#i would have your ghost

[starry-bi-sky]

don't you want to be a cult leader? - danyal al ghul au

this is mostly a joke post but i thought it was funny and had to share so--

his first mistake was, obviously, inheriting his father's inability to see an injustice and stand still. -- actually, danyal's first mistake was his lair being so big. a mountainous island with a large temple in the center resembling his old home in Nanda Parbat? With sprawling foliage and rivers and streams and waterfalls galore? What was he going to do with all that space? Let it go to waste? He had plants there! Native trees of the ghost zone growing from the soil! He couldn't let it all be left unchecked!

So naturally after helping a fellow teenage assassin ghost -- who he later learns is named Akihiko, -- from Walker of all people, he sent them over to hang low at his lair until it was safe enough for them to wander around the Zone. Walker couldn't get through Danyal's astrofield if his life depended on it, and trust him -- he's tried. Danny was clearing out debris from his stupid transport vans for weeks.

Honestly it wasn't so bad, he and Aki really quickly became fast friends and Danny loves having a sparring partner close to his level again -- he hasn't had this much fun fighting since he left the League. Aki was very dedicated and levelheaded, the both of them clicked really well because of it.

Nonono, the real trouble began after Danyal met some long-passed League members and allowed them to come join his island as well. Apparently they had made a few enemies of the zone, and maybe Danyal still felt some loyalty to the League. He couldn't just let them be left to rot. Their zealotry could be overlooked so long as they kept it contained and helped him take care of his island.

And it.. snowballs from there? He meets a teen squire aptly calling himself Ambroise -- whether that was his living name or not is yet to be seen -- who died during feudal france, who is just about as dramatic and passionate as every french stereotype makes them out to be. He calls Danyal "my moon and great muse" -- which is both flattering and little uncomfortable, but Danyal's grown up in the League as the Grandson of the Demon Head, he is used to mild worship. he passes it off as nothing more, nothing less. -- and while his energy is overwhelming on the worst of days, he helps Danny draw out of his shell more in ways that Sam and Tucker still struggle with.

Him and Aki butt heads a lot, but the two seem to hold the other in at least some positive regard, so Danny doesn't worry too much about them fighting while he's gone. It only becomes a mild issue when Aki also begins calling Danny "my moon". It's a little sweet, so Danyal brushes it off.

Then he takes in a troupe of ghosts some time after he defeats Pariah Dark and they begin calling him "great one" just as the yetis do in the far frozen. This is where he meets the twins -- a pair of sibling ghosts who call themselves Trixie and Missy (short for Trick and Mislead) -- who aren't quite as passionate as Ambroise but more energetic than Aki. Eventually they also start calling Danyal "my moon" and attach themselves to his hip, even within the living. They like to hide in his shadow and cause trouble for the rest of the students. He makes sure they don't hurt anyone.

He's pretty sure Aki is jealous, same with Ambroise, but he can't be too certain other than the fact that they become much more lingering (re: clingy) whenever he visits the island.. Something he's trying to do much more often these days due to the increasing amount of people living there now. Since when did he become so popular?

Then there's Pēnelópeia from the Greater Athens, who ran away from home and joined his Island after he ran into her while she was being chased by Skulker -- and he's pretty sure the reason was because of her chimeric appearance. Her strange eyes and mismatched wings and lion's tail and talons. She assimilates into his friend group very easily, she gets along well with Ambroise and Trixie and Danny usually finds the three of them climbing the trees to pluck the most fruit from the top. They can fly and he knows it, but they prefer to climb.

Then finally there's silent poet Akkara who comes from ancient mesopotamia, who gets along most with Aki -- which is no surprise there considering their similar personality dispositions. he watches Aki and Danyal fight each other and leaves comments on this or that that he notices. He writes Danyal poems on clay tablets and leaves them by his room.

They're one big mismatched group of outcasts, and Danny's got the other ghosts on his island to tend to, because they're living on his island and he wants to be hospitable even if he struggles with that. But he spends the most of his time with them.

Sam and Tucker are making fun of him. Tucker jokingly tells him 'careful Danny, at this rate you're gonna start a cult'. Danny really wishes he had taken that joke more seriously.

He just. keeps. collecting people. Wayward souls lost in the zone, looking for shelter or refuge from something or other -- whether that be another hostile ghost, or a past afterlife, or just a purpose. Danyal finds them, he takes them in, offers them a place on his island until they are ready to leave. Many seldom do. He's not complaining -- he has the space, and it feels like it's only ever growing.

His close friends, his "inner circle" as he's heard the others call them, keep insistently calling him "my moon". He starts calling them his stars, because then it only feels fair. They're his stars, this is his constellation. It becomes a thing; little star halos begin forming behind their heads, picking them out from the rest. He loves them so much, it's hard to place. Sam and Tucker are also his stars, but they reside in the living realm, they're his tie to Life. Meanwhile, his friends here know what it's like to be dead, and sometimes its nice to relate.

Those living on his island keep calling him "Great One" and he's beginning to notice zealotry in their care for his island. He really, deeply appreciates it. His close friends gain nicknames -- as his stars, it's only natural for him to pick them out from the cluster in the skies. Akihiko, his Sirius and bright star. Trix and Missy, Castor and Pollux, the twins and troublemakers. Ambroise, his zealous Antares and close friend. Penelopeia, chimeric and loyal Vega. And Akkara, his Arcturus and strength.

It's ridiculous how long it takes for him to notice; he is, of course, a deadly trained assassin. He is meant to be observant -- and normally he is! But somehow this becomes a blind spot. One that becomes too big to be dealt with by the time he realizes it.

He should've noticed when Aki, his Sirius, stood beside him one day while Danyal looked over his island and saw the sprawling spirits carrying on about their afterlife and bowing to him as they saw him, and said: "I looked down into the depths when I met you; I couldn't measure it." They aren't one for flowing prose, it took him so off guard he was silent for over a minute before he finally spoke.

Danyal should've recognized devotion for what it is, and yet he didn't. He should've recognized it when Antares began spouting praises about him, crowing about his radiance and resplendence to the heavens. He just brushed it off as Ambroise being Ambroise. He should've recognized it when Trix and Missy nearly broke Dash's leg after he knocked Danyal's books out of his hands, he excused it as them being protective. Of them coming from times where such violence may have been customary -- after all, that's what he used to be like. What he was still like, sometimes, when his emotions nearly got the better of him.

He should've noticed it when the people living on his island followed his word like gospel, looked at him like he hung the stars in the sky. When his friends gifted him a shawl with the moon phases delicately embroidered into it, with silver, shimmering thread and moving stars lovingly stitched into it. Their constellations seen clear as day in the dark fabric. When he found small shrines dedicated to him -- but they lacked any image of him beyond stones carved to look like moons, so he ignored it. When the religious imagery began popping up.

He really, really should've noticed it when a bunch of cultists accidentally summoned Antares, and Antares had turned to him when he arrived and called them heretics. But he was so centered on the fact that they had kidnapped one of his stars, that he hadn't paid much attention to what Ambroise had said.

Sages say that faith is blind, they should also say faith in you is even blinder.

It really only hits him one afternoon while he's sitting in Sam's room studying with Tucker, Missy and Trixie lounging at his feet, Aki sat on his right, Penelopeia braiding his hair, Ambroise draped against him, and Akkara lurking over him. Its one of the rare few times they're all in one room together.

It hits him like a bolt of lightning. He looks up from his textbook. "Oh Ancients," he says in no amounting shock. Everyone looks up to him.

"I've become my grandfather."

