#Spectral Knights

[iconuk01]

The heroic Spectral Knights and corrupt Darkling Lords invoking their magic powers... can you guess which one's are the heros and which ones the villains? (The answers are unlikely to surprise you)

Plus a shoutout to the vehicle drivers, who sadly never got to use their spells at all, as the cartoon never made it clear that only a specific person could activate a specific vehicle (Because of plot purposes I guess)

Spectral Knight Feryl's Capture Chariot:

Which could throw fireballs from the two passenger modules it could also launch

Feryl's spell (never heard or used on the show) was "Fire", with the cantrip:

"Draw upon the breath of stars, And scorch the sky with fiery scars"

So the vehicle had the same magic, the cartoon just never used the spell.

Likewise the Darkling Lord's Dagger Assault, piloted by Reekon

Which had a holding cell in the back which could suck out any magic users power

The cantrip for "Magical Extraction" was

"Flay the flesh, lay bare the bone Upon this field, let grief be sown"

(Actually, I think I can see why that one wouldn't have been allowed anyway, I mean "flay the flesh"? Most kids would have to look that up and if it was an illustrated dictionary... ouch!)

We also had the Spectral Knights "Lancer Cycle" which was piloted by Ectar, with the spell Protection, and the cantrip

"Shield this craft from one and all! Reflect, deflect, depose and fall!"

And finally, the Sky Claw, piloted by that most toadying of bootlickers, Mortdredd

Given some of the other vehicles could fly (or at least bits of them could) it seems odd that the spell for this vehicle was simply "Flight" with the cantrip

"Wings of steel shall ride the breeze, Invade the air, the land, the seas!"

But in the cartoon they sort of got round this (even without the spell being used) by having the behicle be able to manifest dragon beasts to attack chosen targets.

And we shouldn't forget the ladies, who didn't have action figures, or spell staffs, or vehicles (Because... boy-targetted toy lines in the 80s, even cool ones, could be staggeringly sexist), but who did show up in the cartoon, and the comics.

We had the Spectral Knight Galadria, with the totem form of a dolphin, and the Darkling Lord Virulina, who took the form of a shark. (Since they had almost no aquatic adventures, it was convenient workaround to not have to animate them using their powers very often)

The comics did try to ameliorate this in it's short lived, and cancellled halfway through the first major story, publication history.

And here they are in action...

"By warmth of heart, your pain I feel, Grant me the power, your wounds to heal"

Which heals pretty much everything within range, from sick people, to damage trees, but at the cost of some of Galadria's own life force, so she can't keep using it.

Virulina gains the power to spread a blight, which can target a single person or an entire group.

A shame the whole thing was over in a year, this series was serisouly fun and deserved more time to grow, especially when they had already designed and prepared the second years worth of toys (Which STILL didn't include Galadria and Virulina, mind you...).

[autoacafiles]

[geekcastradionetwork]

The Ultimate Guide to the Cartoons of the 1980s – Chapter 13: Visionaries: Knights of the Magical Light

                    Chapter 13: Visionaries: Knights of the Magical Light Total Episodes: 13 Total Segments: 13 Episode Length: 22 Minutes First Air Date: September 20th, 1987 Final Air Date: December 13th, 1987 Day(s) Aired: Saturdays Channel: Syndication Reboot/Spin-Off Data: N/A Based On: N/A Creator: Flint Dille Developed By: Sunbow, TMS Entertainment & Hasbro Producer: Jim Duffy & Tadahito…

[verysmallcyborg]

fornax's big boss cape now

[smitten-miqitten]

More Lavellan posting. I can’t be stopped

[wp100]

i hope blizzard caves in and brings back the corrupted ashbringer. even if it means making it a twitch drop so we never get the actual item, just the appearance added to our collection. would be pretty neat

(they did this with tcg tabards, i guess so that the item is still rare, but the actual appearance in ppls collection will be more common than having the actual item in your bags, i guess to appease those who are against bringing back everything and taking away everyones 'prestige')

[flwrkid14]

The Case of the Phantom Lipstick

Tim Drake is many things: a genius, a detective, a vigilante, a caffeine-dependent insomniac with abandonment issues and seventeen backup plans for every imaginable outcome.

What he is not, however, is delusional.

Which is why when he finds a kiss mark—an actual lipstick kiss mark—pressed to the inside of his favorite hoodie, he does not panic. He calmly, rationally, pulls the hoodie off, examines the fabric, and blames Steph. Probably Steph.

Except… it’s neon green. Not Steph’s color. Not Cass’s style either. Babs doesn’t do lipstick. Kon doesn’t own lipstick. And the only people who’ve been in his apartment recently are Bruce (definitely not), Damian (God, no), and Alfred (crime).

He throws the hoodie in the wash. Industrial cycle. Hot water. It should come out.

It doesn’t.

It doesn’t even fade.

It glows slightly under UV.

Okay. Fine. One hoodie. Maybe it’s old. Maybe he forgot something. Maybe he bought it that way.

But it happens again.

And again.

And again.

Old hoodies. New hoodies. Hoodies buried at the back of his closet that he hasn’t worn since he was sixteen. A hoodie still in the packaging, tags attached—he opens the bag and there’s a green kiss mark on the inside sleeve, like it’s been waiting for him.

They’re always placed differently. Sometimes hidden in the seam of a cuff. Sometimes pressed on the back hem. One tucked into the folds of a sleeve. One directly on the chest, over his heart.

He checks for tracking devices. Hidden ink. Sensors. Spoilers. Anything.

Nothing.

And it doesn’t stop with the hoodies.

One day, after a long patrol, he peels off his Red Robin gear and catches a glimpse of green near the collar of his suit. He freezes.

Another kiss mark. Same color. Right on the inside lining.

There’s one on his glove. One hidden under the fold of his utility belt pouch. One on the lining of his cape.

What’s worse? The Batcave scanners pick them up. There’s residual ectoplasm. Babs runs the data three times before looking at him like he’s either cursed or dating something from the beyond.

(He’s not. He’s pretty sure.)

Every attempt to investigate it fails. The cameras glitch. Video footage loops or scrambles. Laser grids are bypassed by something moving through walls. Magical wards short-circuit. Even Constantine shrugs when Tim reaches out.

“Strong liminal energy,” Constantine says, puffing a cigarette. “Someone’s got their spectral claws in you. Not a curse though. Feels like... courtship.”

“Courtship,” Tim repeats.

“Yeah. Spectral wooing. Ghost smooches. Congrats on your engagement, mate.”

Tim hangs up.

He doesn’t sleep that night.

Meanwhile, Gotham is experiencing what can only be described as “mild haunting.” But by Gotham standards, it’s barely a blip.

There are no mass possessions. No destructive battles. Just… ghosts. Hovering. Watching. Whispering things when Tim walks by. They show up at patrol spots. Float past his apartment. Some even drop cryptic notes: “May your union be fruitful,” and “Blessings upon the Chosen.” Occasionally they throw gifts at him. One leaves him a glowing thermos full of ghost flowers. Another—a floating knight in spectral armor—bows low while handing over a box of what Tim can only imagine is their version of chocolate, before vanishing with the words “For the chosen consort.”

Tim’s furious.

He’s not dating a ghost. He doesn’t know any ghosts. He doesn’t want to be courted by one.

...Probably.

Except.

Except sometimes, when he’s alone, he swears he feels someone there. Not threatening. Just present. A warmth in the air. A flicker in the corner of his eye. A soft sigh on the back of his neck. A whisper:

“Mine.”

And Danny Phantom—Protector of the Ghost Zone, King of the Infinite Realms, 100% a disaster bisexual—floats outside his window every other night with his face pressed against the glass like a cat trying to figure out if the human inside likes him.

Because Danny’s not trying to scare him! He’s just following tradition!

See, ghosts mark their chosen with energy. They ward off rivals. They court with gifts and blessings and acts of devotion. And yeah, maybe leaving lipstick marks on someone's battle gear is a little extreme, but Danny’s working with ghost etiquette, okay? And from where he's standing, no one's stopped him.

(Though Jason did try to stab him once. Danny considered it a bonding experience.)

Now Danny just needs Tim to say yes so the full wedding rite can be completed. The lipstick marks? Those are just... engagement placeholders.

The problem? Tim doesn’t know he’s essentially dating a ghost.

The bigger problem? Gotham’s ghosts do.

And they’re ready to throw hands with anyone who thinks they’re a better match for Tim Drake than the literal Ghost King himself.

Tim? He just wants one hoodie without magic lipstick on it. He’s not even asking for peace anymore. He just wants answers.

He’s so tired.

[prosegalaxy]

