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tales-of-the-ghost-zone · 8 months

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DP X DC crossover prompt

Sam and Tucker, thanks to living in Amity Park and being overshadowed and controlled by ghosts so many time, had become very liminal. Until an accident while trying to stop the newest ghost enemy led to the two of them becoming halfa’s. Sam’s ghost form looks like what she looked like during the whole Undergrowth thing. And Tucker’s ghost form looks like his King Tuck design.

After a reveal gone wrong, Danny, Sam, and Tucker flee Amity Park. The trio run away to Gotham, and using money Sam managed to snag from her account before they left, they buy a nice sized building right in the middle of Crime Alley. They decide to turn it into a bookshop and cafe. There’s a garden/greenhouse attached to the back end of the building where Sam grows all her plants and herbs. Tucker has his own tech room in the basement alongside Danny’s tiny lab space. They live together in the apartment above the bookshop/cafe.

One day while out on a walk, Danny stumbles across two tiny twin half formed baby ghost cores. They’re nothing more than tiny little balls of glowing light at the moment. Baby ghosts that are just starting to form but are nothing more than cores at the moment. But they seem to be slowly fading. Danny refuses to let them fade away into nothing. He scoops them up, infuses them with some of his ectoplasm to get them going, and then shoved them into his chest for safe keeping and so that they can be close to his own core which starts slowly feeding them energy.

Danny rushes back to the shop and drags Sam and Tucker to the upstairs apartment and shows him the baby ghost cores he’s found. The three all agree that they’re going to help these cores develop into actual ghosts. They switch off on who carry’s the ghost cores around. Some days it’s Danny. Some days it’s Tucker. And some days it’s Sam. Each of them feeding the cores a little bit of their ectoplasm to help them grow.

One of the cores feels distinctly female and has a purplish blue glow to it. The three start jokingly calling her violet. The other core has a distinctly male feel to it. It’s an orangish red and has a small crack along one side of it. Danny jokingly said one time how he (the baby core) kind of looked like Nemo’s egg at the beginning of Finding Nemo and ever since they’ve been calling him Nemo.

The two cores have been developing very slowly, both seemingly unable to absorb the needed ectoplasm, to form into full ghosts, quickly. The trio is fine with this, they can be patient, and wait to meet their twins.

Then one day there’s some kind of massive ghost attack. Maybe a cult or something attempted to summon the ghost king but messed up the summoning and accidentally summoned something else. The Justice League try and fight the thing, but they’re no match for this ghost monstrosity. And the JLD aren’t available to help for whatever reason. The trio decides to step in and help. They kick the crap out of the ghost pretty easily and send it back to the ghost zone. Then Danny, in his King Phantom garb (crown of fire, whispy white fire like hair, a regal looking version of his hazmat suit, the ring of rage on one finger, and a cape around his shoulders, the outside being pure white but the inside looking like the vastness of space) approaches the cult and rebukes them, telling them how even if they had managed to summon him he never would have helped them take over the world.

After that the trio become members of the Justice League. Thanks to some of Danny’s previous time travel shenanigans, and Danny being the ghost king, and Sam and Tucker his consorts/mates(?) the Justice League all think that the trio are ancient eldritch ghost gods.

And then one day when the trio are in the Watch Tower with the rest of the League their twin baby ghost cores come up. Maybe it was time to switch out who was carrying them, and mid meeting or lunch or whatever, Danny just reaches into his chest, pulls out two small glowing orbs. He cradles them close to his chest for a moment, looking at them lovingly, and whispering something soft to them in ghost speak. Then hands them over to Sam, who does the whole cradle them close and whisper softly in ghost speak before shoving them right into her chest.

They look up from this to see the whole League staring at them wide eyed and confused. Danny just casually explains that those are their children but they’re still forming so the trio needs to keep them close to their cores to help them grow, but they like to switch up everyday who carry’s them. Every member of the Justice League becomes super protective of the trio after this. They see it as the three essentially being pregnant (sort of), and they don’t always know which one of them is carrying the baby ghost. So best to just be protective of all three. The trio finds this kind of amusing and a touch bit sweet.

When the twin baby cores finally develop into actual baby ghosts, the two kind of look like a mixture between Danny, Sam, and Tucker’s ghost forms. Though Violet has dark purple hair and eyes and Nemo has bright orangish red hair and eyes.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #danny phantom #everlasting trio #ghost king phantom #Violet and Nemo become the darlings of the Justice League #the two hellions run around the watch tower whenever possible #Wonder Woman sneaks them candy whenever possible #Dani stops in one day to meet her niece and nephew #the three proceed to cause chaos together #most of the time if you see the twins at least one of the trio is with them #if not one of the trio then some member of the Justice League #and if none of the trio or the Justice league is around #then Fright Knight is assigned guard duty #lord help the soul of anyone that try’s to mess with the prince and princess of the ghost zone #because non of the above mentioned people will show them any mercy

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infernal-general · 2 years

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15th March

The date which filled her with both pride and anguish. The national celebration of the start of the freedom fight of 1848, she remembered the dates related to the war which changed her life more than her own day of birth. The day was spent in silent pride, her army reminiscing the past, retelling heroic acts while gathered around fires, remembering the fallen ones and tightly embracing the living. Rozália observed the freshly sprung unity, they couldn't be torn apart with such history threading them together. Oh, history... Despite never mentioning, secretly they all felt betrayed by it; the Phoenix army's role, impact and perish never mentioned in books, never taught in schools as if they never existed in the first place. Her guilt only amplified every time the thought crossed her mind, their remains are scattered across Vértes, threaded upon by the unsuspecting; no one was aware of the mass grave.

