#The Shadow World au...

[vaporeon2010317]

Shadow World au lore : What happened to Memiri and the S.W. crew's hangout spot.

In the Shadow World, one of the few places that has remained a neutral safe space is a place called The Windchime Bowling Alley and Arcade. It's one of the few places that sort of remained as a "normal" fun place. It's completely underground and hidden from the government and Shadow World T.B.'s dictatorship. The most interesting thing about the place, though, is that the underground hangout is owned by none other than the Shadow World counterpart of Memiri Belle. And due to S.V. being friends with Shadow World Memiri, the Shadow World crew gets discounts there. The place is based after the bowling alley in the video and looks a lot like it.

@sirlordevil @deadless-corpse @the-belle-siblings @boredgoon @evilassistantbutnotmean @sagehyperfixates I have lores.

[faintv0x]

what the hell

[zhelin-thames]

Tiny baby ghost

idea from Prompt for @silverblueglitter

part 2 and 3 are out Masterpost

The summoning circle glowed an eerie green, casting sharp shadows around the Justice League's meeting chamber. John Constantine, sleeves rolled up and cigarette dangling from his lips, muttered the last words of the incantation. The room held a tense silence, broken only by the faint hum of the magical energy.

When the green smoke cleared, instead of the imposing figure of the Ghost King they’d expected, a scrawny teenager in a black jumpsuit with white gloves and boots appeared, looking distinctly unimpressed.

“Seriously?!” Danny Phantom groaned, throwing up his hands. “It’s a school night!”

The room collectively blinked. Superman and Wonder Woman exchanged confused glances. Batman’s eyes narrowed behind his cowl, while the Batkids—perched around the room like chaotic gargoyles—leaned forward, intrigued.

“This… is the Ghost King?” Nightwing asked, his voice skeptical but amused.

“Ghost King?” Danny repeated, holding up a hand. “Nope. Wrong guy. Try again.”

“Clearly, this is a child,” Robin said flatly, stepping forward with his arms crossed. “Either the summoning ritual failed, or we’ve been deceived.”

“Who are you calling a child, mini-Nightmare?” Danny shot back, floating an inch off the ground to look taller. “I’m fifteen. How old are you, eight?”

“I am fourteen, you insufferable spirit,” Robin snapped, glaring daggers at him. “And you are woefully unqualified to speak to me in such a tone.”

Danny rolled his eyes. “Yeah, okay, Robin Junior. Let me know when you grow a sense of humor.”

Red Hood, perched casually on a table nearby, barked out a laugh. “I like this kid already.”

Robin scowled. “You would.”

Red Hood swung his legs off the table, standing to his full height. “Alright, Casper, if you’re not the Ghost King, why’d this ritual grab you instead?”

“That’s a great question! Wish I knew!” Danny said, throwing up his hands.

Constantine frowned, stepping closer. “You’re definitely ghostly, mate, and half-alive by the looks of you.” His sharp gaze softened just slightly. “You’re a bloody halfa.”

Danny froze, eyes darting to the swirling green barrier still holding him in the circle (not really). “I’m a ghost. And yeah, I’m alive. What’s it to you?”

Batman loomed closer, his deep voice cutting through the room. “If you’re not the Ghost King, why does this summoning work?”

“Great question! Wish I knew!” Danny threw up his arms again, his ectoplasm glowing faintly in frustration. “I don’t even know who you are, and you’ve already ruined my night! or Maybe the universe hates me. That’d explain a lot!”

“Who even made this circle?” Red Hood asked, pointing at Constantine. “Did you check it? It’s glowing green. That’s ghost vibes, man.”

“Thanks for the observation, Red Hood,” Constantine said dryly. “What gave it away, the ectoplasm or the ghost?”

“You are in no position to demand answers,” Batman growled.

“Oh my god, you’re worse than my parents,” Danny muttered.

Before Batman could respond, the air grew colder. A heavy, oppressive presence filled the room as green flames erupted in the middle of the chamber. From the flames stepped Pariah Dark, fully armored and radiating raw power, his glowing eyes zeroing in on Danny.