Thomas: Castle Blackmoor's Eerie Encounter

The moon cast its eerie glow over the ancient castle, its towers looming like silent sentinels amidst the howling wind. A figure in black robes hurried through the cobblestone courtyard, her heart pounding with urgency. "I must find him," she whispered, "before it's too late." Inside the castle walls, a young man paced the dimly lit library, his fingers tracing the spines of dusty tomes. He sensed something was amiss, but could not quite put his finger on it. "There must be a way to stop this," he murmured, running his hands over the worn leather of an old book. Suddenly, a ghostly figure appeared before him. "Time is running out," it whispered, its voice carrying a sense of urgency. "You must find the sacred artifact hidden within these walls and use its power to save your world." The young man's eyes widened in shock, but he steeled himself for the task ahead. "I will do whatever it takes to save us all," he vowed, taking a deep breath as he began his search. As the hours passed, the castle seemed to come alive with whispers and shadows, guiding him ever closer to his goal. The young man, now filled with determination, finally found the artifact in the depths of the castle's dungeons. With a rush of adrenaline, he lifted the ancient object, feeling its power course through him. Just as he was about to make his escape, the figure in black robes appeared before him. "You have my thanks," she said softly, her eyes filled with gratitude and longing. Before he could respond, they were both enveloped by a blinding light that seemed to stretch across time and space. When their eyes adjusted, they found themselves back in the castle courtyard, but something had changed. The moon had shifted, casting a different glow over the ancient stones, and the air was thick with possibility. As they locked eyes, the young man couldn't help but wonder if their fates were forever entwined, or if this was merely the beginning of a grander story yet to unfold. In the heart of an ancient castle, shrouded in shadows and mystery, a figure in black robes searched for someone. The walls echoed with whispers of centuries past, and every corridor seemed to lead back to the same dark chamber. Unbeknownst to the figure, a young man named John had also entered the castle's depths, driven by an insatiable desire to find a sacred artifact hidden within its walls. As John navigated the labyrinthine halls, he was joined by a ghostly figure who seemed to appear and disappear at will. This enigmatic presence offered guidance, but with every step deeper into the castle's heart, the air grew thick with tension. The figure in black robes was not far behind John, their footsteps echoing menacingly through the castle's corridors. With the ghostly figure's help, John finally located the artifact, a relic of immense power and mystique. As he held it in his trembling hands, the air around them crackled with energy, and the castle's shadows seemed to come alive. In that moment, the two characters found themselves enveloped by a blinding light, as if their worlds had collided in an explosion of color and sound. When the light faded, they were left staring into each other's eyes, the boundaries between good and evil blurred and the future uncertain. And with that, they vanished, leaving the castle to its own dark secrets once more. In the cold, moonlit night, the castle loomed ominously before him. The figure in black robes, cloaked from head to toe, walked with purposeful strides towards the ancient structure's massive wooden doors. Within those walls, a young man named Edward paced the dusty halls of the castle, desperately seeking a sacred artifact that would save his village from an impending doom. Edward suddenly heard a low, eerie humming sound. He followed it until he found himself in a dimly lit chamber, where a ghostly figure materialized before him. "You have been chosen to find the artifact," the ghost whispered, its voice echoing through the chamber. It then vanished as quickly as it had appeared. Determined, Edward set out into the castle's labyrinthine corridors. He searched high and low, until finally, he found himself in a small room with a cryptic riddle etched onto the wall. Solving the riddle led him to a hidden door, which opened to reveal the sacred artifact resting on an ancient pedestal. Edward grabbed the artifact, and just as he did, a blinding light enveloped them both. When the light subsided, they found themselves in a completely different place - a vast, empty space filled with cosmic energy. The future of Edward and the figure in black robes was now uncertain, leaving readers to ponder their fates. The wind howled through the crumbling walls of the ancient castle, sending shivers down the spine of the figure cloaked in black robes. Their eyes darted from shadow to shadow as they searched for someone, or something. In a distant tower, a young man named Edward paced nervously, clutching a worn parchment. He knew he must find the sacred artifact described within its pages before it was too late. As Edward's footsteps echoed through the castle's empty halls, he couldn't help but wonder what awaited him. Suddenly, a gust of wind slammed the heavy wooden doors open and sent a chilling breeze down the staircase. "I'm not alone," Edward whispered, his heart pounding in his chest. Suddenly, a ghostly figure appeared before him, its translucent form shimmering like a mirage. The apparition beckoned Edward to follow and led him through the labyrinthine halls of the castle. They passed rooms filled with dusty relics, their once-vibrant colors now faded by time. Edward and the spectral guide finally reached a hidden chamber, its entrance concealed behind an intricately carved door. Inside, a pedestal held the sacred artifact – a small, golden amulet inlaid with mysterious symbols. Edward carefully picked it up, and as he did, a blinding light enveloped them both. The room disappeared, replaced by an endless void of swirling colors and patterns. The figure in black robes and the ghostly guide had vanished, leaving Edward to question if they'd ever truly existed. As the last traces of light faded, he wondered whether his quest had been a success or a failure, and if he would ever find answers to the enigmatic mystery that surrounded him. In the eerie, moonlit shadows of an ancient castle, a figure in black robes scoured every corner, searching for someone. Unbeknownst to him, a young man had also entered these haunted halls, on a mission to find a sacred artifact that could change the course of destiny. As the young man wandered through the maze-like corridors, he encountered a spectral figure, clad in tattered rags and chained to the wall. The ghostly apparition revealed itself as the restless spirit of a knight who had once guarded the castle. The knight, bound by his unfulfilled oath, could not find peace until the artifact was discovered and its power used for good. Together, the young man and the spirit formed an uneasy alliance. They combed through dusty chambers and crypts, following whispers of the sacred relic's location. Through their journey, they encountered the remnants of ancient battles etched into the walls, each telling a story of long-forgotten heroes and tragic endings. Finally, they reached the heart of the castle: a grand chamber filled with ornate statues and arcane symbols that glowed with an otherworldly light. The young man found the artifact hidden within the clutches of a stone gargoyle. As he touched it, the chamber shook violently, and blinding light enveloped them both. In that instant, their surroundings shifted, leaving them questioning if they had succeeded or merely lost themselves in the labyrinthine castle's depths. Under the full moon, the ancient castle loomed like a dark shadow on the edge of a desolate forest. In the heart of the castle, a figure in black robes paced restlessly through the dimly lit corridors. He was searching for someone, or perhaps something. Meanwhile, in the nearby village, a young man named Caden stood before the entrance of the same castle. He had heard whispers of a sacred artifact hidden within its walls - an artifact that could change the course of his life forever. As Caden approached the castle gates, he was met by a spectral knight, who revealed himself to be a former inhabitant of the castle. The knight informed Caden of the tragic history that plagued the castle and its inhabitants. "Many have sought the artifact," the knight said in a mournful voice, "but none have returned." Undeterred by the ominous warning, Caden pushed open the creaking gates and entered the castle. The figure in black robes had reached a grand chamber, where he found an ancient tome open on a pedestal. As if drawn by fate, Caden stumbled upon this same chamber. With the help of the spectral knight, they deciphered the cryptic words within the tome, which led them to the secret chamber containing the artifact. As Caden held the sacred object in his hands, a blinding light enveloped them both. The last thing he saw before everything faded to black was the figure in black robes, now revealed as Caden's long-lost father. In that instant, their fates were irrevocably altered, leaving the reader to wonder whether they would ever find each other again or if they had been forever separated by the enigmatic artifact. In the shadowy depths of an ancient castle, a figure clad in black robes searched tirelessly for someone he had lost long ago. The castle walls echoed with tales of tragic battles and whispered secrets. As he wandered the labyrinthine halls, he felt a chill run down his spine, as if he were not alone. Meanwhile, a young man named Edward ventured into these same hallowed grounds in search of a sacred artifact. He hoped that its power would be able to save his dying village from an unknown evil. As he delved deeper into the castle's heart, he encountered a ghostly knight who had been bound to the castle for centuries. The spectral figure revealed that he too was in search of something; a fragment of his own lost past. Together, they traversed the castle's hidden passages and deciphered ancient texts, discovering the tragic fates of long-forgotten warriors who had fought within these walls. Edward, with the spectral knight's guidance, finally found the artifact in a hidden chamber, guarded by an enchanted beast. As they held the artifact, a blinding light enveloped them both. The castle walls crumbled around them, and reality itself seemed to shift. In the midst of this dazzling chaos, they were left with one question: Had they succeeded in their quests or had they merely joined the countless others lost within the castle's hallowed halls? In the heart of an ancient castle, shadows danced upon the walls as a figure in black robes silently stalked the corridors. The echoing footsteps of this mysterious wanderer seemed to beckon something unknown. Amidst the darkness, a young man ventured through the labyrinthine halls, searching for a sacred artifact that could change the course of his destiny. The castle was filled with the whispers of history; stories of epic battles, passionate love affairs, and tragic ends lingered in every stone. As the young man delved deeper into the heart of the castle, he stumbled upon a spectral knight, who revealed himself to be the guardian of the artifact. With newfound courage, the young man followed the ghostly figure through a hidden passage, their journey leading them to the chamber where the sacred artifact lay. As they held the artifact in their hands, a blinding light enveloped them both, and the castle crumbled around them. The final moments were lost in a haze of confusion, leaving the fates of the two characters uncertain. Was it the end or merely a transformation into something unimaginable? Only time would reveal the truth about their ultimate destinies. In the darkness of an ancient castle, a figure in black robes searched for someone, their footsteps echoing through the damp corridors. Simultaneously, a young man named Thomas ventured through the same labyrinthine halls, driven by his quest to find a sacred artifact rumored to be hidden within the castle's depths. As Thomas climbed the winding staircase, he encountered a ghostly figure in tattered armor, its sword drawn and eyes empty. The specter revealed itself as a spectral knight, bound to protect the castle and guide those worthy enough to find the artifact. With newfound courage, Thomas followed the knight through the castle's chambers, where they discovered remnants of epic battles fought long ago. Thomas and the spectral knight found themselves in a grand library, its shelves laden with dusty tomes detailing the tragic endings of those who had once sought the artifact. Determined, the pair continued their search, until they stumbled upon a hidden chamber behind an ancient bookshelf. The chamber was filled with shimmering light, and at its center lay the sacred artifact. Thomas reached out to grasp it, but a sudden blinding light enveloped both him and the figure in black robes. As the light faded, they found themselves in a different place, their fates uncertain and open to interpretation. In the heart of an ancient castle, a figure in black robes roamed the dimly lit corridors, searching for someone or something unknown. The cold stone walls whispered secrets long forgotten as the figure's footsteps echoed through the halls. Amidst the eerie silence, a young man named Thomas wandered the castle, seeking a sacred artifact that could change his destiny forever. ``` Thomas, a young man with a heart full of curiosity and determination, found himself wandering through the ancient halls of Castle Blackmoor. The air was thick with the weight of centuries, and whispers of forgotten stories seemed to dance around him. As he delved deeper into the castle's depths, he couldn't help but feel that someone was watching him from the shadows, cloaked in black robes. "Who are you?" Thomas asked, his voice echoing through the dimly lit corridor. The figure made no reply, and instead, only continued to follow behind him. Undeterred by the mysterious presence, Thomas pressed onward, driven by a sense of duty that he couldn't quite comprehend. He soon stumbled upon an ancient library, where shelves towered high above him, filled with dusty tomes and scrolls. "I seek the Sacred Artifact," Thomas whispered, running his fingers along the spines of the books. "But it is said that its power can only be unlocked by one who truly understands the weight of their own heart." He paused, scanning the rows of texts for any clue on how to find this artifact. Just as he was about to give up hope, a spectral knight materialized before him. "I am the Guardian of the Artifact," it intoned. "Only through proving your worth in battle and your ability to love can you claim its power." The knight then vanished, leaving Thomas alone once more. Fueled by newfound resolve, Thomas ventured deeper into the castle, where he found himself in a grand ballroom, frozen in time. A fierce battle raged on the floor above, as ghostly figures clashed with one another, their cries echoing through the air. The young man witnessed tragic endings and ancient victories, until eventually, he reached a chamber guarded by the figure in black robes. "I have proven myself worthy," Thomas declared, his voice filled with newfound confidence. And as they touched hands, a blinding light enveloped them both, leaving their fates shrouded in mystery and open to interpretation. As Thomas delved deeper into Castle Blackmoor, his senses heightened with every step. The whispers of the wind told him that he was not alone. He knew someone cloaked in black robes followed him, their presence an eerie reminder of the castle's dark history. Entering the ancient library, Thomas felt a wave of chilled air envelop him. The shelves were filled with dusty tomes, each one holding secrets of the past. His eyes fell on a specific book, "The Sacred Artifact and its Power." He knew that this was the key to unlocking the artifact's power. As Thomas studied the ancient text, a spectral knight materialized before him. "You seek the power of the Sacred Artifact?" the knight asked in a voice as old as the castle itself. "Yes," Thomas replied, determination burning in his eyes. "I must prove my worth to unlock its power and save those I love." The spectral knight nodded, challenging Thomas to prove his worth. With every turn of the page, Thomas witnessed ghostly battles, their tragic endings echoing through the library. Each confrontation tested Thomas's courage, his resolve never wavering. Finally, the cloaked figure revealed themselves as a powerful sorceress, her eyes burning with hatred for the Sacred Artifact's power. As they touched hands, a blinding light enveloped them, leaving their fates ambiguous. Thomas knew that he had only just begun his journey to unlock the artifact's power, and that love and battle would be forever intertwined in his destiny. Thomas, a young and daring adventurer, stood at the entrance of Castle Blackmoor, feeling an unsettling presence cloaked in black robes. As he ventured deeper into the castle, he found himself in front of the ancient library. He could sense the presence getting closer. With determination in his eyes, Thomas stepped inside the library to find the Sacred Artifact. As he approached the artifact, a spectral knight materialized before him. "You have come seeking the power of the Sacred Artifact," the ghostly figure said, its voice echoing through the library. "Prove your worth and unlock its power." Thomas accepted the challenge, and they engaged in a fierce duel. Thomas witnessed ghostly battles, tragic endings, and heartbreaking stories as he fought alongside the spectral knight against their foes. Time seemed to stretch into eternity as they battled through the castle's dark corridors. In one of their encounters, Thomas heard the voice of a long-lost love, whispering his name, urging him forward. At last, Thomas and the spectral knight confronted the figure in black. As their hands touched, a blinding light enveloped them both, leaving their fates ambiguous and their future uncertain. The Castle Blackmoor's ancient walls seemed to sigh, as if relieved by the climax of a long-held secret. In the cold, mist-shrouded moors of England, Thomas stumbled upon the ancient and forbidding Castle Blackmoor. The castle's dark reputation intrigued him, and he resolved to explore its depths, despite the whispers of locals who spoke of its haunted past. As he crossed the bridge leading to the entrance, a sudden gust blew open the heavy wooden doors, and Thomas stepped into a world of shadows. The castle's dim corridors seemed to echo with the footsteps of those who had come before him. He could almost feel the weight of their stories on his shoulders as he ventured deeper into the labyrinthine halls. Finally, he found himself in a grand chamber where the air grew colder and heavier with the scent of decay. It was there that he encountered a spectral knight, clad in tattered armor and wielding a sword that gleamed ominously in the moonlight. "Who dares to trespass upon these hallowed grounds?" demanded the ghostly figure, his voice a chilling whisper. "I am the spirit of Blackmoor's most valiant knight, Sir Edric. Prove your worth, and you may pass." Thomas, eager to prove himself, accepted the challenge, and they engaged in a fierce duel. With each clash of steel on steel, the chamber filled with the ghostly sounds of epic battles fought eons ago. Thomas's adrenaline surged as he parried and lunged, his heart pounding in his chest. As their swords met one final time, Sir Edric's blade shimmered, revealing a faint glimmer of light. "You have proven yourself worthy," said Sir Edric, lowering his sword. "But the darkness that haunts these halls will not be so easily vanquished." As they stood together, a blinding flash of light enveloped them both. Thomas blinked, disoriented, and found himself back in the castle's entrance. As he left, he wondered if Sir Edric still lingered within those shadowy walls, or if their fates had finally been resolved. Thomas had always been fascinated by legends and stories of the supernatural. His curiosity led him to explore the eerie Castle Blackmoor, which was said to be haunted by the spirits of ancient knights. As he ventured deeper into the castle, he stumbled upon a spectral knight named Sir Edric, who challenged Thomas to a duel. Thomas, feeling both fear and excitement, accepted the challenge. They locked swords in a fierce duel, their blades clashing with an otherworldly glow. As they fought, Thomas witnessed ghostly battles that had taken place throughout the castle's history. He saw brave knights falling in combat, their souls forever bound to the castle's dark corridors. "Why do you fight?" Thomas asked between gasps for breath, his voice trembling with emotion. Sir Edric looked into Thomas's eyes and replied, "I have been cursed to defend this castle until I find a worthy opponent. Will you end my torment, or join me in eternal slumber within these cold walls?" Thomas, determined to prove his worth, continued the duel with renewed vigor. Suddenly, a blinding light filled the room, and both Thomas and Sir Edric found themselves unable to see. They fell to their knees, their swords still locked together. In that moment of uncertainty, they were both consumed by the light. As the glow faded, the castle stood empty once again, its secrets hidden from the world. The fate of Thomas and Sir Edric remained ambiguous, leaving those who dared to enter Castle Blackmoor wondering if they would ever find a way to break the curse that bound them both. In the heart of a storm-swept moorland, Thomas stood before Castle Blackmoor, its dark towers looming over him like menacing shadows. The air was thick with anticipation, as if it could shatter at any moment. He mustered his courage and stepped through the castle's ancient gates, feeling the cold stone beneath his feet. As he explored the labyrinthine corridors, Thomas heard the distant clash of swords and the haunting echoes of laughter. The castle seemed to be alive with ghostly presences, their whispers dancing on the wind. He stumbled upon a grand hall where spectral knights battled fiercely, their blades slicing through the air like scythes. Amidst the chaos, Thomas' eyes locked onto a figure in black armor, its visor concealing its identity. "Who are you?" Thomas demanded, his voice trembling with fear and determination. The mysterious figure turned, revealing itself to be Sir Edric, a spectral knight whose spirit had been bound to the castle for centuries. "I am Sir Edric, defender of Blackmoor," he replied, his voice as cold as the grave. "Prove your worth, and I shall release you from this accursed place." With a deep breath, Thomas accepted the challenge. They engaged in a fierce duel, their blades clashing with an otherworldly resonance. As they fought, Thomas witnessed the ghostly battles that had taken place throughout the castle's history, each one more gruesome than