#ghostly soldiers

[paranormal-playground-podcast]

Drum Barracks Civil War Museum: A Historical and Haunted Landmark in Los Angeles

The Drum Barracks Civil War Museum, a historic site nestled in the Wilmington neighborhood of Los Angeles, offers a fascinating glimpse into California’s role in the American Civil War. But beyond its historical significance, the Drum Barracks also holds a reputation as one of the city’s most haunted locations. Indeed, this former military outpost, once bustling with soldiers and activity, now…

[thatonesimp-e]

Ghostly Viscera // PART 3

tw for generalized angst

Spy had been watching the two men fight with each other, before he decided to try to step in. He couldn’t help but feel a sense of dread the longer the man with the helmet held his hands around the smaller man's throat.

Slowly, he floated over to the two men, his gaze on the hands wrapped around the neck of the small man. He carefully reached out, placing his cold hands on the others, hoping to try to get him to release. He couldn't help but feel anxiety creep up on him as the other froze. The entire world seemed to come to a pause-the stranger slowly looked over, his eyes wide.

the man blinked, confused and almost.. Dumbfounded, it seemed. His helmet seemed to slip down, hiding his eyes. His grip did loosen to Spys relief, making him slowly pull his ghostly hands away. He floated back a few inches, unsure of how to react.

Then, the man let out a scream. He released Scout, and took a few steps back-his pose was defensive. He lifted his helmet up, just enough to see the ghost’s face.

“THERE IS A GHOST IN- HOW-” he let out an exasperated huff, then took a step forwards, pointing at Spy rather harshly. “YOU! State your business or I will send you back to hell where you belong!”

Spy felt almost threatened by him. He floated further back, his hands instinctively moving up in surrender. He carefully watched the man, more than ready to run. He couldn't make himself say anything, all that came out was a sort of hushed, echoey whisper.

“I-I.. I don’t know..”

The statement made the other man tense up. He soon changed his attitude, becoming a little less hostile-but not exactly letting his guard down.

   ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Scout had been watching the Soldier talk to.. Something, for god knows how long. He felt his neck, the skin red and irritated by the other man’s hold. He raised a brow, not exactly expecting Soldier to be this crazy.

He’d known the man for a few years now, but this.. This was a whole other level of insane.

“Yo, Soldier,” Scout started, shallowly swallowing. “Who you talkin’ to..?”

He would have made a joke, if it weren't for Soldiers reaction earlier. He pulled his feet forwards, a rush of cold air hitting him in the face.

He scrunched up his face, swatting away the breeze.

“Jeez.. there a ghost in here or somethin’? Heh..” he made light of the situation. His voice was still a little shaky from having been strangled.

“Yes!” Soldier responded, turning to Scout. “Well.. there was.”

Scout furrowed his brows, skeptical. He couldn't quite tell if Soldier was being sarcastic or not. He blinked slowly, and squinted.

“What?? Dude, ghosts ain’t real.”  Scout started, then immediately regretted it. He made a swirling motion with his hands, “Okay, well.. I guess there are ghosts, but only when Merasmus summons ‘em!”

He shifted his body weight, giving a slight shrug. He raised one of his brows, eyeing the Soldier.

Soldier took a step closer to Scout, scowling.

“Watch your tongue!” he paused, and took a side step, looking out into the empty hallway. “That ghost.. Didn’t Miss Pauling say something about-?” he cut himself off, knowing it had been a bit of a sensitive topic for.. Everyone.

“..Spy? I- dude, do you even hear yourself right now?!” Scout shouted at him, his cool demeanor dropping. He held a careful hand to his forehead, appalled by Soldier’s claim. Everyone in the room had their eyes on the two, watching in confusion, and interest.

“He ain’t here!” his voice cracked slightly, his throat tightening. “Look, I don’t mind if ya joke about seein’ shit, but don’t-..” he paused, a familiar feeling on his cheek. A tear. He wiped it away, and let out an annoyed huff.

“I’ll be in my room..”

With that, the boy left, Soldier having stayed almost emotionless the whole time.

                                 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soldier went to follow after the ghost he had seen, before a hand fell on his shoulder. It was the Demoman, Sniper close behind him. The tension in the room was almost deafening.

“So..” he started, his words slurring. “What just happened? Somethin’ about ghosts?”

Soldier watched Demo carefully, before he’d removed the others’ hand from him.

“Affirmative!” Soldier replied, a little too loud for comfort. “There is the ghost of Spy in the base!” He tugged at his helmet straps, fiddling with the worn leather.

 Soldier himself wasn’t even sure if what he saw was real. He’d wanted to believe that Spy would respawn-or go to hell. Morbid, yes, but at least it wasn’t wandering the earth for eternity.. He felt unease creep up on him, and he turned again.

“I’m going to find him. I will not let him be alone.”

Sniper gave Soldier an analytical look, hoping that this was just some sick joke the man decided to play out. 

   ------------------------------------------------------------------------

A cool breeze blew into the office, bringing with it a sort of heavy atmosphere. The room had almost been cold enough to show the two mens breath. Medic felt a shiver run down his spine, but didn’t move.

He'd been sat in front of Engie, comforting the man the best he could. He hated seeing his teammates like this.

Engineer swallowed hard, trying to form a sentence. He wasn’t used to feeling like this-this emotion of sorrow. He hadn’t realized before just how much they actually relied on the respawn machines-something he had memories of creating-memories he was aware weren’t even his own.

“Doc..” Dell had started-his voice hoarse. “H-he.. I never got t-to..”

The Medic cut him off with a quiet shush. He carefully held onto the man's hands, rubbing his thumbs against his skin. He knew how much Spy meant to the Engineer.. And even if he hated how smug that man could be sometimes.. He would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the small moments he had to talk with him.

“Miene fruend..” he gently said, trying to ease Engies sorrow. “He’s.. probably in a better place now. Perhaps.. vaiting, for you.”

Dell looked up, his tired eyes bearing grief as he stared back.

“That's what I’m afraid of, doc..” tears pricked his eyes again. “I d-don’t.. I don't want him bein’ held up in limbo waitin’ for me..”

Medic felt his heart break a little at his friend's words-but he held it together. He needed to reassure the man that everything was going to be okay, even if it wasn’t. Everything felt like it was slowly crumbling-deteriorating in only a week.

He gave the man's hands a gentle squeeze, and took a deep breath. This situation was.. Difficult, to say the least. For everyone.

It was unexpected, and felt like a fever dream when he had first heard the news. Medic had nightmares like this often-being unable to revive his teammates in hopeless situations. It was a deep insecurity of his-and now, it was real.

Medic wanted to believe she-Miss Pauling-was keeping the details of his death more secret, so it wouldn’t affect the team as horribly as it could’ve. But it still hurt. It still impacted the men greatly, both mentally and emotionally.

The sound of papers falling over made Medics' hearts jump. They were by the door-the once neat stack now a sprawled out mess on the cold floor. He raised a brow, and looked around for the source of what could’ve caused it to fall.

At first, he thought it was one of his birds, but none of them seemed to be in the office at that moment. Then he thought to blame S-..

he wasn’t here anymore to do that.. So what could it have been..?

He stood, carefully examining the area from where he was. Medic looked back over to Engie, who looked a little paler.

“It..” the doctor started, uneasiness pouring through the cracks. “It vas probably just zhe vind.”

    ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Soldier followed the ghosts’ smoke-like trail, almost losing sight of Spy. He wasn’t entirely sure himself what he was doing, why he decided to chase after the apparition. Something inside of him tugged at his mind, reminding him, ‘no man left behind��. He wasn’t about to betray that code, even if it was over Spy of all people.

He was soon led to the medical bay, and slowly peaked inside, his helmet slipping partially off his head. There, he saw the ghost, floating next to the Engineer. His eyes narrowed, leaning in a little further.

It appeared that the two people in the room had started staring at Soldier, both out of confusion and slight irritation.

Engie had shifted in his seat, moving away from the ghost-only for it to move closer out of curiosity. He had been staring at the Soldier, his eyes still red and puffy from crying his eyes out.

Medic clasped his hands together, putting on a cheery personality so as to bring up the mood, and gently ease the tension.

“Soldier!” he had taken  a few steps toward him, his hands moving behind his back.

“What brings you here, meine freund?”

Soldier stood up straight, gathering himself. How the hell was he supposed to explain this? Especially to the Engineer.. He drew a careful breath. Trying really hard to figure out a way to properly phrase his wording.

“Well..” he readjusted his helmet, “there is a ghost around here-and not just any ghost!”

He paused, messing with the leather straps of his helmet again.

“It was Sp-”

He was cut off by Medic placing his rubber glove on his mouth. He let out a few muffled words, before stopping, and looking at the doctor.

The Medics' cheery demeanor had instantly morphed into disappointment. He hesitantly removed his hand from the other's mouth, shaking his head.

“Soldier..” Medic started, sparing a glance towards the Engineer. “I don’t know what you think you are doing, but stop.”

Soldier took a step forward, anger bubbling in his chest. He wasn’t about to be told again that he was lying. A true American never told a lie! Abraham Lincoln would know..

“Medic! I am not lying!” he pointed to the right of the Engineer, “his ghost is there! He is standing next to Engie!”

He’d taken a few steps into the room, standing next to the ghost now. His eyes narrowed as he looked at it, expecting it to do something, anything to maybe prove his existence. He poked at it, his hand moving through the others ghostly form.

“Come on, do something!”

 ------------------------------------------------------------------------

Spy had awkwardly eyed the stranger that stood next to him, feeling a strange sense of unease. He blinked, moving a little closer to the man with the hardhat. It was strange, finally being noticed by someone. He’d never thought..

Curiously, he reached over to the man, tugging on his helmet. It had tilted, then fallen off of the soldier's head. He backed away, then bent down, trying, and failing to pick up the helmet for the other. He quietly muttered his apologies, his gaze moving up to the man.

He’d expected to see anger, or for him to lash out like he had done with the boy, but.. He simply stared, his soft blue-green eyes staring at him in surprise.

He inched closer to the ghost, tilting his head.

“You..” he let out a shaky breath, a fleeting, mostly cloud leaving his mouth.

He couldn’t exactly find the right words, the tension in the air again building up to an uncomfortable level. Everyone in the room stared at the helmet, expecting something else to happen. The silence dragged on, the air growing thicker.

..But nothing came.

[atangledfate]

Lanolin hated leaving Amy knowing she was hurt. After all she'd done for the Resistance during the war and now restoration. It didn't sit well with her. She knew alot of Restoration forces were on leave do to the grand prix and it being a time of celebration. But that only made this whole incident all the worse didn't it? She took a deep breath and headed out of the server room and up the long flight of stairs to the command center. Choosing the stairs just because she didn't want to get stuck in an elevator or worse. With the way things have went it wasn't out of the question.

She burst through the door to the command center finding the whole place in disarray with everything going on and now the server room hit. Nobody knew what to do and the commanders were either off base, or missing. Lanolin rushed over to the Lt. in charge with a stern look on her face as she would just have to take command.

This was all a disaster... but maybe she could salvage it yet...

================================================

Her head was throbbing, and despite having taken her share of blows that strike to the side of her head had done a number on her. It was such a precise blow it could likely have killed her. Which made Amy believe that her attacker had not intended to kill her at all just disable her. But she couldn't remember much just a blur of white motion and she was down. If only she'd kept her defensive magic up but it was a hefty toll on her to do so all the time. The one moment she drops it she gets jumped by some mysterious assailant.

Feeling the Belle bot touch her chin made her wince and she tried her best to lift her head. She felt real tired but she knew better then to nod off.

" Oww... yea, i don't remember what hit me. Its kind of a blur--- but i have a feeling if they wanted me dead... we wouldn't be having this conversation... which means they just wanted me out of the way... I should have had my defense magic active... stupid mistake..."