The League tensed, weapons at the ready, but Pariah didn’t even look at them. Instead, his expression softened in a way that could only be described as paternal as he reached out and plucked Danny out of the circle like a child grabbing a stuffed animal.

“Who dares summon my child?” Pariah rumbled, his deep voice shaking the room. He cradled Danny in one massive hand as though he were the most precious treasure in existence. Danny, for his part, just sighed and leaned against one of Pariah’s fingers.

“Dad, chill. They’re not trying to hurt me—” Danny shot a glare at Batman, “—yet.”

“‘Dad’?” Robin echoed, utterly baffled.

“They stressed him out,” Pariah continued as if Danny hadn’t spoken. “This is the third time in two weeks. Do you know how much sleep he’s lost? He has school!”

Pariah’s gaze darkened. “The third summoning this week,” he growled. “And for what? To disrupt his rest? His studies?”

“Studies?” Robin repeated incredulously. “This alleged ‘Ghost Prince’ is concerned with—”

“School,” Red Hood supplied helpfully, smirking. “That tracks. He’s just a kid.”

“I’M NOT JUST A KID!” Danny protested, his voice cracking slightly. Jason snorted.

Before anyone else could respond, Fright Knight materialized beside Pariah, his armor gleaming and his sword crackling with ghostly energy. He took one look at the summoning circle and grimaced.

“Shall I eliminate the offenders, my liege?” he asked Pariah, his grip tightening on his sword.

“No!” Danny yelped, waving his hands frantically. “No eliminating, no smiting! We talked about this, remember?”

Pariah sighed, his massive shoulders slumping. “They stressed you out,” he rumbled. “They should pay.”

“They’ll be fine,” Danny muttered. “Just… let me handle it, okay?”

“‘Fine,’ he says,” Red Hood muttered. “We’re seconds away from getting blasted into the afterlife.”

Robin's hand drifted toward his sword, his eyes darting between Pariah and Fright Knight. “This is absurd. We are the Justice League. Surely, we are not so easily—”

“Shut it, kid,” Consttantine interrupted. “Unless you want to test if we’re actually ‘fine.’”

Danny groaned. “Can we not do this right now?”

Wonder Woman stepped forward, her voice calm but firm. “We summoned you because we need the Ghost King’s aid to stop a catastrophic magical event threatening the world.”

“Then why not summon him?” Danny snapped. “I’m not the king!”

“Yet the ritual brought you,” Batman said, his voice a mix of curiosity and accusation.

Pariah’s gaze darkened. “The crown does not transfer unless challenged. And none shall dare challenge my son.”

Danny squirmed in his ghost-dad’s grip. “Okay, Dad, they get it. Can you not threaten to destroy the world for five minutes?”

Pariah huffed but gently set Danny down, though he remained close, a looming shadow of protective menace.

Constantine rubbed his temples, muttering something about “bloody teenagers” and “overprotective ghost tyrants.” Meanwhile, the Batkids exchanged glances, clearly plotting something.

Danny sighed. “Look, I’ll help you guys with your big, scary magical problem, but can we make it quick? I have a chem test tomorrow.”

[thatshadowcomic]

Anointing

Something to hold you guys over until the next pages. Anoint is fun to say.

OP, what?? Let me explain:

This was partly inspired by another comic, got me thinking of how anointing worked. People kinda do this too, stealing your partners jacket for example.

Anointing is when hedgehogs find a smell they like (in some cases a poison) and proceed to lick it and create a saliva foam before covering their spines in the smell/spit.

Scientists don't really understand it but it may have a role in removing parasites, mating behavior or something to do with predators. Free lore.

Mobian 'hogs do it too, but a little less messy...

A special oil in their quills is released as they rub their spines together and even non-hedgehogs mobians can smell it when up close. It's a way to broadcast their partnership, with some considering it a huge leap in a relationship. Many just kinda do it without thinking, as they cuddle.