the last. He felt the weight of centuries upon him, as if he were fighting for more than just his own life. Finally, Thomas and Sir Edric found themselves face-to-face, their breaths coming in ragged gasps. In a desperate lunge, Thomas struck at the spectral knight, only to be met with an equally swift counterattack. Just as it seemed that one of them would fall, a blinding light erupted around them, casting them into darkness. When Thomas opened his eyes, he found himself back in the rain-soaked moorland, the castle's towers fading into the distance. He was unsure if Sir Edric had been freed or if he himself had simply never entered the castle at all. Shaking off the chill, Thomas continued on his journey, forever changed by his encounter with the specter of Castle Blackmoor. Once upon a time in the village of Ravenshire, a young man named Thomas embarked on a dangerous journey to explore the long-abandoned Castle Blackmoor. He had heard tales of epic battles and legendary romance that took place within its stone walls, and he was determined to uncover the truth behind these stories. As Thomas approached the castle, he couldn't help but feel the cold air of the night chilling his bones. He cautiously entered through the crumbling gates, his heart pounding in his chest. Inside, he stumbled upon a grand hall filled with spectral knights engaged in a fierce battle. The air was thick with their cries and clashing swords, yet Thomas could not see any physical adversaries. The spectral knights seemed to notice him, and one of them approached him with an air of authority. "Who are you, and what brings you here?" the knight inquired. "I am Thomas, seeking the truth behind the legends of Castle Blackmoor," he replied. To his surprise, the knight introduced himself as Sir Edric, a noble warrior who had once guarded the castle. "You must prove your worth before you can learn our secrets," he challenged Thomas. The two engaged in a fierce duel, their swords clashing with the force of thunder. Just when Thomas began to falter, he remembered the stories of courage and love that had brought him here. With newfound determination, he struck Sir Edric's sword away, sending it spinning through the air. In that moment, the spectral knights ceased their battle, and the ghostly figures began to fade away, leaving Thomas and Sir Edric alone. They stared into each other's eyes, a mixture of admiration and respect. "You are worthy," Sir Edric said, his voice barely audible. "But you must leave now." As Thomas turned to exit the hall, he saw a figure in black standing before a blinding light. He couldn't help but be drawn towards it, as if by fate. In that instant, the light enveloped them both, and their fates became forever entwined in the mists of time. Thought: Do I need to use a tool? No As the moonlight cast its silver glow upon Castle Blackmoor, Thomas stood at the ancient entrance, his heart pounding with anticipation. The haunted whispers of the castle walls beckoned him to explore deeper into the gothic fortress. As he ventured further, he stumbled upon a spectral knight named Sir Edric, clad in armor and wielding a sword that shimmered like a flame. Sir Edric's eyes blazed with an otherworldly fire, challenging Thomas to prove his worth through combat. The air crackled with tension as they prepared for the duel. As their swords clashed, they witnessed ghostly battles unfold around them - knights and soldiers long past, locked in eternal conflict. "You're a worthy opponent," Sir Edric admitted between gasps of spectral breath, his voice echoing through the corridors of time. Thomas, determined to honor the duel, pressed on with unwavering resolve. Their swords danced in a deadly ballet until, at last, they were both exhausted and battered. In their final moment together, a blinding light enveloped them, casting shadows upon the walls that seemed to devour the castle itself. And then, just as suddenly, the light was gone, leaving behind a sense of ambiguity - had they defeated the darkness within the castle or become consumed by it? Their fates remained uncertain, lost in the labyrinth of history and myth that was Castle Blackmoor. Thomas stood at the entrance of Castle Blackmoor, his breath forming clouds in the frigid air. The ancient stone walls loomed before him, covered in ivy and moss, as if nature itself was reclaiming the forgotten fortress. He had heard tales of ghosts haunting the castle, but he was determined to uncover the truth behind these whispers. As Thomas crossed the threshold, he couldn't help but feel a chill run down his spine. The castle seemed to be alive with the echoes of battles past. He called out, "Is anyone here?" His voice reverberated through the empty halls, and he felt certain that he was not alone. Suddenly, a spectral knight appeared before him, clad in armor tarnished by time. Thomas recognized him as Sir Edric, a legendary figure from the castle's history. "I challenge you to prove your worth," Sir Edric said, his voice echoing like a ghostly whisper. Thomas hesitated, but the spirit of competition within him sparked to life. "Very well," he replied, drawing his sword. The duel was fierce and fast-paced, each stroke sending sparks flying as the two swords clashed. They moved through the castle, their footsteps echoing in the empty halls as they battled. As they fought, Thomas noticed that the air around them shimmered with the ghostly images of past battles. He saw knights in full armor charging into battle, arrows zipping through the air, and blood spilling on the castle's cold stone floors. It was both awe-inspiring and terrifying. Finally, Thomas and Sir Edric found themselves face to face, their breaths coming heavy as they stared each other down. In that moment, Thomas realized that he had been fighting for more than just his life; he had been battling the weight of history itself. In a climactic move, Thomas lunged at Sir Edric, who parried his strike with ease. However, instead of continuing the fight, Sir Edric lowered his sword. "You have proven your worth," he said, his voice still a ghostly whisper. "But the battles you've seen...they are not for you to bear alone." As they stood there, an intense light filled the room, blinding them both. When the light faded, Thomas found himself standing alone in the castle's great hall. He had no idea how much time had passed or what had transpired during that final moment. All he knew was that the weight of history had lifted from his shoulders, and he was forever changed by his encounter with Sir Edric. Thomas stood at the entrance of Castle Blackmoor, his heart pounding with anticipation and fear. The ancient castle loomed before him, its dark stone walls shrouded in a misty veil. He could feel the weight of history pressing upon him, as if the very stones held secrets long forgotten. "Sir Edric!" he called out, his voice echoing through the empty halls. "I have come to challenge you for the honor of Castle Blackmoor!" A spectral figure appeared before him, clad in the armor of a knight. It was Sir Edric, the guardian of the castle, long dead but bound to protect its secrets. "You dare trespass upon these grounds?" Sir Edric asked, his voice like rustling leaves. "You cannot hope to defeat me." "I am not here for victory, Sir Edric," Thomas replied, steel in his eyes. "I am here to prove my worth and claim Castle Blackmoor as my own." They engaged in a fierce duel, their swords clashing in a flurry of sparks and echoes. The air was thick with the scent of ozone, as though the very fabric of reality strained to contain their battle. Ghostly figures materialized around them, wraith-like warriors locked in eternal combat, their cries lost to time. "You fight well, Thomas," Sir Edric acknowledged between gasps for breath. "But you cannot win against the curse that binds this castle." "I do not seek to break your curse, Sir Edric," Thomas declared. "I wish only to join you in defending Castle Blackmoor from those who would despoil it." Their blades crossed once more, their clash a symphony of steel on steel. Thomas's heart raced, his every instinct screaming at him to flee, but he stood his ground. In that moment, he understood the true meaning of sacrifice and loyalty. In the twilight of the battle, a blinding light erupted around them. When it faded, Thomas and Sir Edric found themselves united in spirit, bound together by their shared duty to protect Castle Blackmoor. Their fates, now intertwined, left them uncertain of what lay ahead, but they knew they would face whatever challenges came with unwavering courage. The human asked for a Gothic story featuring epic battles, romance, and an ambiguous ending. In the tale, Thomas explores Castle Blackmoor, encounters Sir Edric, engages in a fierce duel, witnesses ghostly battles, and confronts a figure in black. In their final moment together, they experience a blinding light that leaves their fates uncertain. Once upon a time, in a land shrouded in perpetual twilight, there stood a hauntingly beautiful castle known as Blackmoor. Thomas, a young and intrepid adventurer, had been drawn to this mysterious place by tales of epic battles, passionate romances, and an enigmatic ending that left the hearts of all who heard it pounding with anticipation. As he approached the castle gates, a chilling breeze whispered through the skeletal branches of nearby trees, their gnarled fingers reaching out as if to pull him back. Thomas, undaunted by the eerie atmosphere, strode forth into the darkness that engulfed Castle Blackmoor. The echoing footsteps of his past inhabitants reverberated through the stone corridors, leading him deeper into the heart of the castle. He soon found himself face to face with a spectral knight named Sir Edric, his armor tarnished by time and the weight of his tragic fate. "Who dares intrude upon the hallowed grounds of Blackmoor?" Sir Edric's voice echoed through the castle, an ethereal presence that sent shivers down Thomas' spine. "I come seeking answers, noble sir," Thomas replied boldly, attempting to hide his trembling hands. "My heart yearns for truth and adventure." Sir Edric regarded him with a mixture of amusement and pity. "Very well, stranger. Let us duel to determine your worthiness." With that, they engaged in a fierce battle, their blades clashing against one another as if the very air itself was alive with energy. As the duel raged on, ghostly apparitions of past battles materialized around them, each more vivid and horrifying than the last. The castle seemed to come alive with the cries of warriors long dead, their fates forever entwined within the ancient walls. Thomas' heart pounded in his chest as he fought alongside Sir Edric against their spectral enemies, a bond forged by blood and bravery. In the climactic moment of their duel, a figure in black appeared before them. Its features were obscured by an ominous hood, and it wielded a weapon unlike any they had ever seen. The air grew heavy with anticipation as they faced this enigmatic foe, knowing that their lives hung in the balance. In the final instant, a blinding light erupted from the heart of the castle, washing over Thomas and Sir Edric. As the light faded, they found themselves standing together amidst the ruins of Blackmoor, their fates left uncertain, but forever intertwined. The tale of Castle Blackmoor, with its epic battles, passionate romance, and ambiguous ending, would be passed down through generations, a testament to the power of courage, love, and the indomitable human spirit. Thomas stood at the entrance of Castle Blackmoor, his heart pounding with anticipation. The ancient stone walls loomed before him, their dark shadows casting eerie shapes on the moonlit ground. As he approached the towering gates, they creaked open as if beckoning him inside. Entering the castle, Thomas was greeted by an overwhelming sense of foreboding. Echoes of ghostly laughter and clashing steel filled the air, remnants of epic battles fought in times long past. The castle seemed to breathe with life, despite its apparent abandonment. He followed a faint whispering sound, leading him deeper into the labyrinthine corridors. As he turned a corner, Thomas encountered a spectral knight named Sir Edric, clad in tattered armor and wielding a sword that flickered like fire. The air between them crackled with tension, as if they were both on the precipice of an unseen battlefield. "Who are you?" Thomas demanded, his voice trembling. Sir Edric's spectral visage contorted into a sad smile. "I am Sir Edric, once a proud knight of Castle Blackmoor. I have been trapped within these walls for centuries, unable to find peace." Thomas hesitated, torn between fear and empathy. He couldn't leave the ghostly knight to suffer alone. They engaged in a fierce duel, their swords clashing with an ethereal spark of energy. Thomas, despite his fear, managed to land a decisive blow, causing Sir Edric to vanish before his eyes. Exhausted and trembling, Thomas continued through the castle. He witnessed more ghostly battles, each one more intense than the last. As he ventured deeper, he found himself confronting a figure in black, cloaked in shadows. They locked eyes for an eternal moment, then the figure vanished, leaving only a lingering sense of dread behind. In his final moments within Castle Blackmoor, Thomas was enveloped by a blinding light. As it consumed him, he couldn't help but wonder if he too would be trapped in the castle's haunted halls or if his fate would be different. The answer remained ambiguous, leaving both him and the reader with an air of mystery. Thomas had always been fascinated by Castle Blackmoor's dark and mysterious past, so when he finally gained access to the forbidden castle, his heart raced with anticipation. As he walked through the decrepit halls, whispers echoed in his ears, beckoning him deeper into the darkness. He knew that somewhere within those cold walls lay the spectral knight, Sir Edric, who had been rumored to haunt the castle for centuries. As Thomas ventured further into the labyrinthine corridors, he stumbled upon a grand chamber where a ghostly battle was unfolding. Spectral warriors clashed in an epic duel, their swords and shields glowing with an otherworldly light. Thomas watched in awe as the duelists moved with unparalleled grace and speed, their every movement a testament to their long-lost valor. He could almost feel the weight of their armor and hear the clash of steel on steel. As the battle raged on, Thomas noticed a figure in black observing him from a distance. The figure's presence was ominous, and he knew that his encounter with Sir Edric was imminent. As if on cue, the spectral knight appeared before him, his form shimmering like a mirage in the moonlight. "Who dares trespass upon these grounds?" Sir Edric demanded, his voice echoing through the chamber. Thomas gulped, "I... I am but a humble traveler, seeking to understand your tale." Sir Edric studied him for a moment before nodding. "Very well, but know this: my presence here is a warning to all who dare encroach upon Castle Blackmoor's secrets." As they spoke, the ghostly duel intensified, and the air grew thick with tension. Thomas and Sir Edric locked eyes, each knowing that their fates were intertwined. In that moment, a blinding light erupted from the heart of the battle, casting them both into darkness. Their destinies now uncertain, they could only wonder if they would ever find answers to the mysteries that lay within Castle Blackmoor's enigmatic walls. In the eerie silence of Castle Blackmoor, Thomas felt a chill run down his spine. As he wandered through the dimly lit corridors, he heard whispers of an ancient spectral knight, Sir Edric, who once defended the castle with unparalleled valor. Driven by curiosity and a sense of adventure, Thomas sought to unravel the truth behind the legend. As Thomas continued his exploration, he stumbled upon a grand hall where ghostly figures clashed in epic battles. The spectral knights fought fiercely, their swords slashing through the air with an eerie glow. The sight was both terrifying and captivating. Thomas couldn't help but be drawn into the fray. "Sir Edric!" he called out, attempting to communicate with the apparition. "I come seeking truth! Is this your doing?" The spectral knight, Sir Edric, turned slowly, his eyes burning like embers in the darkness. "Thomas, is it? I've been waiting for someone of your caliber to bear witness to our tale." "Your tale?" Thomas asked, intrigued. "What do you seek from me?" Sir Edric smiled, a ghostly grin that sent shivers down Thomas's spine. "I am bound to this castle until I avenge my fallen comrades. To break the curse, one must engage in a duel and vanquish the darkness within these walls." With a sigh, Thomas accepted the challenge. He drew his sword and locked eyes with Sir Edric. The spectral knight charged, their swords clashing in a dazzling display of skill and prowess. As they fought, the ghostly battles around them faded, replaced by the reality of their confrontation. Thomas felt his strength waning, the weight of the curse pressing down upon him. "I cannot do this alone," he whispered, his voice barely a whisper. "You never were, Thomas," Sir Edric replied, his voice tinged with sadness. "Together, we shall break the curse." With a final surge of strength, Thomas and Sir Edric struck at the darkness, their blades glowing brightly as they cut through the malevolent energy that had haunted Castle Blackmoor for centuries. In their final moment together, a blinding light engulfed them both, leaving only a faint echo of their presence and the lingering question of whether they'd truly been vanquished or simply moved on to another plane of existence. The legend of Thomas and Sir Edric would live on, forever entwined within the walls of Castle Blackmoor, as a testament to the power of friendship, courage, and the indomitable human spirit. In the eerie Castle Blackmoor, Thomas found himself face-to-face with a spectral knight named Sir Edric. The ghostly figure challenged him to a duel, and despite his fear, Thomas accepted. They clashed swords in the castle's grand hall, witnessing ghostly battles of old unfold around them. With every strike, the air grew heavier with history and desperation. "Why have you come here, boy?" Sir Edric demanded between breaths. "I seek answers," Thomas replied, his voice quivering but determined. "What happened here?" Sir Edric laughed, a chilling sound echoing through the castle's dark corridors. "Fools like you have come before, only to meet their end at my hands." Thomas knew he had to end this, or else he would suffer the same fate. With one final surge of strength, he struck Sir Edric, sending him reeling backward. A blinding light enveloped them both, and when it subsided, they were gone, their fates uncertain but forever entwined in Castle Blackmoor's haunted history. Thomas had always been fascinated by Gothic literature, and when he heard about Castle Blackmoor, he knew he had to explore its mysteries. The castle had a dark past, filled with tales of ghosts, curses, and unsolved murders. It was said that the spectral knight, Sir Edric, roamed its halls at night, looking for revenge against those who defiled his honor. Upon reaching the castle gates, Thomas hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. The air was heavy with an eerie silence that seemed to echo the castle's dark history. As he entered the main hall, a chilling draft made the candles flicker and cast strange shadows on the walls. He could almost hear the whispers of the past, as if the castle itself was telling its own story. Suddenly, a figure in black appeared before him. "You have come to witness the spectacle," it said with a voice that seemed both ancient and modern at the same time. Thomas gulped, realizing he had unknowingly disturbed the castle's restless spirits. "Who are you?" Thomas asked nervously. The figure in black smiled, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth. "I am Sir Edric, the spectral knight," it replied. "I guard this castle and seek vengeance for my dishonored name." "What do you want from me?" Thomas asked, trying to keep his voice steady. Sir Edric paused, his eyes scanning Thomas's face as if weighing his intentions. "You must prove yourself worthy," he finally said. "Engage me in a duel and only then shall you leave unscathed." The challenge was set, and the two men found themselves locked in a fierce battle. Their swords clashed as they moved through the castle's dark corridors, leaving a trail of sparks in their wake. The air grew thick with tension, and for a moment, it seemed as though the very walls were closing in on them. As Thomas and Sir Edric continued to fight, ghostly figures appeared throughout the castle, witnessing the duel with silent curiosity. The clash of steel against steel echoed through the halls as each opponent tried to gain an advantage over the other. Finally, in a swift move, Thomas struck Sir Edric, who fell to one knee. "You have proven yourself worthy," Sir Edric said, his voice filled with admiration. "I shall no longer haunt this castle." As they stood face-to-face, a blinding light suddenly enveloped them both. When the light subsided, Thomas found himself outside the castle's gates, unsure of what had transpired within its walls. He knew that his encounter with Sir Edric had changed him forever and left him questioning the truth behind Castle Blackmoor's mysteries. In the eerie and desolate village of Blackmoor, a young man named Thomas embarked on a journey to explore the mysterious Castle Blackmoor. He had heard tales of its dark past and was determined to uncover the truth. As he entered the castle gates, a cold breeze swept through, causing him to shiver. The air felt heavy with an air of foreboding. He ventured deeper into the castle, and as he ascended the winding staircase, he could hear faint whispers echoing in the corridor. A sudden gust of wind pushed him against the wall, leaving him disoriented. Thomas felt a presence lurking nearby and called out, "Is anyone there?" Suddenly, a spectral knight named Sir Edric appeared before him, his armor tarnished with age and rust. He challenged Thomas to a duel, as was the custom among knights of the realm. The two exchanged blows, each strike leaving an ethereal glow in the air. "Sir Edric," Thomas gasped between breaths, "I do not wish for blood to be shed." "Then yield to me," Sir Edric replied, his voice like the wind. But instead of surrendering, Thomas managed to overpower him, causing the specter to vanish in a puff of smoke. As he continued his exploration, he stumbled upon ghostly knights locked in combat, their weapons clashing and sparks flying. The castle seemed to be the stage for an eternal battle. Finally, Thomas found himself in the grand hall where a blinding light enveloped him. He was unsure if it was the end of his journey or the beginning of something new. As the light faded, he realized that the castle had revealed its secrets, but the true fate of Sir Edric and the other specters remained shrouded in mystery.

