#aedelia

[narwhalsarefalling]

Are you ok? You reblogged Tuck Her in Tuesday 34 times, which seems like a lot.

Also. I don't know if it will show up, but, cat pic tax.

IM FUKCIN TUCK IN

[windvexer]

Honoring Lobrax with the Half-Moon Meal

Lobrax, the scintillating rainbow serpent who created the Sun, Moon, and Stars, is said to have the moon itself for his eye! When the moon is half full he can see everything in our world, so that's why we celebrate his holy breakfast on half-moon days.

Here is a quick FAQ of how to celebrate Lobrax! It is a practice open to anyone.

What is the meal really about?

Lobrax is a representation of unconditional love, but especially unconditionally loving being alive and having physical forms. His mythology is panthiestic - in other words, the scales of Lobrax are the universe itself.

So when we celebrate Lobraxfast, it's all about feeling the love and joy of being alive, and reveling in our physicality! Just by loving life itself we honor Lobrax.

Why breakfast and not some other meal?

The holy breakfast honors not only Lobrax but Aedelia, who helped hatch Lobrax and gave him his very first meal.

You don't have to celebrate Lobraxfast at any specific time of day, but ideally the celebration will be the first time you eat that day. Of course there are no real hard and fast rules and people do what fits with their schedules :)

What kind of things should you eat?

Eggs are really traditional, as well as cheese and bacon. I always try to include eggs in my celebration as a ritual aspect (more below!)

But you can really eat anything you want! The most important part of Lobraxfast is to eat something that you personally really enjoy and that makes you happy. So that can be anything, from a full buffet of fresh cooked breakfast foods, to some leftover cold pizza.

What should you do to prepare?

A very important aspect of Lobrax is as a home and kitchen god. So a lot of people will try to tidy their kitchen, or do something nice like put out a clean tablecloth.

But just remember that the goal is to have a great time eating foods you love and enjoying being alive, and let that guide you! People tend to put on upbeat music, dress in bright and happy colors, put on TV shows they love, or anything that brightens the mood.

Flowers are an important part of Lobrax mythology, especially very colorful and multicolored flowers, so including flowers in your celebration is very traditional.

And although it's a more modern practice, people also sometimes leave offerings for household spirits, especially kitchen spirits, and thank them for being a part of life.

Honoring Half-Moon Sight

One aspect that should always be observed (that in my opinion you need to make it a Lobraxfast instead of a regular meal) is honoring Lobrax's Half-Moon sight.

In Lobrax's mythology, when the moon is dark his eye is closed and he's at a period of rest and reflection. When the moon is full his eye is wide open and he's so full of excitement and energy that he can't even see what's right in front of him.

It's actually when his eye is half-open that he is able to see with total clarity.

As a parable, we can apply this to active gratitude. During this time we should strive to see our lives with clarity and practice loving everything we see.

More traditionally, you should try to avoid imagining what things could become, or pulling things apart with introspection. The goal is to try and see what is around you in the moment and celebrate it.

Usually during Lobraxfast I will take many small moments while cooking and just say to myself, "I love this."

In group settings people sometimes go in a circle and say things they're grateful for.

You could write a hymn, pray from the heart, light a candle, or do anything that expresses the love of being alive.

Enjoy your Lobraxfast!

[dp-marvel94]

The Same Type of Ghost- Chapter 2

Summary: Deep in the Infinite Realms, something writhed. And only Clockwork can help.

Word Count: 2308

Chapter 1 -> Chapter 2(here) -> Chapter 3

Also on AO3

Note: For @everystarstorm @modordracena @five-rivers @currentlylurking @aedelia

For Phic Phight 2023. Welcome to the second chapter! This chapter is from Clockwork's pov, which prove to be so hard to write. 😭 Used the two prompts below.

Clockwork is DEFINITELY not sick, stressed, tired, or overwhelmed. The idea of an incredibly powerful ghost with control over time itself experiencing anything like that is ridiculous! Everything is fine, and anything that implies otherwise is mere coincidence. Lurking | Lurking🕓🍁#5333 | Currentlylurking| currentlylurking | (Team Human)

Clockwork knew about Danielle of course, he knew everything. But knowing about her was not enough to prepare him for the full force of her puppy-eyes when she came to him asking for help. Aedelia | Aedelia#2626 | aedelia | neokid93 | neokid93 (team Ghost)

Clockwork is DEFINITELY not sick, stressed, tired, or overwhelmed. The idea of an incredibly powerful ghost with control over time itself experiencing anything like that is ridiculous! Everything is fine, and anything that implies otherwise is mere coincidence. Lurking | Lurking🕓🍁#5333 | Currentlylurking| currentlylurking | (Team Human)

In eternity past. Before the stars took their places, before the first plant opened its leaves to the sun, before the first human received the breath of time, there was Time.

The ectoplasm of the newborn Infinite Realms swirled, condescending. A form took shape, the vague impression of a human body, though indistinct, blending in with the surrounding atmosphere. For a moment, the first ghost hung in the air, present but unaware. 

Then…. their consciousness awoke. And it screamed.

Too much… Infinite images filled their mind… their minds: one but many, many but one. Mountains eroding into dust. Stars exploding into Supernovas. Flowers, opening to the sun and wilting in the light. A chick, breaking out of its shell and a blink later, being eaten by a fox. A woman, screaming in pains of childbirth, then holding her son. A man, dancing with a little girl, and later weeping at her grave. The ticking of a clock.

The future reached back. Countless impressions of time and its meaning molded, imprinted on the very fabric of reality. The changing of the seasons. The cycle of the moon. The tides. The flow of a river, banks overflowing and flood receding. Birth and Life and Death. All these added.

Millennia of civilization, differing cultures. Tribes, villages, towns, cities, great metropolises. So many people, so many thoughts and experiences. Billions of mortal minds, each with their own conception of time.

An orderly procession. A cruel master. A caring father. A power hungry tyrant. Impersonal, passionless. A comforting hand. 

Time was a circle. Time was a straight line. It was steady and dependable. It was variable and relative. It was methodical. It was chaotic. It was impartial. It was ruthless. It was compassionate. 

Time was all these things and more. And yet…

It was too much. Too many images, too many thoughts. A prism of numerous factions, stacked on top of each other. It was too much for such a new ghost, for one so limited, so like the mortals and their thoughts which the being derived from. 

And the power…. pause, rewind, fast-forward, reverse. Creation and destruction. Time, the power to control time itself. So much power, too much power in one so fragile.

It was too much. Too much for the small, humanoid form to contain. Time unraveled, definition ripping away. Growing larger. Expansive, stretching around the Realms. The power of Time lashed out, pained, distressed, confused.

Creation strained, trembling under the weight. Volcanoes erupted. Hurricane winds blew. Disease. Destruction. Death. The timestream shook, splintering with the pressure. Paradoxes sprung up, welling from the cracks. Dying in reverse. Individual people, towns, cities blinked out of existence. Civilizations lost and reborn in an instant. Entire species… extinct, always existed, and never evolved. All at once. 

Existence groaned, cried, wept, all filled with suffering and chaos. On and On and On and On and….

The chiming of a bell tower. The ticking of a clock,

Instantly, Time paused. An image: gears and springs. The swinging of a pendulum. A grand clock tower. Somewhere in the mass of a body, an impression of a head tilted, curious. 

More flashed but… slow and ordered. A tadpole, sprouting its legs. Wheat stalks, blown in the wind. Two children, playing in a creek. A man and a woman, sharing a tender kiss. 

Time made a confused hum. They did not understand….

More images. Trees growing, reaching towards the sky. A mother cat, grooming her kitten. A father, lifting his son on his shoulders, the child reaching high enough to pick an apple. A mother, teaching her daughter to sew. A family, sitting in front of a fire and sharing stories.

A spark of understanding. Was this…. their purpose? A sense of rightness welled at the thought. Yes. Yes. This was why they came into existence. To guide life, to help it flourish. 