What do they smell like? Im not joking:

If sonic smells like citrus and leather (official perfume) and shadow smells like lavender (also canon) and coffee (coffee because oils in the espresso beans he canonically eats), do you think they would smell like Lady Gray tea with a hint of smoke or a dark musk underneath?

[ghostie-juice]

The best of friends, in every universe!!

[abyssalzones]

put me to work

[voice crack] hey guys I remembered how to draw

[allimili]

I don't know why maybe because they're so pointy and cute....But I kinda wanna give Mr. Eyes ears little kisses or nibbles, he deserves them for being so well behaved :3

Mr. Eyes is only well behaved because you prevented them from causing chaos every milisecond ! Definitely deserves a kiss on the ears !

[biblicalviolencee]

Concept A: King Sonic goes werehog at midnight

Concept B: Lacelot is fascinated by this phenomenon

Concept AB: Lansoni serving ‘The Beast’ by Gaga realness

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Messy coloring I was bakeddddd today not only for 4/20 but also to manage my chronic pains Hope ure all doing well!!!🤗💖

[crazymecjc]

look at yourself… you’re the true puppet.

[thebiscuitlabryinth]

[prev]

"...I really don't think this is necessary, Plain Yogurt. My hair is neat enough." Healer Cookie tries to protest to Shadow Milk, who sits behind him with his legs stretched out beside each hip, trying to comb his hair icing with his fingers.

Healer Cookie. Bleugh.

It's such a generic name, it's hardly a name at all. Shadow Milk knows Pure Vanilla doesn't remember his actual name, but that doesn't make him hate that stupid placeholder any less. As a matter of fact, Shadow Milk actively refuses to call him something so bland, so he doesn't.

"But it could be so much neater! Just let me do this for you, my dear." He insists, gritting his teeth as he fights with a stubborn clump in his hair. This would be way easier if he had his claws out, but 'Plain Yogurt' isn't meant to have claws and Pure Vanilla would probably notice the scratch of them against his scalp. "You don't have any patients to worry after right now, anyway. You can relax a little."

Pure Vanilla winces slightly at the tug of the clump coming undone, but he doesn't complain, finally giving up his protests as his body goes lax. He sighs, a faint smile flickering over his face. "Alright, alright. Just this once."

They lapse into a comfortable silence as Shadow Milk continues to painstakingly smooth Pure Vanilla's neglected hair out. Pure Vanilla sits docile as he does, like a doll being dressed up, and Shadow Milk grins to himself, enjoying the thought. That's what he is, after all.

There's a delicious irony in this situation, and Shadow Milk never fails to savour it. He had known about this amnesiac spell before he had escaped the Silver Tree, but he had kind of been assuming it would have resolved itself by the time he got his opportunity for freedom. It was an inevitability that one would arise, with the two halves of that torn White Lily Cookie both locked in stasis. It encouraged her Seal to weaken faster, and Shadow Milk jumped out at the first chance he got.

Only his spirit could slip through the crack, but that was fine, that was fine, since his original body was stale and practically useless after several millennia without use. All he had to do was steal the body of a Cookie on the edge of crumbling entirely – a traveller fallen victim to a monster attack with their soul already fleeing their body in fright – and maintain its endangered state with his own magic so he could throw himself at Pure Vanilla's doorstep, the picture perfect image of a miserable Cookie in need. It just so happened that the doorstep was a dusty, ignorant one.

Well, whatever. Pure Vanilla's current state is both convenient and inconvenient for Shadow Milk. The Soul Jam is currently dormant, but it still seems to be stubbornly connected to Pure Vanilla, because it didn't react to Shadow Milk's presence or his remaining half of the Soul Jam. With it in hiding like that, it makes it legitimately impossible for him to quickly steal it back, because there is nothing to steal.

That means Shadow Milk has to use more convoluted methods. That's fine; those are his favourite kinds of methods, anyway. Slipping into the village like a wolf in sheep's clothing, carving an undeniable space for himself at Pure Vanilla's side and waiting, waiting, waiting.

