not help but sense a seething sort of grief, hanging to him akin to a pressing monolith of immovable stone.

"For the last time, who are you?"

"I told you who I was... lord," she tried civility. "I am called Ravenna. I am not of this land."

He tapped a long finger against his lips, eyeing her. "What is your purpose here, then? In Wallachia?"

She hesitated. "May I at least know your name?" the woman tried.

He was in her face in an instant, clawed fingers grasping her chin none too gently. "You think this is a game?" he purred, a dangerous edge to his soft voice. His face split into a frightful smile that curdled her blood.

"I still believe... it is only courteous for me to at least know your name, following this... warm welcome," the woman choked, the freezing touch of his fingers causing a furious heartbeat to burst in her ears. Ravenna berated herself for the rebellious streak which, once again, might land her in more trouble than she bargained for.

He frowned, and she heard what may have been an incredulous snort. "I am the owner of this castle, and that is all you need to know."

"Are you... Dracula?" she decided to out with it.

The stranger released her and stepped back. A low grumble made its way up his throat, and with increased pique, Ravenna realized he was laughing.

"It is a fair assumption, you know ... we are in Wallachia, you own an immense castle that seems to swallow the light, and I saw the teeth..."

"Enough!" he cut her off. "Why are you here? Speak."

"After you grant me your name, lord," Ravenna braved, despite feeling the fool.

There it was, the low rumble that was his scornful laughter again, and a show of fangs that had her swallowing in dread.

He approached the woman again with slow, feline grace. "I could end you here and now, human," he murmured. Empty eyes locked on hers before trailing to the scrapes on her face, gained during her flight; his gaze took in her disheveled appearance, and finally settled on her neck.

Ravenna shifted, restless. "And yet, you do not," she retorted. Prodding was unwise. Prodding would always, always cause more trials than she could bear. Sage thoughts, and completely unrelated to what actually left her mouth. "The question is... why?"

Her captor raised an eyebrow, watching her as though she were insane. "What is your occupation?"

"I told you, I am a scholar."

"A scholar of what?" he demanded, his frown deepening.

Ravenna rolled her eyes despite herself. "I follow a school of thought that studies alchemy, philosophy, and medicine."

He turned away, hands clasped behind his back. "Interesting..." After a few moments, his shoulders shook in laughter again. What ever could be so amusing?

"Is this the restitution you require for your aid? Keeping me for a prisoner, held like an animal to rot away in your chains?" she blurted. He was so cold, and with him so was the air in the room. It came in shallow mists from her nose and mouth.

He seemed to ponder. "You said you cannot go back into the forest. And you will surely understand - I do not trust you. Hence you are bound until I know more. And with the way this is going, that may take a long, long time." He smiled, baring his fangs for her to see.

The prospect of being chained to a wall in the confines of a castle, at the mercy of a creature of the night no less, was not the most heartening. And she had a quest to continue. Still, Ravenna kept her peace and refused to beg. "Am I truly that much of a threat to someone like you?" she asked, raising her chin in defiance, but the plea was traceable in her voice.

She found it odd how he appeared to retreat, his expression become weary; he averted his gaze. "You all do more damage than you know," he mouthed after a while as to himself, watching the settling night beyond the window.

Ravenna sighed, her head bobbing downward. The metal leash chafed and gnawed at the sensitive skin of her neck. When she lifted her head, she gasped to find him before her. The heaviness of his scent did strange things to her senses, and her mind felt drenched in fog. His hand reached for her and she recoiled. The hand lingered for a split second before continuing its intent, reaching for her neck. Ravenna pressed her eyes tightly shut, her heart pounding. What would he do?

With the brush of cool fingers against her skin, the leash came unfastened and fell to the floor. She breathed again. Looking up, Ravenna stilled when met with the embers of his eyes. They were mere voids, swallowing all feeling and emotion, but there was no cruelty beneath those long black lashes; she was unable to look away.

