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five-rivers · 14 hours
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five-rivers · 15 hours
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When will AO3 be back from the war
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five-rivers · 1 day
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“It’s safe to approach?” Bruce asked, gesturing to the pentagram and its teenage ghost resident.
“Yep” Constantine turned his back on the pentagram he’d drawn and cleared his throat, “Uh yes, sorry. It’s triple layered, so he couldn’t do anything even if he wanted-“
Bruce could only watch as Clark shot forward, only he was too late to stop the projectile that pegged the occult detective in the back of the head.
“Ow! The fuck was that!”
The object rolled to a stop, revealing itself to be a single black and white converse. Bruce’s gaze snapped to the spiritual prison, only to find its resident sprawled out lazily on the floor with a wide grin and a mysteriously missing a left shoe.
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five-rivers · 1 day
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Last Call to sign up for Phic Phight!
The form closes tonight at Midnight EST! If you're on the fence about joining, here's some food for thought.
If you join and don't write anything, that's okay!
You can comment on the fics others have written to get points that way!
You'll get to see all our prompts before the end of April, and this year they're all very good.
You'll get to enter your own prompts and read fics based off of them!
Every time someone joins the event @currentlylurking cries tears of joy.
We're all very excited for April 1st, but please remember when signing up to click the link at the end of the form and join our discord! We're working to streamline the event more and more every year, so we won't be contacting people on tumblr to tell them their teams.
If you signed up and are not in the discord, reach out to us and we'll get you in.
Happy year five of Phic Phight, everyone. We're so excited to see what you'll do.
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five-rivers · 2 days
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Danny Phantom is a solidly okay, so-so kind of cartoon, unless you have specific Danny Phantom-shaped receptors in your brain, in which case it is sublime
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five-rivers · 3 days
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Dream Lantern Chapter 2
I said I'd work on something unreasonably ambitious.
AO3 link.
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The boy had grown quiescent since leaving the serpent behind.  No doubt entranced by the exquisite untruths revealed by Falsehood's token.  With the connection Nocturne had forged between themself and his dreams, they could feel his awareness softening, memory unspooling, as he tended to something more akin to sleepwalking than waking dreams.  
With a delicate touch of power, they shaped the tone of his dreams into something more agreeable to them.  A veneer of cooperation that would, in Phantom's current state, seem completely solid.  They did not need another incident like that with Falsehood.  
Nocturne should have remembered what they had told themself earlier.  The boy wasn’t stupid.  Young, yes, naive, yes, ignorant, yes, uneducated, yes, yes, yes, and a hundred more things besides, but not stupid.  And he most certainly counted Nocturne as not only an enemy, but a dishonorable one.  
Correctly, of course.  At least from his perspective.  The rules of conflict Nocturne followed were not ones Phantom would consider fair, but they were still rules, and ones that had been codified long before Phantom was even a twinkle in his parents’ eyes.  
Even so.  Nocturne hadn’t been planning on simply letting Phantom’s kin go.
Phantom was both useful and dangerous.  Hostages could help ensure he stayed the former while reducing the latter quality.  But now…  The child didn't have a reputation for vengeance, had never hunted down an enemy that wasn't a trespasser, rarely did more damage than was necessary for capture, and released all his enemies, even Nocturne.
But.  Phantom was still a ghost.  And ghosts could hold grudges for spans of time that far exceeded human lives.  
Nocturne would have to keep an eye out for both the mechanism through which Falsehood would twist reality, and a means by which they could effectively contain Phantom even without the threat of keeping his family asleep.  
Although, they could simply release Phantom’s family now.  Avoid whatever Falsehood might otherwise do.  
That felt like losing.  
Nocturne didn’t like to lose.  
There would be a way around it, of that Nocturne was sure.  ‘Letting go’ could have so many wonderful meanings, after all.  Who was to say it was Nocturne who turned to them?  It might as well be considered one of Falsehood’s many tricks as one of Nocturne’s.  
But that had to be left for later.  
Phantom mumbled something at them that was so indistinct even they could not interpret it.  They reached for Phantom's dreams and hesitated for the merest of moments.  
Manipulating a human's dreams like this - the waking dreams, the sleepwalking, the sleeptalking, not to mention the content of the dreams themselves - could have lasting effects on that human.  Permanent ones.  Lifelong bouts of sleeptalking and sleepwalking, recurring dreams, night terrors, sleep paralysis, insomnia, narcolepsy.  Who knew what it would do to a half ghost?
Who cared?
Old conventions were merely that.  Never had they been codified into any laws, only loose systems of ethics followed by those now long gone.  And even then, there had been situations where conventions had to be circumvented, or ignored entirely.