The planet Earth, suspended in space. A blue and green dot, utterly unique in the big, grand  universe. The masterpiece of creation. And this was why… this was why they came into existence, to serve the Earth and its life. Especially humankind. 

And… a glimpse of Time’s future flashed in their understanding. Long years of service, repairing the damage they’d caused. Shadows of loneliness, an aching core.

But…. there, far off was love. They would love and be loved in return. The vague impression of laughter, hugs, goodnight kisses. There would be joy, centered around…  a child with white-black hair, green-blue eyes. 

Yes. Yes. An impression of eyes crinkled. This was a good future.

They would be a kind, compassionate, steady helper. Not without mischief and humor, of course. A knowing smile bloomed on the face, the ticking of a clock from deep within.

The expansive personification of Time condensed, growing smaller. Yes. They knew what they would be. The image of Father Time…. That felt right. They… no, He. Singular, not plural. Not the contradictory prism. Not the unstable conglomeration. But one, singular personality. Not all of Time but its instrument.

The form folded in on itself, down and down. Into the shape of a human male, the body of a grandfather (Ha! He already liked the pun there.) clock embedded in his chest. 

He would be, he was Clockwork.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the present, Clockwork looked away from his time window, from the memories of his origin. He had seen and been so much back then, in those first moments of existence. So different from his current personage. Even now he did not know how, but he had been humbled, compressed into a much smaller, more manageable form. It could be constricting; after millennia, he could perceive and utilize the immensity of his greater consciousness much more readily than at his origin. But being often so limited did have its perks, such as greater ease interacting with mortals and near-mortals.

Speaking of…. With a thought, another time window opened, this one showing two young ghosts. A tall, scarred, muscular male and a much smaller, white-haired female. Ah, yes. Prometheus and Danielle, two of the young Daniel’s clone siblings. 

The two children spoke, the girl’s hand on the boy’s arm as he cried. The younger’s eyes were drawn wide, words pleading. But it proved fruitless as her brother turned away, sobs increasing. He wobbly flew forward, throwing himself into…

“Curious.” Clockwork’s head tilted. The image in the glass blurred, the object of Prometheus’ interaction invisible to the time master’s sight. An irregularity in the timestream then. “Curious indeed.” 

On the screen, the girl paused, staring after her sibling for a long moment before… “Time… ” determination settled on her face. “Clockwork…” The child hurried away. “We need Clockwork. He’ll… he’ll help.”

Again, the image closed, leaving the viewing room silent. 

Clockwork gripped his staff, brow furrowed in consideration. The girl was on her way now, this being the first time she chose to seek him out. Never before had seen even occupied Daniel on a visit, but now… he’ll help. She sought his assistance, and regarding something unperceived by his sight. 

Again, curiosity sparked at the thought. “Well, let her come then.” The ghost mussed, shifting into an old man as he opened the path to the lair. Danielle should have no trouble finding it now.

Sure enough, a knock sounded at his door, not twenty minutes later. “Clockwork!” Came her shout. 

“I’m coming, I’m coming, child.” Clockwork hurried forward. 

The Master of Time opened the door. The younger ghost flew through, nearly bowling him over, if not for his foresight.

The old ghost gave a chuckle. “You are in quite a hurry, aren't you?”

The teasing, normally so soothing to his other charge, had no such effect.

“I can’t believe I found this place so fast. This is the Clocktower, right?” She eyed him a little suspiciously, gaze fixing on the pendulum in his chest. “And you’re Clockwork?”

“I am.” The adult ghost gave her a disarming smile. 

For a moment, the two ghosts studied each other. Clockwork felt the ticking for his core ease, something soft and fond. Floating here, with those green eyes and white hair, she really did look like her original. And the child from that long ago future-vision. Though she remained purely in her ghost form, unlike the black-and-white haired vision child. Perhaps a fusion of Daniel’s human and ghost form? That would explain the mixed features… and the presence of four arms. 

Dismissing the thought, Clockwork cleared his thought. “How may I help you, dear?”

What a refreshing question to ask! And for once not knowing the issue… his core hummed in delight at the thought.

“Well…” The girl landed, awkwardly shifting foot to foot. “I was flying in the Zone by myself a few days ago when I saw this weird, horrible, scary thing. And I just knew I needed to figure out was up with it. So I asked Pro to come with me. And we found the things and…” She swallowed, paling. “It was awful. Screaming and crying and crawling around. Pro said…. He said it was a bunch of our brothers. They…. All ended up here but stuck together…

A hand covered her mouth, cheek green with nausea. “I… god. That’s why it looked familiar. It looked like that time Danny tried to duplicate but he couldn’t quite split so he just kept making more heads and feet and…” The girl leaned over, word trailing off. 

The old ghost floated forward, a hand rubbing her back. “That sounds truly ghastly, Danielle.” He soothed, compassionate. “I am sorry to hear you encountered that.” He truly was. Such an amalgamation…. It echoed back the effects of his early madness. The poor thing… he really should speed its passage along to the Thereafter.

“Please.” Danielle’s quivering voice cut through the thought. “Please. You have to help them.” 

Clockwork gently stroked her back. “I will. Rest assured…. I will hasten the creatures’ fading, quickly bringing an end to its pain.”

“What? No.” Jerkily, the girl looked up, eyes crinkled in confusion and then offense. “No. There has to be a way to… separate them or something.”

The ancient ghost shook his head. “I fear there is not.” In the past creatures like this, full of pain and contradiction, either hide away from the world, wallowing in their agony…

“Please. You have to… you have to try.” Danielle begged

…. Or they lashed out, becoming increasingly violent and destructive. There was no undoing the creation, only hastening the eventual end.

The words were too painful, too cruel to say to the girl, gazing up at him with hope.

“Please.” She repeated. “They’re in so much pain. Pro won’t…. He won’t leave them until he knows they’ll be okay. Please… please. You have to try.” The round, green eyes bore into his, shining with tears…..

The old ghost has no defense against them. “Very well.” Clockwork relented, his core ticking a sad beat. “I will do what I can.”

The words brought some light back to the child's countenance. “Okay. Thank you. Thank you!” She floated off the floor. “Let me take you to them.” She darted off. “Come on!”

Clockwork could have opened a portal but he flew after the girl.

Twenty minutes of flying and they arrived at the scene. The wails and screams came first, echoing across the Realms. Quickly, the writhing black and white mass filled the time master’s vision.

Clockwork froze, for once in a millennia surprised. This… this paled in comparison to Danielle’s brief description. This magnitude of suffering….

A sob rose, the creature harmonizing with itself. The old ghost shuddered; his core trembled with the feeling. 

So much pain…. All these minds, pressed close together. The emotions feeding into each other and echoing. All those poor cores-

Wait. 

The time master tilted his head, eyes wide. He sensed something in the creature. No, not multiple cores. But… one. One, singular core. Somehow, impossibly, there was only one. Perhaps one soul had cannibalized the others. Or-

“Please. You have to help them.” A deeper voice begged. 

Clockwork turned at the sound. Ah, yes. “Prometheus.” The adult ghost offered a compassionate smile, a hand resting on his boy’s shoulder. “Yes. I will help them.”

The time master turned back to the conglomeration, brow furrowed in thought. Yes, perhaps, one soul, stronger than the others, had communed the rest, only to be overwhelmed by the torrent of emotions. Or this was not a true ghost but an imprint of dozens of emotions and memories. Or perhaps… this was something all together new.

“Yes,” Clockwork rubbed his chin. “I will take them back to my lair.” 

Slowly, the ancient ghost approached, hands outstretched. “Shh, child.” 

The creature… no, the child, for somehow, this was a child, despite the monstrous appearance… continued to cry, deaf to the comfort.

“Shh…” Clockwork reached, fingers grasping the approximation of a hand. “Father Time is here.”

One gentle touch from the Master of Time and existence warped. 

The two beings appeared in the Clocktower, the room around expansive and empty. 