He reached for her arms, and her astonishment increased when the cuffs around her wrists came undone as well. With absolute agony, the young woman let her limbs down, hissing with the strong discomfort. She looked back into his eyes. "... thank you," she muttered.

He made no reply but did back away. "That, stays," he pointed to the long chain and manacle around her ankle.

"So I am your prisoner," she concluded.

"I prefer the term guest," the vampire offered almost innocently with a dismissive gesture of his hand.

Ravenna regarded him with a wry expression. "... and this is how you treat your guests."

She shivered despite herself at the sudden sliver of ire flitting across his face.

"Oh pardon me, would you prefer a cozy fireplace and a cooked meal instead?" he taunted. "Perhaps a warm bed and a glass of wine, why not!"

"Cease these quips! What do you intend to do with me? You mentioned repayment for your aid... what is it you want?"

"So many questions..." He turned his back on her again, and the shadows in the chamber shifted anew. "The chain is long enough, I suggest you make use of it."

"Wait! Wait, where are you going?" This could not be it. "You cannot just leave me here!" Ravenna cried after him, but there was no one.

A solitary sconce now burned against one wall of the chamber. Weary and aching, the woman slowly approached the dusty bed, falling against the sheets with little to no grace. She was alive; that was what mattered. But maybe not for long.

Somehow, this was still marginally better than having perished at the hands of mindless zealots.

She had never seen, let alone encountered and shared words with a being such as this before. The entire concept of their existence and manner of living was foreign to Ravenna, and despite her situation, the academic drive leading her forward won in the end.

A vampire.

How fascinating.

NEXT

[saints-who-never-existed]

“In the war film, a soldier can hold his buddy—as long as his buddy is dying on the battlefield. In the western, Butch Cassidy can wash the Sundance Kid’s naked flesh—as long as it is wounded. In the boxing film, a trainer can rub the well-developed torso and sinewy back of his protege—as long as it is bruised. In the crime film, a mob lieutenant can embrace his boss like a lover—as long as he is riddled with bullets. 

Violence makes the homo-eroticism of many “male” genres invisible; it is a structural mechanism of plausible deniability.”

–Tarantino’s Incarnational Theology: Reservoir Dogs, Crucifixions, and Spectacular Violence. Kent L. Brintnall.

[egophiliac]

was this anyone else's first thought, or

[seventeendeer]

ppl are too quick to point to laios' disability as the reason his friends think he's a freak sometimes. so many instances of laios getting yelled at are, in my eyes, a case of "this guy had to emotionally mature very early in order to be there for his little sister" combined with "much older friends who never had to learn to manage their own emotions to the same degree"

a lot of the time he's right about needing to be more direct/deal with things in a way that may seem scary/needing to put your gut reaction aside. he tries not to make his friends uncomfortable and he puts up with a lot because he's trying to keep the peace, but he also pushes the others out of their comfort zones purposefully to try to get them to think more constructively. everyone else in the party is prone to acting on their gut instincts and avoiding uncomfortable situations even when facing them head-on is very much necessary. part of what makes laios such a great leader is the fact that he knows from experience how to put his own feelings aside to help someone else grow.

yes, he does make a lot of social blunders by accident and he does struggle to connect with others, but not all of his positive influence on others is accidental or "despite" making people uncomfortable. a lot of the time, I think it's clear he knows exactly what he's doing and he's trying to help the people around him process emotions in a healthy way as they all go through some truly harrowing shit. all the main characters support each other as well as they can with their unique emotional skillsets. laios' skillset just happens to be "gently talk child into eating her vegetables"

[drenched-in-sunlight]

i love the DLC man

[gawki]

Malenia and Miquella

[s0fter-sin]

people are acting like we’re saying creators shouldn’t be paid for their work; they absolutely should. and watcher already is. they have a patreon, they get sponsors, their videos regularly get millions of views which gives them ad revenue, they sell merch; they are getting paid. feeling indignant and disappointed that they’re asking us to pay for content we were already getting for free isn’t entitlement, it’s expected. ​they wanted to make bigger produced shows and now their budget can’t sustain it, that’s not on the viewer to make up for

[ciderjacks]

despite Laios low self esteem making him think that if he’d been eaten, Chilchuck and Marcille wouldn’t have helped Falin,

theres a small part of me that thinks the reason Chilchuck stayed with the party and went back in the dungeon in the first place was because he didn’t want to leave Laios alone. That Laios was moreso the reason he stayed.