[bet-on-me-13]

Technically a Cult

So! Danny has been hearing through the Grapevine that a large Cult has been Summoning all the biggest Magical Creature's for some reason. Demon Lord's, Fae Kings, even a few Gods. Clockwork was summoned a little while ago, and so was Fright Knight and Pandora

And he has been patiently waiting his turn for a while. Apparently everyone they summon has gotten a really good deal from them, all in return for a few favors, sometimes a promise to not go to a specific place.

Danny really wants to strike a deal with them. He wants to ask them for a favor so he can get out of work for a few weeks, he's been planning on taking a vacation with Sam and Tuck, but the Eyeballs are being annoyingly resistant.

He feels the familiar pull of Summoning, and realizes that it's time. Awesome, time to meet this mysterious Cult!

...

Why is the JLA standing in from of him?

[jedi-starbird]

Time Travel is my favourite trope and I think we need more fics where both Obi-Wan AND Qui-Gon time travel together because no matter when they get sent it's chaos. They're saving the galaxy and being physic flash-bangs to everyone around them.

like before Bandomeer?

The entire council is baffled to watch as Qui-Gon 'never taking a padawan again' Jinn has suddenly cut off his post-Xanatos depression tour to return to the temple and beeline to the creche with a frantic energy. His wild eyes immediately single out a fluffy, red-haired initiate.

"You." he exhales with a pointed finger, slightly ominous as he towers over the child. Said child starts vibrating with delight. "Me." he agrees, launching himself at the man. Qui-Gon drops to his knees with a thud that cannot be healthy. Obi-Wan's attempts to clamber into Qui-Gon's robes and maybe onto his shoulders is thwarted by the fact that Qui-Gon's massive hands are cupping Obi-Wan's tiny squishy cheeks. He stares at the initiate for a few minutes with an intensity that is starting to worry people.

Finally, "You're so small." Qui-Gon sounds like he might cry.

'What the fuck?' Plo Koon projects at Mace.

"I'm 9! That tends to be the case!" the child chirps back.

"You're nine." Oh. Ah. Qui-Gon's eyes are distinctively misty. He squishes the boy in a hug so hard he squeaks. Mace makes a series of gestures that imply the need for a head-scan. Depa obligingly drifts off towards the halls. Qui-Gon scoops the child up onto his hip and claims him as his padawan on the spot. The assorted council members and creche-masters burst into noise. Mace tells Depa to bring some space ibuprofen as well.

after Naboo?

Anakin is a little apprehensive of his place in both the order and Obi-Wan's life, but then one day Obi-Wan wakes up and is suddenly a lot less sad in the force?? In fact, if Anakin didn't know better he'd say he was almost giddy, but he's watched Obi-Wan try to pretend his world hasn't fallen apart for the past few months so it can't be that, right? And um, Miss Bant? He knows grief is a funny thing that affects people differently but he's pretty sure 'massive mood swing' and 'having full conversations with invisible people' is not...great? and you said to tell you if Obi-Wan got really weird in any way.

Anyway after a lot of medical exams, intense consultation with the archives, and a couple exorcisms, Anakin ends up being raised by his 'real' master and his ghost master. He is far more well adjusted emotionally and far less well adjusted for what counts as normal people behavior(not talking to thin air). When questioned on this, all he ever says is that he's talking to Qui-Gon. Isn't he...dead? Well, yes. Wait, he's a ghost? Ghosts are real? ...Well this ghost is real.

This starts a great number of existential crises among non-force sensitives and incredibly heated theological arguments amongst the Jedi. Whenever Obi-Wan is questioned on this, all he ever says is some variation of "the force got to know him for 5 seconds and kicked him back out." Mace backs him up on this even though that reasoning is technically blasphemous. Qui-Gon is having the time of his un-life. He's ascended to his final form, his sheer existence is a heresy, this is truly all he has ever aspired towards.

the Clone Wars?

The minute they get dropped back Qui-Gon immediately goes and haunts the shit out of Dooku. They have a signed terms of surrender and promise of info on the Sith Lord within the year. Only half of it is because Qui-Gon's giving Dooku complexes that are only perceptible to shrimp, the other half is because they now have a ghost spy that is not bound by the laws of physics nor spacetime.

Obi-Wan only nominally pays attention to this as he immediately goes and implements his 19 step seduction plan with Cody (he had to focus on something on Tatooine to pass the time). It fails. Spectacularly. Publicly. Ah right. Tatooine was not exactly the height of his sanity. Everyone in the GAR and temple is now riveted by High General and Councilor Obi-Wan Kenobi's attempts to go on a date with his Commander, who bats him away him like a particularly annoying stray and seems one bouquet of cactus away from committing mutiny. Anakin is worrying if it means his master knows about his secret marriage and this is some sort of really weird power play. (It is, but not in the way he thinks)

The next time Dooku goes after Obi-Wan, Qui-Gon spends a good few months appearing tear-stained at the edge of Dooku's perception and only communicating in terrible wails and discordant mutterings of 'padawan. my padawan. my little one.' 24/7.

"Wait, you're annoying Dooku into surrendering?"

"Oh no Anakin, we're crushing his psyche like a bug. :)"

[gomzdrawfr]

content warning: blood

Loyal to a fault

bonus + other versions:

Bonus:

Alt:

the words on Ghost's body reads:

LOVE (level of violence)

it takes a monster to destroy a monster (poorly cropped i apologize)

Loyal Dog

Vēnor (Latin verb for hunt, chase)

this is something very different to what I usually do I hope yall don't mind....also this was me when I was sharing this with my friends...because priceghost/ghostprice dynamic really gets a grip on me

[katabay]

some sam drakes :)

nate's theme 4.0 came up on my playlist while I was working on commissions and oh boy. that piano line about a minute in to it still gets me emotional shshdshs

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Bruh emotional support ghost kid? Well thats what they are calling him

Suicide cases in gothem are about to fucking plummet boiz cause this one weird blue eyes, black haired boy is now heading to your location.

How does he know where to be? Having a bad day and are all alone? No the fuck your not cause don’t turn around now but theres some shiny blue eyes coming at you from that dark ally. Oh shit hes here to drop some information about you and your lost loved ones that he should know. Oh god the closure. How could you have been afraid on this sweet, creepy, boy who just helped you find your way.

Meanwhile Danny is chillin in Gothem cause the GIW hate it there (none of they equipment actually functions in Gothem so it’s either super haunted or actually not haunted at all). Then all of a sudden he gets approached by a random ghost begging for his help because their sweet baby girl is about to do something horrible. Oops now all the ghosts are following their most loved ones around just to make sure they are there to rush to Danny for help when all else fails. Now hes getting to fulfil his protection obsession double time because one hes helping protect people from themselves and two hes protecting everyone in Gothem by stopping people from becoming villains for revenge. Plus he gets to see first hand how hes making a difference because all those people he saved are sending him some good vibes from all across Gothem.

Thank god he followed Jazz around so much to slightly absorb some of her phycology knowledge over the years. Plus it was actually pretty interesting so she gave him her old text books. Shes also helping him deal with the rare events where he can’t save someone. Just a moment too late or he stops them but they later succeeded in the hospital. Neither are his fault. Now only if he could convince his core of that.

Anyway why Gothem you ask? Amity Park would have been just as good tbh but imagine Batmans face when he finally gets to be face to face with the emotional support ghost boy. Why is he here? Bruce is fine. Batman is fine. Hes not gonna do anything crazy. It’s just a hard time of year. Around their death always gives him grief. But hes an adult and can manage it.

“You know they are so proud of you.” The boy states. As if it’s clear as day, even though it’s Gothem and never a clear day. Batman blinks at him, stunned for a moment. “What?” This boy can’t possibly know that. No one will ever know that, Bruce can only hope. “They see their home, full of such life. That big house that felt so empty, so cold, to them as well for years. Then you filled it with Family and Love like they had always wanted for you. They are so proud of what you have turned it into. Somewhere full of life and warmth.” A small smile graces his face as finally “you have made your parents so proud” and its all he can do to contain himself. Emotions are running high and sue him because he really did need to hear that ok. The boy suddenly looks to Bruces right with a confused face “aren’t all basements like that though?” Before Bruce can even get a word in hes gone. Just vanished before his eyes.