The child whined, dozens of voices ringing in pain. So much pain. And Clockwork felt all of it. From every pore of the child’s being. In every cry, every pulse of the core, every second. His own core inside of his chest chimed with the need to help, to comfort. And as he promised, he would. He could help, in a way no other creature in existence could. Afterall…. 

With the Time Master’s core so close to the child’s, he could feel it, the similarities between himself and the other. They were a true ghost, not an imprint, nor a simple cannibal soul. No, they were a prism of numerous factions, stacked on top of each other. 

Clockwork could help as no one else could. After all, they were the same type of ghost.

[five-rivers]

@aedelia you've been infected with ray-bans.

[phandomphightclub]

Welcome @aedelia to the Phight!

[hunters-angel]

@aedelia it's pachelbel's canon in D played on (probably) glockenspiel

[dannymayevent]

Congratulations @aedelia for completing dannymay2020!

Artwork by @ceciliaspen based on your day 20 fic.

[reallydumbdannyphantomaus]

His name is Jaeger and he is very dignified and graceful.

HE’S SO FLUFFY!!!!!!!!!!!

[sapphireswimming]

Danny being afraid of hurting his friends with his powers or Danny is actually dead.

Ah thanks for the make me choose between two things ask!

YOU

Oh this is difficult because those are both such good quality sources of different kinds of angst

If I had to choose one, and in this case I do, I think I’d go with “Danny being afraid of hurting his friends” since it provides an endless internal stream of worry that’s based in friendship and also angst

Danny is actually dead is also excellent, and very versatile depending on the situation and how Danny feels about it in the situation

[danphanwritingprompts]

The GIW manage to capture a sentient ghost. After some painful experiments, it gives up the information that Danny Phantom is a halfa, and what that means. The ghost in question doesn’t remember Danny’s human name but the GIW know that they are looking for a black haired teenager with blue eyes.

They find Danielle first.

[darks-ink]

Just To Be Seen By My Eyes

Heya @aedelia​, happy holidays! Here’s my Truce gift to you! Hope you enjoy it!

Also on [AO3] and [FFN]! 

---

“It’s certainly very beautiful,” Maddie said, slowly, cautiously, “but I don’t understand why they gave it to us.”

“A sign of appreciation, perhaps?” Jack guessed, shrugging. “We are Amity Park’s primary ghost hunters. Maybe they wanted to pay us back for it?”

Maddie hummed, spreading out the papers a little further. Now they laid all separated on the table, allowing the two of them to view them fully.

“I suppose the artistic interpretation of the Ghost Zone is very interesting,” she eventually settled on. “We know vaguely what it looks like, thanks to the time the town was brought into the Zone, but still.”

Jack picked up one of the sheets of paper, his favorite painting of the bunch they had received. Besides the black-green sky that they had known about, it depicted a ramshackle building that reminded him of Fentonworks, bits of technology haphazardly welded together.

“Even if they’re useless for research, they are still pretty, Mads. I say we frame them. Jazz has been complaining of the house lacking decoration, anyway.”

“I suppose so.” She shook her head, but her lips quirked into a smile as she nudged another painting. This one depicted a grand castle, a vibrant forest nestled up next to it. Ha, like the Ghost Zone could even house something like forests, never mind ones so lively. “I do wish we knew who the artist was.”

“Yeah, definitely.” He put the painting down with the rest, carefully smoothing it out. “They’re certainly a creative sort. Wish we could track them down, but there must be tons of people in town with the initials DP.”

“Well, nothing we can do about it.” Maddie shrugged, turning to head to the lab. “If they only signed it with their initials, and didn’t leave a note with their name, they must not have wanted us to know who they were.”

He grunted as he followed her down the stairs. “Still, I wish we could’ve thanked them. It would be interesting to hear them explain why they chose to depict the Ghost Zone like that.”

“It would be more interesting to look at the real Ghost Zone,” Maddie lamented, stopping next to her table in the lab. She heaved a sigh. “But, unfortunately, we can’t risk such trips.”

“I know,” he grunted. “Who knows what kind of things Phantom could get up to while we left? Or worse yet, what it could do to us while we’re out of the town’s sight.”

“Yes, indeed.” Maddie straightened a blueprint, and Jack stepped up next to her. “Well, nothing we can do about it, except try harder to catch Phantom. Speaking of which, honey, I think I finally figured out how to fix the Bazooka’s battery issues.”

---

“Oh, another one.” Jack chucked the letters in his hand onto the table, focusing on the new drawing. DP had continued to send in paintings on a regular basis. At first they had been various interpretations of the Ghost Zone, like the first batch, but as time went on they had expanded their repertoire and started painting ghosts instead.

“This is certainly a curious one,” Jack mumbled to himself as he looked over the new painting. It was another imagined Ghost Zone vista, although the edges of the island weren’t visible. A lush snowscape, with the characteristic black-and-green sky of the Zone. A curious details was that DP had included ghosts into the landscape this time; small specks of them littered the hills, and a few were close enough for them to include details. They looked animalistic, with shaggy white fur and ice-like horns. One of them even had an arm made entirely out of ice, with bones visible within. A shame that DP had included that detail; ghosts didn’t have bones, so it was an unfortunate error.

Still, there was nothing to be done about it. Maddie hadn’t been terribly interested in looking into the mystery of this ‘DP’ further, and to be honest, he could understand why. They wanted to learn more about the Ghost Zone, and whoever DP was, their paintings couldn’t possibly be based on the truth. Nobody had been to the other side of the Fenton Portal besides ghosts, and no ghost would make mistakes like including bones.

Jack blew out a sigh, placing the painting down on the table. They could figure out what to do with it later. DP had been sending them so often that Maddie and he weren’t sure what to do with them anymore. No matter how sweet it was that this artist was inspired by them, or by their research into ghosts, they couldn’t possibly showcase all this art. They didn’t even know who made them!

“Mads?” he called downstairs instead, deciding to take his mind off of the topic. “I’m gonna head out with the GAV, see if I can find some ghosts!”

“Be home in time for dinner, honey!” Maddie’s voice echoed from downstairs, underlined with the metallic clang of her putting down her tools. “And call me if you need me out in the field!”

“Will do!” he assured her. He didn’t need to check for weaponry; the GAV was always well-stocked, and would have everything he might possibly need.

So he headed for the garage, hopped into the large vehicle, and buckled his belt. The ignition roared to life, and with it, so did the various electronic appliances built into the GAV. Most importantly, at least for now, was the ghost radar.

The screen of the radar lit up, and Jack leaned in closer. Ah, and look at that! Not one, but two ghosts in the park! He’d better head over there. Either they were up to trouble, or it was Phantom chasing some other ghost. And if it was the latter, Jack might finally get the annoying specter!

Quickly he raced over to the park, stopping the GAV right next to the fence. He would have to continue on foot, since the gates were too small, but that was okay. He might be able to sneak up on the ghosts like this, since neither of them had moved since he had first seen them on the radar.

Still, whatever they were up to, it couldn’t possibly be good. Ghosts were malevolent, through and through, and if they hadn’t moved they hadn’t been fighting with each other. That must mean that they were working together, either causing trouble, or plotting to cause trouble later. No matter which of the two it was, Jack knew he had to interfere.

He quickly grabbed one of the plentiful ecto-guns the GAV was stocked with, jumping out of the vehicle. He didn’t have a radar on hand, but that was okay. The ghosts were unlikely to move if it hadn’t before now, and, well. They literally glowed. He was sure he would be able to spot them when he got close enough, even in the bright afternoon light.

As quietly as possible, he crept through the bushes. His gun, he held ready. He had to find the ghosts, and quick. Who knew what kind of trouble they might’ve gotten up to?

The moment he spotted a glimpse of unnatural white light, Jack stopped. Then, certain that neither of the ghosts had spotted him, Jack peeked through the leaves.

The ghost closest to Jack was instantly recognizable. Slight but masculine build, messy white hair, and a black jumpsuit. Phantom, without a doubt. The other, he couldn’t place. Green skin, long blonde hair tied into a braid, and with a sky blue dress. Definitely modeled after a woman, that one, and slightly older than Phantom. Or, well, if they had been humans. There was no telling the age of a ghost.