Perhaps Phantom would talk in his sleep for the rest of his unnatural life.  Perhaps he would be beset by night terrors so hideous as to make his waking life seem paradisiacal.  Perhaps his dreaming soul would leave his body every night to wander the Dream Wilds alone, tethered only by fragile silver cord.  What did any of that matter in comparison to what stood to be gained?
What did it matter, when the ones who had established those old conventions, who had maintained those old traditions, were long gone, less even than dust on the wind?
Nocturne teased Phantom’s dreams into a closer connection with his voice.  They were thick and rich, heavy, and becoming heavier.  Falsehood’s token had done what it was meant to, and even after such a short time, Phantom’s light was strengthening.  The colors around them were growing brighter, the distance they stretched before fading back into the Plains becoming greater, the complexity of the surrounding forms increasing, gaining layers.  
Phantom turned towards Nocturne and… didn’t look at them.  Not really.  
Falsehood’s scales were no longer visible on Phantom’s face, having long since sunk into his skin, but his eyes were firmly closed and would remain so, unless he woke.  Nocturne did not intend to allow Phantom to wake.
Despite that, Phantom most likely saw some of the features of their surroundings better than Nocturne themself.  After all, he was the one dreaming them up.  
“It’s so pretty,” said Phantom.  His words were slightly lisped, making their childishness stand out even more.  "It's pretty here."
“I suppose,” said Nocturne, rolling their eyes.  
"So pretty," repeated Phantom, and Nocturne sighed.  Of course it would be something inane, but, unfortunately, this type of dream manipulation wasn't something they could toggle on and off, so inanity it was.  
"We are searching for the sister of Falsehood," said Nocturne instead.  The child had likely forgotten already.
"Who's, hm, who's Falsehood?  Funny name…"
"The serpent."
"Ohhhhhh.  He has a sister?  Do you have like… a thing for snakes?"
"The sister of Falsehood is Longing," said Nocturne.  "Desire.  And if she should take the form of a snake, it is because you made her so.  Think on how to find her, and show me the path."
"Why?"
"We must collect her token to proceed on our path."
"No, I mean, why's she Falsehood’s sister, and not, like, truth or something?"
"There is no truth in dreams," said Nocturne. 
Phantom made a soft noise, one that even Nocturne couldn't interpret.  They glanced down at Phantom, then paused, their eyes drawn to where part of Phantom's tail had slipped free of the blankets Nocturne had wrapped around him.  
While Falsehood's scales weren't visible on Phantom’s eyes, charcoal black and pale silver scales were starting to appear on his tail.  Nocturne shifted the lantern to a better viewing angle.  Not only did Phantom have scales, but those scales were glowing, and growing brighter, brighter.  
Hah.  A little glow worm.  Or a glow snake.  The light in their lantern.  
Soon.  Soon, Phantom would be able to show them the path they must take to Longing.  They only had to be patient for a little while longer.  They only had to want it for a little while longer.  
.
Danny felt both very heavy and very light at the same time.  He supposed the heaviness came from sleep, from the dreams all around them, from the blankets that were chains, and from whatever Nocturne had done to him, and the lightness must just be because he was in ghost form, but that didn’t quite feel like the correct answer.
The tip of his tail lashed back and forth restlessly.  He didn't mean to form his tail, but sometimes it just happened.  The tail, that is.  When he was flying, and stuff like that.  
It felt different, though.  It felt… longer than usual, maybe?  More…  Maybe like he could feel more with it, somehow?  There was a word for that, he thought.  Tactile?
But he was supposed to be doing something.  Something important.  Helping.  He liked helping.  Helping was a good thing to do.  Everyone said so.  Today… tonight?  Tonight, he was helping Nocturne.  
He didn't like Nocturne very much.  Nocturne had done some not nice things.  But they seemed to be trying to be nicer today.  Sometimes, people did try to be different.  So.  Danny was helping.  He liked helping.  
It was very pretty here.  He was sure he'd told Nocturne this already, but just in case, he said it again.  
Nocturne did something that superficially looked like rolling their eyes, but that Danny was sure indicated approval of Danny's observations.  Deep down.  
Movement in the trees caught Danny's attention, and he shifted slightly, tracking it.  There were flashes of blue and orange.  Familiar blue and orange and– feathers?  No.  Fabric.  But– No.  No, it couldn't be.  Couldn't.  There was a feeling, in the back of his mind, that he knew very well why it couldn't be, but he couldn't touch it.  Not beyond his fear about what them being here meant.  
“We're so proud of you, Danny.”
His whole body went stiff, tense, alert.  He knew that voice, those voices, but how could they be here?  He whipped his head around, frantic, trying to spot their source.  The heaviness– he tried to throw it off, but couldn’t.  It slowed his movement, keeping him from getting up and searching, and finding.  