[demigods-posts]

imagine a world where the heroes of olympus series was one big crossover. a world where we meet an eleven year old boy named jason, no last name because it reminds him of his mother — a drunk who literally threw him to the wolves as a toddler. jason, who's earliest memory is chewing on a stapler and his older sister tending to the wound on his bottom lip — but he hasn't seen or heard from her since they were separated years ago. jason, who grew up reaching for the sky like a purpose, desperate for a chance to prove himself. jason, who fought to save the world at fifteen years old. and jason, who finds himself in the grand canyon four months later with no memory of who he is or where he came from, feet away from some frantic sixteen year old girl in search of some dude named percy jackson. imagine what this could have been.

[ruiniel]

Prickly thorns, tender roses

Fandom: Castlevania series (2017-2021)

Rating: Mature🔞

Relationship: Alucard/Original Female Character

Characters: Alucard, Original Character(s)

Summary:

Set after the events of Castlevania (Netflix) Season III. After the betrayal of his young apprentices, Alucard feels barely alive in his lonesome castle. Days wear on, chipping away at his mind and sanity. And what is the son of Dracula to do with this unwanted visitor, suddenly come at his doorstep? Often the prickly thorn produces tender roses - Ovid

Chapter tags & warnings: Dark Romanticism, Inspired by Castlevania, personal interpretation of post-season III Alucard, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Castlevania Season III, Blood and Injury, POV Original Character, Canon-Typical Violence, Gore

II. Bring your taint

A long, darkened hall was before her; cold, musty air slithered over her flushed face, but the woman wasted not a beat as she disappeared within.

Blackness fell like a shroud and for a beat the fugitive regretted the decision to enter here; but this was no time to wallow. The place seemed deserted and the woman sprang forward, climbing up the poorly lit staircase, failing to notice the sparse, burning torches lining the stone walls.

This... palace of sorts had a foreboding aura, and she struggled with direction in the twilight of its walls. Her steps led ever forward, crossing more stairs and reaching another spacious hall. Immense pillars polished to the smoothness of black glass rose to the ceilings, which hosted masterful murals of various mythical creatures and ancient lore. Her wonder did not last as the beating of whips snapped into the silence, adding to the clamor and rustle of her pursuers. They had apparently renounced their own fears and entered the castle in their own time. The shift in the air made her shiver.

“Here, here, little whore, where ye hiding those fine young bones?” one of them called, the echo of his voice reaching from afar.

“Hold your mangy tongue, Adalbert,” another of the black-robed chasers chided. “Have you not heard what they say about this place? Do you want to be the main course of a vampire meal?”

Adalbert sneered. “Bah, humbug for shit-eating peasantry,” he grumbled, brandishing a dark hunting knife. “Dracula is dead, and whatever is left is nothing but the shadow of his accursed presence. His blight upon this land is ended. But our work is never done,” the man finished gravely as the group of seven climbed the wide stairs, carefully listening for any sound or stir in the dark. The blackness surrounding them closed in, thicker.

“Uh,” one man started, a waver in his voice, “did you all notice the lights? Does that not mean someone, or something, yet dwells here? I say... I say we all go back,“ he muttered fearfully just as the first man who spoke took a fistful of his garb.

“Keep your wits about you Kemeny, for heaven’s sake, we’re here to finish God’s work, not tinkle in our underclothes—“

His torrent ceased when the torches were quenched all at once, though no wind or draught could be felt by any of them.

“Denes,” the man stammered, “Denes, let’s leave this place, she’ll find her end either way, I wager,” the one called Kemeny insisted with their leader, losing his composure.