[yuriosakawa]

There was a legend whispered amongst the ghosts of the Ghost Zone, one that struck fear even in the most powerful specters. A prophecy, old as time itself, claiming that the great Pariah Dark—once sealed away—would rise again and claim an heir. That heir would be a halfling, a being of both human and ghostly essence, powerful enough to rule at his side.

Danny wished he had never heard of it.

He never believed in ghost prophecies, never cared for them. But Pariah’s forces—his loyal, fanatical knights—believed. And now, as they loomed over his family and friends, spectral swords to their throats, Danny found himself trapped.

His hands trembled at his sides, fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his palms. He could take them. He could fight. But the moment he moved, they’d strike. He’d seen the madness in their glowing eyes, the unwavering devotion to their king.

“Decide, boy,” growled Fright Knight, the most loyal of Pariah’s forces, his blade inches from Jazz’s throat. “Accept your fate or watch them fall.”

Danny swallowed hard. His heart hammered against his ribs, a desperate drumbeat that screamed at him to run, to fight, to do anything—but he couldn’t risk it. His family’s terrified eyes were locked onto him, waiting. Hoping.

His voice was hoarse when he spoke. Low, reluctant, barely above a whisper.

“In the name of your lord Pariah Dark… I order you to let go of these humans.”

A pulse of ectoplasmic energy washed over him as he transformed. Rings of light slid over his body, replacing blue with green, black with white, warmth with chilling cold. Danny Phantom stood in his place, but he had never felt less like a hero.

The knights bowed immediately, spectral chains of oaths binding them to his words. They released Jazz. Sam. Tucker. His parents. All of them.

And Danny… felt sick.

Pariah’s sigil burned against his wrist, sealing his fate.

He was the dark prince now. Whether he wanted to be or not.

[anonymous-existences]

MasterPost

Updates are currently... Hiatus. Cuz I'm busy as fuck, don't worry guys I'll reappear soon and say something when I update as always!!! A.E OUT!! (And then the fear of the AO3 curse striking me again with a new found trauma I never knew I didn't have yet is terrifying to think of so yuhh slay.)

[Author's First Fic is Finding Family, it's kinda bad? I think—]

Prolouge : Last Moments

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Spectral Mysteries On AO3

Part 1, Part 2

Title : Search For a Peaceful Resonance]

Also On Ao3

Search for Peaceful Resonance ReWorked

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9

Title:Fatherly Struggles with Dan

DanxBruce Ship Name - Apocalypse Knight , thank you @kashlyn for telling me 🤭🤭 super appreciated!!!

Fatherly Struggles With Dan AO3

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4, Chapter 5

Lost and Divided Fic

Chapter 1 : One Sided Family

Chapter 2 : Stargazing

Field Trip to Gotham Now in Ao3

Chapter 1 : Off to Gotham

Chapter 2 : Gotham Shenanigans

An Apparition In The Dark, A Small Series.(just a small idea thing)

Pt 1

[Updated every New Chapter That's Posted and also Updated if a new Fic is being written :))]

[zhelin-thames]

@purplereaderfans enjoy

The Phantom Twins were legends in Amity Park. Two ghostly figures, identical in appearance yet distinct in energy, defending the town from spectral threats and melting the hearts of Amity’s teens. No one suspected that beneath the heroic visages of Danny Phantom and Dan Phantasm were two very real, very human twins—Danny and Dan Fenton.

Their parents, Jack and Maddie, had expected only one baby, but fate had other plans. The twins grew up inseparable, sharing everything—except their tempers. Danny was easygoing and lighthearted, while Dan had a fiery intensity that balanced him out. When the accident in the portal turned them into half-ghosts, they fought side by side, taking on the ghosts that plagued their town while navigating high school life.

Danny’s relationship with Dash Baxter, of all people, had been a shock to many. The so-called "bullying" had been a mask for feelings Dash didn’t know how to express. Once they worked through that, Dash became one of their strongest allies.

But nothing could have prepared them for him—Dan’s ghost from the future. It wasn’t a fusion of Danny’s and Vlad’s ghost halves; it was Dan’s own ghost half, ripped away from him. The horror of seeing what he could become haunted Dan, even as Danny helped him through it. The future was not set in stone, but the fear of what could be never left them.

Then came the day Pariah Dark awoke. They sealed him back into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep, standing victorious where Vlad had once failed. But with victory came an unforeseen consequence: by right of conquest, the Phantom Twins were now heirs to the Ghost King’s throne.

For a time, they were left alone. Then the bad reveal happened.

Danny was taken by the Guys in White. Dan was taken by their parents.

The twins were separated for the first time in their lives, caged and dissected by those who were supposed to protect them. They endured pain, tests, and endless days locked away. They screamed for each other, but no one listened.

But their friends did.

Jazz, Wes, and Valerie took charge of rescuing Dan from Jack and Maddie’s lab. Sam, Tucker, and Dash infiltrated the GIW facility to free Danny.

Neither operation went smoothly. Battles were fought, alarms blared, and lives were risked. But in the end, the eight of them escaped together, bleeding, exhausted, and desperate.

They ran.