“You've done so much good.  You've done so well.”
He whined.  Too many trees, too many branches, too close together.  He couldn't see.  
“We're so glad you told us, so glad we can see you.”
This time, he caught sight of hazmat, and he lunged at the side of the cage, desperate to get even a little closer to his parents.  But… his tail dragged strangely at the cloth all around him.  
For a moment he paused, splayed out on his stomach, back arched by the curve of the pillows, one hand reaching up towards the bars even as he looked back over his shoulder at his tail.  It was longer than usual, and less transparent.  More solid, too.  Almost more snak–
"Of course we love you, no matter what.  You're our son."
He reached for the voices again, transformation forgotten.  He wanted.  He wanted so much that the want was practically a need.  It was deep in his stomach, and he was starving for its lack.  
“That way,” he begged Nocturne.  “We need to go that way.”
Nocturne, surprisingly, followed his direction.  Danny had been right, they were trying to be nicer today.  They strode quickly through the trees, after Danny's parents.  Soon.  They would find them soon, and they would tell Danny they were proud of him, and that it didn't matter that Danny wasn't human anymore.  
And– It wasn’t only his parents here.  
“You did very well on the last test, Mr. Fenton,” said Mr. Lancer, as he moved through the trees with surprising nimbleness and speed.  “Keep up the good work, and there’s no reason you couldn’t become an astronaut.”
“See?  I told you that you were just as smart as any of us, little brother,” said Jazz, her feathers as vibrant as their parents.  
“You and Sam are the best friends I could have,” said Tucker, his hat oddly beak-like.  
“I think I’m ready to come home,” said Dani.  “For real, this time.”  
“You’re not so bad after all, Phantom,” said Val.  “I think… I’ll stop hunting.”
“You’re our hero, Danny,” said Amity Park, all together at once.  “We’re all safe, and we will let you help us, and you will reach the stars, we’re sure of it.”
“You’ve changed the future,” said Clockwork.
“You don’t need to fight anymore,” said the ghosts.  “Not if you don’t want to.  Not if it isn’t fun.”
“Earth and the Infinite Realms are at peace at last,” said calm voices Danny could not identify.  “Our heroes may turn their efforts to pursuits that will benefit all peoples, of all nations, everywhere.  We may turn our eyes to the future, and the stars.”
Danny wanted it so much.  He wanted it to be real, to be true.  He thought that if they could only catch up…
For a moment, Danny thought they were back under Falsehood’s tree.  Once again, he and Nocturne found themselves under the sweeping branches of a huge tree, but instead of ruby red apples hanging from the branches, there were brightly burnished birdcages, and inside them were dozens of birds.  Dozens more birds perched on the branches, and Danny realized that these were what he had been hearing.  His family, friends, teachers, classmates, and allies had never been there.  Only the birds.  
He held back a pathetic sob and let the blankets bind him again, herding him back into the center of the cage.  He felt his tail clench back at the blankets and pillows in turn, and–
His thoughts derailed in shock.  His tail was so long, weaving snakelike in and out of the pillows and blankets.  It was at least twice, no, three times as long as the rest of his body.  He could feel parts of it wrap around the bars of the cage below the great mounds of pillows.  
It also glowed brilliantly, every scale roughly the color of the glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling at home.
“Yes,” said Nocturne, “and it will be very helpful.  Stop fretting.”
Danny looked up at them, hopefully, his heart and core again filled with that earlier, painful, want.
“Yes, but we are now in the court of Longing.  Curtail your babbling.”
Danny hadn’t realized that he’d been babbling, but how else would Nocturne have known what he was thinking?
He let his eyes drift over the birds and the cages as Nocturne stalked forward.  Was Longing one of the birds?  And how did that work, if Longing and Falsehood were part of the same thing?  He looked up as they passed beneath the boughs of the trees and gasped.  In the gaps between the leaves, he could see stars.  Stars– as they were seen in the best astrophotography.  Stars, as if light pollution and smog did not exist.  But then they were nearer the trunk, and the leaves were too thick to see anything but the tiniest of glimpses.  
The floor of the clearing was covered in decorative pillows and brocade throws, and tapestry-like blankets hung between the cages.  It felt… cozy.  Like a sleepover, like a blanket fort.  It made him want to snuggle in, and he did.  
They came to a stop in front of the largest and most beautiful of the cages.  Inside it was a small, drab bird.  
“Lady Longing,” said Nocturne.  “I greet you, and give you the regards of your brother-self, Falsehood.”
.
“I greet you as well, child of dreams,” said Longing, softly.  