“Almost done,” Phantom spoke, suddenly. But it seemed to be talking to the other ghost. Why? Almost done with what?

“Ah, very well.” The other ghost inclined its head slightly, a gesture almost a nod, but halted. “I admire your work, Sir Phantom, but my kingdom calls for me.”

A kingdom? Sir Phantom? Very interesting. He would have to make sure to remember all of this. Oh, if only he had some sort of recording device ready. Maddie would’ve loved to hear this, too.

“I know, I know. I really appreciate you coming out here for me.” Phantom didn’t look away from whatever it was doing, hunched over. “I know things are still kinda messy after the whole Aragon thing.”

“It is no trouble,” the medieval ghost—the ghostly queen?—assured Phantom. “Without your help, I never could’ve overthrown my brother. I owe you, Sir Phantom.”

Phantom snorted, shaking its head briefly. “You know that that’s not true, Dora. You fought Aragon on your own, and you won that way too.”

“Ah, but--”

“No buts,” Phantom interrupted the other ghost—Dora, apparently. “You know just as well as I do that I wasn’t the one to convince you to stand up for yourself. You already made me your knight and your ally. You don’t owe me anything.”

The monochrome ghost paused for a moment, then lifted the object it had been hunched over. Finally Jack had a chance to see what it was, and he felt his heart stop.

Phantom had been working on a painting. And, depicted on the paper, was the other ghost. The style, even from where he was hiding, was instantly recognizable. Phantom had been the one sending paintings to FentonWorks.

Oh. Oh. Of course he had been! Just because the ghost usually went by Phantom didn’t mean it lacked a full name. No, when it had first introduced itself, it had called itself Danny Phantom. DP!

Cursing internally, Jack startled back to awareness when the Dora ghost moved. It floated closer to Phantom, inspecting the painting as well. Were ghosts vain creatures, then? Did Phantom pay them in paintings to play pretend with it? Then why would it be sending them to the Fentons as well? Was it trying to buy them? Buy their alliance, so they would no longer hunt it? Ha! As if!

“Oh, what a wonderful work again.” Dora smiled, an expression that was almost soft, if it hadn’t been on a ghost. “You did a very good job again, Sir Phantom.”

Phantom flushed bright green, and Jack took a moment to realize that it was a ghostly equivalent to blushing. How? Why? Ghosts didn’t feel emotions, why would they blush, especially to one another?

“Thanks,” Phantom stuttered back to the other ghost. “But it’s nothing special. And, um. Thank you for posing for me.”

“I already told you, it was no problem.” The other ghost floated a step or two away again, loosely shrugging. “I just hope the Fentons will like it, so you will finally be on good grounds with them.”

“I mean, um.” Phantom’s expression dropped into something Jack could only call an uncertain smile. “They, uh, don’t really care for them, I think? I believe they don’t think they’re real, and thus not useful.”

“But have you not been signing them as yours?” Dora insisted, a frown on its face. “Do they think that you are sending them false paintings of the Ghost Zone? Of your fellow ghosts?”

“Well, I, uh.” Phantom’s grin became even more harried. “I might’ve been signing them just as ‘DP’? I didn’t think they would trust them otherwise!”

Dora stared at the other ghost for a long moment, then clicked her tongue and shook her head. If it had been human, Jack would’ve said it was disappointed. But, since it was a ghost, it couldn’t possibly be. “Well, I suppose you know best. I wish you the best of luck with them, regardless.”

“Yeah, thanks.” Phantom nodded at the other ghost, and dismissed, it quickly left.

Now that it was just him and Phantom left, Jack knew he should be making a move. This was the perfect opportunity; Phantom was distracted, looking at the ground. Gathering its supplies, presumably.

But he couldn’t. No matter how much he wanted to, he couldn’t.

It was astounding. Absolutely confusing. Sure, Phantom’s obsession had always been questionable, never easily labeled, but still. No possible interpretation could cover for its drive to fight off other ghosts and for painting. Hell, it didn’t even try to fight off this particular ghost! No, the two of them had seemed quite friendly, and Phantom had even let it leave without confirming that it really did leave Amity Park.

And then Phantom stood upright, suddenly, a roughed-up backpack in one hand, art supplies clearly visible poking out. In its other hand, it held the new painting.

“Well, let’s go deliver this one,” it said, voice quiet like it was just talking to itself. “Who knows, maybe seeing a ghost they don’t recognize will be what convinces them!”

As if. And clearly Phantom thought so too, based on the tone of its voice. But then, if it was intelligent enough to know this (and apparently it was), why would it still go through with this? Why would it put in such effort, if it knew that it was futile?

Phantom lifted off before Jack could even consider shooting it down. Shot up into the sky, fading from visibility before long.

Knowing that there was no point in lingering anyway, Jack pushed his way out of the bushes, finally. Absentmindedly brushed the dirt from his knees. Lumbered back to the GAV.

He turned the key of the ignition, and the radar booted back up. No ghosts left in range. Dora must’ve returned to the Ghost Zone as it had said, and Phantom went… wherever it usually went when they couldn’t find it.

Like this whole thing had never happened.

His drive back home had been slower than usual. Maybe it really hadn’t happened. Maybe he had just… imagined all of it. As long as there was no proof that Phantom had painted that medieval ghost, that Dora, it might as well not have happened. Right?

The car came to a halt. Jack let himself back in the house.

“Oh, Jack!” Maddie looked up from the potatoes she was peeling. Right. Dinner. “A new painting came in. It was quite fascinating. A portrait of a ghost again, but I don’t recognize this one. Do you think that the artist came up with it themselves?”

He felt his heart stop.

Jack licked his lips, then asked, cautiously, “Is it a green-skinned ghost, with long blonde hair in a braid?”

“Yes.” Maddie put down the potatoes, immediately focusing on him. “How did you know? Did you run into the ghost?”

“Yeah. Both of them.” He shook his head, then let himself drop onto the sofa. He wasn’t going to have this conversation standing up. “DP is Phantom, Mads. I saw him in the park, and he was painting that other ghost.”

“Are you sure?” Maddie asked, but clearly she could tell he was telling the truth. “But why? And how is it making such high quality paintings? It isn’t related to its supposed obsession at all!”

“I don’t know.” And that was the big problem, wasn’t it? Whenever they thought they had Phantom figured out, it introduced some new detail, some new variable. They never knew everything they needed to know about it. “I don’t know, but I know what I saw. Phantom painted it, with the intention to give it to us, and the other ghost was okay with that.”

“It was?” She sat back down as well, the half-peeled potatoes now completely ignored. “But how-- why?! Not only did Phantom indulge in something unrelated to its obsession—art—but then it also completely went against its obsession by letting another ghost into the town!”

Jack snorted humorlessly. “And worse still, Phantom let the other ghost leave without keeping an eye on it to make sure it left. They seemed on friendly terms, too. Were discussing when they worked together in the past. It even called Phantom ‘Sir Phantom’.”

“Unbelievable.” Maddie shook her head, staring down unseeingly. “There’s no way that this could all tie into its obsession, but…”

“But ghosts can’t act outside of those obsessions, either.” Jack nodded, slowly. “So either the research is wrong, and ghosts aren’t bound to their obsessions like we thought…”

“Or Phantom breaks the norm, somehow.”

They met eyes. Jack licked his lips. “And we have no way of knowing.”

“Never mind the question of why it’s making these paintings. For us specifically, right?”

“Yup. Some of them, at least, were made just for us.” Jack drug the new painting closer to himself, staring at it. It was of superb quality, carefully painted, and a very close match to the ghost he had seen in the park. “Which leaves one more question. If this painting is real, have all the others been too?”

“Surely not?” But Maddie was clearly already running through all the other paintings they had received from Phantom. The landscapes, the other ghosts. All the portraits had depicted ghosts they had seen in Amity before, even if others had featured in the landscapes. “It could’ve tweaked them, made the landscapes seem more interesting. Maybe it’s trying to make the Ghost Zone seem more alluring, so we will go in and run into its trap.”