Gotham was not an ideal place to hide, but it was the only option. Crime Alley was the kind of place where people disappeared every day—it made sense to disappear into it. Sam had enough saved-up money to secure a small, run-down apartment. Jazz, as the only legal adult, became the primary provider, while the rest helped however they could. They tried to lay low.

They failed spectacularly.

Gotham’s vigilantes were everywhere.

The first encounter with them was a disaster.

The twins had just taken down a group of armed thugs threatening a local shopkeeper when Red Hood, Nightwing, and Robin appeared from the shadows. It wasn’t a casual meeting—it was an ambush. The vigilantes saw two unknown metas operating in their city and reacted accordingly.

The fight was intense. Danny and Dan had experience, their ghostly abilities making them formidable opponents. But the Batfamily had tactics, training, and numbers. Jazz, ever the protective sister, threw herself between her brothers and the vigilantes, demanding they stop.

Then Batman arrived.

The battle came to an abrupt halt as the Dark Knight observed the situation, his calculating gaze taking in the exhausted, battered teens. It wasn’t long before Oracle dug into their background. The truth came spilling out—what had been done to them, who was after them, and why they ran.

To their shock, the Batfamily didn’t turn them in. They didn’t threaten them. Instead, they offered help.

Wayne Manor, Later That Night

Danny slouched in the chair, arms crossed. Dan leaned against the wall, eyes flicking between each Bat vigilante. Jazz stood in front of both of them, radiating the kind of protective energy that made even Jason take a step back.

Bruce, standing at the head of the table, let the silence settle before speaking. "You're safe here. No one is going to take you back."

Dan snorted. "Forgive me if I don’t take the word of a guy dressed as a bat."

Dick sighed, rubbing his temples. "Oh great, we’ve got another Jason."

Jason grinned. "I like this one."

Jazz took a step forward, eyes narrowing. "We appreciate the help, Mr. Wayne, but let’s be real—what’s your angle? You don’t just take in random kids."

Bruce met her gaze evenly. "Actually, I do."

Danny blinked. "Wait… you're Bruce Wayne? The billionaire?"

Tim snorted. "Took him long enough."

Danny groaned, burying his face in his hands. "We are so out of our league."

Dan grinned. "Speak for yourself, nerd."

Bruce leaned forward, his expression softening ever so slightly. "You have nowhere else to go. The GIW and your parents will keep looking for you. But if you stay here, I can make sure you’re safe."

Jazz hesitated. "And if we say no?"

"Then I’ll make sure you have everything you need to survive. But you won’t be alone anymore."

Danny looked at Dan, then at Jazz. None of them wanted to admit how exhausted they were. How tired of running they’d become.

Finally, Jazz sighed. "If you hurt them, I will end you."

Bruce nodded. "Understood."

Danny leaned back, exhaling. "Guess we’re Waynes now."

Dan smirked. "Great. More brothers."

Jason grinned. "You're gonna love it here, kid."

Danny rolled his eyes but couldn't help the small smile forming on his lips. Maybe, just maybe, they had finally found a home.

The Phantom Twins had been heroes before.

Now, they were Waynes.

[dusterbishop]

i mistakenly called them by your name.

summary. || you're the avatar of anubis and the biggest secret you harbor is your relationship with jake lockley and the daughter you share. when the scarab falls into the hands of a cult, you delve into the fray and hope you can balance saving the world with protecting your secrets.

pairing. || moon knight system x f!reader (established relationship with jake, marc and steven join in later)

count. || 6.2k

notes. || posted on ao3 here. my annual moon knight obsession has taken over my brain and it's currently missing jake lockley hours </3

part one. || part two.

Despite being the Avatar of an ancient Egyptian deity, you don’t necessarily believe in fate. There is no such connection between the world and an individual such as destiny, such as there is no connection between one person and another that classifies as a soulmate bond. People exist in a state of utter abandon, and they are nothing but reactive to the state of the world around them.

Yet, as you turn around to show Eliana another exhibit on Ancient Egypt, dutifully reading aloud the brass-plated plaque she points at, you wonder how much of a coincidence it is that you see your husband standing there, just behind the gift-shop counter. The sight of him plunges your every nerve into a tumultuous sea of arctic water, the waves crashing through your body in a rush of panic. If he knows you followed him back to London, with Eliana no less…

Until you see his gaze meander your way, then slide right over the two of you as if you are nothing but ordinary museum attendees. There’s a slouch to his shoulders, his presence curled up in itself, but you have to tear your attention away before he catches you staring. Or, more likely, before you break and stride over there to demand answers. You have had enough time to sketch out and fine-tune your list of questions for him, and when you booked the flight to London you thought you were composed enough to be able to propose your tidy list to him without wanting to grab him by the lapels of his coat and shake some sense into his stupid fractured brain.

You let out a slow, controlled breath. You’re composed, of course you are. Nothing can shake you.

“Mama,” Eliana says, tugging at your hand impatiently, and you feel a jolt of awareness at the back of your mind that signals the creeping presence of a god nearby. This one isn’t yours.

“Yes, habibti?” You say, casually scanning the museum lobby. It’s a public, brightly-lit institution with sparkling glass cases displaying relics far older than you. There are groups of people sparsely scattering around the room, milling idly from one display to the next, unaware of the oversized jackal trotting through people and the display cases as a spectral entity.

The black-tipped tip of its tail wags in gentle greeting when it catches you looking, and you manage a pointed glance at Eliana before turning your attention back to the exhibit she dragged you to.

“It’s you,” she announces cheerily, grinning up at you. She is a dead-ringer for her father; same loose black curls and dark eyes that glimmer with a mischievous streak of satisfaction in teasing you. You look closer at the replicated statue of a jackal-headed god and huff out a laugh. It’s a statue of Anubis, of course, and you don’t have to look behind you to know that the jackal lingering in your shadow has an open-muzzle grin at the acknowledgment.

“Your flail is better,” she adds, pointing to the replicated flail dangling in the statue’s hand. The museum’s version is plated with imitation gold and striped blue, the metal sparkling beneath the fluorescent lights. The length of its handle fits flush to the statue’s forearm in the traditional symbol of a shepherd’s tool.

“Mine does look different,” you agree, idly swinging your joined hands between you. She stares up at the statue of Anubis with an intent solemnity, and you feel that familiar pitch of guilt in the pit of your stomach. Your service as a god’s Avatar is absolute; as his hands and his faith, you have had to adjust to a life of constant change. What began as a simple career at a local mortuary has transformed into a globe-trotting itinerary with a rapidly-expanding catalog of adversaries.

You resist the urge to glance over at the gift-shop counter and instead tuck a stray curl from Eliana’s eyes, smiling at the way she twists to look over her shoulder and scrunch her nose up at you. “I think we should take a break for lunch, habibti.”

“I wanna see the Ennead,” she frowns. Well, it’s bordering closer to a pout, but you can tell she’s getting hungry and her temper is on a shorter fuse than normal. She points to the banners on the wall, naming off the gods she sees, then pauses. “Where are the other gods, Mama?”

You study the display. There are only seven of the Ennead displayed, Anubis included, unlike the nine traditionally depicted. It’s clear who is missing immediately, and some strange emotion flutters in your gut at the realization.

“Khonshu and Ammit are gone,” Eliana announces. She twists around, peering for any sign of their presence, and she goes tense in your grip when she spots the man at the gift shop counter. “Oh! Daddy’s here.”

“He’s not himself today, habibti,” you tell her. She squints at him, studying the curve of his posture and the polite smile he gives the old woman buying a glass paperweight in the shape of a pyramid. There’s an earnest sheen to the clumsy way he gestures towards the display of fridge magnets that makes his customer smile, polite yet uninterested. He looks like he’s spouting off a laundry list of information, and the old woman nods kindly as she collects her change and receipt before retreating. He manages a wave in goodbye then moves onto his next customer.

“He’s nice,” Eliana decrees. “Can we say ‘hi’, Mama?”

Yeah, Jake is going to kill you for this.

“Sure, habibti. Let’s get a souvenir and we can see him when we checkout.”

In the very least, it’s an easy redirect towards getting her out of the museum to get lunch. She practically drags you over to the gift shop, her eyes taking in the inventory with ravenous longing, and you notice the display of plushies with a resigned sigh.

“Taweret!” She shouts. You let go of her hand before she yanks you off-balance to follow behind at a slower distance, smiling as she gazes reverently at the tower of plush hippos. The black bead eyes shine kindly under the display lights, perfectly reminiscent of the goddess herself. She would be utterly delighted to see the merchandise in her likelihood.

“Oh, we just got those in,” an accented voice says, coming around the checkout counter to edge closer to the two of you. The relentless buzz of worry and stress that you have been harboring since Jake went missing in the dead of a Cairo night eases as his body comes into view. Of course, you assure yourself, his body is fine. With the Moon Knight suit to accelerate his healing instantly in battle and Anubis’s blessing to keep him whole, he was never in danger of death.

Still, your shoulders loosen from the relief, and you turn to smile at him. The name tag fastened to the lapel of his jacket says ‘Steven’, though you figured as much based on the British accent and the seemingly exemplary customer service skills he has displayed. Marc, during the plentiful amount of life-threatening occasions you’ve clashed with him in, is not as patient as his alter, and you know Jake prefers limited contact with strangers when necessary.

“She’s a bit of an Egyptology enthusiast,” you tell him, gesturing to Eliana. A sensation of warmth spreads through your chest as you watch Steven turn to your daughter, his face lighting up in delight. Jake liked to lament the fact that she was just as Egypt-obsessed as Steven was, though you knew he was secretly pleased that she shared that trait with his fellow alter. Steven is a soft-hearted history nerd, he had told you, and he never shuts up about it.

And you love him for it, you had translated, and Jake had expertly changed the subject by changing the channel on the television to put on the game show you both liked. There was something to be said about the way he complained about Steven’s constant stream of history trivia facts only to religiously tune in to Jeopardy with you during his time in the body. Not to mention how damned good he was at it.

“Hello, there,” he says to her, crouching to get closer to her level. He points to the display of stuffed hippos. “I reckon you know who that is, yeah?”

“Taweret,” Eliana beams. She looks to Steven with that smile, and he returns it just as brilliantly. “She’s the goddess of women and children, an’ she helps steer the boat in the Duat.”

Steven raises his eyebrows at that, but his voice doesn’t falter from that kind, attentive tone. “Wow, you’re an expert! She helps guide the souls through the afterlife, yeah?”

“She weighs hearts,” Eliana agrees.

“Oi,” Steven says, sounding a little put-out by the declaration. “Well, that’s more of Osiris’s thing, innit? Weighing the heart, comparing it with the feather?”

Uh-oh. You know that her furrowed brow mean she’s gearing up to properly educate Steven on the true nature of the Duat, so you edge your way back into the conversation, crouching down to be level with her and Steven.

“Do you want to tell Steven what we noticed, Eliana?” You prompt, and her face turns solemn as she stares down Steven.

“You’re missing two,” she tells him. At his startled look, she points over his shoulder to the Ennead banners displayed on the far wall. “Khonshu gets cranky when you don’t talk about him.”

You barely manage to tilt your head down to hide your grin from Steven. She clearly picked that observation up from Jake, who often translated his disdain for Khonshu’s regular self-righteous rants into kid-appropriate terminology when he noticed her paying attention.

“Right,” Steven says, frowning. For a beat, you think it’s from the way Eliana talked about the Egyptian god of the moon with familiarity, but no, he looks justified as he points to the banners. “I told my boss the same thing, yeah? There are nine members of the Ennead and only seven banners. In a museum!”

Uh-oh. Now you got Steven all worked up.

“Stevie!” A voice shouts, startling the three of you. Eliana reaches out to clasp Steven’s hand, eyes wide, and some unspeakable emotion clogs your throat when you see his grip on her hand tighten reflexively, a silent comfort.

“Uh, here!” he calls. To Eliana, he says, “Donna, my boss.”

He dares a glance your way, and you blink at the flush of red creeping over the crest of his cheekbones. You aren’t used to your husband’s body looking so… soft and shy. Not in public, anyway. “I’m real sorry about that.”

“Don’t apologize,” you tell him, soft, and he seems to blush harder only to yelp in surprise when Donna turns the corner. He straightens up to his feet fast enough to shake the display rack of Taweret plushies in a dangerously tedious wobble, which makes Eliana giggle and in turn draws Donna's attention to the way he’s still gripping onto your daughter’s hand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” She asks him, her voice edged in exasperated annoyance, and you rise up from your crouch, eyes narrowed. Donna gestures to their clasped hands. “Let go of that child, Stevie, what’s the matter with you?”

Steven releases Eliana’s hand as if her touch burns, and she stares up at him with wide eyes, hurt twisting her bottom lip into a wavering pout. You reach out and draw her closer to your side, smoothing a hand over her dark curls as she buries her face against the hem of your coat to hide her tears.

You look at Steven, and the gutted expression that flashes across his face nearly rends you in half. Jake. You would know him by sight alone, even if he only takes control of the body’s expression just long enough for you to see his hurt before he shutters himself away again. Got you, you think, relief unraveling the pit of worry trapped beneath your ribs. The body is alive, yes, but so is Jake. He’s there, even if he masks himself behind the presence of his fellow alter.