Nocturne suppressed their frown.  It was difficult.  Even a ghost like themself was still a ghost, and therefore, fueled by intangibles like emotions.  Hiding what they were feeling came naturally only to a few.  
But why that voice?
“What price must be paid to receive your token?”
Longing fluttered her wings.  “I wish that you would not do this, child.”
“And I wish that you would not take that voice,” said Nocturne, not bothering to suppress his sneer.  “What is the price for your token?”
Longing fluffed her feathers, then smoothed them back down, movements agitated.  “Oh, I wish you would not do this, I wish you would not.  Not all things one desires are meant to be.”
What hypocrisy from the one who wore the very face of yearning, who spoke with that desire.  They knew some things were not and could not be, not outside of dreams.  But their current goal was not one of those things.  They would succeed.
“I ask a third time:  What price do you demand for your token?”
“Three things are wanted by all: one that is lost when it is given, one that increases when it is given, and one that cannot be taken, only given.  These things I desire.  These things I require.  These things I must be given, if you are to receive my token for which you long.”
“All from the boy, I presume?”
“As if you could give me any one of those things,” said Longing, haughtily.  
“A secret,” said Nocturne.  “Then knowledge, perhaps.  Or faith, or trust, or a thousand things besides.  There are very few things that cannot be taken.  Dignity, perhaps.  Trust again.  Does it matter which one you receive?”
“Only that they fulfill my conditions.”
“Well, then, go ahead,” said Nocturne, looking down at Phantom.  “You must–”
“What happened to my tail?”  
It had taken the boy long enough to notice, and longer still to react.  Nocturne wondered how long he’d been staring pointlessly at his own scales.  
“What– What happened to my legs?  Why can’t I turn them back?”
“Child,” said Nocturne.  
“No, where– What?  What’s happening?”
“We must have Longing’s token to move on,” said Nocturne, trying to soothe Phantom’s dream again.  
“I’m not doing anything without knowing what’s going on!”
Typical.  Nocturne had thought this might go smoothly for once.  Just once.  Hadn’t they already worked enough, suffered enough?
“It is what’s necessary to reveal our path.  Haven’t I already promised to let you go when we are done here?  When we complete our quest?  Give her what she has asked for, so she will let us go on, and so you can go on.”
Phantom looked up at him through the bars of the cage, a faint scowl on his face.  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to give her.”
The boy could hardly be expected to pay close attention, as dream-soaked as he was, but still.  Nocturne had just said what he could give Longing.  “I can repeat my list–”
“No, no, no, I know what you said, I know what you said.”  He fell to muttering, even Nocturne’s earlier encouragement not enough to clarify his words.  “I know what you said, but you can’t just give people dignity or– or whatever the other things are.”  He sniffled.  “I’m in a– I don’t even have things to give.”  He grabbed two handfuls of blankets and waved them around.  
“I’m sure you have secrets,” said Nocturne.  They were so close, close enough for them to taste it on the air, and they would not allow Phantom’s reluctance to stop them.  “Don’t you want to help?  Is that not what you want?”  Phantom should be biddable, under the carefully crafted influence of their dream.  He should want to help Nocturne.  That was the point.  
Phantom ran his hands back and forth over a section of his tail and sucked in his lips.  “Don’t–  I don’t know.  I don't know.  I can help?”
Nocturne smiled down at him.  Finally.  Although the way his sentences were falling apart was not ideal, given the riddle-like nature of Longing’s demand.  They should take care to keep Phantom from spiraling further into sleep.  
“Yes,” said Nocturne.  “You can help.  By giving Longing what she wants.  Well.  What she has asked for in this case.”  
Longing turned her beak up in the air.  It was ridiculous.  Nocturne knew very well that she was the most powerful part of dreams, the greatest of the Beasts.  Desire could hold a dreamer better than little else.  Fear could not keep one nearly so well, and lies could backfire.  It was desire that he used to keep people in his dreams when he needed to.  Yet, this aspect of dreams chose to act like a silly little bird.  
“Well, you have refused to give me what I really want, which I can hardly help,” said Longing.  
Ridiculous.  What she really wanted.  As if she didn’t want everything.  
“I guess,” said Phantom, grudgingly, “I guess I could tell you a secret.”
Longing tittered, then leapt from her perch, slipping between the bars of her cage and coming to rest on Phantom’s shoulder.  “Whisper it to me, my dear.  Don’t worry, you can trust me.”
The boy sniffed, then lifted a hand to pet her.  “Trust is something that can’t be taken, only given, right?”
Longing whistled a few bars of music.  Phantom looked up at Nocturne out of the corner of his eye, then turned away and covered his mouth to whisper to Longing.  Whatever he said, it took only a moment.