But Jack shook his head. “I don’t think so. There are better ways to get us to explore the Ghost Zone, and it clearly knew that we didn’t put any faith in them being real. As hard as it was trying to convince us, I can’t imagine that it would put so much effort into luring us out there. Especially since it could lure us away with other stuff, by kidnapping civilians or our kids, or, hell, maybe even by stealing one of our more intricate inventions. Lord knows it’s not above stealing our stuff.”

“No, it definitely isn’t,” Maddie agreed easily, a pensive frown on her face. “Still, I can’t think of any other reason why it might be sending us paintings. What use could that possibly have for it? What benefit could it earn from this?”

“Who knows, Mads.” Jack puffed out a heavy sigh. “Who knows.”

---

“Are you sure that this was a good idea?”

“Pfft, are you doubting me?” Danny rolled his eyes at Clockwork’s unimpressed stare. “It’ll be fine, and you weren’t telling me any better plans. You can’t make me doubt myself after I did it!”

“I think that you will find that I can, in fact, do that.” Clockwork’s lips twisted into a smirk.

Danny huffed. “Yeah, well. Thanks for nothing, old man.”

Clockwork fixed him with another unimpressed look, one eyebrow quirked, as his body shifted into his child-like form.

“I hate you,” Danny muttered, no heat behind his words. After the whole thing with his evil future self he had started visiting Clockwork more often, hoping for future knowledge, or at least hints on how not to bring about another apocalypse of his own making. Instead he’d been getting lessons on the Ghost Zone’s history, its geography, and ghost culture as a whole.

He’d complain about it, but it was kind of helpful to know. Besides, Clockwork wouldn’t steer him wrong.

Probably.

“Anyway, I had better head home, see what my parents thought of the new painting.” He paused, then dug his phone out of his pocket. “Wait, can I take a picture of you? To paint you later?”

“On one condition.” Clockwork shifted back into his adult form, gesturing for Danny to come closer. “Make it a picture of the both of us.”

“What, like a selfie?” Danny snorted, but huddled up next to the time ghost anyway. “I mean, I guess, but I was kind of hoping for a painting to give to my parents.”

Clockwork hummed, but didn’t reply. Danny rolled his eyes, but lifted his phone to snap a picture of the two of them anyway.

“Would it kill you to not be cryptic for once?”

“Yes,” Clockwork replied, deadpan. “How else would I have become a ghost?”

Danny snorted, flicking back on his phone’s screen to look at the photo. “Fair enough. Anyway, the pic looks fine, so… Are you sure I can’t snap one of you alone?”

“I am sure. Now get going,” Clockwork’s lips twisted into a smirk, “Wouldn’t want to be late, would you?”

“You’re the worst.” Danny stuffed his phone back into his pocket, floating over to the door of the Clocktower. “I’ll get you back someday, Clockwork!”

“Sure you will,” he said airily, the smirk still on his face. “Sure you will.”

Danny rolled his eyes but didn’t bother to reply, instead leaving the lair. Clockwork was so frustratingly cryptic, but he always told good advice. If he insisted Danny paint a selfie of the two of them, well… there must be some sort of reason for it.

Not that he could think of a reason, but still.

He made sure to turn himself invisible right before passing through the Portal, zipping into his parents’ lab unnoticed. It was a good thing that they had never installed ghost scanners near the Portal, because that would’ve made life so much harder for him.

Huh. No one downstairs. He peeked over at the clock, but it wasn’t dinner time just yet. His mom might be working on it already, but his dad should still be downstairs, right? Strange.

Intangibly passing through the ceiling, he found himself in the living room. Ah, and there were his parents. And his new painting of Dora! Maybe they were discussing what to do now that they figured out that he really was painting the truth.

“It just… It doesn’t make any sense,” his mom said complaintively. She gestured at the painting, almost knocking over the pan with peeled potatoes on the table. “Why would Phantom paint these for us? What’s the point? What kind of benefit is it hoping to get from this?!”

“I don’t know.” His dad straightened up, looking at Danny. No, straight through him, at some of the framed paintings on the wall behind him. “If it were human, or following human logic, it might be… trying to help us understand the Ghost Zone? Paint more of it so we don’t have to go explore there? But even then… We’re not on good standings. Why would it try to help us?”

“Exactly.” Maddie heaved a sigh, then picked up her knife and an unpeeled potato, starting to peel it. “With a human, it could a sign of… of trying to better our relationship. But a ghost? They can’t experience such feelings, such desires, can they?”

“But neither can they pick up a hobby like painting if it’s unrelated to their obsession,” Jack pointed out, shrugging his massive shoulders. “I don’t know if we can dismiss any options, Mads.”

“No, I suppose not.” She dropped the peeled potato in the pot, picking up a new one. “We could try assembling a list of possible intentions later, and then try to cross them off one by one, based on Phantom’s behavior and reactions.”

His dad hummed a note of approval, and, figuring this was a good moment to stop eavesdropping, Danny resumed his earlier flight. Phasing into his room, he finally dropped his ghost form, noiselessly landing on the floor.

“Man. I can’t believe they figured that out,” he mumbled to himself. “How could I… Oh.”

He dug his phone out of his pocket, digging up the picture he just took. “Clockwork knew, obviously. And he… wants me to make a painting of the two of us.”

Danny made a face, then shrugged. “Well, I suppose there’s no harm in it. He’s never led me wrong. Unless he’s been resetting the timeline every time he did, but, well. Details.”

Dragging his ragged backpack to his desk, Danny spread out his art supplies. Straightened out a new piece of paper, laid out his phone for reference, and started painting.

Maybe he could include a little note with this one? Write it on the back, or something?

Yeah, maybe that would work…

---

Jack paused, the few letters he’d already leaved through barely hanging on. Was this…

He dropped the other letters, until the only thing left in his hands was the painting. An all new painting, the same style as all the other ones, but the subject matter…

“Mads!” he yelled, not looking away from the painting. “Mads, we got a new one!”

“We do?” Her voice echoed up the stairs, quickly followed by the sound of footsteps as she stormed up. Then she came up next to him, saw the painting, and paused as well.

He couldn’t blame her. Phantom must’ve somehow known that they had figured it out, or it gave up on subtlety.

The new painting depicted two ghosts, huddled up next to each other. Phantom’s arm was outstretched, as if the painting had been snapped like a photo. Maybe it was based on a photo. Next to Phantom was a large ghost Jack didn’t recognize; blue skinned, with empty red eyes and a purple cloak.

No, the focus of the picture was Phantom. It smiled at the camera, but it wasn’t its characteristic smirk. It was more like a genuine cheery smile, matched by a faint smile on the other ghost’s face.

Jack flipped the paper over, wondering if Phantom had signed it as usual. Instead he was surprised to find actual written text.

“A letter?” Maddie asked, leaning in closer. Jack held it out slightly so they could both read it.

“Dear Fentons,” the letter read, the handwriting scribbly like that of most teens, but still legible.

“I’ve been given to understand that you two have figured out that I’m the one making these paintings for you. And I understand that that’s probably pretty concerning, since you’re… not all that pleased with me and my… general existence. Some of the things I have done have been framed badly, yes, and sometimes I cause damage in my fights. Who doesn’t? But no matter what you think, or what this city thinks, I always try my best to protect everyone in this town. And I’m just one ghost, in the end. Even with Red around, I would feel much safer knowing that there are other ghost hunters around. And not just hunters, scientists, who understand how ghosts work, and who could teach others. So I tried to help you with that, tried patching your gaps of knowledge with some of my own. Only you did not realize it was based on the truth, because you didn’t know it was me, and now that you do… I fear that you still do not trust any of the information I’ve tried to teach you. So… I guess what I’ve been trying to say is…”

“Can I do anything else to help, to convince you?”