Part of you had thought… you had worried that…

“Steven is a real scholar,” you interrupt, forcing a smile to your face, hard-lined with polite disdain for her tone. Donna pulls her glare from Steven and looks at you as if just noticing your presence for the first time. “He was just telling Eliana about the Ennead. She loves Egyptology, I’m so glad she could talk to someone who loves it just as much as she does.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’, really,” Steven scrambles to add, flushing darker, his gaze darting from you to Donna with a wariness that reminds you so much of Jake you wonder if he’s still at the surface of the body’s consciousness, prepared to strike.

“I appreciate his help,” you add over Steven’s stuttering apology to Donna. She gives him a flat, annoyed look then turns to you with a fake smile.

“Well, at least he’s good for something,” she says, pointedly staring at Steven, and the defensive curl of his shoulders makes you want to throttle her. The blaze of fury that curls up the length of your spine is not only your own; a jackal’s rumbling growl echoes in the space above you.

“He is amazing,” you blurt out. She turns to stare at you, but you only have eyes for Steven. His posture is slumped, but those dark eyes are glittering with surprise as you stare at one another, a rising tide of unsaid words swelling in the back of your throat. You want to tell Donna of the incredible knowledge he has, the kindness of his heart, and the mirrored facets of his body that she could never fully understand. She cannot understand that when she disparages Steven Grant, she is also targeting Marc Spector, Jake Lockley, and Moon Knight.

Instead, you say, finally, “I really appreciate it, Steven. We would love to hear more when we come back.”

“Of course,” Steven says immediately, then blanches at the glare Donna gives him. “Right, uh, you’re welcome back anytime, yeah? Eliana, too.”

At the sound of her name, Eliana twists her head to look shyly up at Steven, her fingers easing their death grip on your coat when you gently tug at the curl falling into her eyes. The smile she gives him shines bright enough to make him grin back. “Thanks, Steven!”

“Thanks, Steven,” you repeat, and part of you wonders what Jake sees when you lean down and haul Eliana up onto your hip, carefully maneuvering your way out of the gift shop without bumping into the few patrons staring openly at the strange display between you, Steven, and Donna. He had told you that he stays aware during the day, giving his nights to Marc unless he felt a spike of adrenaline that signaled the start of a fight for the body.

You hope he sees your message loud and clear as you make your way to the museum’s exit, glancing over your shoulder just once to find Steven watching you, his face morphing into guilt and embarrassment when he sees you catch him staring.

You offer him a fleeting smile. You hope Jake sees your silent meaning: come and find me.

***

You get lunch at a cafe across the street from the museum, and you don’t argue when Eliana begs to sit at one of the bistro tables outside despite the clouds rolling in and muddling the sky. London is a dreary change of pace from your last apartment in Tunis, though you silently admire the way Eliana watches with open amazement at the crowded sidewalk and idling cars passing you on the street, enraptured by the bustle of pedestrians and flow of afternoon traffic.

You are no stranger to the world, but you forget how novel the entire experience is for your daughter. For a five year old, she’s been to more countries than you had been to at her age, but she still chews on her sandwich with an absent-minded instinct as she watches. Like the exhibits in the museum, she is utterly taken with the foreign display of another life.

The french fries you ordered taste like ash in your mouth, but you manage to chew and swallow without feeling too nauseous. It helps when you have a spectral jackal curled up at your feet under the table, its weightless head resting on your shoes in silent support. Its head is pointedly aimed to the front doors of the museum, acting as a sentinel. You don’t expect Steven to lose control of the body any time soon, especially not to Jake. Last you heard from him, he was intent on keeping his role in the system as a secret.

There’s enough going on in their head without me, querida.

Fair enough, you think, though you give up on picking at your fries in favor of scrawling another entry in your travel journal. It was a simple way to keep track of Jake’s memories during your former glory days as traveling Avatars, but you keep the habit without him there to add his own observations or opinions.

Noon: Visited the National Art Gallery with Eliana. She took us around the Egyptian exhibits for an hour. Saw Steven in the gift shop. Saw you briefly in the front. Got lunch at the cafe across the street.

Staring down at the entry only furthers that jolt of longing in your heart, so you snap the journal closed and slip it back into your tote bag, far out of sight.

“Oh,” Eliana says, breathless, and you barely have time to look up before you see her get swept up out of her seat by a pair of hands.

Your choked gasp of shock catches the attention of a nearby table, but the older couple looks away when Jake glares back at them, hoisting Eliana up onto his shoulders. He carries the body with the same lithe grace as a panther, you think. Where Steven is huddled and wary, Jake burns as bright as the sun, his shoulders squared, every step graceful and sure.

Even his smile to you is near-predatory. Unhappy.

“Fancy to see you here, querida,” he says. Not unkindly, though you know it’s more for Eliana’s benefit. There’s an edge lining the corner of his mouth that is reserved only for you to see now that she’s stashed safely atop his shoulders.

“I saw Steven!” She tells him, burying her hands in his dark curls. She leans down to press her temple to his, only to squeal in delight when he turns to kiss the tip of her nose.

“You told him he was missing the gods on that poster, princesita?” He hitches his shoulders to make her bounce, and she curls up to steady herself in his grip, giggling riotously against the crown of his curled hair. “I think you forgot something when you left.”

“Not-uh,” she declares. “I got my jacket!”

“Hmm,” Jake muses. “What about your shoes?”

“One, two,” she shows him one foot then the other. Jake’s smile softens at the sight of the untied laces, and you know he’s thinking of the same daily rituals you are. So many mornings he has spent muttering over her sneakers, constantly re-tying the laces, failing to convince her to get velcro shoes because she likes Jake to tie them for her and he cannot resist making her smile, even in that small way.

A morning ritual the two of you have tried to remedy together since he left. You’ve shown her how to tie her own shoes many times since then, but both of you can feel the gaping emptiness that he has left since Cairo.

“¿Estas segura?” He teases, and when she lets out an offended squawk of annoyance, he releases his grip on one of her ankles and pulls out a fuzzy dark-fur plush from his pocket.

You laugh despite yourself. A plush jackal, colored just like the god tucked in at your feet.

“Anubis!” Eliana gasps. She takes the plush from Jake with reverent joy, tucking it securely into the crook of her arm as her other hand curls gently into his dark hair. The exhaustion and annoyance that lined his face earlier is long gone, and a gentle adoration softens his eyes as she leans in to whisper in his ear, “Gracias, Daddy.”

“De nada, princesita,” he whispers back. For a moment, they stay just like that, her face ducked low to lean against his, his hands clasping her ankles to steady her perch on his shoulders. She has the same sort of smile that he does, too, as if it’s a secret split open and divided just for the two of them to share.

You’re loath to interrupt their first moment of peacefulness in nearly two months, so you merely catch Jake’s gaze and hold it, silently conveying every thought rattling in your head.

Cairo. The apartment abandoned in Tunis. The journey to London through international flights, hauling around a cranky kid that missed her dad and didn’t understand why it was important to pretend she wasn’t Eliana Lockley Spector when the boarding agents checked them in. Seeing Jake’s body being piloted by a near-stranger in the gift shop, knowing he was close enough for you to touch but you had no right to ask for the privilege.

“Join us?” You ask softly. He swallows thickly, and for a beat, he lets you see the emotions filtering through his mind in his subdued expression: exhaustion, stress, panic, relief, love, love, love.

“I have an hour for lunch,” he says. He doesn’t say that it’s Steven’s lunch, though you know that based on the tension ticking in his jaw, he’s already wondering how he will cover the blank spot in Steven’s memory when he comes back to front.

You push your plate across the table, and he eyes the untouched sandwich and half-eaten fries with a knowing look.

“No mayo,” he assumes. It’s endearing, you think, watching him scrutinize the lunch date you arranged while Eliana pets his curls with gentle fingers, tangling up the sleep-mussed locks even further. If Steven looked tired and rumpled, then Jake seems exhaustively spent. There’s a firm tilt to the corner of his mouth that reminds you of the way Marc always frowns when he’s in the front, but as Eliana carefully combs through his hair with her little fingers, you can see his expression smooth out and soften.

“You should finish lunch,” he finally says. He’s looking directly at you, but he lifts Eliana up and over his head to settle her in his lap, claiming the chair he swept her up from. She wiggles to lean her head against his collar, her posture loose and sated. He pulls her plate closer to the edge of the table so she can reach, and one of her hands dart out to snatch a french fry.

“Ay, have more than just the fritas,” he admonishes, but he takes a fry off of your plate with a wink only you can see. Eliana giggles but obediently reaches for her half-gnawed sandwich next, and so Jake doesn’t complain when she curls up in his lap to nibble on it, watching the passing traffic with a bright smile that makes your heart ache.

The three of you will never have your little life in Tunis again. You know it, even if you want nothing more than to take Jake by the hand and drag the both of them back home. It eases the sting to know that Jake would go with you and he wouldn’t fight it. His willingness to settle down was never the obstacle in your relationship.

“How was the shiva?” You ask. It’s easier to switch to Spanish; you can feel the sidelong stares from the old couple at the table next to yours, still uneasy at Jake’s sudden appearance. They are likely harmless, but you don’t have enough energy to sidestep the actual topic you need to discuss by using petty code-speak.

Jake takes the offering without stumbling. “Didn’t go in. Had to nudge them through the city streets before one of them got run over.”

“The museum is just his day job, then?” You ask, nodding to the name tag still fastened to Jake’s coat. Or it was technically Steven’s coat, you supposed. The three of them have their own preferences, and you know Jake would have preferred something softer and warmer for the tepid English weather.

“Gallivanting at night,” Jake agrees. He takes another fry off of your plate and eats it slowly, chewing as if he can delay the conversation entirely. Eliana eats just as slow, you notice, and you wonder if it isn’t just Jake who feels the tension brewing between the two of you.

It isn’t fair for her, you think, and that gives you the courage to speak first.

“I’ve been talking to my sister,” you start, and the next sentence dies in your throat when you see Jake stiffen, panic flashing through his eyes before his gaze settles in wary distrust. The slope of his shoulders tense into a straight, drawn-back posture. A soldier’s stance.

“You,” Marc says flatly. Eliana straightens up at the sound of his voice, looking at you with wide eyes, and you can only offer her a smile in what you hope conveys comfort. Either that, or you just might expose some of the frustration welling up in your chest.

“Just having lunch,” you tell Marc. His brows draw together, unsure, and you quickly jump back into English. “We invited Steven to lunch.”

Wrong thing to say. The tension stiffens into protectiveness, his dark eyes slowly taking in the plates on the table, the half-eaten vegetarian sandwich pushed between you and him. Then his attention trails down to Eliana, and his expression smooths out when he realizes that she’s watching him with rapt attention.

“Hi, Eliana,” Marc says, soft. When he looks at you, that wariness turns the softness of his black eyes back to stone. “Steven isn’t involved in any of this, Lockley.”

You nod. The sound of his voice sends that shiver down your back. God, you missed this so much. Jake may be the alter you married, but Marc is still the reason you have him and Eliana. He was your partner in a way Jake didn’t quite equate to.

“I know.” You offer your best apologetic look, but he doesn’t seem swayed until you nod to Eliana. “We came to the city for my sister. I got a lead and I needed the babysitter.”

“Lockley,” he warns. He glances around the cafe, and you follow his gaze. The old couple that sat next to you have gone while you were distracted, and you supposed it was good they left before they noticed Jake switch into a brooding American from Chicago that looked like he was holding a pipe bomb rather than your daughter in his lap. The faces around you are different but unassuming, and none seem interested in your suddenly tense conversation. It’s only the three of you, and the jackal curled languidly at your feet, unbothered by the display.

Good. That must mean Khonshu isn’t here yet. When Marc looks back to you, you smile at him.

“I know,” you say, soft enough to sound less like a defense mechanism and more like an olive branch. It doesn’t loosen the slope of his shoulders, though there’s less wrinkles across his brow. “I just needed time before meeting with Sophia. Eliana wanted to see the exhibits.”

“I saw a mummy,” Eliana adds, patting Marc’s shoulder to get his attention. The anger clears from his face when he tilts his head down to offer his full attention. His eyes linger on the plush jackal clutched in the crook of her arm, but he merely offers her a kind, gentle smile.

“Oh, yeah?” He says. He pokes her side, supporting her weight when she jolts away at the ticklish touch with a giggle, then pokes at the plush on her other side. “You picked up a souvenir, too?”

“Anubis,” Eliana affirms. She pulls it out to offer it to Marc, and his hand is gentle as he pets the top of its furry head, his smile tugging ruefully at the corners of his mouth. You take a brief, gracious moment to silently thank Jake for his thoughtfulness. Not only did Eliana have a souvenir, but it was a good cover story for when this exact scenario happened: they saw Steven at the gift shop counter during checkout, and they got lunch together.