“Very good, very good.  Only the one more.  Unless, of course, you think you can convince this brute to listen to the wisdom of his elders and let this go.  We do not deal much with time in dreams, but too much time has passed for him to chase this so ardently, and I say this as the yearning of dreams themselves.  What he wants he will not find.”
“You say it as a hypocrite,” said Nocturne, finally annoyed enough to voice their earlier thoughts.  “The third thing is something that increases as it is given.”
“I could tell you about the stars,” said Phantom.  “That’s knowledge.”
“I have seen more dreams of the stars than you have days in your life, little bird.”
“You’re a little bird,” said Phantom.  
“So I am, but so are you.”  She rearranged herself and tilted her head towards Nocturne.  “That one is a very big bird.”
Phantom had the temerity to laugh.  It was a little twittering, chirping thing, and Nocturne was disgusted to find that they agreed with Longing’s comparison of Phantom to a bird.  
A caged bird.  
“Isn’t knowledge…  Isn’t a secret a kind of knowledge.”
“And yet a secret is only one thing.”
“Maybe, maybe we could…” Phantom swayed slightly.  “Maybe we could be friends?  Friendship is good.  And we can gang up on Nocturne and make them…”  The boy trailed off as Nocturne smothered any thoughts of acting against them.  “Um.”
“We could certainly gang up on Nocturne.  They are a wonderful target.”
“Please,” said Nocturne. 
Longing looked at them through the bars of the cage, and Nocturne froze, ectoplasm cold and stiff.  When the Beasts of Dream were playful and petty, or when they were bound by old laws, it was easy to forget what they were, underneath, even when you very well knew.  
So, too, it was difficult to unlearn the habits of power.  Nocturne was used to being the one with power in dreams.  
And still…  
They sniffed, trying to recover.  “Could you even accept an offer of friendship, for him to truly give it to you?”  
“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” asked Longing.
“Would you want to?”
“Why are you arguing about this?” asked Phantom.  “Don’t you want me to, um.  To get.  Um.  The thing.”
“The token,” prompted Longing.  
“Yeah, the token.  Are you dumb?”
“If your offer of friendship was sufficient, then you would already have the token.”
“Are you so sure of that?” asked Longing.  “Perhaps I was merely having a little fun.  Are you certain you want to offer your friendship to me, child?”
Phantom nodded.  “I like having friends,” he said, comically serious.  
“Then, little friend, do you see anything you would want to take away from my clearing here?”
Phantom tilted his head.  “Is it a trick question?  Like, a riddle.”
“Don’t overthink things,” said Longing.
“Could I take your cage?”
“A fine sentiment, but no,” said Longing.  
“Could I take you?”
“I am not a thing, child.”
“Then it’s really just a question?” asked Phantom.  
“This is going nowhere,” said Nocturne.  If fear of Longing’s displeasure could keep them from pressing onward, then they wouldn’t be here in the first place.  “She is not giving you her token, so your offering is unacceptable.  Give her something else.”
“Come now, big bird,” said Longing, as Phantom started giggling again, “a new friendship is a momentous occasion.  I am allowed to take my time.”
“Not if you are stalling.”
“Um,” said Phantom.  “I’d like… a pillow?”
“Very good,” said Longing.  
One of the other birds dove from their perch and picked up a pillow in their talons before bringing it to the cage.  Phantom picked it up and tucked it under his chin.  
“Thanks,” he said.  
“Yes,” said Longing, “well.  I am sorry for this next part, then.”
“Hm?” said Phantom, fuzzily.  
“It is an unfortunate truth that, sometimes, it hurts to want something.”
Phantom frowned.  “I know that, I–”
Longing moved.  She pulled a single silver feather from her wing, and held it aloft in her beak.
All at once, the rest of her flock took flight, swarming the lantern-cage and diving between its bars.  
A ruby-red bird built like something between an eagle and a peacock perched on Phantom’s left shoulder.  On his right shoulder, a cerulean owl with sparkling, faceted talons touched down.  Then, they slashed down, tearing through Phantom’s thin pajama top and carving bloody furrows into his back.  He shrieked, and squeezed the pillow in his hands so hard it burst, spilling soft feathers across the cage.
Nocturne hissed, and struggled to keep the boy under.  Pain did not always wake a person.  Indeed, smaller pains or chronic pains were often incorporated into dreams.  But this wasn’t small, ignorable pain or old, steady pain.  This was new pain, hot and bright and very present.  This was the kind of pain that broke dreams.  Beings that naturally slept through this kind of pain did not tend to survive.  
But if Phantom woke now, Nocturne may very well have to start again, and that would be unacceptable.  No, he would stay here, caught between dreams and reality.  Nocturne would make sure of it.  
.