Unbeknownst to them, their relatives never forgot their deeds. Stories were still told in small villages, tales of a woman leading an army with ferocity, men and women fencing, fighting for one higher aim: freedom, and for that, everyone brave enough left their home behind with one last kiss on their mothers' cheek and an unshakable decision: "Édes jó anyám, háborúba megyek." (My sweet mother, I am going to war.)

Fragments, remains of letters from the soldiers were found, ambitious historians began their search for the 'lost army', while the remains fought their never ending war with Heaven, still led by their unfaltering General. Villagers were interviewed, their description along with the letters and personal notes of other high ranking officers, even Artúr Görgei's, and the lost army regained its name back: a Főnix sereg (the Phoenix army). The name was soon followed by the reconstruction of the notable soldiers and of course, the General herself.

Rozália didn't have the faintest idea why her whole army decided to show up in front of her house on the night of 14th March. She was awakened by a whistle they used back in their glory, upon unlocking the door, she was greeted by all 2043 soldiers gathered with a glow in their eyes which held no origins of the Hellfire possessing them. Miklós and Jóska, the leaders of the scouts reported that they had found a doorway to Budapest itself along with an even more meaningful discovery. Everyone seemed to know the prized secret and they encouraged her to wear her old uniform for the short trip; oh they knew she still had it.

She wasn't sure whenever a travel to the surface was permitted, yet this time she found herself not caring the slightest. A painful ache in her chest accompanied her dressing, a sharp intake of breath as she clasped the original blood red cape across her shoulders, the Hungarian flag sewn into the inner side of it. She was everything yet...less than she had been before. The protruding horns, the ebony claws and those crimson snake eyes; despite her acceptance...it still felt like soiling the uniform.

They moved quietly to the portal, the almost marching army drew some attention from citizens of the Pride ring, but thankfully everyone wrote it off as some kind of practice, despite the unsteadiness of her always sharp gaze.

The realm crossing was surprisingly smooth, and the long lost army from 1848 was standing on Heroes' Square, facing the National Museum.

“Miért vagyunk itt?” (Why are we here?) Rozália whispered, the ache in her chest throbbed, the never healed wound dripped with fresh blood. The Square was already decorated for the mourning celebration, various large signs advertising the new, never seen before, exclusive exhibition of the museum, which will be revealed on the 15th.

"Bízz bennünk." (Trust us.) Rozália was reassured by a few whispers, and while normally she would've demanded an immediate explanation, the feeling of walking on the soil of her country after 172 years subdued her protests before they could fall from her lips.

The demons from Hell slowly marched through the Square, admiring the statues, taking large gulps from the fresh spring air. The first rays of the sun appeared when they were standing on the stairs of the Museum, Levente opened the door like a magician.

They poured inside the museum of their history, there was something lingering in the air, not quite like hope, but akin to that. Her stride unconsciously purposely slowed, but no one hurried her, instead matched her pace, eyes of fire rediscovering their country's past. The never ceasing advertisements throughout the silent journey were like lit torches lining the path, leading a large room, the new addition to the already existing 1848-49 exhibition.

Az elveszett, a Főnix sereg

The title written on the Hungarian flag draped above the entrance made Rozália halt.

“...Mit jelentsen ez...?” (What is the meaning of this?) She whispered in the thick silence, throat closing at the possibility- no. Hope always caused the deepest gashes.

"A történelemből kitörölhettek, de az emberek emlékeiből nem." (They might have erased us from history, but not from the memories of the people.) Marcell spoke, the warmth of his voice in stark contrast of Rozália's borderline fright

"Miklós és Jóska, az átjáró felfedezése után tartottak egy kis felfedezést is." (After discovering the portal Miklós and Jóska also did a little further exploration) Márta informed

"És úgy döntöttünk, hogy ezen a napon mutatjuk meg neked. Együtt." (And we decided we will show you on this exact day. Together.) Ferenc and seriousness was a combination she never thought would experience, clearing any doubt that the setup was purely her army's doing and it was no ploy. So she stepped inside.

She was flung back in time; pieces of armor, intact weapons, torn flags and detailed paintings, even portraits of her army covered the room. Trembling claws traced century old relics, possessions belonging to them, the army soon beginning their own expedition for their existence. This was a fever dream, too good, too sweet to be true and she was terrified of waking up and having the miracle slip from her. Quiet joy ruled the atmosphere, occasionally rippled by a joyous cry when someone discovered themselves on one of the paintings or found their old sword.