Jack startled, cursed, and dropped the letter. He twisted around to find Phantom floating behind them, its glow flickering.

“Phantom,” Maddie said, cautiously. Her hand crept to her hip holster, but it was a lost cause; she didn’t carry weapons in the lab. Too big of a risk of a malfunctioning invention setting them off.

“I’m serious,” the ghost insisted, its glow brightening slightly. It still flickered like a candle. Jack wondered why, since it didn’t seem like the ghost was hurt or otherwise hampered in strength. “I want to help you guys with your research. Without, y’know, dissection stuff. I know you haven’t been in the Zone, and I really wouldn’t recommend it because that place is dangerous, but come on! I can teach you all kinds of stuff; ghost society, culture, history--”

“Ghosts can’t have any of those things, though,” Maddie interrupted, eyes narrowed. “They don’t even have emotions. They act only on obsessions. That leaves no room for-- for society, or culture, or whatever else!”

“Oh, come on, you don’t seriously believe that, do you?” Phantom huffed, crossing its arms, and looking seriously peeved off. The glow flickered even more wildly, now. Was it… Could a ghost’s glow express emotion like that? “If I could only ever think about my supposed obsession, why would I make paintings like that? Huh?”

“Your supposed obsession?” Jack questioned, keeping a close eye on Phantom’s aura. “Are you implying that you don’t have an actual obsession?”

“No? Nobody has obsessions like you’ve described them.” Phantom shrugged, and its aura dimmed a little. Hmm, perhaps brightness was related to anger? But then what could the flickering be? Uncertainty? Anxiety? “Plenty of ghosts are obsessed, sure, but it’s no different from a human who is super obsessed with something. Like a hyperfixation, I guess. It certainly won’t kill them to do something else.”

“So if someone stopped you from fighting other ghosts, from protecting this town, you wouldn’t… It wouldn’t do you any harm?” Maddie asked, watchful eyes on Phantom.

“Well, no.” The ghost shrugged again. Its glow flickered harder. “I mean, if someone got hurt I would probably feel kinda guilty about it, but… I mean, nothing I could’ve done about it if someone stopped me.”

“I suppose that that makes sense,” Jack said before Maddie could speak. He wasn’t quite sure that Phantom was telling the truth about obsessions, but they were certainly wrong about the emotional capabilities of ghosts. Besides the interactions he had seen between Phantom and Dora in the park, there was no reason for them to express emotions via their glow; no human could understand that. It could only be used to communicate emotions with other ghosts. “I mean, I guess your obsession could be to be helpful, which would explain why you would learn painting to help us, but still. We were wrong about your emotional range. Who says we weren’t about obsessions, too?”

Phantom made a face, then shrugged a third time. “Eh, good enough for me. But, really, I would love to help you guys with your research by providing more knowledge.”

“Why would you send us paintings, anyway?” Maddie frowned, clearly confused. “Clearly you can take pictures, since this last one was obviously based on one. Why not send those directly?”

The ghost shrugged, then smiled sheepishly. “Well, uh. First of all, I really like painting and I could use the practice. And second, ghost stuff just doesn’t photograph well. The pictures didn’t do justice to the real things, so I figured I could paint them more alike.”

“I see,” Jack said, ignoring the sharp looks Maddie kept throwing him. “Well, we’ll think about it, okay? And we’ll let you know.”

Phantom’s glow flickered again, like a disturbed candle, but then the ghost nodded. “Sure. That’s more than I had expected, to be honest. See you guys around, then.”

The ghost raised a hand, then faded from visibility.

“And Phantom,” Jack shouted after him, assuming the ghost was still within hearing distance, “don’t enter our home without permission!”

“Yes sir!” an invisible voice chirped back, followed by the sensation of wind as the ghost flew away.

Maddie shot him an unamused look, but he shrugged. “Look, Mads. We clearly misstepped somewhere in our previous research. It’s undeniable that they have emotions, so maybe we were wrong about more?”

She watched him for a moment longer, then heaved a sigh. “If you say so, honey, you must have your reasons. At the very least we could hear him out, I suppose.”

“He’s not a bad kid,” Jack allowed, as he turned back to head towards the lab. “Definitely has a talent for painting, that one!”

[windvexer]

Sorry to butt in very late but who is lobrax, exactly?

Lobrax is the creator of the Sun, Moon, and Stars.

He was hatched from the First Egg by Aedelia who lives Between Time.

He is the rainbow serpent of fate, god of love and cooking. His holographic scales are the reality within which we live.

He is chased at all times by Rando Cardrissian, the agent of true chaos, who loves Lobrax and yearns to embrace him.

And when that embrace finally comes, the universe will end and Lobrax will go back into his egg to wait for the day that Aedelia finds him again.

lore in notes

how to celebrate lobraxfast

[dp-marvel94]

The Same Type of Ghost- Chapter 1

Summary: Deep in the Infinite Realms, something writhed. And only Clockwork can help.

Word Count: 2136

Chapter 1(Here) -> Chapter 2 -> Chapter 3

Also on AO3

Note: For @everystarstorm @modordracena @five-rivers

For Phic Phight 2023. Welcome to my first entry for phic phight this year! Have some eldritch horror and a bunch of angst for this first chapter. As you'll see from the tags, Clockwork comes next chapter to makes things better. Below are all the prompts I'm using for this, though not all are relvant for this first part.

The clones are back, how are they no longer goop? Kibby | everystarstorm | _ | StarStorm21 | _ (Team Human)

Soft and cozy body horror. (Yes borrowing that phrase from Rivers because it’s good and I always want more.) Modor Dracena | Genevieve#6101 | modordracena | ModorDracena (Team Human)

Horror, but soft and cozy with lots of sensation. Five-rivers | FiveRivers | five-rivers | Marsalias | FiveRivers (Team Ghost)

Clockwork knew about Danielle of course, he knew everything. But knowing about her was not enough to prepare him for the full force of her puppy-eyes when she came to him asking for help. Aedelia | Aedelia#2626 | aedelia | neokid93 | neokid93 (team Ghost)

Clockwork is DEFINITELY not sick, stressed, tired, or overwhelmed. The idea of an incredibly powerful ghost with control over time itself experiencing anything like that is ridiculous! Everything is fine, and anything that implies otherwise is mere coincidence.Lurking | Lurking🕓🍁#5333 | Currentlylurking| currentlylurking | (Team Human)

Also, an important note. This story is canon to my "Life and Death is all Perspective Series" set after Drifters (the story where Prometheus, the muscly frankenstein clone is the main character). It assumes that all the clones have been reunited at some point in the future. A main focus here is Prometheus' experience in Vlad's lab before his death, when he saw a lot of other clones destabilize and as the oldest and most stable, tried very had to make sure none of them were alone as they passed.

Deep in the Infinite Realms, something writhed. 

“Stop! NO! Stop!!” A scream of agony.

Pained whispers. “No. No. Please.” 

“Master? Where’s? Where’s... No. No.” Frantic rambles.

“Why?! Why?! Why?!” Weeping sobs.

So many voices- screaming, crying, whispering, wailing- at once. Too many hands… one, three, fifteen, fifty. Reaching, gasping, touching. 

What was… No…. That’s not…. Why…. Thoughts caught and released, shifting like so many limbs.

Limbs? Two hands touched, combined. Smaller? Smaller! Yes! No. Good…. Bad?! What…. What. Why….

A wet, sunking noise. Black, white, green mass of ectoplasmic flesh undulated. One leg divided into two. Too many limbs. Twisting. Growing. Dwindling. 

Another head budded, rising up from the mass. A new mouth opened, a wordless moan of sorrow.

A flash of memory flickered. Needle in the neck. Knives. Red blood, seeping from a gash. Cracked bones. Green… so much green. Like….

Eyes darted – green, blue, red, black, white -- dozens on every surface. 

Can’t… focus. What… where. NO! NO! 

The surroundings… almost familiar. So much green. But where…

“ Stop! Hurts! Please make stop!” A mouth cried.