At first, Danny didn’t notice that the birds were building him wings from the ruin of his back.  All he had the presence of mind for was the pain and the sense of being pushed underwater until he started to drown.  
But Danny wasn’t exactly a stranger to pain, and paying attention was frequently the key to escaping it.  So he noticed how the birds flew, how they circled, how they pulled feathers from their own wings or from his new-and-now-ruined pillow with their beaks before stabbing them into his back, or whatever it was that built his nerves and flesh out and out and out into ever-more-fantastical shapes.  
He noticed when one of the birds, the bird, Longing, jumped onto his shoulder.  
“I see my brother-self has given you an extra gift.”
Danny didn’t know what she was talking about.  
“Tell me, little friend, do you want a way out?”
“Out of what?” whispered Danny.  From the way things had been going, he thought it best to be specific.  Otherwise, he might wind up with something he didn’t want at all.  Like these wings.  
“This cage, the bargain you struck with Nocturne, this dream.”
Trust.  Friendship.  Those were supposed to be reciprocated.  Cautiously, Danny nodded.
“Then I will give you a gift, also, little friend, though my gifts cannot be touched so easily.  It is the nature of Longing, for things to be out of reach.”  She hopped to his other shoulder.  “Let my gift be wisdom.  Let my gift be a gift of memory.”  
She hopped down, in front of him, and among the twisted blankets, Danny saw the red, shining curve of Falsehood’s apple.  The bird jumped up on the apple, perching on the leafy stem, then lifted her head, and began to sing.  The song was long, and high, and mournful, full of yearning and desires unfulfilled.  Despite the birds flying all around them, and the pain of his growing wings, in the spell of Longing’s song, everything felt still and calm.  As it sang, a single tear fell from her eye and onto the skin of the apple, where it disappeared, either sinking in or evaporating.  
“When you, too, cry from wanting, remember this.”
And Danny was lost again, among the wings of the birds.  But not for long.  With Longing back in her cage, the other birds left quickly, settling back among the branches of the trees.  
“Was that truly necessary?” asked Nocturne.  
“Need is immaterial.  Want is the important thing here.”
Nocturne curled their lips.  “And I suppose you want me to fail badly enough to try and wake my dreamer?”
Longing adjusted her wings minutely.  “What was wanted for his wings,” she said, nodding towards Danny.  
Thus prompted, Danny looked at his wings.  The leading edge and most of their body was black as night, with flecks like glowing silver stars, but the long, trailing feathers were a pure, softly glowing white, like the tails of comets.  He moved slowly, feeling the weight of them.  
Nocturne poked at the pillows, arranging them to better support and display Danny’s wings.  Danny guessed the second part was important for the whole lantern thing…  Lanterns were supposed to glow.  He was being helpful, like this, surely.  Glowing, guiding, fulfilling his role…
He groaned as Nocturne pulled at one of his wings, spreading it out far enough to brush the bars of the lantern-cage.  Then, when it seemed as if Nocturne was done rearranging him, he let his head rest on the pillow in front of him.  Everything seemed so heavy, now, and the not-quite-metaphor of the blankets-that-were-chains was coming back to him, and their soft iron links were weighing him down.
He was so tired, all of a sudden.  Or maybe not all of a sudden.  A lot had happened, even if he himself wasn’t doing all that much.  But something pulled him back to a state of relative awareness.  
“I will not be delayed like this,” growled Nocturne.  “No more.  Do not forget that I, too, am a master of dreams.”
Danny hummed.  Not being delayed sounded good.  Leaving problems alone could make them bigger problems, and there was definitely a problem.  One he was helping Nocturne with.  Yes.  That was what he was doing.  Yes.  
He sighed and shifted.  If he didn’t think about it too hard, the wings felt more like a large blanket than something actually connected to him.  
“I can see that,” said Longing.  She hopped sideways on her perch.  “My token is not like my brother’s.  It will neither give you sight, nor take it.  But all who have wings must desire to fly, as those who have eyes must wish to see, and those who have voices must desire to sing… even if only the once.  This, therefore, is a token of memory and imagination as much as it is of myself.”
“Okay…?” said Danny.  He didn’t particularly feel like using these wings now, he was too tired, and when he woke up, they’d be gone, wouldn’t they? 
… There was something strange about that thought.  
Flying would probably be nice, though, wouldn’t it?  Well, yes, of course it was nice.  He flew all the time.  He…  Hm.  
Hmmm.  
He yawned and turned his head over.  It was the next best thing to rolling over.  
“You will understand in time,” said Longing.  She sounded awfully sure of that.  
“He does not need to understand,” said Nocturne.  