From what you knew of Steven, you gathered that he was an earnest, kind-hearted, and well-mannered man. He wouldn’t refuse an offer for lunch, and he was just as likely to strike up a friendship with Eliana through a few conversations about their shared love for Egyptology.

Like you choosing the vegan-friendly restaurant, Jake chose a prop for a lunch date. For all of the complaints he had about Marc’s love for strategy, he could be a formidable opponent in the game of chess you all played with the system. Hiding Steven from the world of Avatars, hiding Jake from Marc and Steven, hiding who you and Eliana truly are from Marc.

It was all a delicate circus act of balance and lies, and you wondered just how far you could let it go before it all came crashing down. Marc would be gutted if he knew the girl cradled in his lap was his daughter just as much as she was Jake’s and Steven’s. He would be furious if he knew his marriage to Layla was null and void just because he was married to you, instead, long before he started to even date her.

Yeah, some chess game you all played. Some days you wondered if it would be easier simply to set the board on fire and let it all go.

“I’m sorry,” you say suddenly.

Marc and Eliana both look to you, an eerie mirror to the life you pose for. She has his striking dark eyes and soft curls, and thanks to you, she has his name, too. One of the contacts you worked with beyond the scope of Marc and Layla’s influences forged her birth certificate and passport, sympathetic when you explained to her that Eliana was a surprise and her father had no interest in being involved. She needed identification papers, and you couldn’t go to the local embassy to register her birth with her father, and so you made them up.

You couldn’t blame Jake for lying about his role in the system. You were just as complicit in the deceit of your daughter’s life. By extension, for better and for worse, that meant Marc’s life, too.

“For showing up so suddenly,” you explain. “I didn’t expect to get so caught up in a museum today. We just had to kill some time.”

In emphasis, you check your watch, and you don’t have to fake the tired sigh that overcomes you at the acknowledgment of the time. Steven’s lunch was about over, and you had to catch the next bus to your sister’s house before she started to worry about you.

Marc, ever attentive, takes the hint.

“I understand,” he says, though he doesn’t sound happy. “Just… leave him out of this. We can talk about the scarab later.”

“Didn’t tell you that was my lead,” you point out, a little sly, and he levels you with an unamused look. You relent, “I’ll share my sources and we can make a plan. You don’t have to rush in alone.”

The smile he gives you is bitter. “Am I ever alone, Lockley?”

With that, you watch as his posture softens, Marc stepping back from control. For a moment, you wonder if he intends to have Steven step in, in which case explaining the lunch arrangement again will get much more confusing. But no, you can see Jake’s mouth twitch with a muted frown before he gives you a wide, uncharacteristically bright smile.

“Right, look at the time,” Jake says, and you can’t help but smile at the British accent. “I best get a move on, right, love?”

He presses a kiss to the top of Eliana’s head, and only you can see the way he closes his eyes for a heartbeat, a wave of longing sweeping across his face before it settles back to an imitation of Steven’s soft look and he leans back. When he looks at you, his face betrays nothing of his true nature, and you wonder what he would say if Marc wasn’t hovering so close to the front, watching your interaction.

He would probably be pissed. He didn’t like to be left out of the loop, and you coming to London was so far out of left field that you came from another stadium. Bringing Eliana only complicated things, but were you supposed to leave her with your neighbors in Tunis? As much as you liked and trusted the al-Karims that lived next door, they were vastly unprepared to take care of Eliana if you never came back. Next of kin was the best opportunity you had, at least for now.

“It was nice to see you,” you say to your husband. You hold his eyes for a long moment, a silent conversation held delicately between the two of you. Years of working side-by-side as Avatars and the aspect of parenthood where being aware of what Eliana shouldn’t have to hear finely tuned your silent communication skills, and you are more than fluent in the language of Jake Lockley.

He is beyond pissed. He is utterly fucking terrified. He wants you to leave just as much as he wants to pull you in and keep you close. He wants to settle in and rest, even for just a little while, and he does not want to let the two of you out of his sight.

I will be back for you, you tell him silently. We are not doing anything alone. We are going to fix this and go back to normal.

Jake says, with the slightest furrow of his brow: I want you to be right, querida.

Yeah, you want to be right, too. It’s a work in progress.

“You ready to go, habibti?” You say to Eliana, gathering up your tote bag and her small pink backpack. Before leaving Tunis, you packed it with her clothes, along with some of her favorite books and a few toys. How strange your life was that you had a go-bag for your five year old. It had been even worse that she recognized her backpack and had gotten ready for your flight before you even explained the trip to see your sister.

She heaves a world-weary sigh and shuffles around to face Jake, lifting up her Anubis plush to kiss his cheek with a soft peck of its nose.

“Anubis likes you,” she tells him, solemn. The jackal at your feet, nothing more than a shimmering mass of sand and shadows, gives Jake a bared-teeth grin of acknowledgement that no one but you can see. She isn’t far off, though you would rather not have Khonshu overhear that his Avatar has a soft spot in a rival god’s heart.

Marc must still be close to the waking consciousness of the body, because Jake nods enthusiastically and generously pats the plush’s head.

“Right, thanks, mate.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to muffle a laugh. His impression is openly expressive and earnest, though not entirely overdramatic. The accent is a dead ringer for Steven’s stereotypical posh English. It makes sense; he has spent many years posing as flashes of Steven to keep Marc unsuspecting of certain blank spots in his memory. Typically, it’s softer errands, such as grocery shopping or doing laundry, but you have heard Jake’s impression of Steven and Marc enough to know when it’s him putting on an act, even if it happens to be a very accurate act.

Jake keeps up his front as Steven, and you wonder if you’re the only one that notices the way he reluctantly passes off Eliana to you, his hands lingering just a moment on her untied shoes before they drop back in his lap, empty.

Eliana nuzzles her face in the crook of your shoulder, her arms wrapping around your neck in loose comfort. She’s exhausted after your morning of travel to London by bus, followed immediately by your museum visit and the impromptu lunch date. When you reach your sister’s house, you know she’ll be grumpy until you can convince her to nap.

Then, you will have to leave her there, and meet up with Marc.

“Thank you,” you say to Jake, though it’s half meant for Marc, too. The two of you can manage to find the scarab and keep it out of the cult’s hands, surely. The quicker you locate the artifact, the quicker you can arrange a real routine for Eliana while you adjust to London life. Or maybe you’ll get lucky and you can go back to Tunis, the three of you, to go back to enjoying the sunshine and frequenting the food stalls in the Medina.

“Pleasure’s all mine, love,” Jake grins, and this time, it’s his own flirtatious smile that makes you grin back.

[bodybaggage]

Phantom in the League

---

The Watchtower hummed with its usual low energy, the heartbeat of Earth's greatest defenders. The Justice League had just wrapped up their latest meeting, discussing the increasing dimensional rifts appearing across the globe. Batman, ever the detective, had been the first to suggest the possibility of a more mystical cause. Naturally, the League looked to Zatanna and Constantine for guidance. But before they could dive too deep, another voice cut through.

"We could always ask Phantom."

Superman’s suggestion was simple, straightforward, and met with a few curious looks. The Kryptonian had always been one to trust his teammates, but Phantom’s origins had been one of the best-kept secrets in the League. Phantom, the young yet mysterious ghostly hero, had been a valuable ally since he’d been recruited after saving Star City from a rampant ghost attack nearly a year ago.

The League had grown used to his presence. His ethereal glow, the way he seemed to fade in and out of sight like a wisp of smoke, and the cryptic smile that often played on his lips. He was a mystery, one they had chosen to respect, but now? Now, they needed answers.

"Do we even know where to find him?" Green Lantern asked, hovering a few inches off the ground. "He just… shows up."

"I can find him," Batman declared, his voice a low growl that brooked no argument. "He can't stay hidden forever."

"He's never been a threat, Bats," Flash pointed out, leaning casually against the conference table. "He's just… Phantom. He helps out, doesn't ask for anything in return, then he's gone."

"That might be true, but we need to know who or what we’re dealing with," Wonder Woman added. "If these dimensional rifts are tied to his abilities or his world, we need to be prepared."

Superman nodded in agreement, his arms crossed over his broad chest. "Let’s just ask him directly. If he trusts us enough to fight alongside us, then he’ll trust us with the truth."

---

Phantom had never been easy to track, but Batman had his ways. And when Batman wanted to find someone, he did.

The Batcomputer pinged with a soft alert as he isolated Phantom’s spectral energy signature, something the Dark Knight had painstakingly compiled over the past few months. It was faint, almost undetectable, but there was enough to trace a general location: an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of Gotham. Fittingly enough.

---

When the League arrived at the warehouse, it was eerily silent. The only sign of life—or unlife—was a soft, pulsing green light emanating from the cracks in the walls. Superman could hear the faintest murmur of voices, and Wonder Woman felt the magical energy in the air thickening, almost like stepping into another world.

“Stay on guard,” Batman instructed, though he knew everyone was already on high alert.

They pushed open the rusted doors, revealing a scene none of them had expected. Phantom was there, hovering mid-air, his back to them. But he wasn’t alone. Standing before him was a massive, imposing figure, crowned with a spectral crown and draped in regal, ghostly armor. The very air around the figure crackled with power—power that seemed to warp reality itself.

"Who the hell is that?" Green Lantern whispered, his ring already flaring to life.

"That's Pariah Dark," Phantom’s voice cut through the silence, clear and calm. He turned slowly, his eyes glowing a vivid green. "The former Ghost King of the Infinite Realms."

“Former?” Wonder Woman questioned, her brow furrowed in concern.

“Yes,” Phantom continued, descending to the ground as he spoke. “He’s no longer the king because… I am.”

The League froze. Superman’s eyes widened slightly, and even Batman seemed taken aback, though he quickly masked it. The implication was massive.

Phantom noticed their reactions and sighed, looking almost tired. “I was hoping to keep this quiet, at least until the time was right. But I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

He walked forward, the green glow around him dimming as he shifted from his ghostly form into that of a human boy—one who looked no older than seventeen. His black hair fell into his face as he offered them a weary smile, his bright blue eyes meeting theirs with surprising warmth.

“My name is Danny. Danny Fenton. And, yes, I’m the current King of the Infinite Realms.”

“The Infinite Realms?” Superman asked, though the name already resonated with him. He had heard of it before—an interdimensional realm of ghosts and spirits, a place of both immense power and danger.

Danny nodded. “It’s… complicated. The realms are like a web of dimensions, all interconnected and constantly shifting. I inherited the throne after defeating Pariah Dark.” He gestured towards the massive ghost, who remained silent, his eyes glowing with an eerie intensity. “It wasn’t exactly by choice, but it’s my responsibility now.”

“So, you’re a king,” Flash summed up, trying to wrap his head around it. “And you’ve been, what? Just hanging out with us, fighting bad guys on Earth?”

Danny chuckled, a sound that held a hint of bitterness. “Pretty much. The Infinite Realms are my duty, but Earth… Earth is my home. I couldn’t just abandon it, not with everything that’s happened.”

“Why didn’t you tell us?” Wonder Woman asked, her tone gentle but firm.

Danny hesitated, his gaze falling to the ground. “I didn’t want you to see me differently. I’m still me, still the same guy who fought alongside you. I just… have a lot more on my plate than most.”

“Kid,” Green Lantern said, lowering his ring, “we’ve all got our secrets. But this? This is big. You could have told us.”

“I know,” Danny admitted, his voice soft. “But I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to bring my problems into your world. But with these rifts appearing… they might be connected to the Realms, and that means it’s my responsibility to fix it.”

Batman stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Danny’s. “And Pariah Dark?”

The ghost king finally spoke, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to echo through the very fabric of reality. “I am here at the behest of my king. I no longer seek to conquer. My past… transgressions have been put aside.”

Danny glanced at Pariah, his expression unreadable. “Pariah Dark is… complicated. But he’s under control. I’m keeping him in check.”

There was a moment of tense silence before Superman spoke, his voice carrying the authority of a leader but the warmth of a friend. “Danny, we’re a team. We face these challenges together. If the Realms are a threat, we’ll help you. But you need to trust us, just like we trust you.”

Danny looked up, meeting Superman’s gaze, and for the first time, he truly felt like a part of something bigger. Not just a king, not just a hero, but a member of the Justice League.

“Okay,” Danny agreed, his voice firm. “I’ll tell you everything. And together, we’ll stop whatever’s threatening both of our worlds.”

The League nodded in unison, the tension slowly dissipating. They were in this together, just as they had always been.

As they prepared to leave, Danny couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief. The burden of his secret was still heavy, but now he wasn’t carrying it alone. For the first time in a long while, he felt like he truly belonged.

And as the Watchtower’s doors closed behind them, Danny knew that whatever came next, he wouldn’t have to face it alone.

pt.2

---

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #3

The thing about being seventeen and King of the Infinite Realms is that nobody prepares you for the paperwork.

Sure, Danny thought there’d be some responsibility when he accidentally overthrew Pariah Dark and inherited an ancient, eldritch realm full of undead beings and chaos entities. But this?