[sunderwight]

Hualian Idol AU where instead of the statues the big reveal of Hua Cheng's longstanding amorous fixation on Xie Lian is all of his self-insert "my mom sold me to One Direction" style fanfics located in the depths of some boyband RPF archive.

[s0fter-sin]

vampire au where they can only drink the blood type they were before they were turned. other blood has an almost poisonous effect, burning them from within like acid and drinking too much of it can kill them

in the old days, before the knowledge of blood types, it made humans they could feed on absolutely precious. they're kept safe, pampered and doted on; a vampire’s most prized possession

attacking another vampire's human is seen as the highest insult; not only is it a slight against them, it also carries the implication of "i want you to starve"

it's also used as the cruelest of punishments; starving a vampire for months, until they're feral with hunger just for their torturer to throw in a random human, watching them desperately suck down poison, their instincts begging them to keep drinking even as it kills them

ghost is one of the few who survived it; thrown in a pit so deep, he saw stars in the middle of the day, left with nothing but the dried bodies of the humans roba drained without care, others with their throats slit, blood he can't drink spilled out around them

a taunt of the one thing he needs but will never get

but ghost hasn't survived this long just to give up here

he refuses to die in this stinking, rotted pit

ghost is a force of nature as he descends over roba's manor; killing any who wander into his path until the halls run red. until he gets his hands on roba and tells him a secret:

vampires can feed on the blood of any vampire, regardless of blood type

it becomes a legend in vampire high society; if you starve another, you'd best make sure they actually die

otherwise you might end up piled in a dining room, the vampire you left for dead lounging on a throne of corpses with his fangs lodged in your throat

ghost decimates roba's empire, burning it to the ground until no one dares to speak his name in fear of incurring his wrath. it's incredibly taboo for a vampire to feed off another but ghost's too powerful for anyone to challenge him and the other vampires are too scared to try. scared of what he's willing to do, the lengths he'll go to; not that they'll ever admit it

soap is the first human he ever brings to court; delicately bathed in the finest silks and jewels, his throat always bare so he can show off ghost's ownership, his bite framed in lace

he's not like the delicate waifs the other vampires show off; he doesn't cling to his master, demure and submissive. he shows off his teeth as often as any vampire, fully willing to rip out the throats of any who insult him or ghost

a feral master needs a just as feral pet

[emacrow]

When Diana and her twin Jason was born after her, Jason was left to be disposed off in Amazon, only for him to disappear a second later.

Clockwork saw the possibility and took the freshly wet newborn swapping him with The Fenton's stillborn.

For what he saw in the possibility of the future was nearly endless as he did what he had to do.. for the best outcome to come forth..

A pebble here, a rocket ship toy there, an inch of furniture moved then so that incident doesn't happen, a poster paper on that tree. Minor tiny changes to help bring the visual to the present.

All leading to clockwork giving 19 year old sleep deprived danny an small yet important task to deliver a scroll in another dimension leading up to his body regressed in that dimension timeline the moment he slipped in and out the portal.

Diana knew she had a twin brother out there.. and she was going to find him.

What she didn't know that he was literally falling into her arms, when she and Superman went to check on the Glowing lararus pit portal made near metropolis.

Tiny little boy who look completely tired as he went unconscious holding a purple and green scroll in his hands, wearing clothes 3 times his size.

[jnece-maharlika]

Batman really needs to learn to keep his mouth shut when meeting the ghost king.

Like seriously, the worlds greatest protector? More like the worlds greatest problem maker. Do you guys enjoy making enemies of others??? I know that the king is a child but still!! That child has the power to get rid of your dimension with just a lift of a finger, batman. Stop annoying him by saying things like "unknown" "could be a threat" "will need a contingency plan against the ghost king" and "you are a child." Also stop researching "how to kill ghost", "how to restrain ghost" and "where to get blood blossoms" Those are the words that will definitely guarantee your death if Danny wasn't so kind.

Batman needs to listen to constantine. I know constantine isn't really that trustworthy but still!! It's CONNIE! Connie's made deal with demons and had called god pathetic. He's also done much worse than that and somehow managed to stay alive. If Connie himself won't mess with the ghost king then you shouldn't too! Its highly unlikely that you'll be able to survive one of constantines demons which means it's literally IMPOSSIBLE for you to fight the ghost king.

Stop being a dumbass, there won't be a need for a contingency plan if you don't provoke the king in the first place.

This is a common thing in DCxdp fics and it really makes me wanna slam a crowbar on batman's head.

[starry-bi-sky]

danyal al ghul memes because i don't think i've done those yet for this au.

(the jason one is in reference to the fanon headcanon/au that Jason and Damian potentially knew each other and interacted while jason was in the league. I've thought about it before in context of this au, but haven't thought about it enough to feel inspired or motivated to make a post exploring the idea)

(diablito means, as you can guess, 'little devil'. while i'm neutral to latino jason, i think the nickname is cute as fuck and was danny's main nickname from Jason. i don't wanna touch that timeline so im not gonna decide how old they were when Jason was there.)

Skulker: i am the ghost zone's greatest hunter! i capture and hunt creatures both rare and dangerous. Danyal: a poacher?? you're a poacher?? you poach animals??Skulker:...i sense i've made a mistake of some kind.

anyways that was the day that Skulker cemented himself as Danny's no.1 opp, and still remains there to this day even if he and Vlad are both viciously fighting for second. Out of everyone in the the AP rogues gallery, Skulker will be the first to be thrown under the bus in terms of 'o shit here comes phantom fucking RUN'.

[bet-on-me-13]

Unknown, the Wandering Hero

So! We all know the typical Vivisection AU, right? Danny is revealed to his parents and they take it in all the wrong ways. They capture him, Vivisect him, and eventually he manages to escape with the help of his friends.

But what about his Rouges?

Sure, we all like to think of some of the more friendly ones like Ember, or Sydney, or Johnny 13 and Kitty, but he has WAY more Evil Rouges than good ones.

Without Danny there to reign them in, the Rouges spread out across the world to fulfill their obsessions, unhampered by the Heroes and Villains of the world that have no means to fight them.

And Danny? He feels responsible. He was the one to open the Gate, he was the Sacrifice, the one to let them through. And when the going got tough he just up and left? No, that won't do.

His Obsession is Protection for a reason, and nothing has changed. All he needs to do is expand his area of focus a little.

Danny, after healing up, starts wandering the world in search of the Ghosts who have escaped into the Mortal Realm. He battles all of his old foes, as well as many new ones who he hadn't met before.

His travels take him far and wide.

He defeats Skulker in Metropolis, as he is trying to hunt down the Super Family for their pelts. They are the last of their race after all, so he is inclined to try and hunt them. Honestly dealing with Skulker was easy, dealing with the Rich Asshole who was funding him was a nightmare.

He chases down Spectra in Gotham as she tries to feed on the misery of an entire City. (Thanks to @impyssadobsessions for the idea, this Prompt specifically). She is actually a very tough fight, especially powered by both the Misery of an Entire City as well as his Own Misery, but he manages.

He defeats Technus is Central City, as he tries to Raid Star Labs for their advanced Tech. It actually took a while to beat him after he amped himself with all that Power, and he did need help from the Local Hero to deal with him. He's just thankful Technus is one of the more "Harmless" ones.

After every Victory, he sends them back to the Realms using the Banishing Spell that Sam taught him a while back (the only bit of magic he ever really managed to master).