“Onward I say, or God save me I’ll submit to have you all excommunicated, living as pariahs on the outskirts of our township, prey to whatever night terrors’ll see fit to feast on your soft heads!” Denes ground out before the unsettled men, now following him with significantly less aplomb than before.

From her hidden place behind a cabinet in one side chamber, the young woman listened. She listened, only for their steps to grow louder, their voices hoarser the closer they appeared. Soon they would reach the corridor.

“We check each of these rooms,” she heard and froze, her heart a hammering mess behind her ribs. She looked to where she gripped a small blade, her only weapon. “Keep your bearings, Ravenna. If this is to be your end, prey to these bastards or whatever dwells here, so be it,” she whispered, and with fateful resignation, but also determined to do all she could to survive this, the woman straightened and rose from her hiding place.

An eerie stillness fell about the room; there was a ringing in her ears and a heaviness pressed on her temples; just as swiftly, she felt a presence.

“What is this taint you bring into my home?” A calm, unearthly voice.

It was close, too, and whatever the source of the words, the woman shuddered as the skin on the back of her neck pricked. Her pulse throbbed with menacing swiftness. Of course, threats and peril loomed from places unsought for. Her head swiveled to her left, but there was no one there. The woman stilled, and tendrils of fear reached through her despite her resolve. The foreign voice was soft, almost tender to the ears, were it not for the dispassionate and monotonous quality of the words.

“Who are you?” she dared ask, unable to bring herself to face the speaker.

“I ask the questions,” the warm, gliding voice purred; but there was scorn in it.

“Please, they are coming—“

The cold, sharp tip of a sword stung between her shoulder blades; she scampered forward, prey to a sense of dissent. “I am no threat to you, whoever... whatever you are!” she hissed in a desperate whisper. “I would reveal all... but as you can see, staying alive is now my chief concern!”

There was a pause. “How typical,” was all she heard from the man - because the tonality had been male, she was certain of it. There was also a strange scent in the air, akin to late summer roses after rain, heavy and suffocating. The shadows in the chamber seemed to shiver when he spoke, and the young human could not deny the primeval fright this presence awoke in her.

“Stay here,” came the terse command, though he not once raised his voice.

She was reeling; a sharp gust of air blew her unkempt hair astray, and she was alone again.

The one called Adalbert searched one chamber, the fading torchlight falling on the distinctive ruinous state of an abandoned dwelling.

“No sign of the wench. Maybe we leave and let this place swallow her in its burrows,” he hissed again, looking to his leader.

“Keep searching,” Denes ordered.

“Do you not find it odd that there is absolutely no sound in this fucking place?”

“Watch your slanderous words, Adalbert,” their leader rebutted. “We find her, we take ourselves out of here and that will be the end of it.”

Movement caught their eye.

“Draw your weapons,” Denes whispered.

The sight greeting them was that of an animal. A wolf, to be more precise, and a large one at that, staring down at them with its deep golden eyes.

“What the—“ one man frowned just as the beast fled from their sight into one of the side chambers.

“I tell ya, this place is riddled with fucking devil magic!“ another man grunted, taking steps back in retreat.

“Hold your stance, damn you!” Denes ground out before a gurgled sound stopped his tirade. Looking to his right, he saw the body of one of their companions sliding down against the wall, his neck a bloodied mess gushing down his robes.

They formed a protective circle, covering each other, anguished eyes darting around them. The silence became overbearing, pressing, intrusive.

“You come into my dwelling...” an icy voice caught their attention. “Uninvited... with your pettiness, your insults...”

“Who goes there?” Denes cried. “Show yourself, coward!”

But the speaker had no intention of heeding him, it seemed. “... and your fear of God.”

Another of their companions was struck down so fast the movement was lost in the blink of a human eye.

“... But your fear is misplaced. Your fear...” the soft words faded among the now screaming throats and thrashing limbs.

Denes turned and ran, only to be barred by a maelstrom of gold and black.