“This” being a five-hour council meeting about whether the Blob Ghost could legally marry the Ghost of a Haunted Taco Bell.

Danny slammed his forehead into the obsidian table, sighing. “Can someone remind me why this is my life again?”

Fright Knight, sitting to his left in full spectral armor, replied without missing a beat. “Because you claimed the Throne of The Infinite Realms by Rite of Spectral Conquest, my liege.”

“Right…” Danny muttered, dragging his crown—which looked less like a crown and more like an aggressive mass of bone, metal, and green flame—off his head and onto the table. “That. Cool. I love my life. I’m living my best afterlife.”

The Ghost Zone’s politics were a nightmare. The Council of Wailing Scepters argued in riddles. The Ministry of Temporal Loops wouldn’t stop trying to undo Danny’s birth “as a preventative measure.” Ember was unionizing musical ghosts. Skulker demanded hunting permits. Box Ghost somehow had diplomatic immunity.

And let’s not even talk about the Realms’ economy.

“Have you ever tried to make a tax code for entities who don’t obey time?” Clockwork once asked with a deadpan stare.

Danny had not. Danny did not want to.

And all of that was on top of being a superhero, a public figure, a full-time student at Midtown, Tony Stark’s ghost consultant intern, and, most critically, Peter Parker’s boyfriend.

The one bright spot in his entire liminal, half-dead, legally dubious existence.

Peter was the only reason Danny hadn’t exploded yet. Or accidentally declared war on Canada (long story, don’t ask). Or gotten exorcised by a rogue Vatican unit (longer story).

When Danny phased into his boyfriend’s bedroom at 2:43AM wearing royal armor, covered in ghost slime, with a ghost octopus clinging to his leg screaming, “LONG LIVE THE GHOST KING,” Peter didn’t even blink.

He just put his book down and said, “Do you want hot chocolate or a sedative?”

“Both.” Danny croaked.

“Got you.” Peter said, already moving toward the mini kitchen.

Danny melted into the couch, dropping his crown on the floor. It rolled slightly, then hissed at the furniture. He kicked it under the table.

“I hate everyone.” He muttered. “The fire ghosts are trying to annex the Library of Screams again, the Spectral Senate is debating if time travelers have souls, and a councilwoman called me a fleshling with trauma issues.”

“Well,” Peter called out gently from the kitchen, “she’s not wrong.”

“Peter.”

“I’m just saying. You did try to punch Death last week.”

Danny groaned. “It was a misunderstanding!”

“You called them a dusty crypt bitch.”

“They insulted my hoodie!”

Peter returned, holding two mugs. He handed one to Danny, kissed his forehead, then sat beside him.

Danny leaned heavily against him.

Peter didn’t complain.

“Y’know,” Danny said after a moment, sipping his cocoa, “sometimes I forget I’m still seventeen.”

Peter chuckled. “Babe. You’re seventeen, King of a spectral empire, on the Avengers’ emergency contact list, and still get detention for being late to gym. You’re living like six lives at once.”

“I died once,” Danny muttered. “That should’ve been enough.”

Between ghost attacks, council drama, interdimensional skirmishes, and Midtown High exams, Danny hadn’t had a full night’s sleep since… well, since before dying.

The living world had opinions too. America couldn’t decide if he should be considered a minor, a sovereign leader, or a health hazard. International ghost regulations were passed in his name. He had diplomatic immunity in over a human countries and was banned from a hundred others. There was a conspiracy subreddit entirely dedicated to the theory that he was an alien hybrid bred by the government to replace the Queen of England.

Danny’s response to that was, “Do I look like I want to colonize anything?”

He still had math homework due tomorrow.

Sometimes he phased into the UN to yell at their Interdimensional Defense Committee. Sometimes he missed bio class because a ghost war broke out on the edge of the Dreaming Isles and he had to teleport to stop Nocturne from invading people’s nightmares.

Sometimes, Peter would find him sitting on the floor of their shared dorm shower, still glowing, muttering, “I am the King of Everything and Nothing and I can’t figure out mitochondria.”

“I’ll tutor you,” Peter always offered. “And also get you a nap and a cookie.”

Peter was… everything.

Unflinchingly patient. Wickedly smart. Constantly worried.

He patched up Danny’s wounds, whispered jokes during council meetings when Danny looked five seconds from screaming, brought extra snacks when Danny forgot to eat.

He held Danny after Danny woke up screaming from ghost-fueled nightmares.

And when the burden got too heavy—when Danny stood on the balcony of his palace in the Infinite Realms, overlooking a kingdom of madness and memory, time fractals and ghosts whispering in languages lost to the living—and said, “I don’t think I can do this anymore,” Peter kissed his knuckles and said, “Then I’ll do it with you.”

The other ghosts hated it.

A human, dating the King? Scandalous. Blasphemous. Soft.

Danny told them all to choke.

Peter? Peter told them to submit a formal complaint in triplicate and then kissed Danny in front of them just to be petty.

They ruled together, in a way. Danny signed the decrees. Peter corrected the grammar. Danny banished tyrants. Peter took notes and organized his calendar. Danny fought for peace. Peter made sure he didn’t forget who he was fighting for.

Once, Clockwork pulled Peter aside and said, “He will burn out without you.”

Peter just nodded. “I know.”

And yet, through all the madness, they found joy.

Danny giving Peter flying lessons. Peter webbing Danny’s locker shut as a prank. The two of them building a spectral stabilizer out of Tony’s spare tech, laughing hysterically when it turned the floor into a trampoline.

They shared ghost patrols, movie nights, star-watching on top of the Empire State Building.

Peter calling Danny “Your Majesty” in a ridiculous accent until Danny threatened to drop him into a lava lake.

Danny threatening international leaders by day and then cuddling with Peter by night, wearing fuzzy socks and a hoodie that said “Half-Dead, Fully Tired.”

Sometimes, Danny just stared at him. In awe.

Peter, who knew the truth. All of it. The weight. The loss. The terrifying power clawing beneath Danny’s skin. The fact that Danny was the anchor between dimensions, balancing the afterlife and reality like a tired high schooler with PTSD and ghost fire.

And still loved him.

Still said, “You’re doing great.”

Still held him when it all came crashing down.

The Realms called Danny a King.

To Peter, he was just Danny.

Sometimes, that was all Danny needed to be okay.

Just… Danny. Human. Ghost. Hero. Boyfriend.

King of the Infinite Realms, sure. But also a seventeen-year-old who just wanted to pass his math test, kiss his boyfriend, and maybe get five hours of sleep.

With Peter by his side?

He could do it all.

Even the haunted Taco Bell marriage negotiations.

[biasomnia]

I’ve been thinking so much on what Silver’s retained and changed from the Knight of Dawn’s armor that I have to over analyze it. Before I begin 1) all photos used are from @/twstassets and 2) this is just my thoughts and I still don’t have full context for everything yet since I don’t play on jp or know Japanese myself, if things are wrong/vague feel free to jump in with your own thoughts!

To start out, just a general full body view of each outfit.

Most obvious here is that what I’m calling “Dream Armor” is less ornate and less “battle-ready.” Specifically, the plate armor has been removed, leaving only the underlayer. This shows that while Silver accepts the past and parents he was born from, he will not take their ideologies and violence into the future.

Last (for this part of the post the image count is kicking me whoops).

At first I was sad to see such a blatant emblem from the Silver Owl’s retained, seeing the thorny rose badge beneath it makes me slightly less sad. Like his shedding of the plate armor, Silver wishes to follow Malleus and protect Briar Valley without denying his past. I do wish the badges were swapped in size and placement tho, the owl should be secondary to the rose imo.

This is it for the first part!! The next section is more me connection strings which may not be real with dots that are more spectral, and is linked here!

[call-me-strega]

Dc x Dp Prompt #6: A Mother’s Love

Gotham still remembers when she was just a young Neverborn. When her bay was first discovered and settlements were newly established. Her consciousness like the budding town was growing slowly but surely. By the 1800s she was almost fully grown and by the 1900s she knew her name. She knew who she was.

She was Lady Gotham: Queen of the City of Corruption, Mistress of the Den of Madness, Ruler of No Man's Land, Mother of Poor Souls.

She was a Neverborn Spirit of the Infinite Realms who was well acquainted with disaster and misery. She was the sovereign of her own haunt and territory, and vassal under the king. (A king to whom she swore no loyalty)

She knew her flaws and she knew the flaws of those who were Hers but she loved them nonetheless. When she was still young she spent her energy trying to nourish her people, unfortunately, she was but a reflection of her mortal haunt. There was little she could do aside from slightly bending the rules to exert control over the physical aspects of her haunt or to extend her power to those who would need it most. As she grew older she also had to divide her care among the ghosts in her spectral haunt, for they were Hers too, now within her grasp.

She remembers when the Clown first arrived. He was horrible, an outsider, an interloper, and a scourge to her haunt. He was not Hers and she refused to claim him despite his fancy to call himself the Clown Prince of Gotham. No, he was more a Fool than anything else. She made it known within the realms to all those living in her spectral haunt that should the Fool ever make it to the realms than his fate would be up to her (Perhaps her former paramour would grant her a boon and keep him trapped in an eternal nightmare).

She remembers when her Dark Knight first arrived in her defense. She was struck to see him, for he had been one of Hers. He had been gone for many years but returned to her and he wished to help her, to protect her. She accepted him as her Knight, extending her power on occasion to cloak him in shadows and fear. Though she cherished her Knight she wished he was capable of more. (She wished he would cross lines she could not, but she knew he wouldn't because he could not either).

She remembers the first little Squire her Knight took in. He was not of her but she would claim him as Hers too. He was eager to help her and those who were Hers. He was the first bit of Wonder she and Hers had had in a long time. He cared for her too but eventually, he would grow to be more than a Squire and would leave her too. Though he was gone, he still had a place in the city as one of her Knights.

She remembers the second little Squire. Her very own homegrown Hope. Sure he was a bit more rough and decisive but he cared. He was so deeply and truly Hers. He grew up in her streets and he understood her and Hers better than any of her knights so far. He was young, full of life and a desire to help, and he believed he could be magic. She was devastated when he left, lured away by the promise of a mother, then tricked and fallen into the hands of the Fool. She was devastated when he returned to her broken and mangled.

In her distress she remembered that the Tyrant had been overthrown recently. There was a new king, one who had not even reached his majority yet. The Boy King, The Benevolent King, The Protector, The Peace Maker, The One with the Cloak of Stars and the Crown of Frozen Light, The Perfect Balance.

He had not yet risen to full power but he had united the Counsel of Ancients. She could appeal to them and to him. She could swear her loyalty in exchange for borrowed power. Even if he refused, it would not stop her. His help would prevent her from growing too weak but his refusal would mean nothing to her.

True to his title, the Benevolent King granted her a boon, her loyalty and support for a temporary amplification of her own power and permission to cross over. She thanked the Boy King for his Kindness and fled back to her haunt, ready to manifest onto the mortal plane for the first time in centuries.

When she found him she was overwhelmed with grief. Her voice echoed like sirens in the wind. Her fingernails elongated as she reached out. Her appearance grew more haggard as spectral winds swirled around her. She cried black tears over his grave summoning her power to channel his soul.

If the boy wanted to help he could help those in her spectral haunt.

If the boy wanted to make a difference, he could help her exert her power over her mortal haunt.

If the boy wanted a family, then she would be his Mother.

If the boy wanted to live, he could live in the Realms with Her.

Her form flickered vanishing from the mortal plane. Back in her spectral haunt, she held a young figure in her arms. She overflowed with gratefulness promising herself she would introduce the young boy to the King when she got the chance. He deserved to see how much he'd done for her. She gathered up her presence and made a declaration to the realm:

Here was the heir to her power

Here was the being that was most truly Hers

Here was the true Son

Her very own Little Prince of Gotham.

~~~

Okay a couple of things:

Did I imply the Joker is not a Gotham Native? Yes, I did. I also implied that if he ever became a ghost it would be on sight for him by Lady Gotham.

Did I imply that Lady Gotham has two haunts? Yes, I did. She has actual Gotham and then the ghost version in the Infinite Realms where a lot of the ghosts of people who died in Gotham live.

Did I imply that Lady Gotham and Fright Knight were romantically involved at one point? Yes, I did.

The goal of this was to literally make Jason the "Son of Gotham", a term I've seen thrown around before. I feel like Lady Gotham would love to be a mom and finally give Jason a decent parent, albeit one that treads the line between creepy and Eldritch Horror.

I included Danny as the new Ghost King even though he's not technically ruling yet. He has the Council of Ancients running things and he has a regent but idk who yet. He's still involved in the decision-making process bc a.) He's super powerful, b.) he's still technically ruler, and c.) it's a good way for him to learn about ruling which he will have to do eventually.

Yes, it is my intention to have Jason and Danny meet in the Ghost Zone later. Give some good bonding and friendship (eventually crushes on each other).

I have a couple ideas for things that may happen in this au but if anyone gets their own ideas or wants to write this then feel free to share or ask about it.