He knows they'll eventually find their way back out, but it's all he can do anymore. It's his eternal Punishment for unleashing them out into the World in the first place. He was the Catalyst for this Situation, now he was tasked with Fixing it, no matter how long it took.

...

The Justice League is caught in a tricky situation a the moment.

In the past few months, they have been encountering more and more of these Extra Dimensional Beings known as Realms Ghosts across the World.

Justice League Dark has had some success in battling them, but even they are getting tired of having to deal with every single incident alone.

They did get approached by a Government Agency known as the Ghostly Investigation Ward that seemed to want to help, but it didn't take long to realize that their main Aim was to Genocide the entire Race. The JLA had quickly cut ties after realizing that, and took what little Tech and Information they had been able to gather.

Still, it wasn't easy to deal with these Entities.

Thankfully, they have had some outside help. An Unknown Being has been routinely showing up whenever a Realms Ghost appears and defeating them, before using a (as described by Constantine) "Rudimentary Banishing Spell held together by willpower and luck" to send them back to their home Dimension. There's honestly no way it should be functional, but he did make it work either way.

They don't know much about this Unknown, aside from the fact that he seems to be the only one able to consistently damage the Realms Ghosts. His Powerset leads them to belive he may be from the same Dimension, or at least drawing his power from the same Source, but as he actively avoids the League and takes every opportunity to not talk to them, they know they aren't getting any answers any time soon.

Over the past few months, they had affectionately started referring to him as Unknown, creative they know, because they could never get his Real Name. Sure, some of the Realms Ghosts seemed to recognize him, but they always called him stuff like "Whelp" and "Punk" and "Usurper", which were not very good names to use when referring to him. Although the last one was a bit concerning.

They had only managed to trade a few quick words with Unknown in the past few months, but it was enough to get the Gist of it. He was just doing his job, sending the Realms Ghosts back where they belonged. There was apparently a Tear in Reality letting them through, but he seemed hesitant to reveal what he knew about it.

After a few months of sparse interactions, they eventually managed to convince him to at least take an Emergency Communicator. Just in case. They even let him take it apart to look for any Tracking Devices, which earned them a small bit of trust. They took whatever wins they could.

Fortunately, it seemed he never did need it. In fact he was getting more and more efficient with every battle, defeating his foes in half the time it would have taken before.

Unfortunately, it didn't last forever. One day, the Communicator went off, a distorted voice quickly saying, "Need backup, some of them decide to Team Up" before cutting out.

They quickly rushed to his location, finding an active battlefield with no less that a dozen Ghosts battling Unknown. And he seemed to be on the ropes.

With their arrival, the combined force of the Justice League and Unknown eventually managed to defeat the Group of Ghosts. Justice League Dark volunteered to work on the Banishing Spells while the others cleaned up the damage from the Battle.

One of them approached Unknown to make sure he was ok, and froze.

During the battle, Unknown's Mask had been Torn off, and they could finally see the face of the Hero they had been working with for the past few months.

And he was a Child.

[egophiliac]

As someone who hasn’t played the twst game very long I just got into it. I wanted to know about events? Like do some not come back? For example do the Masquerade, Port, Beanfest, Ghost bride, starsending events. Do those come back? I hear people say how they missed their chance to get this great card like as if it won’t ever come back and then someone on Reddit will say something like “Oh beanfest happened twice on the JP server” so which events have gotten reruns so far? I would ask about more recent ones like the Easter one but idk if it’s too recent to know if get rerun or if they clarify that it won’t come back? I was really sad to find out about the Silk outfits I missed out on when they visit the scalding sands. I also was really sad to find out i missed out on the anniversary cards because I didn’t play the game yet. I wish they would add the anniversary cards to the store at least…I want to be apart of the celebration :’)

I was looking in the shop and saw all the different groovy items you need to groovify event cards and this question just came to me so I had the urge to ask someone…

welcome to Twst! 🎉 it is a bit confusing to jump right into, especially because. they're not always consistent. :') it sounds like you're probably playing on Eng, which I'm less familiar with, but I'll try based on what I know! (I also don't always remember everything, so somebody please correct me if I get something wrong!)

first, I do recommend the Twst wiki.gg, which seems to stay pretty up-to-date on events for both the Eng and JP versions! it's a great resource for when you want to see if/when an event ran or rerun. in general, I believe that the Eng version only does reruns that have already happened in JP, so if JP has a rerun that hasn't happened yet in Eng, they should get it too eventually! on the other hand, I don't think either version has ever rerun an event more than once. :( BUT this doesn't mean you're entirely out of luck, because:

anniversary events (March for JP, January for Eng) will usually offer a chance to get both an older event SSR and an older birthday SSR in the shop, via buying a special item with exchange currency (which you get by doing pulls on the anniversary gacha, I think you need to do 100-150 pulls for enough currency to buy the item to exchange for an SSR). only SSRs though, and you're limited to one each (one birthday, one event). so if there's an SSR you REALLY want and it's already had its rerun, it's probably worth planning to save up some keys for!

as for actual reruns, they seem to come in a few different flavors:

straight-up rerun, no changes or extra cards

unchanged event story, with a new SSR of a character who wasn't in the story (e.g. Applepom Jamil)

slightly rewritten event story that includes a new SSR (e.g. Ghost Marriage, they don't seem to do this anymore though)

completely new event story that acts as either a sequel or alternate-universe version of the original (e.g. Beans Day part 2, Fairy Gala IF) (though this is pretty rare and might actually count as a separate event, rather than a rerun?)

Master Chef/Culinary Crucible events have never gotten reruns (though they might start now that we've finally gotten through all the characters in JP, time will tell). birthday and Halloween events will also rerun the previous version in addition to the new one -- for instance, Eng should be getting a Glorious Masquerade rerun this year, followed by the new (Playful Land) Halloween event. and a birthday campaign will, in addition to the new card, have a separate pickup for the previous year's birthday card.

for the specific ones you mentioned -- I think Beanfest, Ghost Bride, Fireworks, and Starsending have already rerun in Eng, so those most likely will not be rerun again (at least not anytime soon). Masquerade should be coming back for you guys this Halloween, and Portfest JUST got its rerun in JP, so that should be coming too sometime in the future! (no new SSR though, alas, I was really hoping for a little marching band sailor boy Leona. 😔) the Easter event is the White Rabbit Fest, right? that one hasn't gotten a rerun in JP yet either, so it's still on the table!

all that said, it's entirely possible they'll change the rules at some point and start doing more reruns/chances to get older event cards, especially since the game's been going on for a few years now and some cards haven't been available for a pretty long time! there's only one card that they said was for-realsies limited-time-only and wouldn't ever be available again -- Platinum Grim, since he was to celebrate the 100th anniversary -- so. there's always a little bit of hope for everything else. :D (fairy gala Ortho PLEASE COME BACK SOB)

[silkenwinger]

daimon

mdni. ancient greece AU. princess!reader x guard!ghost. heavily inspired by antigone (but it ends well :)). 7k. tw for suicide attempt, maybe slight dubcon (mention of wine drank before sex)

The room was cold as you finished fastening your black peplum. It had been a cold autumn, mountain winds bruising sore skin. It was the autumn your life ended.

Your brother. So brave. You remembered running with him among the olive trees and tripping on the roots as you trailed him. Your mother had yelled at you so much you remembered the sting of the tears on your cheek.

But you had grown. Your father, the king, dead by the plague by spring, followed by your frail mother. Your brother away east. When he’d returned along with his men, he found the city he was supposed to lead in the hands of the most powerful merchant, a man as crooked as rich. We thought he was dead, said the men of the city. Lost in the barren hell of the east, gone for too many years. And when he tried to enter the city, he was met with violence and bronze. As expected, your brother did not lie down, but fought to retake the throne. He now laid in the place he died still, eaten by vultures and dogs alike. His soul stuck between the living and the dead, forever restless.