When Pure Vanilla finally resonates with the Soul Jam again, he will certainly regain his memories and buckle under that unaddressed storm of grief, regret and self-loathing. Taking the Soul Jam back then will be the easiest thing in the world. Who knows, maybe Pure Vanilla will hand it over himself in a fit of grief-stricken anguish! Wouldn't that be fun?

It doesn't seem like that will happen anytime soon, though. Funnily enough, Pure Vanilla seems to be avoiding the Light of Truth to the absolute best of his ability, wrapped tight in those bandages of his and unwilling to shed them. It makes Shadow Milk laugh if he thinks about it for too long.

Denial is the first step towards Deceit, after all. First, you refuse to look Truth, harsh and bitter, in the face. Then, when you inevitably have to confront it, you turn to the veil of Deceit to make the world less unbearable to look at. And Pure Vanilla has already managed to get himself one foot on the staircase, without Shadow Milk interfering in the slightest.

It gives Shadow Milk an inkling of an idea. He could get Pure Vanilla there, surely. All he has to do is swoop in as he suffers through his returned memories and... twist the knife a little. Or a lot.

Whatever the case, he has to be there for that. The wait is sluggish, but Shadow Milk doesn't bother speeding things along himself. He could, and he definitely will if he starts getting too bored, but for now, the novelty of playing pretend with a physical body for the first time in far too long hasn't quite worn off yet.

"You're being awfully quiet." Pure Vanilla teases quietly, breaching the silence that has nestled around them. "You're usually much more talkative than this. Perhaps I overlooked a patient in need?"

He's not being serious, and his curled lips make that glaringly obvious. Shadow Milk scoffs out a laugh. "Oh, please, I've never been crispier! I just have my work cut out for me with your hair, so I have to focus."

Pure Vanilla's smile falters into a small frown. "...Is it really that bad?"

Yes, Shadow Milk wants to hiss. He's used to Pure Vanilla's visage being delicately graceful, holding the air of a king, his pale blonde hair framing his face in immaculate curves. Now it is ruffled and unkempt, the ends dirtied with the grime that floats around the village, and though some of it is removed with each pass of Shadow Milk's fingers, it is far too saturated to get rid of it entirely like that.

It annoys Shadow Milk, teetering on the edge of anger, and so does Pure Vanilla's outfit. The rags he wears as robes, haphazardly and poorly stitched together. They don't suit him at all, and Shadow Milk's director's eye, attuned to aesthetics, chafes at the sight of his doll like that.

He could dress him in much, much better things than that. Sweeping robes of black and gold, because gold has always been flattering with his complexion, made of the finest sugar coat fabric. Or blue and gold, like a night star. And if - when - Pure Vanilla lays his eyes on the Truth once more and chooses to continue hiding from it, then Shadow Milk will provide. He can give him a blindfold of silk, embroided with honey floss, far softer on the eyelids than some old bandages.

Pure Vanilla just needs to properly reconnect with his Soul Jam first. Draw it out into the open.

So, yes, Shadow Milk really does think his hair is that bad, but he won't tell him that. He's not above upsetting Pure Vanilla, but there is nothing to gain from it in this tiny instance. It wouldn't even be that funny, really.

"I'm exaggerating, I'm exaggerating." Shadow Milk reassures lightheartedly, at least satisfied with the silkiness returning to Pure Vanilla's hair under his meticulous ministrations. "I'm fixing it up now, anyway. Why, do we have to talk all the time?"

"No, of course not." Pure Vanilla's hands idly twist together in his lap. "But you usually hum when we don't talk, so..."

Shadow Milk usually hums on purpose, to make sure Pure Vanilla is always aware of his presence. It has to be a conscious decision, because Shadow Milk is naturally silent otherwise, in the same way his footsteps tend to drift along the ground if he isn't trying to make them heard. It is the instincts of a predator stalking its prey.