Amy didn't jump as much as Belle mostly because she was half out of it. But glancing over at Blaze the mention of phasing seemed to trigger her memory as she touched the side of her head. It came back in a violent flash. She'd blocked the attack but --- her blow passed through her arms like Tangle had back in Eggperial city. Only when the blow connected, it was solid. Which implied she had immense control of her phasing.

" Shit... "

Yea she let one slip out

" I remember now, she came right through the wall at me. But i managed to defend myself--- but her attack went right through my arm and hit me anyway. A white wolf--- I wonder who she was... and why she came at me like that. "

She seemed to think but it hurt her head to do so and she ended up leaning back against the seat of the chair she was in. She needed to think but it was to painful. Who ever they were, they messed her up good... and she had a feeling it wasn't the last time they'd see her.

The Hedgehog turned her head as the chief came through the door having rushed over despite Belle's attempts to get him to stay put. The Chief wanted to get Amy to the Infirmary, and free the others up to save Restoration. But seeing Blaze he did feel a bit less useful but at least they had someone to defend them.

" Is she ok to move? I can take her to see Doc Altiss... and 'ello Princess i think this is the first we've spoke directly "

The chief gave a little bow of his head in recognition of the princess. Yet the loud speaker came on across the entire Base. Lanolin's voice echoed across the base as she spoke in a firm commanding tone. Amy smiling a little as she looked more relieved, as Lanolin was becoming a solid leader. But she'd feel better when she could rest her eyes but, she again knew she couldn't... not just yet.

" Attention all Restoration Combat Units! This is Unit Commander Lanolin speaking! All available units report for duty at once! This is not a Drill! All commanding officers, will be given standing orders! consider all clean sweep security units Hostile! take them into custody if they resist! you have permission to use force to capture them! As acting commander i am formerly requesting GUN to stand down! this situation is well in hand! "

===============================================

Meanwhile aboard the fleeing ship the white Wolf crawled onto the bench. Her body kept flickering in and out of phase. Her features becoming distorted as she fell back on the seat. Barely able to keep herself from falling through the escape vessel. She reached into a pouch on her side, pulling out a vial of blue fluid. she tugged her mask off dropping it onto the bench and grit her teeth. She loaded the fluid into an injector. She jammed it into her leg gritting her teeth and growling like a feral wolf! As the fluid slowly made its way into her body. The shifting of her phase slowly returning to normal as she became solid once more.

A moment later a voice came over Coms as She struggled into the pilots seat and leaned back in the seat still sweating from the drug in her system.

" Report "

Came the stern tone from the Com, as the Wolf placed the headset on her head.

" Mission Complete... Server's destroyed... any evidence of Mimic's involvement with GUN has been eliminated. As well as General Rose being disabled, be aware Princess Blaze is on site... approach any action with caution..."

She leaned back and took a deep breath as she closed her eyes, she'd be back on base in no time. But till then she'd better activate the stealth system, to avoid detection. She flipped a switch making the Chopper disappear from most known radar, and she was up to high to be seen with the naked eye.

That was to close for comfort... she did not fancy her chances against the princess in a real fight.

Belle would set it to give the Belle Bot remote access so she wouldn't have to be tied down to the server room, which came in handy as Lanolin just walked in and telling her to look after Amy. "Guess I get to test out Belle Bot's medical programming. Though whoever did this were packing a high grade EMP, most likely military grade from the scan." The bot then walked back out continuing to work on getting all the data she could from the serves that were fried.

Belle Bot would tilt Amy's head forward a bit to look at the injury before raising it's other hand with it's finger opening. "This'll sting a bit, though should reduce bleeding." The bot would then spray the wound for a moment before stopping. It's chest then opened and pulled out a medical kit, then opens it taking out some gauze and placing it around the hedgehogs head.

"Well, looks like whoever attacked you didn't intend to do any serious damage, at least from the data Belle Bot has collected. That said you were still hit pretty hard so whoever did this has to be decently strong." The bots head would then turn away. "Chief, are you sure that's- And he's gone." Belle would use the bot to close the hanger door once he was out since she was hooked up to the system.

===========================================================

Blaze was more than a little shocked to see such an ability, even more so when the chopper seemed to fade out of existence for a split second before appearing back in at a different spot, even if it was only slightly. The feline would shake it off, getting ready to attempt to damage the chopper again, though had to dash away as it's boosters went off and leaving a high speeds. Clearly they had planned for a possible speedster to be here to prepare a chopper that moves that fast.

Blaze considered giving chance, though didn't want to leave seeing as Amy as injured and GUN seemed to be causing them problems. The feline swiftly turning and dashing back into the base, taking only a moment to find her way back given having a good memory. It then took her another moment to find Amy as she stopped right next to the hedgehog, making the bot jump in surprise a bit. "I'm sorry, they got away. They have some ability to phase themself and object, though it can be strained." Maybe she should've attempted to board the chopper instead.

"Though they're clearly well trained to have such reaction time. That said either that chopper was remotely flown or there was someone else on board as she was in in condition to fly it after phasing the chopper to prevent my fire from damaging the chopper." Blaze's attacks weren't easy for just anyone to dodge.

[acepalindrome]

Alternatives to Squishmallow

So as many of you have probably already heard, Jazwares, the company that produces Squishmallows, is donating to charities that support Israeli soldiers and the IDF. They’re also supporting Canary Mission, which has been doxxing people who speak out against Israel. BDS hasn’t called for a boycott against them, but I can’t in good faith spend my money on their products, and I would strongly encourage everyone who enjoys plushies to really think long and hard about if you want to give your money to a company that’s helping support genocide!

But the holidays are coming up, and lots of us enjoy plushies and were fans of Squishmallow, and were planning to give Squishmallows to friends and family this year.

Fortunately, there are a number of great plushie companies out there, and I want to promote some of my favorites in the hopes that folks will get their plushie fix from a source that doesn’t side with Israel. So without further ado:

Fluffnest

Fluffnest got their start on Kickstarter a few years ago, and I adore the round shapes of their PuffPal plushies! My favorite is Pete the Possum, which is probably the best possum plush I’ve ever seen. I’ve also got a beautiful moth from their Kickstarter and I’ve been wanting their bats for ages. They also recently had a Kickstarter for an Animal Crossing-esque video game featuring their plushie characters and it looks fantastic.

Squishables

I can’t get over the plague doctor plushies. They’re so perfect and cute, and they’ve released other variations of them called Alter Egos, like a ghostly version, an alien, or a really sweet cottagecore one! They’ve got a ton of variety, but what I like the most are the fantasy plushies. There’s a lich! There are dragons and demons! Cryptids! Biblically accurate angels! A lot of really fun stuff!

Also they do a lot of great charity work! Right now they’re doing an auction for the Food Bank of New York City.

AfternoonFika

AfternoonFika is a very small business of only three people, but their plushies are extremely cute. They tend to sell out fast, so I recommend following them on social media to stay on top of any restocks! They recently released a line of dinosaurs that are precious, and of course I love their iconic cactus cat and cinnamon bun bunny.

Jellycat

Jellycat has been around since 1999, so they’re the oldest of these companies. They’ve got great designs, a ton of variety, and a lot of their plushies are made to be cuddled on and not just displayed. All three of my tiny nephews sleep with a different stuffed dog from Jellycat. My mom has a sun and several succulents that she uses as decorations. There’s a little something for everyone who enjoys plushies!

If you have any other favorite companies I haven’t mentioned, feel free to add on! I’ve enjoyed Squishmallows for a while now and I’m sad to see their leadership coming out on the side that’s committing war crimes on a daily basis, but this is a good time to discover new favorite plushie companies! And remember, money speaks loudly. Even if BDS hasn’t called for a boycott of Jazwares, it sends a message when sales start dropping for companies that support genocide. It’s a small thing, but the little things we do can add up!

[bet-on-me-13]

Ghostly Host AU

So! Ghosts need a physical Anchor in the living world, or they are liable to fall apart and fade away if they stay for too long.

In Amity Park, this usually isn't too much of a problem. Sure most Ghosts can't stay for a week without a Host, but the ambient Ecto-Levels in Amity Park are enough that they can stay for a few days or so at a time with little worry.

This changes however, during Reign Storm.

When Pariah Dark awakens, Tens of Thousands of Ghosts use the Fenton Portal to escape the Rule of Pariah Dark, running away into the Human Realm.

If Amity Park had stayed where it was, this would have been fine. They could have stayed in the Living Realm for a few days, and maybe the Weaker ones would need to find a temporary Host, but that was fine since Amity was filled with thousands of Liminals.

Unfortunately, Pariah Darks first move was to suck Amity Park into the Ghost Zone, alongside all of the Ecto-Energy that had accumulated there.

Now left trapped in the Living Realm with no way back to the Zone, thousands of Ghosts suddenly needed Hosts or they would start dying off by the Hundreds. In a Panic, they spread out across the Planet in search of viable Hosts.

Any normal Person wouldn't do, they needed a Living Being that could actually handle their Power, or someone who matched their Soul. Preferably both. Liminals were the best since they had a durable Body and a Malleable Soul, so any Ghost could use any of them as a Host.

But outside of Amity Liminals were very rare, and finding someone who matched their Soul was time-consuming and hard. Thankfully, in recent years the population of Aliens, Metahumans, Enhanced Soldiers, and even extra durable baseline Humans had spiked across the world.

All across the planet, People suddenly found themselves stuck with a new Passenger in their Bodies.

Those new passengers thankfully weren't malicious, for the most part, but it was still annoying. The only good thing was that they now had new Powers, which neat.

They could summon the Ghosts in their Body outwardly, and then command the Ghost to use their Powers in whatever way they wanted. Only other Hosts could see another person's Ghost, which meant they looked very awkward to normal people when they fought. Generally, Hosts seemed to act more strangely after getting a Ghost, as if they lost a few of their Inhibitions.

Why did they feel the sudden need to strike a flamboyant Pose? Or over dramatically scream?

[novaursa]

The Flames We Carry

- Summary: Ser Criston Cole expected for Rhaenys and Meleys to appear over Rook's Rest. To Gwayne's horror, Rhaenyra sent her sister instead: you.

- Paring: targ!reader/Gwayne Hightower

- Note: reader is referred to as Y/N, is Rhaeyra's younger sister and is bonded to Silverwing. These events happen after Skyfall. If you want to read all the parts in chronological order visit my blog, the list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+ (there is no adult content, but there are visual descriptions of violence, blood and gore)

- Word count: 3 712

- A/N: this was scheduled to be posted tomorrow, but I've decided post extra today. Enjoy.

- Tag(s): @deniixlovezelda @duck-duck-goose2 @aadu2173 @sachaa-ff

Ser Gwayne Hightower had always been a man torn between loyalty and desire, but never more so than in the days leading up to the siege at Rook's Rest. The tension between him and Ser Criston Cole had grown sharper since that fateful day when he let you—the Princess, Y/N—slip through his grasp before their march on Duskendale. He could still feel the warmth of your skin against his, the taste of your lips lingering like a ghostly memory, a sweet torment. You had been his time and time again, even if only in stolen moments, and each encounter had deepened the scars on his heart.

Gwayne knew he should be focusing on the battle ahead, yet his thoughts strayed back to you, his mind replaying that night over and over. The look in your eyes when you realized he would let you go, when you understood the depth of his feelings despite all the bitterness that lingered between your Houses. He had set you free, knowing full well it was an act of treason in all but name, and yet he would do it again if it meant sparing you the horrors to come.

But now, at Rook's Rest, everything was escalating rapidly. Ser Criston's scorpion ballistas and archers were poised in ambush, waiting for the dragon they expected: Rhaenys on Meleys. The war council had been clear, and Gwayne had heard it all through gritted teeth—Aemond and Aegon would flank her on Vhagar and Sunfyre, trapping her in dragonfire and steel. It was a ruthless plan, one that made his stomach churn. He had sworn to protect his family, his king, and yet all he could think about was you.