“I’d like to, though,” said Danny.  Sometimes you didn’t need to understand things.  Sometimes just experiencing was enough.  But it wasn’t for nothing that Danny was the son of two scientists and an aspiring astronaut.  He wanted more.  “What am I supposed to–”  He yawned again. “What am I supposed to understand?”
“The path.  Which way does it lead?”  Nocturne raised the lantern high, casting the clearing in pearly light.  
Danny gazed down, through the twisting trees.  “What are we trying to find this time?”  He was tired.  He wanted to go home.  
“You will not want to find them,” said Longing.  “And here, you need not do what you do not want.”
“We seek Fear.  The third of the Beasts of Dream, whose token we need to complete your light.”
Fear.  Longing had been right.  He didn’t want to find Fear.  Maybe, as a ghost, that was strange for him to say, but he didn’t like experiencing fear, and he definitely didn’t like causing it.  
He surveyed the paths out of the clearing.  It was quite obvious which one belonged to Fear.  The other paths all seemed to call to him at various levels, but this one made his feathers stand on end and his skin crawl.  It made his mouth taste dry and chalky.  Even his scales felt itchy.  His heart seemed to beat faster in his chest as he contemplated following it.  
It didn’t look all that remarkable.  It looked like nothing more than an old deer trail, narrow and shrubby, heavily shadowed by the trees around it.  Without the extra light from his new feathers, Danny would have missed it.  
“You may take any path you want, of course,” said Longing.  “Not merely the one you are told you should take.  Desires are not so easily dictated.”  
She spread her wings, and Danny couldn’t help but look around again.  The other paths did seem much more inviting.  They reached out to him, tempting him, scents of things he did want wafting to him across the air, whispering of their destinations.  Places he could fly, places he could play, places he could learn, places he could escape…  If he could lead Nocturne down one of those paths… it would be much more pleasant for both of them…
“We are taking the path to Fear,” said Nocturne, confidently.  “Unless you do not wish to help your family.”
Yes, that, too, was fear.  Breathing was suddenly very difficult, as if there were a great weight on his chest.  
Wasn’t there something about that, about a weight on your chest, and nightmares?
“That way,” Danny said, pointing at the proper, narrow path.  
Longing sighed.  “And so it always was, that the greatest ills come from people not being honest about their heart’s desires.”
Nocturne scoffed.  “You are as much a liar as your ‘brother.’”  They didn’t move on, though.  They seemed to be waiting for something.  
Longing shifted.  “Deliver my regards to my sibling, if you catch them.”
With a nod, Nocturne stepped forward, onto the path of Fear.
“Goodbye, little friend,” called Longing from behind them, voice sweet.  “May we meet again!”
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five-rivers · 4 days
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Oh, yeah, that's totally my fault. I think I was either inspired by the title of a book series I haven't read (the Long Earth) but had seen in a bookstore, or the name of a nonprofit I don't know much about (the Long Now Foundation, which does possess an interesting clock) but may have glanced at at some point, or even something I saw in other fics. I don't really remember anymore. Either way, I feel as if the name fits Clockwork well!
Quick question for the Phandom:
I’ve scoured both the DP wiki, and now, the pitch bible courtesy of @freedomwinner123
I’ve seen Clockwork’s domain referred to as Long Now a few times, and I’m wondering where that comes from?
Is it in the show and I missed it? Is it a Phandom thing? Did I hallucinate it??
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five-rivers · 8 days
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Sorry for the wait but the sign-up form for 2024 Phic Phight is now open! You have until March 27th to sign up!
What is Phic Phight?
Phic Phight is a Danny Phantom fan-fiction writing competition, were writers are asked to provide prompts. Then they are split into two teams; team ghost and team human. The teams are given prompts from the opposite team and gain points for creating fics based on the prompts. The winner gains bragging rights for the year. This was created as a friendly competition to inspire new ideas and stories for the phandom.
Phic Phight begins April 1st and ends April 30th.
You will be required to join the new Phic Phight discord server to participate.
A full list of rules can be found HERE
No OC prompts are allowed. And no crossover prompts are allowed.
Please tag works as #phicphight24
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five-rivers · 9 days
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Are you okay? You reblogged the fish 20 times.
No <3 😭
(someone I no longer follow made a poll and mentioned essentially torturing their pet fish on it and clearly considered this funny, and I haven't stopped thinking about it -- or about how common it is for people to mistreat non-mammalian pets like fish -- since 🥲)
(also I recently set up my first fish tank and they're so super cute!!! How could someone mistreat their fish or consider them low maintenance 😭 pics of fish below the cut v)
Pls appreciate my fish, I love them
I have pygmy corydoras, I call them The Collective
N then some sunny neocaridina shrimp and ember tetra~
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
I recently got a lil bowl I put in when I feed them to help keep the tank cleaner n make it easy to remove excess food, n they are so cute!! They recognize the bowl n swim over all excited when I put it in, before I even put any food 😭💜
And there's a specific Cory that sits in the bowl and bullies me every day, absolutely refusing to get out of the bowl so I can remove it. It always takes 10-15 min to remove the bowl thanks to this Cory.