But Pure Vanilla doesn't need to know that, because that doesn't apply to Plain Yogurt. So, instead, Shadow Milk says, "You don't like the silence?"

"No, the silence is fine, but I like hearing your voice." Pure Vanilla admits, with that small, content smile of his creeping onto his face, at odds with his bedraggled appearance. "It's lovely."

Shadow Milk's fingers stall in his hair. His incorporeal eyes blink and squint in the shadows around the village, exactly where he has left them. Then, he slowly lowers his hands down to Pure Vanilla's shoulders, leaning forward to speak gently into his ear, a taunt and a fact, "Of course it is. It's mine."

Shadow Milk watches as the barest hint of colour rises to Pure Vanilla's cheeks. He wonders if he knows that he does that, whenever Shadow Milk gets close enough for his breath to brush his dough– no, he doubts it. Pure Vanilla knows very little, the way he is now.

"I hope I'm not interrupting something."

Black Raisin's voice is sharp and intrusive from the tent flaps, respect for Pure Vanilla muddied by a marked unhappiness. Pure Vanilla obviously can't see the withering warning glare she shoots Shadow Milk then, but Shadow Milk does, and he relishes in it. He leans the slightest bit closer to Pure Vanilla and gives Black Raisin a mocking grin past his shoulder, showing the slightest flash of his fangs before dulling them back down to Plain Yogurt's average Cookie teeth. Just a little trick of the light.

Black Raisin's expression darkens, her fist tightening at her side. Shadow Milk knows very well that she has not liked him from the beginning, and he has been gleefully pushing her headfirst towards hatred ever since. Things like this are always more fun with a little antagonism, and he gets a thrill whenever Pure Vanilla kindly sides with him instead.

"Oh, no, Plain Yogurt was just combing my hair. He insisted." Pure Vanilla chuckles, a little sheepishly and a little fondly, mostly unaware of the lethal staring competition happening over his head. He runs a hand over his own hair, as if to check what Shadow Milk has done, and Shadow Milk finally leans back out of his space. Black Raisin calms, and looks towards Pure Vanilla, who turns to her with a more serious expression. "Did you need me for something? Did someone get hurt?"

Black Raisin softens entirely like chocolate in the sun. "No, Healer, nothing like that, thankfully. I just wanted to let you know a group of us are heading out to patrol."

Pure Vanilla's face loosens into a relieved smile. "Ah, alright then. Stay safe, all of you."

"We will." Black Raisin turns to leave, hesitates, before turning back. "Oh, and the others just finished a batch of raisin buns. Feel free to help yourself."

Pure Vanilla hums in acknowledgement, but very pointedly does not answer. Shadow Milk knows why he doesn't. His eating habits were already abysmal to begin with, but living in poverty in a village with limited supplies made it even worse. He never seeks food out himself, and when it is given to him, he has a tendency to try and squirrel it away to give to some patient later, as a pick-me-up. Unfortunately for him, Shadow Milk tends to notice these things.

Once Black Raisin has left, Shadow Milk scoots back from Pure Vanilla, pulling his legs back from where they were stretched out to finally stand up. "So, should we go and help ourselves?" He challenges Pure Vanilla, daring him to refuse.

Pure Vanilla tilts his head this way and that, clearly reluctant, before tackling the dare head-on. "You can go ahead without me. I'm not hungry at the moment."

It's not a lie, but it dances on the edge of one. Shadow Milk sighs, ignoring his own budding amusement in favour of the scene. "But I don't want to eat on my own. You don't have to be hungry to eat, do you?"

Pure Vanilla hesitates for a few seconds, before reaching for where he had laid his staff, picking it up and steadying it against the ground. "...No, I suppose I don't. And I certainly wouldn't want you to be lonely."

He says it playfully, but Shadow Milk's eyes narrow at the words, his face falling blank. He doesn't respond immediately, circling Pure Vanilla with silent footsteps, not bothering to make himself heard.

The tense moment lengthens, and Pure Vanilla's expression falters with uncertainty, his head turning left and right. He had spoken playfully, so he must have expected a similar quip back, and found the silence he got instead unnerving.