The skies darkened, a shadow sweeping over the encampment. The men tensed, eyes raised to the heavens as the flap of wings grew louder. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his chest as he looked up, expecting the crimson scales of Meleys. But what he saw instead made his blood run cold.

Silverwing.

The graceful, silvery-grey dragon, once ridden by Queen Alysanne, now bonded to you. Gwayne’s heart twisted painfully in his chest. This was not supposed to happen. It was not supposed to be you in the skies above, facing down two monstrous dragons with only the loyal Silverwing at your side. Panic clawed at his throat, his mind racing. He could see it in Criston's eyes too—the slight widening, the realization that their ambush had just become a slaughter. Not for Rhaenys, but for you.

“No…” The word slipped from Gwayne’s lips before he could stop it. Without a second thought, he rushed toward the nearest scorpion, where soldiers prepared to take aim at Silverwing. His vision tunneled, anger and fear boiling together in his veins. He couldn’t let this happen—not to you.

"Stand down!" Gwayne shouted at the soldiers, shoving one aside with enough force to send the man sprawling. The crew looked at him in confusion, but Gwayne didn’t care. He grabbed hold of the crank, making it impossible for them to load the bolt.

“What in the Seven Hells are you doing?!” Criston’s voice was a venomous hiss as he stalked toward Gwayne, eyes blazing with fury. “You’re sabotaging the plan! Move, or I’ll have you—”

Gwayne spun around, his hand already on the hilt of his sword. “I won’t let you do this, Criston. Not to her.”

Criston’s lip curled in disgust. “Her? You would betray your king, your House, for a traitorous whore who—"

The sound of steel rang out as Gwayne drew his sword, slashing at the scorpion mechanism, rendering it useless. The soldiers scattered, unwilling to get caught in the confrontation between two knights who had both earned their deadly reputations. Criston’s eyes narrowed, and in the blink of an eye, his sword was in his hand, the tip leveled at Gwayne’s chest.

“You’ll die for this treachery, Hightower,” Criston spat, the words laced with venom.

“I would die a thousand times before I let you kill her,” Gwayne growled back, his voice low and dangerous. “I won’t let you harm her.”

Above them, the roar of dragons filled the air as Silverwing engaged with Sunfyre and Vhagar. Dragonfire crackled like thunder, the heat from the flames casting an eerie glow over the battlefield. You were up there, fighting for your life, for your cause. Gwayne’s heart ached with every fiery burst, knowing that each moment could be your last.

Criston lunged, and Gwayne barely parried the strike in time. The two knights clashed, steel against steel, each strike filled with desperation and fury. Gwayne fought with everything he had, driven by the need to protect you, even if it meant cutting down one of his own.

“Do you think she cares for you, Gwayne?!” Criston taunted between strikes. “She’s a dragonrider, a princess—she’ll never be yours! You’re a fool!”

“I know what I am,” Gwayne snarled, knocking Criston’s sword aside and slamming his shoulder into the other man’s chest, sending him stumbling back. “But I also know what I feel. And I’ll not stand by and let you murder her.”

Criston recovered quickly, rage twisting his features as he advanced again. “She chose Daemon over you! The Rogue Prince—do you think she’ll remember your name when she’s ash?”

Gwayne roared in fury, his blade a blur as he pressed the attack. The sounds of battle, of dragons shrieking and flames roaring, were deafening, but all Gwayne could hear was the pounding of his own heart, the desperate need to get to you, to save you. But with every second that passed, his hope dwindled, and fear gnawed at the edges of his resolve.

Then, the ground trembled, a shockwave of heat and force rippling across the battlefield as a massive burst of dragonfire erupted nearby. Gwayne staggered, the distraction costing him as Criston’s sword sliced across his side. Pain flared, but he gritted his teeth, refusing to fall. He couldn’t afford to fall—not when you needed him.

But as the flames subsided, a silhouette emerged through the smoke—Silverwing, descending, with you astride her. Your eyes, burning with determination and fury, locked onto the scene below: Criston standing over a wounded Gwayne, ready to deliver the killing blow.

“Y/N!” Gwayne shouted, his voice raw with desperation.

You didn’t hesitate. With a command, Silverwing unleashed a torrent of dragonfire, forcing Criston to leap back, narrowly avoiding being consumed by the flames. In the brief reprieve, Gwayne stumbled to his feet, clutching his side.

Your gaze met his, and for a moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. The memory of that last kiss, of your shared moments, hung between you like an unspoken vow. Gwayne knew he had only seconds before the battle resumed, but in those few heartbeats, he saw the truth in your eyes—the love that had never truly died, the bond that still connected you, even through war and betrayal.

But there was no time for words. With a final, lingering look, you turned Silverwing toward the sky, preparing for the next wave of the fight. And as you ascended into the chaos once more, Gwayne knew he would fight until his last breath to protect you, even if the whole world stood against him.The battle raged on, but in that moment, Gwayne Hightower’s heart belonged to only one—you.

The battlefield below Rook’s Rest was a symphony of chaos and death, the sky a canvas painted with fire and blood. Gwayne could only watch in helpless agony as you and Silverwing clashed in the heavens with Sunfyre and Aegon, two dragons locked in a deadly dance of tooth and claw. Overhead, the monstrous shadow of Vhagar circled like a vulture, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. Every screech of agony, every roar of defiance, was a knife twisting deeper into Gwayne’s chest.

On the ground, Criston Cole barked orders, his eyes fixed on the battle above. The soldiers scrambled, trying to reload the scorpions, but the dragonfire raining down made their task near impossible. Bolts flew haphazardly, striking neither dragon nor rider, only adding to the carnage below as men screamed, burning alive in dragonflame. Gwayne’s heart pounded in his ears, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away from the clash in the sky.

Silverwing and Sunfyre circled each other in a blur of flashing claws and snapping jaws, the air thick with the scent of burning flesh and blood. Gwayne could see the desperation in the way you leaned into every attack, urging Silverwing forward with a fury that matched his own. Aegon, though armored in golden scales and atop his mighty Sunfyre, was losing ground; he was not the rider you were, and Sunfyre, for all his pride, was no match for Silverwing’s speed and power.

“Hold fast, Sunfyre!” Aegon’s voice cut through the air, laced with both command and fear. But the king’s bravado was slipping. The once-proud Sunfyre shrieked in pain as Silverwing’s talons raked across his side, tearing through scales and flesh. Blood sprayed like rain, glistening in the sunlight before falling onto Criston’s soldiers below, causing them to scatter in panic.

Gwayne could feel his grip tightening on his sword as he watched, torn between the desire to cheer for your victory and the dread that this battle would consume you. Criston, standing nearby, had forgotten Gwayne entirely, his eyes alight with a mixture of awe and hatred. “If Sunfyre falls, so falls our king,” Criston muttered to himself, though Gwayne could hear the edge of panic in his voice.

But you would not give Sunfyre a moment of reprieve. Silverwing descended with fury, slamming into the golden beast with the force of a hurricane. The clash was brutal, teeth and claws tearing through scales, blood and fire mingling as the two dragons grappled. Sunfyre roared, a cry filled with both pain and rage, as Silverwing’s jaws clamped down on his wing.

“No!” Aegon’s scream echoed across the battlefield, his eyes wide with disbelief as Silverwing’s powerful muscles twisted and tore, shredding Sunfyre’s wing almost completely from its body. The golden dragon thrashed wildly, his flight faltering as the wing dangled uselessly by a thread of sinew and bone.

Gwayne’s breath caught in his throat, torn between elation and horror. You were winning, but at what cost? He knew what was coming next. Vhagar, that ancient beast of war, had been waiting for this moment. With a bellow that shook the very ground, the monstrous she-dragon descended like a nightmare from the skies, her jaws wide and hungry.

“Look out!” Gwayne shouted, knowing full well you couldn’t hear him from so far below. His heart thundered in his chest as Vhagar slammed into both Silverwing and Sunfyre with the force of a landslide. The three dragons collided in a tangle of limbs, scales, and teeth, a storm of rage and destruction. The impact was so fierce that Gwayne felt the ground shudder beneath him.

“No! No, no, no…” Gwayne whispered, his voice cracking as he watched the entangled dragons plummet toward the earth. You and Aegon were mere shadows against the backdrop of fire and smoke, barely visible as the dragons twisted and fell in a deadly spiral. Criston’s soldiers, caught between the descending juggernauts and their own fear, broke ranks, fleeing in every direction as the ground rushed up to meet the falling beasts.

Gwayne felt a cold dread settle in his bones as he watched you, desperately holding onto Silverwing’s saddle as the world blurred around you. You clung on with a ferocity that spoke to your will to survive, but against Vhagar’s ancient fury and Sunfyre’s desperate thrashing, even the mighty Silverwing was struggling.

Criston’s eyes were wild as he watched the battle unfold, his voice a harsh whisper of disbelief. “Vhagar will end it… she must end it…”

But Gwayne wasn’t watching Vhagar anymore. He was watching you. You were still fighting, still urging Silverwing to fight back, but the odds were overwhelming. Sunfyre’s golden scales were slick with blood, his roars more pitiful now as he struggled to right himself in the air. Silverwing’s wings beat furiously, trying to break free from Vhagar’s crushing grip, but the elder dragon’s jaws clamped down on Silverwing’s neck, dragging all three dragons toward the ground with terrifying speed.

The earth shook as the three dragons smashed into the battlefield, the impact sending up a cloud of dirt and debris. The sound was deafening—a sickening crunch of bone and screech of metal as the dragons collided with the earth. Gwayne’s heart dropped into his stomach, his eyes searching desperately through the smoke and dust for any sign of you.

“No…” he whispered, stumbling forward as if he could somehow reach you, somehow pull you from the wreckage of dragons and death. But even from here, he could see the carnage—Silverwing’s body twisted and battered, Sunfyre writhing in agony, and Vhagar looming above them all, a monstrous shadow of death.

For a heartbeat, the battlefield fell silent, every eye fixed on the wreckage of the fallen dragons. Gwayne’s breath was ragged, his eyes straining to catch a glimpse of you amidst the chaos. The dust began to settle, revealing broken bodies, shattered armor, and the mangled forms of the dragons.

And then he saw you—barely visible, still moving. You crawled from beneath Silverwing’s wing, blood streaking your face, your expression fierce even in the face of such overwhelming odds. Gwayne’s heart leaped into his throat. You were alive. Against all the odds, you had survived the fall.

But the battle was far from over. Vhagar’s malevolent eyes fixed on you, a deep rumble echoing from her throat as she prepared to finish what she had started. Aegon, still clinging to the last shreds of his pride, shouted commands to Sunfyre, but the once-majestic dragon was crippled, struggling even to rise.

Gwayne turned to Criston, his voice hoarse with desperation. “Do something! Call them off—she’ll be slaughtered!”

But Criston’s eyes were cold, devoid of mercy. “It’s too late, Hightower. She made her choice.”

Before Gwayne could respond, a deafening roar split the air as Vhagar reared back, ready to unleash a final torrent of fire upon you and Silverwing. Gwayne’s breath caught, knowing he was powerless to stop what was coming. All he could do was watch in helpless horror as the monstrous she-dragon prepared to strike.

But in those last moments, your eyes locked onto his. Even from across the battlefield, Gwayne saw the fire in your gaze—the unyielding determination, the refusal to surrender, even in the face of certain death. It was a look that would be seared into his memory forever.

And as Vhagar’s jaws parted, ready to unleash death upon the field, Gwayne did the only thing he could—he prayed. For you, for Silverwing, and for the love that had been forged in the fires of war.

It felt like time itself had slowed, the moments stretching into agonizing eternity. His breath hitched as the flames began to build in Vhagar’s throat, the light of impending destruction flickering in her maw. It would be over in seconds—everything would be lost.