Profane he was taking something that was not his, and profane he was not burying your brother. 

“I’ve decided, then. Take care.”

Your dearest maid, her loyalty unmatched, did not comprehend.

“Princess, you must stop this talk at once!” She cried, clutching at your vest. “You know The Shepherd is a cruel man, but you will marry his son. Going against the decree…”

You scoffed. Being kin with that monster would be worse than being dead.

“I no longer care about marrying. Honoring my brother is more important,” you brushed your hand against her thin shoulder, and moved away, but with pain. No time for lost love.

“I have been wearing the black for half a year. Did you know? The moment I heard my brother was alive, I cried real tears of joy. I would no longer be alone in the world.” You sat down on your wooden couch, looking down. “And two nights later he is dead. I never even got to see his face again.” If you strained your memories, you could make out a ghost of a smile, of a laugh, but you couldn’t be certain they were his.

“The King is unfair, that much is true,” mumbled your maid, “but you go against certain death. The law says it, anyone who buries your brother is to be stoned in the square!”

“I know,” you looked up to see her shocked face, “so I heard.”

She cried then, howling. Her grief for you moved the strings of your heart, but did not dissuade you. You died the other day: your last act would be making sure you could see your brother in Hell, along with your parents. Hooding yourself, you left your room, the only place in the palace you could still call yours, by the lesser known way, one that passed through a less surveilled zone of the palace.

He looked old. No, not old: older, his skin worn by the sun. Tall, and strong, and dead. You remembered well– he smiled like that, a lightning bolt in the fair weather. 

Hurried, you acted fast. You covered his body with a thin layer of dust. That is enough, for now, you thought, as you couldn’t bear to look at him any longer.

The path you took made sure you were hidden from the guards. You wondered how many of them saw your brother grow, train and live: and how could they bear to leave him there, alone and doomed. 

The darkness of the road calmed you. The sting of the broken law was nothing compared to the peace you felt inside. 

But the sting of the hand grabbing your arm was real. A tall shadow made it so you couldn't move.

“What are you doing here?” Asked the Ghost, one of the main palace guards. A real enigma, that one. He did not recognise you immediately, hidden as you were. But your voice would tell on you. Perhaps, at the start, you could have wanted to do what you did without being discovered, but you had changed your mind. You did not care for the Shepherd’s decision.

“I was just doing my daily offering at the temple,” you told him, and his eyes, the only visible part of his face, widened in recognition. He then started glaring at you, obvious suspicion brewing.

“At this time and alone? It is unsafe for you.” 

“Should I have left the house in the daylight so close to my brother’s death?”

He remained silent at your response. The Ghost never saw or knew your brother– you wouldn’t blame him if he had only distaste for his attack on the city. He was probably only an enemy to him, and not the boy who giggled at the comedies and puppet shows.

The Ghost had arrived in the city around four years before. Immediately, he’d attracted the attention of everyone, men and women, for the mask he wore on his face and his mysterious attitude. No one knew where he came from, or how he really was called, and would answer only to Ghost. His accent had been weird, and his behavior even more so. Whispers said he was a barbarian driven away from his country for having killed too many. His ruthlessness was legendary: he’d torn apart limbs and eyes of the few criminals that dared venturing into your palace. They even called him a demon that fed on his victims' souls. You had never spoken, but you’d seen him around, mostly guarding your father’s rooms, now occupied by the Shepherd. What was he doing outside, too, for that matter.

“Will you kindly let me go, now?” You tugged your arm away, but he did not relent.

“I ought to bring you back.” You just looked up at him then, at his unreadable eyes, and nodded, resigned.

The walk was silent, but not unpleasant. You kept thinking about what you’d done and oscillating between being proud and feeling an overwhelming distress inside of you. The Ghost kept at your back, his steps more silent than yours despite the difference in sizes.

“Good night then. Do not leave the house unaccompanied,” he made sure to reprimand as he left you at your door. You shrugged: leaving it accompanied meant worse for you.

Four nights after his death, your brother still laid in the dust. You could not be placated along with the pain in your chest. The guards, noticing the thin layer of earth on the corpse, had reported to the Shepherd that someone had attempted to bury your brother, thus breaking the law. 

It is clear, you thought. You will die either way, inside your room or stoned to death: you might as well bury your brother properly. That time, your maid didn’t even cry: she had resigned herself as well.

They grabbed you while your back was to them, crouching on the corpse. The Ghost stood tall behind the guards: you locked eyes with him and could not tell what he was thinking. Was he maybe regretting not arresting you the first time he found you outside?

Once you were brought to your feet, he made a soundless gesture, and the other guards offered you to him. He grabbed you then, alone, and started dragging you to the palace.

The Shepherd, your father’s successor, had no regard for you. Despite being betrothed to his son before your father even passed, he made no qualms about taking what was your brother’s by right, and would not hesitate sending you to your death. 

“Come, girl. It was you, I imagined.” He spoke, up in the throne where your father once sat. The sight filled you with a bright anger, which then turned into muted despair, to end in cold apathy. It was not coming back. It would never come back.

You stood silent in front of a dozen men.

“You know what the price is, do you? I made sure the heralds read the decree many times, right outside here, as well.”

You nodded. The Shepherd tilted his bald head to you, regarding your figure more like an insect than a noble woman. The men of the council, shiveling, cowardly men, murmured at your admission of guilt.

“You broke the law. What made you think you could do that?”

You inhaled then, and made yourself taller. 

“The laws of the gods came before yours. It is wicked not to bury the dead.” The murmuring ceased at your words, an oppressive miasm falling over the room.

“But he declared war on the city. I protected the inhabitants, and you as well.” The Shepherd replied, unbothered. He was well aware he was going against a non written law, but did not care.

“That does not matter to me. I would bury a murderer.”

“And murderer he was, bringing fire and weapons to this peaceful city.” He laughed at you. You felt ire overflowing your judgement.

“How dare you? My brother was the heir to the throne!” You yelled, and the Ghost shaked you hard. You glowered at him and all you got as a reply was a brown eyed glare.

“Your brother was a fool, who ignored your poor father’s requests to return several times! And this,” he clutched the scroll, “declares me as the heir to the King!” 

You shook your head. Your father had been less lucid the last years of his life, and even cussed out your brother for not returning from his childish dreams of conquering. But he'd never make the Shepherd his heir: he even confessed to you he couldn't stand the man. 

“I do not accept you as King of the city. That is the truth of it.” You tried to keep a steady voice, but you were trembling. The hold on your shoulders got tighter. Why was the Ghost clutching you so severely? He couldn’t possibly be afraid for you: maybe his loyalty to the Shepherd was such that he’d kill you yourself.

The men of the council, men who had seen you grow, looked pale in the dim light of the morning. How long had you been outside? You felt like you’d seen your brother for only a second.

“I see, then,” spoke the Shepherd, as he rose from the throne. 

“You’ve decided to declare yourself an enemy of this state, as your brother before you. The sentence for going against the edict is stoning.” First rose muttering, and then louder voices, and then shouts. The vile men protested, outraged, but the Shepherd shot them down with a steady hand.

“As the past princess of this city, and betrothed to my son, I ought to not expose you with such an execution. See how they cry for you still? Would they hold the same respect for you had you been a thief, a conman? Yet you are guilty to the same degree.”

“That is not true!” Cried a voice, close or far. “She committed a sacred act!”

“Who dares go against me!” Shouted the Shepherd, but no one showed their face. He made an hissing noise then, red in the face.

“All that break the laws must be punished. How else are we supposed to live civilly?” He then moved his gaze back to you.