"...Plain Yogurt?" He calls, with the slightest shiver of nervousness in the name. Shadow Milk comes to a stop in front of him, silently tapping his heels together with a sense of satisfaction.

"I'm here, my dear. Let's go, shall we?" He smiles, holding a hand out towards Pure Vanilla with a little snap of his fingers so he knows where his hand is. Pure Vanilla eases.

Yes, it'll take some time to get the Soul Jam if he continues to let things run its natural course, but Shadow Milk has time to spare. Even this little play in a rundown village is far better than the thousands of years he has spent stagnant, doing nothing, practically non-existent in the eyes of the world. Here, his presence makes an impact. Here, he can pick Pure Vanilla apart thread by thread and Pure Vanilla will let him, with a smile on his face.

That's all there is to it, really.

Shadow Milk hums as Pure Vanilla slips his hand easily into his palm, like he trusts him with his whole life.

"Just follow me!"

(Sweet fool.)

[next]

[vaporeon2010317]

Going to make a collage of Shadow World art here. Don't mind me.

The logo of the Windchime Bowling Alley and Arcade. (Note : this is a fully zoomed in version. Tinyer zoomed out logos are seen on drawings of characters with an employee outfit of the WBANA.)

[faintv0x]

Their first interaction was definitely when rouge picked up a data pearl that shadow was delivering to another iterator after he dropped it

[zhelin-thames]

After the Summoning Incident: Justice League Debrief

part 1, part 2

The Justice League meeting chamber was quiet. Too quiet.

The heroes sat around the massive conference table, some looking contemplative, others still processing the absolute chaos that had just unfolded. The Batkids had scattered to their usual perches, some smirking, others—like Damian—still scowling.

Batman, as usual, sat at the head of the table, his expression unreadable.

Superman was the first to break the silence. “Well… that was unexpected.”

Wonder Woman nodded, arms crossed. “The boy was not at all what we prepared for. He is young, brash, and clearly still learning. And yet, he succeeded.”

“Barely,” Damian muttered under his breath.

Jason grinned. “I don’t know, Demon Brat, I think he did pretty damn well. Didn’t even die or anything.”

“He’s already half-dead,” Damian shot back.

“That’s semantics,” Jason said with a shrug.

Constantine, who had been pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration, finally spoke up. “Right, so here’s what we learned, then: the summoning worked, but not the way we expected. We didn’t get the Ghost King. We got the heir to the Ghost King.”

Flash leaned forward, confused. “Okay, but why does that matter? He still fixed the problem.”

“Because,” Batman said, voice low, “we summoned him by name—meaning he’s significant enough that the magic acknowledged him, despite him not being the ruler of the Ghost Zone.”

Zatanna frowned. “That shouldn’t have happened unless his claim to the throne is strong. Which means…”

“He’s important,” Constantine finished grimly. “And probably more powerful than even he knows.”

There was a pause.

Superman, ever the optimist, offered, “Well, he did seem responsible, considering he handled the situation without any casualties.”

Aquaman, who had remained silent for most of the discussion, finally spoke. “That is all well and good, but what concerns me is his guardian.”

The League collectively tensed at the mention of Pariah Dark.

Hawkgirl leaned back in her chair, frowning. “Yeah. Not every day you meet a giant ghost warlord who decides world domination is off the table because he’s got a new kid to dote on.”

“The real question,” Green Lantern said, “is why Pariah Dark, of all beings, chose him as his son.”

“That’s what I’m worried about,” Batman said. “Pariah Dark isn’t just a ruler. He’s a conqueror. The fact that he’s abandoned his previous goals simply because he’s taken a liking to this ‘Danny’ suggests a level of attachment that is… dangerous.”

“I dunno,” Flash said, tapping his fingers against the table. “The guy seemed weirdly soft on the kid. Like, full-on ‘overprotective dad ready to murder anyone who sneezes at his son’ levels of doting.”