But then, with a burst of speed that took even Gwayne by surprise, Silverwing jolted forward, her wings beating with desperate strength. As Vhagar’s jaws parted to unleash her fiery death, Silverwing struck. The smaller, silvery dragon lunged at Vhagar’s exposed throat, her teeth sinking into the tender scales. Her bite was unrelenting, fueled by both fury and the need to protect you. Vhagar’s flame sputtered out in a roar of agony, the ancient beast thrashing wildly as she tried to shake off the determined Silverwing.

Gwayne’s eyes widened in awe and terror. Silverwing’s tail snapped like a whip, striking Vhagar’s head with a force that reverberated across the battlefield. The blow landed squarely on Vhagar’s eye, the sound of bone and scale cracking sickeningly loud. The she-dragon’s roar of pain was a monstrous, guttural cry that seemed to shake the heavens. Even Aemond, usually so composed in battle, shouted in fury and alarm, yanking hard on the reins to regain control of his wounded dragon.

Gwayne knew he had only moments to act. Blood was streaming down your face, and even from a distance, he could see the exhaustion and pain etched into your features. You laid on the ground, barely holding on to life as Silverwing thrashed against Vhagar’s deadly strength. It was a miracle you had survived this long, but that miracle was on the brink of shattering. Gwayne’s decision was made in an instant, despite the searing pain in his side and the chaos around him.

Nearby, a riderless horse whinnied in terror, its eyes rolling as it tried to flee the madness. Gwayne gritted his teeth, limping toward the panicked creature. “Easy, girl,” he rasped, wincing with every step. The horse reared, wild with fear, but Gwayne moved with surprising swiftness, grasping the reins and swinging himself into the saddle with a grunt of pain. Blood stained his tunic from his earlier wound, but he forced himself to push through it. There was no time to dwell on it—not when you were up there, fighting for your life.

“Where are you going, you fool?!” Criston’s voice rang out behind him, filled with fury. “You’ll die, Hightower! Come back!”

But Gwayne was deaf to Criston’s commands. He spurred the horse forward, urging it toward the burning wreckage of dragons, toward you. The horse resisted at first, terrified by the scent of blood and fire, but Gwayne was relentless, guiding it with strong hands and determined resolve. The animal finally obeyed, its hooves pounding against the earth as it charged through the smoke and debris.

Criston cursed behind him, and Gwayne heard the clatter of armor as the Lord Commander sprinted after him, but Gwayne didn’t care. All that mattered was reaching you.

Above, the struggle between Silverwing and Vhagar intensified. Aemond’s curses mingled with the roars of his dragon as he tried to force Vhagar to tear herself free, but Silverwing was like a vice, her jaws locked onto Vhagar’s throat. The she-dragon’s great wings buffeted the air, but even Vhagar, with all her size and strength, was struggling against the tenacity of her smaller opponent. Silverwing’s wings were shredded, her silvery scales bloodied, but she refused to let go. She was holding on not just for herself, but for you.

“Y/N!” Gwayne’s shout cut through the chaos as he neared the spot where you lay half-alive below Silverwing’s wing. He could see that you were barely conscious, your grip weak on your sword as you fought to stay awake. Desperation fueled his every move as he urged the horse closer, reaching out to you. “Hold on! I’m coming!”

Through the haze of pain, you blinked up at him, your eyes unfocused. “Gwayne?” Your voice was faint, tinged with disbelief. “You… you shouldn’t be here…”

“I’m not leaving you!” Gwayne snapped, his voice rough with emotion. With a final burst of strength, he dismounted down beside you, reaching for your arm. The moment his hand grasped yours, you seemed to come back to life, your eyes clearing just enough to recognize him fully.

“Gwayne… you need to run,” you gasped, wincing as another jolt of pain coursed through you. “She’s going to kill us all…”

“Not today,” he vowed, pulling up with him and onto his horse. You were light in his arms, weakened from battle and injury, but there was still a flicker of the fierce spirit he had always admired in you. “I’ll get you out of here, I swear it.”

Criston’s voice was closer now, filled with anger. “Hightower, you’ll be executed for this!” he roared, but Gwayne didn’t even spare him a glance. He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks, and the animal surged forward, carrying you both away from the hellish scene behind you.

As the horse galloped across the field, Gwayne glanced back over his shoulder just in time to see the moment when Silverwing’s strength finally gave out. Vhagar’s claws found purchase, tearing deep into Silverwing’s side, and with a heart-wrenching cry, the silver dragon was forced to release her grip. Vhagar reared up, triumphant and bloodied, but the cost of the battle was clear—her eye was ruined, her scales cracked and bleeding. Silverwing collapsed onto the battlefield, her wings crumpling beneath her, but even then, she snarled defiantly, refusing to bow.

But there was no more fight left in her. Gwayne’s heart broke as he watched the light fade from Silverwing’s eyes, her body slumping in exhaustion. Aemond’s laughter echoed through the sky, dark and cruel, as he urged Vhagar to take the final blow. But before Vhagar could finish her fallen opponent, Gwayne’s eyes caught the movement of Criston as he halted his pursuit.

“Cole!” Aegon’s voice was a ragged gasp, filled with pain and panic. The king lay on the battlefield, unmoving, his once-golden armor scorched and twisted from the flames. His face was barely recognizable, the flesh blistered and raw, his body wracked with agony. Criston’s eyes widened in horror as he realized what had happened—their king was grievously injured, possibly dying. All thoughts of pursuing Gwayne and you evaporated as Criston sprinted toward Aegon, screaming orders for a healer.

Gwayne tightened his hold on you as the horse raced away from the carnage, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and determination. You clung to him weakly, your breath shallow, your strength fading fast. “Stay with me, Y/N,” he urged, his voice trembling with barely contained desperation. “Just hold on a little longer. We’ll find safety. I won’t let you die.”

Your eyes fluttered, and for a brief moment, you leaned your head against his chest, your voice a faint whisper. “You saved me… again…”

Gwayne’s throat tightened, his emotions threatening to spill over. “And I’ll keep saving you, no matter what it costs,” he promised, pressing a fierce kiss to your temple as the wind whipped through your hair. “I’m not losing you. Not today, not ever.”

Behind them, the battle raged on, but for Gwayne, the only thing that mattered was the woman in his arms and the fragile hope that somehow, despite everything, they would both live to see another day.

[here-there-were-dragons]

what im getting from this is the guy would love ao3

Merasmus canonically writes fanfiction

[niko-sasaki-dbd]

Honestly, the ghosts can feel other ghosts theory is very well supported, and I would like to share some proof shown during the season.

In episode 1, Charles clearly felt the other ghost (the WWI soldier, Wilfred) strangling him, he also got his face covered in that black liquid after he took the cursed mask off his face.

If ghosts could be able to play the same rules with other ghosts as they do with the living, Charles could have chosen to simply pass through Wilfred and seize the knife. However, he was unable to do so.

Also, during Episode 3, when that ghost's head exploded, Charles and Edwin were covered with the pieces of his ghostly brain, so I guess, fluids are other things that have their own rules when we talk about ghost-to-ghost interaction.

Sure these are not the prettiest of examples, but they support my point just fine. And I guess, it's good information for when you're writing... All sorts of fanfiction.

[radiance1]

Apparently, Shazam was friends with a dragon.

No one, not even the core members, knew of this. But that fact was prominently displayed when they were fighting off an invasion.

One lead by the apparent Ghost King, who was known for his strength and tyranny, who declared war on humanity after having been summoned by cultists. His ghostly army being fought off for days on end, being lead by a general known as the Fright Knight, before he himself, decided to grace the battlefield with his presence.

Superman, Wonder Woman, Shazam, Zatanna. Every heavy hitter they could spare was fighting against the Ghost King, the Fright Knight being fought against by Batman, Green Lantern, Constantine with the Flash keeping mostly to fending off the giant army along with various other heroes.

It was a tough fight, fighting tooth and nail to not give an inch of ground.

Until, from a portal came a large eastern dragon with glowing green eyes, glowing white scales and mane that looked Majestic as it did deadly. The heroes weren't optimistic enough to think it was help, not for them, but rather for the invading force.

Of course, such they were surprised when instead of fighting any of them, the being instead rammed its body straight into the Ghost King, knocking him back and releasing Shazam from his grip, and all the way from across the battlefield did he stare at the Fright Knight, and glared.

The Fright Knight stood down.

The Ghost King got up and shrugged off the attack, running a hand through his hair as he stared as the dragon was hovering around Shazam rather protectively and, with a simple raise of his hand, the entire army ceased their attack.

The dragon seemed to shift, long body shortening as he transformed into a more humanish form, tail and horns still present, with a crown floating above his head, he crossed his arms and stared down the Ghost King who, for his credit, simply stared back.

The stare went on for a while, the air seemingly more awkward rather than tense. Then, the draconic humanoid grabbed onto the nearby Shazam, various heroes tensing, before placing the man in front of him, putting his chin down on his head, and then starts yelling at the King for waging war on humanity just because he made a human friend.

The Ghost King, who just a few minutes ago was waging war on humanity, seemed more of a tired father, rather than the mad tyrant raging on the battlefield. He just stayed silent, taking all of the yelling as if this was the usual before, as the (apparent) prince was catching his breath, he stated his reasoning rather calmly.

He just wanted to test and accurately gauge the strength of the Champion of Magic, stating that only the strongest would have the right to stand alongside his son.

The Prince immediately called bullshit.

And the Ghost King agreed, he really did just want to wage war, though he wished it would have lasted longer, the mortal warriors (and Demi-goddess) proved themselves to be quite the challenging foes.

A few minutes later, the Ghost King was leaving, calling off the war and sending his soldiers back to the zone. Before the king himself left, however, he directed a thumbs up at all those who fought him in direct combat, then left, the Fright Knight and Batman were in a stare off, both silent and instead seemed to be having a conversation with their eyes than words.

Then they grunted at each other, nodded, and the fright Knight left.

In the League room, the Ghost Prince was apologizing for the behavior of his father, more prominently to Shazam the most.

[dcxdpdabbles]

#holiday requests

i wouldn't mind more royal consort if you're willing to write it

just sent a request for royal consort as anon

There was panic all around the room, but Danny couldn't focus on anything for too long with all his senses so overwhelmed. He was suspended in the air, power rolling through and over him in busts of electricity. He can feel himself being ripped apart, rearranged, and placed back in the same way he had been when he was fourteen, but this time, the feeling is prolonged.

The portal does so again and again and again until Danny can't tell what he is anymore. Oddly enough, it's relatively peaceful. There had been no ripping pain when his necklace and portal transmitter had connected, but there had been an overwhelming sense of cold.

It was as if Danny had been plunged into iced water, spreading across his body like a tidal wave. Danny would have almost relaxed into the portal's form if it wasn't for the pins and needles that followed each wave.

Maybe it was worse for Jaz, who was fully human when they did this to her, but Danny had Phantom to fall back on. In more ways than one, given the army his future self has summoned and the insane amount of killing intent that Phantom was broadcasting.

If he could pick up on it from within this ball of semi-consciousness, he bet everyone else was likely drowning in Phantom's rage.

The dead knights fling themselves towards the portal with gusto, slamming their swords and bodies against the force field. Each strict flung Danny further from reality, drawing them back into the welcoming void of numbness, only to be ripped back by another cold wave.

"Danny, focus!" Phantom voice boomed. "You have become the key! Close the damn portal!"

Danny blinks slowly, trying to comprehend what the words mean, until a bolt of lightning zaps out of his fingertips, twisting into the outer layer of the portal. It's then he knows the horrible truth.

The world's end is coming, and Danny is the cause of it. The portal makes a strange zapping sound before it starts stabilizing and expanding. The first large ship was passing through, leaning in like a bizarre docking ship.

"Danny!" Phantom yells, more than a bit desperate. His call reminds him of the future and what will come if he doesn't stop the monsters now. He curls his hands, grabbing the power that made him King, and yanks his arms together. His forearms shake from the effort, but he holds on, willing everything to return.