“... should be better spent here,“ were the last words Denes heard before golden eyes filled his line of sight, and a silver sheen was the last he saw on the lands of the living.

Some time after complete silence reigned outside the chamber once more, the woman approached the door, and slid through, into the corridor. The young human looked to her surroundings, and her frantic sight fell on the bodies of her pursuers. She yelped a stifled cry before recalling she was not alone.

The thought struck her then, that whatever had spoken to her and ended these men so swiftly and brutally, was the same being who had impaled bodies at the entrance of the castle. Dread and terror filled her to the brim and led her will, and then she was darting down the hall and over flights of stairs as if the world depended on it. The monster, the one who had so trapped her in her own body with the aid of nothing but his deceptively soft voice, that was an enemy more dangerous than ten scores of these men. She had to escape, to flee—...

A flash of red movement dashed before her. Again, that heavy, dark scent.

Her eyes widened.

Well.

This was certainly not what she had expected to see.

She stared into eyes of light amber. The rest of him was just as arresting, and she blinked, rather dazed. Light wavy hair framed a young, drawn face, spilling down his shoulders. He was tall and slim, and wore the simple cut and garb of nobility, his black overcoat hemmed with faded gold.

All was well and good, save for the blade he clutched that dripped crimson, and the droplets of blood over his face, neck and chest.

She took one step back; then another.

The figure only watched her. His gaze bore into her until the woman squirmed uncomfortably, wondering whether he would pounce to kill, or speak. In the end, humanity won. “I thank you... for... for your aid,” she tried.

No reaction; his gaze stayed empty. “I have no use for your gratitude.” He regarded the woman from head to toe, sheathing his sword. “But since you are here, having trespassed my domain with not even a by your leave, having ruined my peace and brought this mess to clean upon my floors... well, I believe that calls for some manner of restitution,” he finished with a smile she did not like at all.

“Please... lord,” the woman braved as the deceptively angelic figure drew closer. “I cannot go back into the woods, there may be more of them... My name is Ravenna, I am a scholar, nothing more—“ but his following action had her swallowing her words.

He knelt and lifted a torn arm from his killings, sighing thoughtfully. “Give them a finger, and they will take the entire hand...” he dropped the severed limb under the appalled gaze of the young woman.

Her distress seemed to please him, and despite her obvious disadvantage, it irked her. Show no fear... for all the good it’s done you. She smothered her fright, as after all, she was yet standing. “I have a proposal. Perhaps we could come to some sort of understanding. I was seeking for something in the area—,”

“Oh... oh, my dear,” he watched her not unlike a hawk would a wounded rabbit, “... but you are in no standing to negotiate.” He bared his teeth.

The last image the woman ever saw before her sight grew dim and her limbs melted beneath her, was that of sharp, even fangs and golden eyes freezing her beating heart.

For mere moments he watched the still body splayed upon the floor. “... not at all,” came the last spoken words she never heard before all fell into silence again.

NEXT

[worfsbarmitzvah]

there’s such an attitude among ex-christian atheists that religions just spring up out of the void with no cultural context behind them. like ive heard people say shit like “those (((zionists))) think they own a piece of land bc their book of fairy tales told them so!!!” and they refuse to understand that no, we don’t belong there because of the torah, it’s in the torah because we belong there. because we’re from there. the torah (from a reform perspective) was written by ancient jews in and about the land that they were actively living on at the time. the torah contains instructions for agriculture because the people who lived in the land needed a way to teach their children how to care for it. it contains laws of jurisprudence because those are pretty important to have when you’re trying to run a society. same for the parts that talk about city planning. it contains our national origin story for the same reason that american schools teach kids about the boston tea party. it’s an extremely complex and fascinating text that is the furthest thing from just a “book of fairy tales”

[lilybug-02]

Wow. That could not have turned out worse.

Part 23 || First || Previous || Next

--Full Series--

This comic will be on Holiday Hiatus this December and January! While on a cliffhanger? What a scam! >:/

[bet-on-me-13]

Danny dies every night.