“I condemn you to be walled alive, and your brother will stay unburied until his bones turn to dust. His body will feed the soil of this splendid city.” 

This is it, then. The rest of your days. The shame of disrobing did not fall on you, yet. This would be your salvation from starving. The damp cave amplified the sound of all of your actions. Biting the gentle cloth, you tore a strip of the fabric from your skirt, testing its resistance. As you calculated the distance between the ground and the wooden rod on the cave ceiling, you heard steps approaching. The door, that could only be opened from outside, revealed two tall figures, dressed in typical military garb. The Ghost, clad in his dark attire, got closer to you, sword in hand. Ah. That was it, then. 

“Have you come to kill me yourself, then?” You told him. He said nothing, just got even closer, long strides and deadly silent. He grabbed you, again, and you let yourself be taken. The other guard, with piercing blue eyes, just looked at the Ghost with a doubting expression. The Ghost started dragging you out of the corridor, and that was when you pointed your feet down, tears filling your eyes.

“What is going on? I won’t be shamed now. I’ve already been condemned.” You cried, afraid. More afraid now than when you were going to hang yourself, for your hand would be merciful, but the Ghost’s wouldn’t. He stopped then, and looked in your eye. He seemed weirdly reluctant.

“Keep quiet, now. You won’t die today.” Unintelligently, you muttered your surprise. The Ghost started dragging you along again, the other guard becoming smaller and smaller in your view.

You walked, and walked, and walked through the night and the city and the fields. Exhausted, you had to stop often, even for just a moment. The Ghost looked at you with distaste then, like he regretted ever taking you away from your attempt at your life.

“You can’t even walk a mile without bending on yourself,” he spit out. For his indecency and rudeness, you struck him across the face, hand making contact with the black muslin of his mask. The slap barely moved him and he growled, and you expected him to finally retaliate and penetrate you with his sword. But he just turned on himself and started walking again.

“If you had told me where you’re taking me, I would not have struck you,” you tried to bargain. He sighed then, clearly thinking you insufferable.

“You have allies in the city. As the true King’s daughter,” you gasped at his words, tongue curling around the r’s in an odd, mesmerizing way.

“But they all voted in favor of the Shepherd taking power.”

“You know it’s because of the secrets and extortions he has on them. He’s no dearer to them than a tyrant.” You closed your mouth then, pondering. Could the city go back to having a proper king, one that respected the Gods’ laws?

“So you are my friend,” you said simply. He swallowed at that.

“I am… your protector. For the time being.”

You nodded. He, too, was now an enemy of the state, by association.

“I thank you then. Even though I would not have minded joining my family.”

He remained silent at that. A while after, he spoke again.

“We need to stop for a few hours at least. And you’ll need male clothing,” he simply said. You hid in a cave, wider and longer than the one that was supposed to hold you in your death. The Ghost lit up a small fire near the opening, and you watched him as he stroked it, pensive. Perhaps he, too, was thinking about what he left.

“Ghost,” you called, tone uncertain, “can I call you that?”

He nodded without taking his eyes off the fire.

“How… What is going on back home? Who hired you?”

“I can’t tell you that,” he replied to your second question. “As for back home, we placed a corpse in your place to give us a head start.”

“Someone else died for me,” you whispered, upset in your soul. You had been ready to kill yourself.

“He was already dead,” spoke the Ghost, weirdly demure. “One dead instead of two.”

“But…”

“Enough of that. You do not deserve to die for burying your brother. It is as simple as that.” You were stunned into silence by the determination of his words. So far, you’d thought he was only hired to do what his employer asked him. But now, you saw he agreed with your stance. For some reason, you felt pride in yourself bloom.

“Where are you taking me, then?”

“I know a place,” he said, “where you won’t be found.”

Something moved in your heart, again. He was being remarkably gentle for a butcher.

You fell asleep some time after, warmed by the fire. 

When you woke up, Ghost was nowhere to be seen. You looked deeper in the cave, but made your way back when you couldn’t see the light anymore. When you reached the entrance again, you heard someone call your name. 

“Come, then,” Ghost told you as you made your way down the cave’s entrance, back to more stable terrain and the spare tree. A small river ran to the side of the plain. Ghost was clutching a leather bag, ruffling around it crudely. His eyes could have almost betrayed embarrassment. 

“I know nothing of princesses’ dresses. Will this suffice?” He held up a man’s tunic, to which you raised an eyebrow. The Ghost was an odd fellow, and you’d be indebted to him for the rest of your life. That didn’t mean you would understand all of his actions.

“You told me yourself I had to dress like a man.”

“True. I was rude about it.” Your eyebrow raised even higher. An apology… or a statement as close to it as possible. You didn’t think the city’s terror was even capable of that.

“No, you were right. I will change.” You grabbed his offering with shaking hands. Once you’d switched your black clothes for the off white tunic behind the tree, you tried to look at your figure in the stream’s reflection. There was little difference between men and women’s clothes, besides the face that your lower legs were now exposed. You’d wear your hood to conceal your female face, but also your upper body. You tugged at the Ghost’s wrist. He looked at you then, dragging his eyes from your face to your feet. You felt an odd sensation making its way up your back.

“Shall we go then?”

“Yes.”

You walked in the market, among the people and the animals. It was weird to not open a road every time you showed in a public place: and even weirder to walk side to side with a man. You looked up at Ghost, again, and you found him inspecting the surroundings with thin eyes.

“Are you hungry?” He asked you, like a wet nurse might ask her toddler. The image of the Ghost tending to a small child was so comical, a giggle left your mouth. You were quick to shut your mouth, but he caught you anyway. His expression was baffled.

“Yes, I am. Sorry,” you apologised. You had only eaten some bread all day, and maybe the hunger was making you silly. He accosted a stand and bought pears and bread from the farmer, who took a long look at you. Probably wondering why a man would bring his slave boy to the market, you realized with shame, and looked down.

You ate the sweet pears and the bread with the cheese under a tree’s shadow while Ghost kept watch. 

“Would you like to sit?” You asked him politely.

“No.” He simply said, and kept watching the horizon. You sighed into your food. Still alone, but at least not famished. Your march began anew, the male tunic proving itself to be more comfortable. Still, you felt somewhat exposed, especially in Ghost's eyes. Every time you locked eyes, you found yourself looking away first. There was something about this man that left you exposed besides your legs. Like a plow moves the earth.

Did he even sleep? He was awake when you were, and he kept watch when you slept. Later, hidden in another, smaller cave, you voiced your concerns to him. He raised one eyebrow.

“Afraid, princess? That I will fall while I watch you? I’ve been a guard almost longer than you’ve been alive.” You rolled your eyes at his pride and the humorous tone of his voice. Many men’s fall was their excessive confidence.

“Should I not worry for my only companion in life?”

That shut him up quickly. He just regarded you then, shifting on his feet. Clearly uncomfortable with the truth. When he decided to speak again, what he said shocked you most.

“I saw your brother die.”

Hearing a strange noise, only after a second you realised you were the one making it.

“Did you kill him?” You asked, voice tight. Ghost shook his head.

“The Shepherd’s men shot arrows at his back while he was fighting. He was a great warrior.” You sniffed hearing his words. You knew, you knew your brother would fight to his death, you’d seen his ruined body bloated but dressed for war. 

“It’s not honorable. Shooting a man in the back.” He said simply, holding your gaze. His body began to warp and look odd as water filled your eyes.

“Thank you for telling me this,” you whispered, and he nodded, finally sitting next to you. If you dried your tears on his wide shoulder, no one else saw you.

Your journey lasted more days than you imagined. Everytime you asked the question to Ghost, he would only answer soon. He saw you pray at the gods’ altars: Hermes, Artemis, Athena, Zeus. He never prayed himself, or placed offerings that you didn’t tell him to place, which at the start unnerved you and then made you curious.