The air goes boom as the portal starts dragging things inwards instead of out, as he commands the thing to call back the aliens. The ships and the few foot soldiers- lizard-looking men- are yanked right out of the air and thrown back into a new white portal.

It takes Danny a moment to realize the animalistic screaming is coming from him as the portal slowly retracts all the energy it has thrown out. He wills the portal's power to retreat into his chest, overflowing his core with energy that spins and whirls in a tornado.

He instinctively curls up, wanting to escape the pain when he feels the cracks take shape in his core. The breaking apart of the center of his soul echoes through his skull, drowning out all other noise.

"No!" Phantom's horrified screech exploded into a ghostly Wail, ripping around the mother ship, attempting to push past. Since Danny yanked the edge inwards, it pushed beside Danny instead of through him. It had turned on its primary thrusters. The rockets burn against the strain of escaping Dany's gravitation pull and force their way through the small gap in the top left of the portal.

On the deck, more lizard-looking poachers are ripped to spreads. Their screams let Danny know Phantom had wanted them to die and die painfully. The Ghostly wail was a sonic attack, but it didn't skin enemies unless Phantom purposely rolled his tongue like that.

In a sense, Phantom had turned his wailing vibrations into whip lashes at a speed that only the Flash or Superman could outrun. The aliens had no chance.

Danny peeks through one pain-filled eye, watching as Phantom's lips curl, even as the poachers are scrambling to collect their dead. He knew that his future self hated these creatures, and they had ruined Earth in two short years, but he had not realized the amount of hate that burned in those glowing green eyes.

Hate enough that when Phantom started throwing glowing punches, the ground shook. The few people the Waynes hadn't been able to evaluate shouted as the King turned off the gravity. Everything started flouting, and Danny could even spot some cars outside lifting into the air.

Phantom didn't seem to notice as his features started melting into something inhuman, sharper, colder, and green glow expanding from his pupils across his entire eyes as punch after punch hit the force field.

A few scouter ships broke away from the portal, but they were quickly swarmed by the flouting undead soldiers who aggressively sliced the smaller vessels with their blades. Danny knew why his future self hated them, not the skeleton soldiers. Maybe they just like to fight.

A loud crack echoes through the room over ghostly wails, blowing wind, screams, and metal clacks. The sound is similar to breaking glass, shattering as Danny's core falls apart.

Danny's back arches as a scream that tears at his vocal cords is ripped from his throat. The portal around them crumbles, closing at the tip of the mother ship, tearing it apart. Just as it vanishes from sight, everyone floating around the Consort can see it slowly burst into flames on the other side.

The portal slams shut just as Phantom's fist shatters the force field. "NO!"

His head feels heavy, much too heavy for his neck, as he flouts up toward the torn-up ceiling. Gravity is still missing as Phantom swims towards him; his features melt back into more human ones as he wraps his arms around him. "You little idiot. Do you have any idea of what you just did?"

"Saved...Jazz," He manages to grunt out, smiling through the pain. Phantom's arms spam around him.

"You didn't just change the future. You rewrote our fate." As if on cue, Clockwork's amulet turns into dust. Phantom's timeline was gone.

He would have also turned to dust were he still in it, but since he was outside the timeline, Phantom would now live in this one as a permanent member.

Phantom's eyes soften. "You saved more than just Jazz. I'll send our armies to kill them off now that I saw which galaxy the rats were hiding in."

Danny's shaky smile wobbles as the numbness in his body starts to retreat. It leaves licks of burning, aching pain, and he whimpers, leaning his head against his counterpart's chest. "It hurts...."

"You shattered your core." Phantom whispers, almost as if he knows the loud noises hurt Danny's head. It thumped in time with his heartbeat, sending little shockwaves of agony through his bones. "We'll have to take you to FrostBite. But I can't take you without knowing who had the portal key. We can't risk them calling the army before our men finish them off. Pandora is leading the charge against them right now."

"Okay....it was the Wayne Butler who had the key. He needs help."

Phantom's arms tighten as furry rippled under his skin. "He's a dead man."

"No." Danny attempts to shake his head, but the motion is too much for his poor shot nerves. He thinks his fingertips are smoking when he curls one hand in Phantom's cape. "He was in the containment unit. An alien took his place. I think it was pretending to be him."

Phantom hums. "That was one of their favorite tactics. I chased them across the cosmos. I saw them collect other aliens on some protected planets, so they resorted to luring people away by using familiar faces."

Danny makes the same sound, half awake. "They stripped him naked. Covered him in triangles."

"Fuck. What color were the tringles?"

"Blue."

"They weren't going to sell him as a pet. They planned on marketing him a breeding bull or an expensive meat plater for aliens that like exotic animals. Likely due to the poor guy's age." Phantom hisses, pushing a floating table away from them. "What happened to the alien that was pretending to be him?"

"Killed him"

"Good job." Phantom pats his back. "Rest now. I'll handle the rest."

"Okay." Danny is releasing the few strands of consciousness when he hears Tim Drake's desperate call from Phantom's left. It's much closer than it should be, considering they were still flouting near where the once grand chandelier had hung.

"Your majesty! Please turn the gravity back on! The surrounding fifty miles radius is in a panic, and people are flouting away!"

Phantom sighs, his cape flaring dramatically as he adjusts Danny to snap his fingers. There are clacks and crashes as gravity yanks everything back to the floor. Phantom doesn't pay them any mind as a new green portal blooms in front of him, the swirling green like a calm lake surface, a welcoming difference to the zapping one of the enemy.

Phantom steps through, ignoring the cries of the humans. The portal closes on Tim's desperate "Please allow us to help the Consort!"

Strange, Thinks the injured Halfa. He shouldn't sound so close anymore. He should be on the ground somewhere.

Danny just knows they will be panicking about him being hurt. Didn't wars start because of similar situations whenever a royal visits a different country? Danny isn't too sure. His mind is fuzzy, and he's only awake because he hasn't been surrounded by darkness yet, but he's flouting near it."

Frostbite jumps to his feet with a slack jaw. He bends in a bow, stumbling around his desk's stacked scrolls and research papers.

"My King!" He cries, his eyes swinging back and forth between the two Dannies. The yeti bows again, a little more hesitant as he mutters, "And my other..... King? What is happening?"

"We need your help," Phantom tells him. "His soul core got shattered. I think he's dying."

Danny whimpers, only half aware of how serious this is. He doesn't want to die. Not like this. Please. Everyone still thinks he's married to himself. He'll forever be remembered as Phantom's Consort instead of all his other talents.

Like making one mean salsa.

Frostbite makes a sad, choking whine, but Phantom doesn't pay it any mind. He presses Danny closer, and the human can feel the vibrations of his voice on his chest as he demands. "Prepare your operation chambers. I'm giving him my core."

"But, My King, that would mean you....."

"I don't care. I didn't return to Earth expecting to live. This is a command from your King. Do it"

Danny fades away into the darkness, unable to protest Phantom's request. He goes limb in the strong arms of his future self, aching for the version of himself that saw his world destroyed and would not be able to see the peace their actions brought.

Frostbite's grim voice echoes in the darkness. "This is another way, my King, but we need a human sacrifice."

"I'll do it." A third, unexpected voice cuts in, and Danny identifies it as Tim Drake before he knows no more.

[myfictionaldreams]

Day 30: Freeuse - Winter Soldier

Summary: He was your patient. You were in charge of making sure all of his needs were met, no matter what they were.

Warnings/Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, non-consensual elements, dubious content, freeuse, discussion of injuries, violence, masturbation, fingering, voyeurism, exhibitionism, stalking (kinda), possessive

masterlist 📚 

kinktober masterlist😈 

AO3 Link 

He was your priority. Hydra had recruited you with the hopes of creating an experiment to see if anyone could be trained to look after the assassin frozen in a Cyrogentic state. You were trained and kept underground to be the lead carer and doctor for the Winter Soldier. He was yours to look after, physically and mentally. After each mission you sent him on, he’d return and give you the reports. Most importantly, you were always the first face he’d see before and after being on the ice.

The Soldier would answer to you and Alexander Pierce, but even that was touchy sometimes as he would look to you before answering Pierces’ questions as if he was asking for permission to talk. 

What’s more, is that you knew who he was outside of his assassin's status. James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes, born in 1917, was the best friend to the one and only Captain America, Steve Rogers, who was currently alive, having been found in the ice and unbeknown to him, his best friend was also alive with similar super solider serum pumping through his veins. Steve was Bucky’s potential saviour; one day, you hoped to be there when this could become a reality; however, currently, you were watched so closely by everyone in Hydra that you’d not even been able to contemplate a plan as to how to break him out. Until then, he was your priority, keeping him out of harm's way as much as possible.

Alexander Pierce had given you strict instructions to adhere to every single need that may affect or alter the soldier's performance as the ghostly assassin. At first, you just assumed it was to feed him, wash, cut his hair, make sure he was healthy and metal arm was working to its best ability. But the basic human need for the Winter Soldier ran deeper than that, causing your role as his doctor and carer to be blurred and something more developed.

The longer he was out of the ice, the more you would notice his increasing frustrations that couldn’t be erased with a simple afternoon in the gym or sparring with other guards. There were even days when no one could calm him down, his aggression so high that he had to be sedated if you were not available to talk to him.

For example, there was once a day when you were actually off of the unit, in your new flat, having just been granted the allowance to live there when Rumlow came knocking on your door. He only gave you the courtesy of putting on your shoes before gripping your upper arm and dragging you to the office.

When you arrived, the rooms were in disarray. Equipment smashed, blood and unconscious bodies trying to be aided too. It was a mess, and you were more nearly barging down the door to get to him, shouting for the guards to stand down and leave him to you. Yes, he was a highly trained assassin, but with the trust he held in you, there was no way he would intentionally harm you.

The underground room had no windows, which you were thankful for as they would have been destroyed in his rampage. You were only dressed in your joggers and a vest top, trainers already marked with red streaks from the puddles you’d walked through. It felt like your heart would escape your mouth with how erratic it was pounding in your chest as you tried to take in his appearance.

The shirt he had previously been wearing was now ripped to shreds on the floor. The tactical trousers had tears throughout but still seemed to be held together enough that he was indecent, and combat boots that gleamed with smudges where he’d been kicking objects and people. Each of his knuckles were busted in their own way. The flesh hand was cut, and the metal fist was red with other people's blood.

You’d not seen him become this erratic since he’d been out of his cryogenic state for too long, and his memories began to return to him as he questioned his entire existence. Whereas for this example, he’d only been defrosted for several days and shouldn’t have had any cognitive issues.

Stepping closer with your hands raised to show you meant no threat, you asked in a clear, concise voice, “Soldier? Where is the threat?”

His height seemed to tower over yours, more so than usual, as he turned his deathly glare towards you. The hulking muscles of his shoulders heaved with each breath he took as if he was out of breath, which was a rare occasion as he could run for miles and continue to breathe steadily, unaffected by the strenuous exercise. Your question was supposed to help identify what his issue was, hoping he’d find you being there to create a safe space for him, but the angry charge of his massive body had you flinching back in shock.

The warm hand of his wrapped around your throat, using the momentum of his steps to push you back up against the wall. Your hands remained up, even though you were itching to tear at his wrist to relieve some pressure. He wasn’t squeezing hard enough that you were struggling to breathe, but it was still uncomfortable and unnerving.

Your mind was working on overdrive, trying to think of a way to ease the stress he was going through. Your eyes searched over his body, starting with his head and face, but there were only minor scratches and grazes from the fights. Lower your eyes explore his arms and chest until they halted, seeing something that had never been through your consideration.

His tactical pants were tented, showing the outline of his hard-on, raging just as violently as the blue of his eyes. Was this the issue of his anger? The soldier shifted his stance, hand twitching towards his crotch like he was going to move himself to be more comfortable, but stopped as he watched you closely.