So! Danny's secret Ghost Powers remained a secret for about 6 Hours.

After turning back into a Human, he had immediately gone back to his room and tried to fall asleep, pretending none of it was even real, that it was just a dream. The idea that he had just died was understandably hard to swallow, not to mention the fact he had somehow come back.

All he wanted to do was rest and figure it out later. It was a problem for Future Danny.

Except when he woke up, something was wrong.

He felt Cold, Colder than he had ever been before. It was as if he had a chunk of pure Ice stuck in his Chest, the cold spreading across every part of his body. With a start he realized that his chest wasn't moving at all, either from the beating of his heart or the breaths he was supposed to be taking.

He wasn't breathing. His heart wasn't pumping. The Ice in his chest was the feeling of his heart not pumping, still and unnaturally cold. At that realization, he felt his Heart begin beating again.

He ran downstairs, hoping to get his parents help. He didn't know what was going on exactly, but they must be able to help him right?! They were the leading experts on Undead Biology, they must know how to help him!

When he reached the kitchen, he saw his parents and Jazz huddled together at the table, crying together for some reason.

"Mom! Dad! Jazz! Somethings wrong! I don't know what happened, but last night I-"

He stopped when he saw their faces. Their cheeks were tear-streaked, eyes bloodshot, but the thing he noticed first was the grief and absolutely confusion in their eyes. They were staring at him as if they had seen a Ghost, figuratively of course, and they seemed to he trying to connect the dots in their heads.

"Danny?" Jazz asked in a shaky voice. "Is that you?"

"Jazz?" He asked in return, "What do you mean, of course it's me?"

She looked hopeful for a moment, before his mom stood up.

"No." She said, her voice held a hard edge. "It's not."

Danny almost fell over when she said that. "W-what?" He asked, "What are you talking about Mo-"

"DON'T CALL ME THAT!" She yelled. She gripped the Blaster in her hand tighter, aiming it at him. "I checked everything when we found Danny's body! He had no Pulse, no Brain Activity, and his Ecto Levels were far higher than normal! Danny is Dead! And you killed him!"

"What?!" Danny yelled in shock, "I didn't kill hi-I mean, I didn't kill me-I mean-What are you talking about!?"

This time his dad answered, getting up from the table himself. In his hand was another Blaster. "Danny's Ecto Levels could only have been that high if killed by something with a large amount of Ectoplasm, enough to leave such a mark. The Portal was open for hours last night before we found it and sealed it up, and that's when you got through isn't it!?"

His Dad leveled the Blaster to him.

"No! I'm not a Ghost, it's me! It's Danny!?" He pleaded, "Mom, I always baked you a cake on mother's day! Dad, I helped you clean up the lab the last time you blew it up! It's me!"

"Nice try." His mother said, "Die again, Ecto Scum."

That day, Danny ran away from home.

...

Ever since that day, Danny had been running as far as he could from Amity Park.

After he got out of the house, he tried to find any place he could hide as he figured everything out. His first try was Tucker, but his parents had anticipated that and beat him to the Punch. The same happened when he tried to go to Sam's, he barely escaped that situation alive(?).

At first he tried to stay in Amity, hoping he would eventually find a way to convince his parents of his true identity, so everything could go back to normal.

He abandoned that hope about a week later, when his parents got the local authorities on their side and issued a public service announcement stating he was a Murderer who killed their son, and to contact the Police if anybody saw him. The mindless Ghost they captured and presented on the Local News cemented the publics view on him.

So he ran from Amity.

The first few weeks on the Run were the worst. He wasn't used to surviving on the street, much less evading the Law Enforcement that seemed to keep finding him. He had to constantly stay on the move to keep away from the pursuit of his Parents, the Police, and the weird guys in white suits who had shown up once he passed the State Border.

His new Ghost Powers were the only thing that had let him get away most of those times. He could turn into a Full Ghost whenever he wanted, unlocking all of his powers for the time being, but also seemingly sending up a Beacon to whoever was looking for him. He found it was much easier to use their weakened versions in his Human Form.