“Where do you come from?” Your conversations usually started with a question from you and ended with a reply from him. But you didn’t think he was a too dire debate partner, anyway.

“From far away.”

“Stop treating me as if I’m stupid.” You did hate his dismissal ways, sometimes.

“I’m not lying,” he hissed from between his teeth, “I come from so far away, I wouldn’t even know how to go back home.” That intrigued you. The twists and turns of his journey would surely make for a great story. But you hoped you could arrive at your destination.

“Then we are the same,” you decided to reply, “both without a home.”

He sighed, oddly softly. You thought that was an interesting reaction, and nestled closer to him.

When you were too far away from a market, or from farmers who would sell their fares to Ghost, he would go hunting. You’d beg and beg to let him teach you how to shoot an arrow (you’d always dreamed to be a brilliant hero of the stories), and he always categorically refused to do it. But, extraordinarily, he did teach you something. He taught you briefly how to fish, so long as you had a needle; he taught you what weeds were good to eat. Dirtying your hands felt weird at first, but you were quickly motivated by the pings of hunger in your belly.

Finally, you reached another settlement. Your surprise was evident seeing so many people prepare for a feast. You asked a busy woman what was going on: she looked at you as if you had grown another head, and simply said “the Dionysia”. What joy, then. Drinking, dancing, singing. You hadn’t heard a joyful bard or a musician since before your parents died. Smiling, you turned to your brooding companion.

“Can we stop for the festival, Ghost?” You pled him.

He looked irritated at your request. 

“What will happen if you get recognized, hmm?”

“I am a mere daughter. I’m no danger to whoever sits the city throne now.”

“You can’t rule, that much is true,” he took his big hand and grazed at your belly with the back of his fingers, making your skin goosebump, “but what of the sons of your womb? And what do you think happens in these festivals? You must have seen it too, the men with the courtesans.” You blushed at his implications.

“You… you heathen! Are you not here to protect me?” He scoffed at your protests and at the light punches you threw at his chest, but he paid the inn for the day and you beamed at him. He’d even called you his wife to the innkeeper– the action had made your blood surge, but then you pathetically remembered you could never marry anymore.

You both drank a little, but not too much, you to not get too drunk, him to both integrate and not lose his mind. It was exhilarating, taking part in a feast as a common person and not a noble. Nobody but Ghost was looking at you, and you were free to do as you pleased. Nobody in the village had cared that you were a woman, the people just happy to have two more that would pray for the wellness of the settlement. 

“Should I go dancing?” You asked him, raising to your feet while he kept sitting down.

Incredibly, he laughed. Your mouth hung in awe. It was a husky sound, much like all of him. Immediately, you wanted to hear more.

“Silly girl, you’re dressed as a boy! You’ll look odd, moving to the girls’ dance.” Blushing, you sat back down again. There was so much you didn’t know or you had taken for granted due to your higher position, and Ghost never sweetened the hard truth with honey. As much as the noble girl had died with the rest of your family, this common one wasn’t quite born yet. A warm hand came to hold the back of your neck, gently petting it.

“You looked beautiful dancing at the palace,” you heard his voice low in your ear, his breath warm on your cheek. His mouth, red and soft, was exposed in order for him to drink and eat. “I remember your dress, that summer. Once we arrive, I’ll buy you a similar one.” 

He must have been speaking about the day of your bethronal to the Shepherd’s son, the biggest event you had ever been the protagonist of. You danced for a whole day. What had happened to your betrothed, that older boy? You had no way of knowing, but he didn’t defend you from his father. You knew even back then that he did not like you much, and he was probably ecstatic that you died to the city. 

“Are we close to arriving?” He started petting your cheek then, even brushing his thumb against your lips.

“Yes, very close, sweet thing.” He then blinked and drew away, as if he realised what he was doing. You wished he would keep touching you.

Oh Dionysus, you crazy god. You’ve freed the coldest of men at last, the one barbarian who couldn’t be dissuaded from his duty. 

You saw many peculiar things at the feast. The dances were different from what you were used to, and the plays were even more debouched. The road from your home had been long, and wherever you were, there was no longer any overlap for the princess and the girl. Even Ghost, the one link to your previous life, was no longer a guard, an impersonal male figure that worked for your father: he was a man under your will.

When it was time to leave the party, you did so broken-hearted. The warmth of the people had been a balm to your still hurt heart. And this new side of an intoxicated Ghost intrigued you.

“Oh my,” you said, seeing the inn room had only one, big bed. The headboard was an intricate wickerwork, far more beautiful that a bed from a village inn could hope to be. 

You’d never slept with a man in your bed.

You sent a nervous look to Ghost, who was busy rattling around in his bag. Always bustling, this man.

You could ask him to sleep on the ground, but as you’d been sleeping on grass and rocks for two weeks now, it would be a profoundly impolite gesture.  

You quickly removed your outside layer of clothing, and remained in your small clothes. You approached the bed and slid on it, turning on your elbows. As you settled, you saw Ghost looking up and sending brief glances your way, like he was respectfully gauging the situation.

“Ghost, come sleep next to me.” You felt yourself say. It was very much an alien part of you saying it. Maybe the innermost one.

He swallowed as he stood in front of the bed. Now in the closed, and warm thanks to the fireplace, he removed his mask.

You found yourself looking at his full face for the first time. He did not look like most men did back home, but you perceived his appearance as pleasing nevertheless. His hair was light, spun of gold. What happened next shocked you more, as he began removing the pieces that composed his armor. Ironically, had he been wearing a more simple garb, you would not have had time to elaborate, and you would have panicked. But the necessary time for him to undress allowed to study the man that was about to sleep next to you.

His height often intimidated most: he did not even need to glower at them. Despite his size, you found out he could remove his armor quickly and efficiently, and he did not stumble about even after drinking wine. Of course, you had seen many men in different states of underdressing, as that was the condition in which sports and competitions were taken on. His body was different from the ones of most athletes, but you recognised the build of a hero in it either way. For one, he was covered in hair– fair hair, matching the ones on his head, but so different from the hairless bodies of the oiled runners.This was a body meant to fight and protect, and not to be shown at the circus. Only his jaw was shaved: in a way, he was the complete opposite of the rest of the men of your city.

You smiled at him as he remained in his loincloth, and he sat down at the very opposite edge of the bed.

You had slept by his side many times now. What embarrassed him?

“You can lay down more comfortably.”

“This is improper.”

“Does it matter?” You replied, a bit miffed. “This last month of my life has been improper. You might as well get a good night’s rest.” He turned to glare at you, and that was the first time you locked eyes with him when he was unmasked. Whatever he saw in your expression must have been convincing enough, because he laid down next to you.  

“I so missed a real bed. Haven’t you?” You said to make conversation.

“I lied to you,” he replied. Anxiety rose in you.

“What?”

“There was no employer,” he said, almost hiccupping, hand on his face, “nobody told me to take you away.”

The revelation hit your heart strong, and you turned away from him. 

“Why did you do it, then?” You hummed and he sat up on the bed.

“I couldn’t bear to see you die,” he whispered, now looking at you while you kept your gaze away. “I am no citizen. I live off employment from lords and merchants. I was hired by your father, and I was bound by contract to protect his family.”

“When he died and the Shepherd rose, I could and should have changed city. There was no reason for me to stay there when chaos would rule. But I wanted to keep an eye on you, because you are reckless and too determined.” You spluttered, offended. “Don’t lie, you know it to be true. And I did well, otherwise you would have killed yourself. And what a waste that would have been.” You turned to face him.

“Ghost…”

“There is no grand plan. I wanted to take you to a house I know to be empty, for I killed the owner in the past. And we would live there, and you would be safe.”