Alexander Pierce had once told you that whatever the Soldier wanted or needed, you were to give it to him to ensure that he was performing to his best abilities. You cursed to yourself quietly, unsure if this was even plausible or right to do. Of course, it wasn’t right to do. He was a prisoner in his own body, but you were his doctor, and you had a job to do.

“It’s okay. I know what will help you. I’ll show you how to get rid of the pain; I won’t touch you, I promise”.

From there, you were able to explain anatomy, the ache throbbing through his abdomen and how he could relieve himself. He did. Right there in front of you, his pants by his knees and cock in hand until he came on your shoes.

You didn’t so much as blink or flinch at the action. He didn’t understand that it wasn't appropriate to cum on someone's shoes or to masturbate in a somewhat public scenario. It calmed him down enough that you could push him back onto a chair and fix the injuries that were already mostly healed.

These situations only continued to escalate, which occurred more often than not. However, the Winter Soldier only touched himself when you were around, and you were unsure if it was because you made him feel safe or for other reasons that Rumlow liked to hiss in your ear, saying that the deadly assassin had a crush on his favourite doctor.

You blew it off as gossip and nasty rumours, unprofessional at most.

This only lasted for a few months before you noticed the changes in the Soldier, and it all came to a head one night as he turned up at your apartment after a mission. You hadn’t even told him your address, and he wasn’t due back from the mission for another 24 hours, but there he was, at the end of the bed, having snuck through the window as you were halfway through having some intimate time yourself.

Your fingers were between your legs, eyes closed, and your head tipped back, not covering your moans as you didn’t think you’d need to as you were living by yourself. The assassin watched, confusion causing his brows to furrow, head tilted to the side as his fists clenched. 

The look on your face was one he’d never seen before, and he noticed the anatomy was different to his. Of course, he was aware that not everyone had the same genitals as his, but it hadn’t crossed his mind that it could be touched like this.

The only time you were aware of his presence was when the bed dipped, your eyes snapping open and legs closing as you released an almighty scream that caused the Soldier to flinch.

“Mine”, he muttered under his breath, grabbing your ankle and dragging you closer.

“What? Soldier, what are you doing here? When did you- please stop” he paused his attempts to drag you closer as he was half crawling over your body. You were trying to remain calm, but he was acting so possessive, and why was he even here? How did he get in?

“Mine”, he repeated above you again, eyes trained between your legs.

You were at a loss for words, feeling both confused and safe simultaneously, even with someone as dangerous as this. The night was one that definitely crossed the line for professionalism.

The Winter Soldier was so interested in your masturbation and different genitals that he practically begged you to continue, shouting mine and gazing at your intimate area until you continued.

You came, and then the Soldier unbuckled his belt and ejaculated over your stomach, and this was the turning point of the relationship. Your job now seemed to be a half doctor, half a sexual release. Masturbation escalated into hands in underwear until there was no point holding back the restraint, and the two of you were fucking.

It was challenging to wrap your head around, especially when the two of you were in the work environment, but if it was what he wanted and needed that you were more than happy to be face pushed into the wall, trousers and underwear by your ankles and cock shoving so far into your cunt that you saw stars.

The most significant issue was that, even though none of the workers commented on it, they all knew the sex was occurring. Mainly because the Winter Soldier didn’t seem to understand that this was supposed to be something that was for ‘behind closed doors’ and out of view of the guards and other doctors. To him, if he was to push you over the table and whisper “mine”, then this was enough warning that he wanted to fuck, even if you were unfathomably embarrassed that your coworkers had to watch you coming undone to the man they were all looking after.

The worst time had to have been when Alexander Pierce came strolling into the ‘jail’ they kept the Soldier in during his downtime. Multiple guards were surrounding him, and three doctors in lab coats were working tirelessly around the room. You’d been in there for hours. Warm, tired and ready to eat whatever take-out you could encounter on the drive home later that night.

With Pierces’ presence, however, your posture straightened, and you tried to remain as professional as possible. This was a feat easier said than done as The Soldier eyed you from across the room, staring with his unblinking glare. Eventually, he pushed past Pierce, the guards all raising their guns expecting a fight, but there was none to have as the metal fingers of his specially made hand eased into the front of your work trousers, plain underwear and pushed into your cunt.

“What are you doing?! Now is not the time and place- Ah fuck!”. There was nothing other than a hand over your mouth that could have stopped the moan pitching from your lips as his thumb circled your clit. You’d not been at all aroused, but he had learned enough about your body to know the exact way to stimulate your bundle of nerves and curl his fingers inside of you to stroke that beautiful spot that had you whimpering without any restraint.

As he pleasured you in front of all your colleagues, there was nothing you could do but painfully grip on to his metal forearm. He didn’t even smile or mutter a single word as he made you orgasm with a knee-buckling euphoria. It seemed he was just in the mood to hear your whines as he turned around and sat back in front of Pierce, who was looking between the two of you.

“It seems things have changed through here. I’m glad you have been able to … satisfy the Asset by any means necessary”.

You tried not to visibly cringe with the way he had worded it as you tried to straighten your clothes and continue with the work you had been completing before. Nothing further was thankfully said as he was given his next mission, and you were left to continue working for a further three hours with underwear that was utterly soaked due to his wandering fingers.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

I saw you were taking Ambessa request so I've had something in mind for weeks now because I just love that milf. Sorry for the bad spelling and grammar.

Ambessa x priestess! Reader from a country she helped conquer. The country is run by the priestesses so when the reader is brought to Ambessa with the other priestesses Ambessa finds the reader interesting because she's the only one not scared.

This can a series of you want it to beI've asked so many people and they never end up doing it or they go inactive🥲

a/n: hi! i really like this prompt and hopefully i did it justice 🫶🏻 if y'all want this to be a series it can be! also, this is for all requests, if you want 🌶️ plz mention it in request bc i feel weird just adding it word count: 1.7k warning(s): i mean ambessa is not exactly the best person however she's hot; mentions of blood and battle; suggestiveness; use of y/n; manipulation? tag(s): @thesevi0lentdelights @sevyscoven

all things end

The halls you once danced through as a child were now stained with blood, smeared with the resistance of your people. Noxian soldiers formed a wall around you and your fellow priestesses as you were paraded through the halls of the castle, the survivors of the Noxian invasion, desperate for a glimpse of their leaders, formed a crowd. The soldiers pushed through the people, their skin stained with blood and their weapons drawn. Your kingdom wasn't one of war, your people unfamiliar with the craft of violence. To Noxus, you were soft, a country pliable enough to shape in their vision. You knew where the soldiers were taking you, the path one you had walked every morning since becoming a Priestess of Zhritsa. The center of the castle, where you would go to do your morning prayers, to feel the sun through the stained glass window on the ceiling, to hear the requests your people would bring to you. It was the hub of your government, the place where decisions happened.

Now it was where Ambessa Medarda waited.

Following Zhritsan custom, you and your fellow Priestesses wore white veils of mourning, the pure fabric growing dirty as you dragged your feet towards what you assumed was death. A mask of marble weighed heavy on your face, grounding you to reality. In one last act of defiance, you had convinced your fellow priestesses to follow you in donning your ceremonial crowns, sending the message of being the true rulers of Zhritsa. The attire of the Priestesses of Zhritsa was rumored to have scared off countless conquerors, the ghostly movements of the veils and the emotionless masks where only the eyes could be seen were now your only hope in making the Noxian invaders leave.

Suddenly, the soldiers stopped, their spears hitting the ground rhythmically as they parted, revealing Ambessa sitting upon the middle throne, her posture comanding and confident. Upon seeing all of you, you noticed an unsettled expression flash through Ambessa's eyes before it was replaced by the stare of the Wolf. She stood, waving her hand through the air.

"Lift your veils and remove your masks, I belive I am owed the faces of the former rulers of this...quaint kingdom."

Your resolve grew stronger as you lifted your veil, your hands steady as you removed your mask, your eyes glaring straight ahead at the warmonger. Your fellow Priestesses, however, shook with fear as their veils were raised and their masks removed. One of your sisters dropped her mask, the shattering of the marble echoing throughout the chamber. Noxian soldiers moved forward as if her clumsiness was an attack, you moved just as quick, standing in front of her, your eyes daring the soldiers to get closer as your Sister picked up the shards of her mask with shaking hands. Ambessa watched you with careful precision, making her way down the steps of the throne, her steps surprisingly quiet. The soldiers stood down as she grew closer, your defiant gaze now settled on her. She smirked lightly, removing her war mask, raising an eyebrow.

"There. Now we can all see each other." Her eyes held a type of humor that didn't amuse you. You didn't ignore the way blood was splattered across her towering form, reminding you of the countless lives of your people she slaughtered to get where she is. Ambessa grew closer to you, her eyes analysing you. Your eyes never left hers, willing to die in one last act of resistance for your country. The Noxian soldiers had stripped you of any weapons, even the ceremonial knives with blunt edges. However, in your stance in front of your Sister, you, as stealthily as possible, had picked up one of the shards of the broken mask. You lunged forward, the pathetic excuse of a weapon in your hand, aiming for her throat. Like it was a simple game, Ambessa maneuvered expertly, grapping your wrist and twisting with just enough force that the piece of mask fell from your hand where she kicked it away. Her grip on your wrist was firm, yet not painful as she pulled you close to her. You had to look up to see her face, her expression one of withheld laughter.

"She'll come with me. Take the others away."

The soldiers acted immediately, grabbing your Sisters and pulling them out of the room, their cries sending daggers into your soul. You struggled against Ambessa's grip on your arm as she too started leaving the room.

Was this how you were to die? Alone and by the hands of Ambessa Medarda? Surely she was dragging you to certain death, as a wolf has no mercy. Yet as you were pulled through the familiar halls of the castle, you felt her grip grow softer. Soon it was as if you were holding hands with the woman who was covered in the blood of your people. She stopped in front of a familiar set of doors, your stomach dropping as you realized you now stood in front of your chambers. Ambessa turned to look at you, cocking her head slightly and raising an eyebrow. Her hand left your wrist, instead now taking its place on your lower back as she pushed you forward lightly.

"Open the doors, my Lady." Her voice held a mocking tone, yet you detected a hint of warmth, sending your mind spiralling in confusion. You wanted to defy her, stand your ground against letting her into your room, but your eyes fell on the sword hanging from Ambessa's hips. If you could prolong your life by even a few minutes, you would. Holding your head high, you twisted the handle, pushing the doors open, revealing your room. Ambessa stepped in first, looking around before walking over to the balcony, where you could see your kingdom in almost it's entirety. Cautiously, you went to stand next to the imposing woman, some of the fight drained from you as you imagined your Sisters being tortured under the Noxian soldiers hands. Was it because of your outburst that they were taken away?

In your thoughts, you had grasped the railing of your balcony, your eyes unfocused as your thoughts spiraled.

"Don't tell me you've lost that fire in your eyes." Ambessa's rich voice broke you from your spiral, her words causing you to spin around to face her, bringing the anger back to your face.

"Why?" You spit out, "Do you want to watch it die out as you kill me in my room?"

Ambessa almost looked taken aback, like she didn't expect the venom dripping from your words. Still, she carefully composed herself, moving so now she caged you in on the balcony with her muscular arms. Her eyes were glued to yours, making you unable to look away. There was a light smirk on her lips as she spoke.

"There it is. I have no interest in killing you, Y/N. You've caught my interest with your fire, your willingness to fight back even though," she interupted herself with a laugh before continuing, "there was no chance of you winning. I admire that." You stood frozen as her eyes examined your face. Being this close to the general, you felt your anger slip slightly, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as you realized just how intimidatingly beautiful she was. It bothered you, how someone who's committed such horrible acts could be one of the most beautiful women you've ever seen. Ambessa took a step back, her arms no longer caging you in and you felt annoyed at yourself for being disappointed.