Jason snorted. “Can you blame him? The kid’s hilarious.”

Damian rolled his eyes. “That does not negate the potential threat.”

“Which leads to our next problem,” Constantine interrupted. He gestured vaguely toward the space where the summoning circle had been. “That was the third time he’s been summoned this week.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed. “Three times?”

Constantine nodded. “From what I could gather, idiot cultists all over the place have been trying to summon the ‘Ghost King’ for centuries. Problem is, it hasn’t worked in millennia—until now. Which means something’s changed.”

Green Arrow leaned forward. “And you think it’s because of him?”

Constantine sighed. “Has to be. That kid might not be the Ghost King, but he’s enough of a power in the Zone to be dragged here through the same ritual.”

Superman frowned. “So you’re saying if people keep summoning him…”

“…Eventually, someone’s going to do it with bad intentions,” Batman finished.

There was another heavy silence.

“I say we keep an eye on him,” Wonder Woman said. “Not as an enemy, but as a potential ally. He may not trust us now, but if he is being targeted, he’ll need protection.”

Jason chuckled. “Good luck with that. Kid was practically begging to be sent home before his chem test.”

Hawkgirl smirked. “I still can’t believe that was his biggest problem tonight.”

“Teenagers,” Flash said, shaking his head.

Batman didn’t react to the lighthearted remarks. Instead, he turned to Constantine. “Can we track future summonings?”

Constantine exhaled a long breath, rubbing his temple. “Not easily. The magic is old, and the Ghost Zone doesn’t follow the same rules as our realm. But…” He glanced at Zatanna. “With enough prep, we might be able to set up a countermeasure. Or at least a warning system.”

“We should also determine how much control he actually has,” Aquaman said. “If he is an heir, his powers may be growing. We should be aware of what he’s capable of.”

Jason grinned. “So what, we’re gonna test his power levels? Let me know how that goes when Pariah shows up ready to throw hands.”

Batman stood, effectively ending the conversation. “For now, we’ll observe from a distance. If he truly is being targeted, we may need to act sooner rather than later.”

“And if Pariah Dark takes offense to that?” Zatanna asked.

Batman’s expression darkened. “…Then we prepare for war.”

Meanwhile, Back in Amity Park…

Danny groaned as he flopped onto his bed, exhausted beyond belief. “I hate magic,” he mumbled into his pillow.

Jazz, standing in the doorway with crossed arms, raised an eyebrow. “Rough night?”

“The worst,” Danny groaned, turning onto his back. “I got summoned by the Justice League—AGAIN. And Pariah nearly destroyed them before I could talk him down.”

Jazz sighed. “That’s, what, the third time this week?”

“Yes!” Danny threw up his hands. “I swear, if one more idiot cult tries to yank me across dimensions, I’m going to scream.”

Jazz smirked. “And then what?”

Danny scowled. “…Then Pariah will probably destroy another dimension out of spite, because apparently, he thinks I’m too stressed for a ‘mortal child.’”

Jazz chuckled. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

Danny groaned again, grabbing his pillow and shoving it over his face. “I hate everything.”

Jazz patted his shoulder sympathetically. “Welcome to adulthood, little brother.”

Danny just let out a long, muffled scream into his pillow.

[cogneartive]

when i found out simon was around maya and franziska’s age i got frightened a little. then i put them all in persona + some old doodles i put in that seemed to fit

edit: i just realised i wrote the date wrong on aura’s tweet sigh. no that kid did his gcses at 12/13 years old dude

[veinsfullofstars]

“Are… they gonna be okay?” “Probably.”

(ID: Kirby series fanart comic of Shadow Kirby showing off his fighting skills to the Wave 2 gang, prompting rather… mixed reactions. Transcript in Alt Text. END ID.)

Started 11/23/24, finished 12/14/24.

[tatck]

wha what if every chaos emerald had a guardian 👉👈 and what if the chaos emeralds didn't look like the chaos emeralds at all and what if they all had special powers and what if-