Everything was uncovered, except the centerpiece standing on a small altar with a few stairs leading to it, and she felt some of them gently nudge her towards it.

"Még nem néztük meg. Téged illet a megtiszteltetés." (We haven't seen it yet. The honor is yours.) Sára gestured softly at the table next to the veiled canvas taller than Rozália. She heard the chitters quieten, belongings abandoned as her army's eyes were fixed on her with tender encouragement.

𝐕é𝐠𝐡𝐯á𝐫𝐲 𝐑𝐨𝐳á𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐭á𝐛𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐨𝐤 (- 𝟏𝟖𝟒𝟗), 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐝 𝐭𝐢𝐳𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐠𝐲𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐤𝐞

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐑𝐨𝐳á𝐥𝐢𝐚 𝐕é𝐠𝐡𝐯á𝐫𝐲 (-𝟏𝟖𝟒𝟗), 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐫𝐚𝐝

Her breathing stopped at the description, crimson eyes widened with borderline disbelief. Her name stood engraved in history. Furthermore, she was recognized among the thirteen -now fourteen- generals leading the uprising executed at Arad. Eyes flicked towards the maroon drape covered canvas; she couldn't...inches away from her past, her life and legacy yet the iron grip on her heart refused to let up. She turned back, only to face the remains of her army, all standing silent and proud, silently encouraging her to take her earned place among generals.

A small nod to convey she understood the unsaid desire, claws reached for the rich colored drape. After a moment of hesitation, the fabric was pulled from the centerpiece. Lips fell open in surprise, taken aback by the sight. The General was painted in the middle of a raging battle, fire flared behind her in a discreet phoenix shape, Vihar's every muscle defined with unspeakable precision and on top of the horse she sat with cape billowing in the wind, turning the crimson to make the Hungarian flag visible on the inside. Hussar sword drawn in her right, the light curve of the blade glinting in the firelight, her wild hair framing her face twisted into a vicious battle cry, vivid emerald eyes seemingly burning into soul.

Rozália's knees gave out at the perfect mirror image when she fully felt human and herself. Labored breathing eventually turned into sobs, liquid fire tears freely cascading down her cheeks. The same cape pooled around her kneeling form, the first rays of the 15th March sun bathing the demon general in almost divine glow. Relief. Happiness. And peace at last. Every time she glanced up to her perfect replica, fresh tears ran their fiery rivers. Rozália slowly rose, turning towards her army, not bothering to hide her emotions, especially when she noticed some of them silently weeping as well.

“Harcosaim. Barátaim. Családom.” (My warriors. My friends. My family.) The General spoke, straightening to her full height, head high without shame

“Szabadság, egyenlőség és testvériség nevében harcoltunk és haltunk. Elfeledtek minket, de nyugalmat nyertünk abból, hogy végül is a magyar nép elérte amiért mi vért és életet áldoztunk.” (We fought and died in the name of freedom, equality and brotherhood. We were forgotten but we were calmed by the fact that the Hungarian nation reached at last what we sacrificed our blood and life.) Rozália's rich alto rang clear across the crowded room

“Sokakat vesztettünk, sokan haltak a Pokolban úgy, hogy ezt a diadalt nem élhették meg.” (We have lost a lot, many died in Hell without witnessing this triumph.) “A csatát elvesztettük, de az idő háborúját megnyertük! Emlékeznek tetteinkre, arcunkra, bátorságunkra; áldozatunk mégsem volt hiába!” ( We lost the battle, but we won the war against time! They now remember our deeds, faces and courage; our sacrifice wasn't in vain after all!) Her sword swiftly drawn with her right, clenched over her heart and the demon of Hellfire never seemed more human.

“Megtiszteltetés volt és az is veletek harcolni, halni és a történelem részévé válni.” (It was and still is an honor to fight, die and becoming a part of history with you.) General Rozália Véghváry announced with tremendous pride, gratitude and tender victory in her eyes, coating every word.

The response to her speech was the Hungarian hymn slowly and steadily rising in volume from all 2043 soldiers with the same feelings resonating through them. Rozália and her army had earned their well deserved recognition and immortality. She sang with them, the sunlight of the dawn basking the room and the proudly standing soldiers in warm orange, the Phoenix army almost literally returned from their grave to awaken the true Hungarian spirit and virtue.

As the final notes dissipated, Rozália briefly turned back to the painting before lowering herself to one knee, hussar sword elegantly thrust towards the sun.

“Csak a szabadság előtt térdelünk le.”

(We only kneel in front of freedom.)

#⚔ stories 🔥 | when the music stops; the cries die down; memories crawl out of the grave; the soul can never find peace #⚔ alright/encourage to like and reblog 🔥 | no grave can hold me #the unwritten security guard is probably having a heart attack in fright in the background; don't mind him #this is the least tragic story I've ever written

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