"We're going to be here a while, my soldiers and I. I would rather not have to spill any more senseless blood," She walked back into your room, expecting you to follow her and you did, "You've shown strength while others reek of weakness. Know this, young one, this isn't an act of mercy. Keeping you alive keeps stronger enemies at bay." She sat on your bed, leaning forward on her knees and clasping her hands together as she continued to pierce you with her gaze. You didn't know where to go, a stranger in your own room. You just returned her gaze, once more holding up your chin as you responded.

"And what is the price for this act of 'non-mercy'?" You decided that if she was letting you live, you would at least be yourself, cocking your head to the side and raising an eyebrow. You also crossed your arms, a grounding position for you as Ambessa just smiled at your petulance. She beckoned you to stand in front of her, positioning you so you know stood in between her thighs. One of her heads took it's place on your waist while the other cupped your chin and held her face in place so you were now eye to eye. Her touch sent chills down your spine, a flash of anger going through you as how your body was reacting to your countries conqueror.

"Show me more of your fire, teach me more about Zhrista so that my protection isn't just at the surface. All I ask is loyalty and all your needs will be met."

All my needs? Your mind supplied unhelpfully, making you unintentionally blush as you pushed those thoughts away, though it was hard with how Ambessa's eyes were looking into yours, awaiting an answer. You still held contempt for the woman in front of you, however your mind thought through Ambessa's offer. Your kingdom was a beautiful one, yes, strong only in trade and exports, your military lacking in skills of war. Ambessa's presence, while slightly annoying, could help strengthen your people's safety. You thought about your fellow Sisters, your certainty of their deaths fading away as you continued to examine Ambessa's expression.

You came to a decision, one that would change the course of your life and the trajectory of your kingdom forever.

Boldly, you got as close to Ambessa as you could without being in her lap, reveling the slight surprise her eyes radiated. You felt her grip on your waist tighten as you nodded, silently giving your agreement.

If she wanted your fire, you would set her ablaze.

a/n: hi! i hope this wasn't awful, im still new to writing for arcane, let alone ambessa (love her so much, it's a concern). thank you for reading!!

[libingan]

—beneath the mask.

summary: in your love, simon finds the strength to shed his ghostly mask, becoming a man once more—a man who dares to feel and hopes to heal.

a/n: im out of horny juice. im so drained. sometimes i forget this blog exists, but im back yall!!!! have some soft simon moments

the first time you saw him, the sight of him—a figure swathed in black, his eyes cold and impassive behind a mask—was like meeting a living shadow. ghost was more than just a soldier; he was a specter of war, a manifestation of relentless duty and unyielding resolve. his presence was imposing, his movements precise and calculated, embodying the essence of a machine built to fulfill its purpose with ruthless efficiency. in every battle, ghost was a legend—an entity to be feared, his name spoken in hushed tones, evoking a mixture of awe and dread.

but as you ventured into his world, you discovered the layers beneath the imposing exterior. it was through the quiet moments between chaos that you began to see the man behind the mask—the fragile human who had long been overshadowed by the ghost he had become. your love was a beacon that cut through the relentless darkness, illuminating the parts of him that had been buried under years of combat and emotional suppression.

your touch was the first sign of his transformation. each caress was like a soothing balm to his battle-worn soul. when your fingers traced the contours of his face, feeling the rough texture of scars and the tense lines of his jaw, it was as if you were mapping a landscape of pain and resilience. the warmth of your skin against his was a stark contrast to the coldness of his soldier’s facade. he could feel the gradual melting of his defenses, the rigid walls of ghost beginning to crumble under the gentle pressure of your affection. with each touch, he felt a flicker of something he had thought was lost—hope, tenderness, the possibility of healing.

every kiss you shared was a sacred exchange, a promise that even in his darkest moments, he was still capable of feeling deeply. your lips, soft and yielding, pressed against his with a reverence that spoke volumes. the way you kissed him—slowly, deliberately, with a tenderness that seemed to erase the harshness of his past—was a revelation. each kiss was a quiet rebellion against the ghost’s indifference, a testament to the warmth and love that could still exist within him. these moments of intimacy became sanctuaries where he could shed his armor, where he could allow himself to be vulnerable, to simply be simon.

your words were a lifeline, a gentle stream flowing through the arid landscape of his emotions. each whispered reassurance, each tender declaration of love, was a lifeline that reached into the darkest recesses of his heart. you spoke with a softness that cut through the noise of his inner battles, finding the places he had buried under layers of stoicism and grief. your voice, rich with understanding and compassion, was a melody that drew him out of his shell, inviting him to share the quiet spaces where his true self could emerge. you spoke of futures he had only dared to dream about, of a life beyond the battlefield, and each word was a seed of hope planted in the fertile soil of his heart.

when you looked at him, your gaze was a tender invitation to step away from the shadows that had long defined him. your eyes, filled with warmth and unspoken promises, offered him a vision of a life where he could be more than just a ghost. in your gaze, he saw the possibility of redemption, of a future where he could be loved not for his legend but for who he truly was. your eyes reflected a future where he could be seen, valued, and cherished—something he had thought was beyond his reach. through your gaze, he learned to see himself not as a weapon of war but as a man deserving of love and affection.

you became adept at recognizing the subtle shifts between the two facets of him. there were moments when the cold, unfeeling ghost would recede, and in his place, you would find simon—the man who could be softened by your touch, who could be moved by your kiss, who could find solace in your words. there was a depth to his gaze then, a vulnerability that he rarely allowed himself to express. you could feel the weight of his past lifting with each embrace, each moment of connection. when he held you close, there was an intensity in his touch that spoke of a longing to be more than just a shadow, a desire to be fully present in the warmth of your love.

ghost was a soldier, a figure forged in the crucible of war, who could take lives with a cold, detached efficiency. but simon riley was the man you loved—a man who had endured unimaginable hardships and emerged on the other side, still standing, still fighting for a sense of normalcy and connection. with you, he could let go of the ghost, if only for a moment. he could find solace in the sanctuary of your embrace, where the world’s harshness faded, and he could simply be simon.

in the quiet moments you shared, when the chaos of the world outside seemed to dissipate, you would find him surrendering to the peace you offered. he would bury his face in the crook of your neck, his breaths steadying as the rhythm of your heartbeat became a lullaby that soothed the restlessness within him. in those precious seconds, he was no longer the ghostly figure of war, but a man deeply entwined in the present, finding peace and comfort in your arms.

with you, simon riley could be vulnerable. he could drop the pretense, lay down his weapons, and allow himself to be loved. you provided him with something no battlefield ever could—a place of refuge, a space where he could heal and hope. you were the light that pierced through the darkness threatening to engulf him, the one who saw through the mask and loved the man beneath it all.

and in return, simon gave you everything he had left to give. it wasn’t always easy; the ghosts of his past often tried to reclaim him, and the weight of his history would press down heavily, making it difficult to breathe. but even then, even in those moments of darkness, he would find his way back to you, drawn by the promise of something more, something better.

with you, he could be simon riley, and for a man who had spent so long being nothing more than a ghost, that was everything.

[vodkassassin]

Amity Park didn’t return to Illinois after they were transported to the ghost zone.

After all, the Zone is fickle even in transporting singular entities like the smallest blob ghost. How about an entire town, with all those people in it?

Instead of Illinois, they end up slightly off the coast of New Jersey, a long time before Amity Park, Illinois ever existed.

Fixing damages that happened to the town during the transfer is considered a total loss, so they scrap everything and rebuild. Since the ghost issue seems to not be going anywhere ever, the decision to lean into the aesthetic and embrace it instead of denying and fighting it is nearly unanimous (save for a few ghost hunters here and there, but they are the minority).

It’s easy to slide into their new existence. Things are very different from the modern life they’re all used to, but much is still the same.

Phantom is always there to protect.

Hauntings are a part of their very foundations.

Amity Park was always pretty isolated, all things considered. So they continue on.

Tucker later on becomes mayor of the new town Gotham (Sam has a heavy hand in convincing everyone to go along with the name). He holds his position much longer and with far higher approval ratings than his predecessor.

Sam eventually marries someone who moved to the newly established Gotham from the mainland, on a business venture, whose last name is Wayne.

Together, they inherit what’s left of the immense Manson wealth.

People from the mainland come and go, providing economy. Not a lot of them stick around, too uneasy of the supernaturally dreary atmosphere of Gotham Island and it’s frankly hostile architecture. The Amitians — Gothamites now — don’t really get it. What’s wrong with ghosts??

The original townspeople are so saturated with ectoplasm at this point that they’ve ceased aging. They die eventually, but immediately become ghosts and just make the trip through the portal to become citizens of Phantom’s kingdom in the Infinite Realms. All things considered, nothing much changes after death, either.

However, it’s soon decided that before any more new people can move to Gotham, the portal must be closed and locked for the safety of the regular humans who are not as immune to the influence of the Zone.

So the portal is buried and hidden, locked and guarded by the eternal soldiers of the Ghost King, the key safely kept on the King’s person at all times.

Life goes on. Years pass. The true origins of Gotham fall into the realm of the forgotten. Eventually, it becomes what it is today.

Batman and all.

The Batcave is more home to Bruce Wayne than even the manor that caps it. That’s because in the cave, he is a step closer to a portal to the Infinite Realms that has been locked and hidden deep underneath the land that once belonged to his ancestors, the Manson-Waynes.

As a direct descendant of one of the original Amity Park townspeople, and one who was (is) so closely tied to the haunt of the Ghost King himself, Bruce has always had a special and innate connection to the town and the land that his city is built on, but never really knew why.

He just thinks of it as his father Thomas explained it to him; the Manson-Waynes, later the Waynes, had been one of the founding families families of Gotham — alongside the Fenton, Baxter, and Sanchez families. Since the other families have long since died out, it’s up to the Waynes to uphold their legacy, and that duty falls to Bruce.

Or so that’s how Thomas, who knew nothing of Gotham’s ghostly, Amitian origins, understood it.

It’s not until Jason, back from the dead, becomes a regular part of the family again, that Bruce starts feeling as if something is different about the cave, and then later the city at large.

Almost as if it’s been awakened, somehow.

[the-griffons-saddlebag]

💎 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗶𝘁𝗲𝗺! Pauldron of the Lost Legion
Wondrous item, legendary (requires attunement) ___ This pauldron is made of mourningsteel, a metal sometimes found below ancient battlegrounds. A tattered capelet bearing a crest hangs from it. You gain a +1 bonus to AC while wearing this pauldron. In addition, whenever you roll initiative and aren’t surprised, you can immediately move up to 30 feet without provoking opportunity attacks, provided your speed isn’t 0. While moving in this way, you can move through another creature’s space, regardless of its size, and such a creature’s space isn’t considered difficult terrain for you. Your appearance becomes slightly ghost-like for the duration of this movement; you can force one creature you move through in this way to make a DC 17 Constitution saving throw, taking 3d6 force damage on a failed save. While wearing the pauldron, you also have advantage on saving throws against effects from undead. The pauldron has the spirits of 10 long-lost souls trapped within its metal. While wearing it, you can use the pauldron’s following properties by calling upon the trapped souls; these properties use a spell attack bonus of +9 and spell save DC of 17. The pauldron regains the use of 1d8 + 2 spirits daily at dawn. 𝙎𝙥𝙚𝙡𝙡𝙨. You can use an action to cast either the “guardian of faith” (4 spirits) or “spirit guardians” (3 spirits) spell from the pauldron. The spells appear as a ghostly formation of stalwart soldiers or a swirling whirlwind of weaponry, respectively. 𝙍𝙚𝙩𝙖𝙡𝙞𝙖𝙩𝙚. When you take damage from another creature you can see within 5 feet of you, you can use your reaction to use 1 of the pauldron’s spirits to make a melee spell attack against the triggering creature. On a hit, the target takes 1d6 + 4 force damage, and you gain 10 temporary hit points. 𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙩 𝙎𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙢. As an action, you can use 3 or more spirits from the pauldron to create a formation of ghostly soldiers. The soldiers appear in an unoccupied space that you can see within 10 feet of you. Treat the soldiers as a Large undead swarm: they can occupy another creature’s space and vice versa... ... Continued in the comment below! ___ ✨ Patrons get huge perks! Access this and hundreds of other item cards, art files, and compendium entries when you support The Griffon's Saddlebag on Patreon for less than $10 a month!