Can’t…. Focus. Too much. Too many…. Too many directions. Nothing makes…. Pain!... Why!... We didn’t…. Where is….

A cry in front of-

All eyes darted forward, alert. A cry, not from we-me-us-I but….  

Focus! A tall, muscular figure. Scarred with tears in his green eyes. 

One head tilted in curiously. Then a second…. Wait. We know….

Dozens of memories slotted into place. Strong arms, holding, caressing. Fingers, wiping away tears. A gentle, deep voice. And the words….

“I’m not gonna… not gonna leave you. I’m… I’m right here.” A focused watery smile, a finger moving to whip away the tear. “You’re not alone.”

Recognition. All eyes focused on the face, black tendrils reaching out to touch, to grab. Malformed limbs encased the other, smaller figure.

 All voices spoke as one. “Brother?”

“How much farther, Ellie?” The girl turned at the question, taking in Prometheus’ raised brow as he continued. “We’ve been flying for a long time now.” Nervous eyes flickered around the green atmosphere, dotted with a few floating rocks and distant purple-green clouds, but mostly empty. “I’ve never been out this far.”

“We’re almost there.” Ellie offered her larger clone brother a comforting smile. “Twenty minutes or so. See that chunk of rock.” She pointed. “That’s where we’re going.”

The muscular clone nodded. “Alright.” Some of the tension leaked out of him, the question casual. “What exactly did you want me to see anyway?”

The girl’s smile morphed into a grimace, the memory flickering in her mind. The distant cry of pain, the writhing mass of black and green, all the blinking eyes…. Ellie shook her head, forcing the disturbing image away. “You’ll see….” 

Pro wrinkled his nose, the skeptical look making dread and guilt sink like a stone in her gut.

The smaller clone looked down; she would have shuffled awkwardly, dragging a shoe across the ground if there had been any. “I thought…. I might know what it is… whatever I saw.”

That… creature, if that was what it had been. That thing she’d seen from a distance and fled from, full of fear and dread… There had been something oddly familiar about it. Later, when she’d arrived at their lair, Ellie knew she had to investigate and somehow… Pro had to be the one to go with her. 

The taller clone accepted the statement with a sigh, flying forward to hover at her side. An arm briefly wrapped around her in a side hug. “Let’s get going then.”

The rocky island loomed larger and larger in Ellie’s vision. She still couldn’t see anything yet but… her ear twitched. A noise, quiet under the roaring winds of the Realms. The sound of crying…

The girl swallowed, core heavy in her chest. They still needed to get closer but-

“What’s that?” Pro’s hand on her shoulder paused her flight.

Slowly, he pointed. Ellie’s eyes widened. There, along the bottom of the island, almost completely blocked by the rock…. Something squirmed.

A scream pierced the air.

“Pro! Wait!” The larger ghost dashed in front of her and Ellie cursed herself. She should have told her brother about this; the creature had screamed like that this last time. 

Ellie hurried after Prometheus, quickly approaching the island. He dipped down, curving to the side to approach the source of movement from below. 

Another wail. The smaller ghost covered her ears, eyes focused on her brother. His wide eyes darted, searching for the origin of the sound. 

Where was it? It should have been right in front of them. Ellie’s stomach knotted. This was a horrible idea. But… 

A wet snapping noise sounded.

The girl froze, ears drawn to the sound. She didn’t… she didn’t want to look. Something green and sticky dripped past her. God. She didn’t want to look. That… that couldn’t be….

Slowly, as if by a spell, her head tilted up. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Prometheus do the same. 

Both clones stared.

Prometheus couldn’t look away. Eyes wide, body frozen, he couldn’t move, couldn’t look away from… from…. He couldn’t describe it. Or maybe, it was too horrible to describe. 

The mass of flesh… constantly moving, fluctuating. It looked… wet. Or gummy. Sticky? So much green…. Arms sprouted, legs, flashes of hair. Eyes blinked, stared, wept. And the noise….

“Make stop! Make stop!” “No. No. Please.” “Master? Where’s? Where’s... No. No.” “Why?! Why?! Why?!”

Blood curdling screams. Crazed rambles. Haunted whisper. Excruciating wailing.

It…. god, this was too much. Too horrible. Nausea rose, tears welling in his eyes. This was… this was horrible. He… he needed to get away. He needed to get his sister way. This was… this was wrong. But…. 

“ Stop! Hurts! Please make stop!”

Prometheus recoiled, a choked sound, part-sob and part-scream exiting his throat. His stomach twisted, a sick sense of familiarity. 

Suddenly, all the monsters' eyes darted forward, focused on him. One head tilted, then another. A breathless pause and…

Black tendrils reach out.

Panikedly, Pro tried to pull away.  “Hey! What are you-”  Slimy, misty, sticky limbs wrapped around his torso.

The larger clone frozen, core locked in blind terror. He shook, mind spinning and blank. Behind him, Ellie screamed. The malformed arms-legs-tails tighten around him. A small, hysterical thought…. He was going to die again.

But… every eye- red, blue, green- fixed on him, the massive body freezing.

“Brother?” The word was gibberish to Prometheus’s ears, mind unable to comprehend. The squeezing lessened into something almost tender….. Like an embrace. “Brother.” Recognition sparked in the hundreds of eyes. A dozen voices speaking at once. “Brother was there. Brother holds. Brother protects. Brother loves.” 

Prometheus trembled, mind crashing to a stop. “Wha…what?” Throat hardly able to form words.

“Shhhh.” The massive creature shushed him, one tendril extending to caress his back. “I’m not gonna… not gonna leave you. I’m… I’m right here.” One face… the painfully familiar face in front of him, forced a watery smile. “You’re not alone.”

Those words…. Prometheus had said those words to… to… The clone’s eyes widened, understanding crashing over him. “No.” The word brimmed with dread.

“Let him go!” An ectoblast slashed into the creature, Ellie finally pulled out of her stupor. 

The monster, the creature let out a cry.

Pro barely registered. “No. No. It can’t…”

It couldn’t be. It couldn’t!

“I said let him go!” Another shot from his sister. 

A confused whine. “Let… go? No.” A head shook. “No! Yes! Let him go. Hurt brother bad!” The grip tightened. “No! Brother stay. Need brother.” 

Prometheus let out a whimper, tear spilling. “No. You’re… you’re not….”

A set of the creatures’ eyes widened in alarm. “We hurt brother. No… accident. Didn’t mean… Bad! Let go.” The being writhed. “We need! No!” The voices echoed, fluctuating. “Yes! Let go.” Tendrils tighten, lossen, tighten.

Another ectoblast from Ellie. “You, listen! Let Pro go!”

Prometheus shook, core in his throat. It hurt. It hurt. The shadowy limbs hurt. But…. but this… this was worse. The truth, what was happening… it wasn’t possible

“No! Yes! What… why? Brother…. Where?” The voices…. So many voices, arguing. “Why?! Why?! Why?!”

The creature shook, movement returning. Heads, limbs sprouting and disappearing. The mass of appendages holding Prometheus twitched…. The abomination less let-go-off, more threw the older clone.

Prometheus tumbled, hand over foot, chest heaving with emotion. 

“Pro!” Ellie darted after him.

The larger clone slammed into a small shelf of rock.

“Are you okay?” Her eyes are wide with worried.

Wobbly, Pro pulled himself to his feet. He felt… felt sick. Head shaking, stomach heaving. “No. Ellie. No. I’m…I’m…” Bending over, he threw up. 

The smaller ghost jumped back. Her eyes popped wider, panicked. “It hurt you.”

Frantically, his head shook in denial. “No. No. That’s not. It… They didn’t… didn’t hurt me. That’s not…” The taller ghost whipped his mouth. “Ellie…” The word came out so pained. “It’s… That’s them…. All the… All the..” Another heave. “All our brothers that die. They’re there. They’re right here. They’re over there. But… But… they’re stuck together.”

Prometheus’ legs wobbled, falling to his knees. “This is… this is so wrong. It’s so wrong. It’s…” In the background, the creature’s argument with itself has devolved back into incomprehensible noise.