“Why “would”? I am coming with you,” you said, very simply. “What else am I supposed to do? Take back my place at the palace? There is nothing dear for me there, besides one or two maids, that I hope are well.” You tentatively got close and raised your arm to brush his cheek, this time. You felt his stubble sting at your fingers. 

“Ghost, from when you took me away, you’ve become my whole family. You are my dead father and mother, my dear brother, and even my future husband. No one else will take me in, orphan and poor as I am. Would you leave me now?”

“No, never,” he hurried to say, and you smiled again. For whatever reason, your loyalty to your family had been rewarded with a loyal stranger.

“Then there is no problem. Would you… would you be my husband then?” He sighed then, long suffering, and he turned to hover over you as his hands came to hold your hips. You yelped, surprised by his speed.

“What are you even saying?”

“You… you said I was your wife to the innkeeper.”

“That was a lie,” he said, pressing an index to your nose, making you laugh, “so that we would be taken in. Should I have said “this is the runaway princess of an important town, and I’m escorting her away from her death”? Hmm? Should I have? You insufferable girl,” he held you close as you laughed and your legs squirmed under him.

“I told you I’m not a princess anymore!”

He scoffed then, but kept you close still even as you wiggled. “What else could you be? Delicate and opinionated as you are. Only a princess with her burly jailer,” he remarked. 

“Jailer? I’ve been freer with you these days than the rest of my life.” You whispered in his ear as you embraced him in your arms. With less commodities, for certain, but free in nature, in the landscapes you observed, in the food you ate and in the company you kept. No man’s law that differed from the gods’ existed here. To think you would have never spoken to Ghost if those great tragedies hadn’t befallen on you.

Because Ghost would never make a move to really connect the two like you ought to be, you decided to take a stand, and brought your lips to his cheek, leaving a chaste kiss there. Spurred by his involuntary purr, you kept kissing him, making your way to his mouth. There, you left a longer kiss, one that confirmed that his lips were, indeed, soft. When you looked at his eyes, you found out they were glazed over, lands away. But you couldn’t be jealous of his memories, because he then started to kiss you in return. At first, with his mouth closed, much like yours: but then his lips started to part, and he began kissing you with his tongue. Taken by surprise, you timidly tried to mimic what he was doing, although this one act was lost in the records chambermaids giggled about. Before long, you kept feeling that weird sensation in your lower body, at the juncture of your legs, the one joked about in the comedies, and you held one shy hand against Ghost’s chest. He immediately withdrew from you, as if burned by your touch.

“What is it? Are you hurt?”

“No… No at all. I feel weird,” you said, and immediately regretted it. Could you be any more fumbling. Ghost breathed hard, his chest grazing yours, and then moved so he would not lay on you anymore.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked you, and you shook your head, your hair brushing against his face. He laughed, softly, and you again felt a sense of pride in making him do so. He began kissing you again, and what joy that was.

The sensation in the middle of your legs was answered when you felt Ghost’s hand slipping under your clothes. Even without seeing, he knew what to do to you: he began tracing your sex, concentrating on the upper side of it, which made you gasp in pleasure. His index then entered you, and you felt your mouth falling open as he muttered encouragement in your temple. Good girl, good girl, he just said, and then he picked up speed and the slick sound of his fingers entering and leaving you made you hide your face in your neck. He kept cooing at you, and everything felt so real, too real, as you felt a burst of energy released inside you, a sensation unlike any other. You panted into his shoulder, shocked. Was this what being married entailed? Suddenly, you were very glad to have asked Ghost to be your husband.

Speaking of which, he moved from your side, and you cried at the loss of warmth and him. He shifted to be on top of you again, and you looked him in the eye from under. He looked very vivid, like the most alive thing you had ever seen in your life. The shadows of the crackling fire played on his hair, and you made yourself even smaller.

“Was it true? What you said.” He asked you. You didn’t even know what he meant in particular, but you had never lied to him, past that one night he encountered you as you fled the scene. You said yes.

“There will be no walking back from this. We will be as good as a real husband and wife after this, do you understand? I won’t let you go–” he choked out the last part, reining in his desperation. You shook your head again.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay with you.” He made another frustrated sound then, and you saw, in the muted light of the room, his hand holding his cock, the sword man penetrates woman with. Now you know your duty begins: the pain and the blood accompanying. But weirdly, unexpectedly, as he entered you you felt only a slight burn, a stretching sensation, but not the horrible pain of hushed stories. And then he started moving, and it was a pleasant feeling, a rocking motion in the arms of the man that had saved you from death. He kept kissing you, and saying the sweetest things– who could have imagined such a brutal warrior, turned into the gentlest, Eros-touched lover? 

His movements never rushed, or hurried to the point where it would hurt, but you could tell he was getting desperate. Just when you thought he would release in you, he moved away, leaving you gaping and cold. He took himself in hand then, and moaned softly as the white seed touched his hand.

“Why didn’t you…” You blushed again, not finishing your phrase. It felt wrong to you that he did not come inside you, but you didn’t quite have the courage to tell him so.

Ghost simply panted and looked at you, at you raising chest, and at your core. He then closed his eyes and released a decisive, deep breath. He fixed himself and held you again in his arms, moving you around as if you were a doll.

“I will do it when we get home.”

The remaining days on the road were a haze of happy memories. You remembered Ghost’s lingering touches, and the warmth of the sun in the middle of the day, happy villages and herds grazing the green grass. Ghost hissing at anyone who asked too many questions, Ghost hunting the hares, Ghost taking you on the woods’ ground, from behind and against the trees, free to mate as much as you wanted, always ready for you. And when you finally reached his home, that grey, desolate thing, the first thing he did was take you in the bed.

“This ought to be repaired,” you told him as you moved around the house and discovered yet another broken tool, or part, and he sighed, long suffering. But then the next day he would get to work, and fix the table, the window, and he bought you a dress that resembled the one you wore on the day of your betrothal, and it was even more special because it came from him.

“Listen here,” he told you one day as he returned from his work, and after you had hugged him to your heart’s content. His tone was guarded and serious as ever.

“I have news. From the city, I mean,” he said, and you nodded at his words. You felt a detachment towards what concerned your old life, besides the memories of your loved ones, but you were still curious.

“The Shepherd is dead.”

“Praise the gods!” You exclaimed. He nodded.

“The council killed him, they say. And the new king is a young hero who fought off invaders from the south. He is missing a wife. You see where I’m going with this?” He asks, tone even but tinged with that insecurity, that slightest fear... You did see it and hate it fiercely. You told him as much.

“I made a promise to you that night. Do you think me that fickle, that I would return to a city that wanted me dead so I could bear legitimate children to a new tyrant?”

He sighed again, lovesick, like he was the maiden taken away and not you. He kissed you and ran his hands into your hair, now long and free. You laid your head on his chest. How could he think you would leave him still? He was the only owner of your heart, your god-sent protector.

You didn’t know what your family would think about you running away with a man who, in the city, would never have had the chance to speak to you first, much less to marry you. But you knew that in your soul, you were living a life true to yourself and the gods. And that much would suffice for the rest of your days.

[introspectivememories]

[shima-draws]

Ghost Cora AU where he’s actually been following Law around ever since he died but nobody has been able to see him, so all he’s able to do is watch Law get hurt and suffer in silence. UNTIL, miraculously, the battle of Dressrosa ends, and for some strange reason—through some supernatural bullshit or maybe just fate—one person is finally able to see him.

Law is sitting on the deck of the Yonta Maria watching everyone party when Luffy comes trotting over to him. And Luffy plops down beside him and says, “I’ve been meaning to ask, Torao, but who’s that really tall blonde guy with the funny makeup that’s been following you around?”

And Law’s just like