[unadulteratedsoulsweets]

A DC X DP IDEA #22

Back in my day.

Imagine dis…

Alfred is a whole mystery to the Batfam that whenever he pulls out his shotgun we are in awe at this kickass badass British butler, on the other hand, we are always in the shadows of his past endeavors. We all knew he was a S.A.S. Armed Services, fighting in 15 different operations between ages 18 and 20. A skilled medical and front liner soldier who was decorated. He later joined MI5, as well as the secret forces of the Queen and later being knighted by Her Majesty.

He is silent as he comes by, he can out Batman the Batman despite Bruce learning from the greatest assassin of all time. He is calm, too calm for any situation to the point your subconscious asks if he had seen something wilder, more insane to consider an alien attack, a mutant crocodile attack every Tuesday is considered somewhat tame, or even the rise of global or universal threats that Alfred seemed to brush it off.

So, who is he?

…

Alfred Pennyworth had always been a mysterious figure. He had dedicated his life to serving the Wayne family and their caped crusader alter-egos as Bruce Wayne's loyal butler and the revered keeper of Wayne Manor. But Alfred had held a secret for decades, one that would finally come to light most unexpectedly.

Alfred was a teenager called Danny Fenton long before he donned the perfect suit and tie. He lived in the small town of Amity Park, which was riddled with secrets of its own. Danny was not your typical adolescent; he had a strange encounter with a ghostly gateway that had bestowed upon him unusual and otherworldly skills. He had protected Amity Park from vengeful ghosts and spectral threats thanks to his power to shift into a phantom hero known as Danny Phantom.

Danny had just recently been crowned as the crowned prince of the Infinite Realm a week after he had defeated the tyrant Pariah Dark who had attempted to rip off a space in the fabric of in-between just to suck in his little quaint town. It was determined by both the ancient and the Observants that it was better for him to finish his mortal life before he dawns on the crown, as he was still growing, he was still considered a baby ghost younger than Young Blood as his death was still recent.

But slowly the thoughts that he had kept behind his head are coming back to him. Jazz his beloved sister as well as the one who had raised her despite being a child herself who had no idea of raising a child, may analyze her all she wants but she could never sympathize nor connect with his inner thoughts of being one of the halfas. He died, he never really had the time to process it because he had to face the Lunch Lady just a few days after the accident. 

His friends, now looking at them closely, have seen that they both have some sort of guilt in their eyes. They both have seen him die amid the electrician, he can’t help but feel some sort of longing at the cemetery the north of Amity Park, he is too alive to have a grave yet too dead to be alive.

He thought he was getting there, changing the views of the people. To show the world that his kind is sentient but the people kept whispering. Shadows cast long by the looming specters sent chills down their spines. Every eerie wail or flicker of a ghostly presence filled them with dread. Their eyes widened in terror as the ethereal figures materialized before them. A hushed silence fell over the town when ghostly battles raged in the skies. Parents warned their children to stay indoors when the ghost alarms rang. Fearful whispers of the "Ghost Boy" circulated, both a hero and a phantom menace. 

The ghostly encounters left scars of fear etched in the minds of Amity Park's residents.

In the end, he was forced to leave his home dimension, why? It’s because the GIW have become more vicious more brutal at their hunting, With the sacrifice of both his friends and family they have shoved him into the portal, never to be seen again.

…

All bloodied and still injured he had landed in a period in the early 1900. He thought that he may have accidentally traveled back in time but when he saw too many conflicting events that he had learned during his high school days that didn’t happen during this time led him to believe that he had traveled a different dimension. Small ripples in the water created a tsunami of change in what he previously known as the past, when he was still in the streets gathering information, he had noticed that he landed in the middle of London during the early 1900s. Good enough that child labor laws are still not a thing so he can work with practically anyone without questions asked. The bad news is that his supposed great-grandfather's version in this dimension had already died, according to his family tree history during his science project in 4th grade his great-grandfather went to London to earn a few bucks before traveling back to America where he would meet his supposed great grandmother and have children. Since he died before he even went back to America the Nightgale-Fenton line died with him.

Luckily a barren couple took pity on him and took him in, since Danny can’t no longer bear his original last name, he embraced the new name from this nice couple who had taken him in. Danny may have felt guilty at the prospect or even the idea of replacing his family but he can’t help but think of it as a new beginning of his life. No one to hunt down his ghostly half, No GIW, and No fruit loop trying to turn him into his heir.

Alfred Pennyworth

During this time he did a lot of odd jobs, cleaning the inside of a chimney, mining, selling newspapers… etc. Sure, it was hard work and he can’t help but look at the children far younger than him taking in jobs far more dangerous just so they can shave something to eat. He can’t help but feel too blessed when he was back in his timeline. Warn food to eat under a sturdy roof to keep out the elements as well as education. Things that were too mundane, too common, that he now feels like a luxury. 

Over time he developed an accent as well as new mannerisms and vocabulary. 

So, when war broke out on the horizon his core ached at the notion of protection thus signed up in the military. 

Sure, he became the most feared soldier in the fields due to his using some of his ghostly abilities subtly. His enemies who stand in front of him call him The Vengeful Orphan, due to his avenging every soldier who seems to die at the hands of their enemies. 

Between the ages of 18 and 20, he served in the S.A.S. Armed Services, engaging in 15 different actions. A decorated medical specialist and front-line soldier. He then joined MI5, as well as the Queen's secret forces, and was knighted by Her Majesty.

…

As time passes by the ages, slowly but surely. He had already outlived his adoptive parents and friends of his. He still held the authority of being the officially crowned prince of the Infinite Realms. He had already explored the world experiencing the culture and history of this world.

At this time, he had already recovered enough ectoplasm to turn back to his ghostly prime and create a portal to the Infinite Realms. But something in him nagged, his core kept trying to tell him something when he was about to take a step inside the portal, but he didn’t seem to know why. His years as Phantom and Alfred Pennyworth taught him to listen to his guts, and it saved him multiple times, without looking back he stayed in this dimension until his mortal life perished.

It seemed that he didn’t have to find it for too long as he was approached by none other than Thomas Wayne with the preposition to be Wayne’s butler.

So, when little Bruce Wayne was born he couldn’t help but feel a little fond of the tyke. He reminded Bruce of himself when he was just a simple young boy before everything. When the fated, night came he tried to shield Bruce from everything, to have him resemble a somewhat normal life. 

That night he tucked in a teary-eyed Bruce into bed who had just witnessed his parent’s murder. He faced the ghosts of both Martha and Thomas who had been with the young master since the incident a few hours ago and tearfully promised the two ghostly couple that he would take care of Bruce. Both couples seemed to be in shock at their butler who had seen them but felt relief that their boy was in safe hands.

…

When his ward Bruce Wayne turned into a crime-fighting vigilante, he can’t help but softly snort at his outfit. Sure, he admits he had a worse outfit when he started as Phantom when he was just a young lad but he is willing to take anything other than a furry suit that fights crime at night. He has no right to criticize either since his alter ego is just him with an inverted color without a mask yet people seem to make no connection between him and Phantom, in his defense he is a young teen whereas Bruce is in his 20s. He just raised an eyebrow at his outfit and Bruce immediately changed the design to be a bit more sophisticated than just a Halloween costume of a bat.

…

So when Bruce starts to bring in orphans he can’t help but smile fondly as the manor is slowly filled with such joy from each child that seems to find a home in the large manor. He can't help but reminisce if this could have been his life if Vlad had learned to forgive Jack or if his parents and Amity Park just accepted him if the GIW didn’t exist. He thought one day when he was drinking tea with Jason, Jason who died and came back different, never broken. His grandchild who experienced his death in a slow yet painful way died and came back later. He knew there was something different with his grave but he chalked it up in being his ghostly sense sensing the ectoplasm around Gotham. He just wished he checked the grave even though it holds so much sentimental value to the dead. 

Don’t get him wrong the moment Jason came back to enact his revenge on B he was already aware something was in Gotham he just didn’t know at the time that it was Jason. He is more than happy to kill the Joker as he had taken mortal lives when he was serving the army but Bruce might notice and he still held fear at the idea of Dan.

After the entire revelation between his son and grandchild, he just welcomed back Jason into the manor as if nothing was wrong with the boy and prepared his favorite dish and snacks in the library whenever he visited.

…

Now it had been a long way since he entered this dimension, now the long table at the manor is filled with guests and children alike. His grandchildren are full of life despite what had life thrown at them. Dick was the first one to arrive and started, Barbara followed, Jason who took off the wheel, Tim with his brilliant mind with his worrying caffeine intake, Stephanie who fought with his father, Cassandra who started just to atone for the sin of killing her father yet became loyal and caring young lady and Damian who started to learn what humanity is like. Sure others had been emotionally adopted but all of them all have places in the manor.

…

His grandchildren as well as his pseudo son kept throwing him curious glances every time, He managed to seemingly appear behind them to notify them of dinner. He can also feel the envy of walking silently from the assassin-trained children. He can feel Bruce’s stare whenever he raises an eyebrow at some classified cases that are supposedly secured. He can hear their whispers as they exclaim to one another that he supposedly knew everything, of course, he knew everything the manor became his new haunt after a few years.

…

He already raised an eyebrow at the simultaneous alarm from every vigilante at the dinner table but imagine his surprise when he joined in looking over the Bat computer as Oracle barked out orders and instructions, as a familiar opponent showed itself.

A green glowing monster is wreaking havoc throughout Gotham it came from Central City and marched its way here to Gotham which became even more powerful due to the ectoplasm in the air. There is already notable damage from both cities as the rest of the heroes seem to work together to evacuate and stop the creature. The JLD attacks seem to have some effect but it was useless due to its minions that kept them occupied. Oracle is so focused on the situation and doesn’t notify their pseudo grandfather to disappear from behind her.

…

The entire JL is starting to feel hopeless as the green creature seems to raze Gotham as if the stone road is made out of water. Every magician and heavy hitter have been called but no one was able to put damage to the creature.

When all hopes seemed lost, they all heard a loud bang from a shotgun.

Alfred Pennyworth is standing on top of a rubble of concrete and metal, the butler of Batman, the pseudo father, and grandfather of the entire bat clan, also known as Agent A. Carrying his signature shotgun and a thermos that seems to strap to his hip like a belt. 

He kept firing round after round from his trusty old shotgun and pausing for a second to reload. He glanced at the heroes around and seemed to raise an eyebrow at the absolute massacre that he had just done to the creature’s minions.

As he paused to take another reload, he paused at movement and looked at the space in front of him and waited. The creature appeared roaring out in fury but seemed to pause the moment it laid eyes on Alfred. The creature seems to shake with uncertainty and fear. Every vigilante and hero present could see its eyes growing wide from shock and fear as well the cold sweat as Alfred raised an eyebrow at the creature as he slowly walked towards the creature with annoyance with every step.

Some heroes who had enhanced hearing could hear Alfred muttering about, back in his day blob ghosts were these cute and harmless things but now some up-start wannabe newly formed one seems to think he is all hot shot. 

He proceeds to scold the creature as if he had just caught one of his grandchildren sneaking their hands on the cookie jar and proceeds to take out the thermos and effectively catch the creature. As if the one responsible for the mess never existed in the first place.

Now the bat clan has rules when they are in the manor or the presence of Alfred and one of those rules is that there will be no swearing when he is around, but there is one word that seems to resound from each hero's mind.

What the fuck just happened?!?!

…

Now as you know I started to post less, now it is both from writer’s block and class being in the way.

PS: If someone out there wanted to continue or make a fic about this you are free to do so, don’t forget to tag me though.