This was… this was a nightmare. A nightmare. All the… the brothers he had held as they died, comforted as their bodies failed. The memories flashed in his mind. All the blood and ectoplasm. Deep cuts, scapals, needles, vials of liquid. The cries, the screams, the eerie silence. The begging.

Please make stop! Make stop!  

Pro shook. He’d been there. He’d held, he’d comforted as they died. He’d whispered words of comfort the best he could. And once he’d…. He listened to the begging and with the needle and drugs, put the poor brother out of his misery. He’d died.  They’d all died. They were… they were all dead and gone.

But they were all still here, all right here. In that… that thing, that abomination, that affront to nature. His insides twisted. All those memories, those bodies, those souls forced together. It was… it was wrong. It was sick. It was… it was cruel. It was… bile rose in his throat, eyes falling over the corrupt, twisted, warped mass. This… this terrible unholy conglomeration. 

There were no words for how horrible it was, never enough tears of the injustice, the perversion of how things were supposed to be. He’d already.. He’d already faced this grief. The reality that all those brothers were gone. They were dead, the only solace that they were no longer in pain. Except….

The grotesque amalgamation….  They were weeping-screaming-crying in pain. 

Pro shook his head, his nauseous feeling melting away. “They’re.. They’re in so much pain.” No. No. No. That was worse, so much worse than then just being gone. The wrongness, the affront to nature he could handle -He was a full ghost clone of a half ghost for crying out loud; the definition of what was natural must be much larger than when he was foolish enough to think. But this…. “They’re hurting… hurting so much.” A desperate compassion crowded his core “I need to help them. There.. There has to be a way to help them.”

For a long moment, Ellie stood, a shaking hand covering her mouth. She stared into the distance, her eyes unseeing. Until… “What?” The words finally stirred her back to life.

“I have to help them.” Prometheus repeated, conviction filling his voice.

The girl’s eyes flickered from him to the being, wide and afraid. “How?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

Head shaking. “This was a mistake. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have brought us here.”

“No!” Pro suddenly stood. “No! We… we needed to find them. We found them for a reason. They need… need our help.”

An agonizing wail behind the pair… Ellie flinched. “Pro. We can’t… there’s nothing we can do.”

Prometheus’ mind raced, desperate. “There has to be..” Fresh tears spilled down his face.

And at their back…

“Brother! Brother! Where are you?! Where’d he… alone… alone!” A sob. “Hurts! Hurt! Please!”

Pro turned, trembling with emotion. “They… they need me.”

Ellie stared, unable to process as the monstrous abomination half-crawled, half-swam forward. Again, tendrils reached for Pro. But this time, the larger ghost fell into them, weeping and blubbering desperate comforts.

Empty despair. Helplessness. All she could hope was Pro crying himself out and being able to get him away from the creature. She… she needed help. She had to get her brother away from this abomination even if… even if it at one point in time, had been… had been….

It struck like lightning. “Time…” Her eyes widened, an idea catching.  “Clockwork…” She zoomed away. “We need Clockwork. He’ll… he’ll help.”

Note: I hope you enjoyed that angst fest. 😅 Things will get better next chapter, once Clockwork shows up, I promise. I don't know when that chapter will be out though. Next week looks very busy for me, just like this week was. Finding time to get this part out was a struggle. :( But I really wanted to get something posted for this event before too late in the month. As always, feel free to let me know what you think. If you need any clarification about my weird idea, feel free to ask too. 😅

[goliath-de-senfina-sango]

Book Rants

AO3

The night air was cool, and the street clear of most foot traffic and normal traffic.  His tea was warm in the thermos against his hand, papers graded in his briefcase, and Edward found himself feeling rather content that Thursday evening.  So, when he heard a vaguely familiar voice proclaim, “most ridiculous book I’ve ever read,” he decided that he might as well fill the time between now and his heading to bed with a bit of conversation.  Freshmen English papers weren’t exactly the most exciting things to keep one up at night after all.

Heading in the direction of the voice, Edward found himself catching the moonlight glow of Danny Phantom’s aura casting odd shadows and lights across the grass and trees of the park while he hovered in the air and glared at a book.  “I don’t get it, what’s the damn point of it?  Aren’t stories about petty revenge supposed to come with a moral?”

“Not necessarily, Mr. Phantom.”  Phantom spun around in a fluid motion that had his face sliding into place where the back of his head was before the rest of him turned and Edward did his best to quell the shiver that ran down his spine at the sight.  Being a ghost must’ve dulled Phantom’s awareness of body horror. “Sorry to startle you.”

“That’s ok,” he said quietly, chuckling.  “I don’t typically spook so easily.”

“I’m certain you don’t,” Edward sighed.  “If I may ask, Mr. Phantom, what story were you referring to?”

Phantom blinked a few times and tilted his head, then held up a book slowly.  “The Cask of Amontillado.  I don’t get what the point is.”  Phantom huffed, shaking the book as though doing so would intimidate meaning from its contents.  “A guy starves his friend to death by tricking him into thinking he’s gonna taste test a bunch of wine because he thinks he was insulted.  There’s no lesson I can think of besides ‘don’t trust rich people’ which anyone should know anyways.”

“Mmm.”  Edward chuckled and shook his head at the pout on the powerful ghostly hero that protected the town.  “Have you considered, Mr. Phantom, that the story’s point is just how messed up it’d be if that happened?”  Phantom stared at him, perplexed, and Edward laughed.  “Have you ever seen the Twilight Zone?”

“A few episodes, yeah.”

“Are there morals to those stories?”

“Uh… some of them?”  That was an interesting piece of information to have about their resident guardian.  As was the fact that he read in his spare time.

“The majority, however, those have a very simple moral to them, which is that they have no moral.”

“I- yeah, there’s a few that are just ‘wouldn’t that be fucked up’ but I didn’t think some ‘classic literature’ would be like that.  Or that an English teacher would ever admit that there wasn’t any real hidden meaning to it all in a book.  Isn’t that your job, to find something that’s not really there?”

Edward snorted and shook his head.  “A common misconception amount students, I assure you.”  He took a sip of his tea and Phantom flicked his wrist.  A chair woven out of ectoplasm and light appeared beside the vice principal and Phantom did a little fist pump.

“Feel free to convince me otherwise.”  Well, a chance to chat with the resident hero was hardly something most people got.  So he did.

[phandomphightclub]

Round 1 Match 13:  @aedelia vs. @heyheyitsstillgay

Writer: @ecto-american

“Up next, we're gonna see how new phighter @aedelia stands against phighter veteran @heyheyitsnotgay!”

“Engarde!” Aedelia declared, wielding her tablet pen with a broken nib as if it were a sword. “I have the power of Clockwork and a cartoon that ended in 2007 on my side!”

She stabbed her tablet pen at Anri before throwing it at them as if the pen was a throwing knife. Anri summoned a danno edit, a shield. The pen got stuck in the shield. Anri flung the shield like a Frisbee. Aedelia caught it, and she held it up.

Anri got another danno edit, one of the most powerful types: danno on a stick. They threw it at Aedelia. The absolute power and force of the danno on a stick sent Aedelia backwards, out of the ring.

“I haven't seen such a use for a danno on a stick in a long time,” Nick declared. Danny squinted at the weapons as they laid discarded on the Denny's floor. “Simply nothing, not even Clockwork, can match the power of danno on a stick. Actually, we may need a medic to make sure she's okay. Rye? We have a Code Danno Stick situation.”

“Is that...my face? On a stick?” he asked.

“Legally, we have to say no so that Bitch Fartman can't sue us,” Nick replied.

“You literally are calling it 'danno on a stick',” Sam pointed out.

“It counts as parody, what are you anyway? A ghost cop?” Nick questioned. “Anyway! There you have it! Heyheyitsnotgay wins!”

[aedelia]

Looking at you Fanfic authors.

@five-rivers  You know what you did

@bibliophilea You also earned one of these