As for his Undead-ness, he had mostly figured it out. His body was lying to him. He was Dead, but his Body was just pretending to be alive for his own sake. He didn't need to breath anymore, and his heart didn't need to pump, but they did because he felt that they needed to. He probably didn't even need to eat anymore.

The problem was that it couldn't keep it up when he was asleep. No matter what, every time he fell asleep his Body would die again, and when he woke up he would have to make it Live again.

One of the main reasons he kept getting caught recently was because well-meaning civilians would report to the Police that there was a Dead Teenager under a Bridge, or on a Park Bench, or on one memorable occasion in a Ditch. He would wake up in a Body Bag, escape, and be reported to his Pursuers.

At least his pattern of movement was untraceable so far.

Turns out, the Portal's opening had much more of an effect than his parents had anticipated. The Shockwave in the fabric of Reality when they punched a hole through it (and him), had caused dozens of Natural Portals to form across the Country, opening and closing in random places, soaking the area of Ectoplasm.

As an apparent Ghost, Danny was somehow drawn to these places. Whenever he got to one he felt rejuvenated, as if the stress of the past few days had never happened to him. He could only assume that he was Absorbing the Ectoplasm in the area to feed himself, based on a few of the things he remembered from his parents constant ramblings.

Whenever he would go to one of these places, he would find a bunch of Ghosts. Some were friendly, defying all of his expectations, while others were...less so.

They seemed to resent the fact that he was still half-alive, some simply jabbing insults at him, others straight up attacking him. It seemed that Life was a sore subject among those guys. Or maybe it was him stopping them whenever they attacked humans...that was probably more accurate.

Sometimes the Ghosts he would meet were in the middle of attacking humans to fulfill what they called their "Obsessions". He learned that all Undead, and basically all Immortal Beings, have Obsessions. They are their Sole Purpose in existence, a built in defense mechanism against insanity by giving them something to dedicate Eternity to.

He didn't know if he had an Obsession, but if he did he hoped it was easier to manage than theirs seemed to be. One of them was obsessed with attention, but got it by hypnotizing humans into adoring her. She chilled out after a while. Another loved the thrill of the Hunt, but only wanted rare game. He chased after Danny a lot in pursuit of his "One of a Kind Pelt".

He fought then off and saved people whenever he could, although sometimes it was risky. Many of them were older and more experienced than him, so he was forced to use his Ghost Form against some of them, sacrificing his hiding spot to save the people being terrorized.

He sort of enjoyed it. Whenever he helped people, saved them from danger, he felt better about his situation. As if he was making the best out of the horrible situation his life had turned into by helping as many people as he could. He always felt a bit more motivated to keep going every time he helped anybody.

Maybe that was his Obsession? Helping others? He didn't really think so, he was nowhere near altruistic enough to consider that a possibility. Maybe it was Space? He always felt that same relief when he would camp out away from the Cities. Eh, he'll probably never know.

This cycle of finding a new hiding spot, getting discovered, and running away again continued for a while. Years even.

Danny had Died at 14. He was now 17, and had been homeless for 3 years.

He hoped this next hiding spot would last a bit longer than the previous ones. This one felt different, the Ectoplasm he was wandering towards felt older than the other places he had gone. His previous hiding spots had always been the site of a recent Natural Portal, and the Ectoplasm in the atmosphere would feel Fresh and Wild.

But the Ectoplasm where he was going tasted Older, Stronger, more Set in Stone than the others had. Wherever he wad headed to next, it had been soaking in Ectoplasm for far longer than any other place he had ever been, even in Amity.

He walked up the the Sign at the side of the road, introducing the City to newcomers.

"Welcome to Gotham City" it said.

[bottombaron]

oh ok so its the usual no-homo bullshit you always hear, good to know.

[heybiji]

"It must hurt her feelings."

[taxinealkaloids]

horrible children who are. so so mean to each other