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five-rivers · 9 days
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Oh, hey, it's Spring.
*No guarantee you'll see any results from said work.
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five-rivers · 9 days
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Why Iron Goddess of Mercy is the best oolong tea:
Superb 10/10 name (Chinese: Tieguanyin)
Even the type of tea has a badass name: 烏龍茶, "dark dragon tea" like come on
Every cup tastes a little different. It's usually faintly nutty, but today my cup tasted slightly cinnamon-y
Super easy to clean out of the steeper ball thing because it's just big leaves
AFFORDABLE
Still tastes good even after it cools off a little
You can get like 4-5 cups out of one teaspoon of leaves so a bag of it lasts forever
🔥IRON GODDESS OF MERCY OOLONG TEA FOREVER🔥
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five-rivers · 10 days
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Season of the Skies
I started playing a game called Sky: Children of the Light recently, and although this isn't a crossover, it's definitely inspired by the vibes of that. It's a cute game!
Also, based on the feedback I got on AO3, there seems to be a significant overlap between the Phandom and Sky: Cotl players? Is that the case?
.
Reality had broken a month ago, and Danny was having the time of his life.  
He leaped lightly from rooftop to treetop and back again, gravity a dreamy afterthought.  The tiles and bark were rough beneath his bare feet, but not so rough he regretted not wearing shoes.  His impacts shook loose pollen, glitter, and a few stray petals, but did the trees no harm.  On the roofs he was silent, and no one came out to yell at him, but the window glass chimed with flashes of light.
The colors around him were bright and soft. Easy to look at, easy to fall into. The sky above was marbled with dawn-colored clouds and stars caught among distant nebulae.  Light and color were some of the first things to break, and Danny wasn't sorry to see light pollution go.  Most Everything glowed, now, and stargazing would have been terrible if eyes still worked the same way.  
At his next jump, this one taking him up a good ten feet, the feather-soft edge of the shawl he was wearing flared out behind him, brushing his arms.  The shawl was huge on him.  An old project of his great-grandmother's, it had been made with the typical Fenton girth in mind.  Honestly, it fit him more like a cape than a shawl, but he liked it that way.  
He landed safely and straightened the cape.  His dad’s needlepoint hobby had been inherited from her, so the dark blue fabric was covered in fine embroidery, lace, and tiny glass beads in shades of clear, pale blue, and white.  Great Grandma Fenton hadn't been into ghosts the same way the current Fentons were, but she'd been into something, so the patterns were strange.  Icicles, snowflakes, stars, clouds, and trees competed with lightning, runes and sigils, and strange, spirit-like creatures.  
“Hey!” shouted someone from the street below.  “Hey, Fentwerp!  What the hell do you think you're doing?”
Ah.  Dash.  Charming.  Danny leaned over the edge of the roof.  “What does it look like I'm doing?” he asked agreeably.  
“Getting your dumb nerd self killed is what it looks like,” said Dash, glowering up at Danny, his face turning red.
There.  See.  That's what Danny didn't understand.  No one else seemed willing to experiment with how the world was now.  They were all operating under the old rules, or, worse, looking for ways to fix things, as if the new world wasn't better than the old.  
Sure, it had been scary the first few days.  The suddenness.  The uncertainty.  The way systems they had relied on for so long had stuttered or failed outright.  Danny knew people had been hurt, that, in some places, they were still getting hurt.  He had been one of those people, having been in the hospital when the change rippled through the world, a result of an equipment malfunction in his parents’ lab.  
Maybe his opinion would be different if he was still getting hurt.  But as it was… why would he ever want to go back to how things were?  Why would he want to leave this world, where the colors were soft and bright, and the light sang?  Why would he want to leave this world where the air itself seemed to bear him up?  Where the possibilities seemed limitless?
There was so much more potential for good, with the world as it was than as it had been.  So much less potential for harm.  This was a more finished version of the world.  All the rough edges were gone, and filled with wonder.  He could feel it.
“Get down here!” demanded Dash, when Danny didn't respond.  
“No,” said Danny.  
“Get down here or else.”
“Or else what?” asked Danny, genuinely curious.  Dash couldn't get up here.  No one else could, as far as Danny knew. They hadn't taken the time to work out the new rules for gravity. 
Dash clenched his hands into fists, then stooped to grab a fairly large rock.  Danny, seeing no reason to just let Dash throw it at him, left.  
“Hey!” shouted Dash.  “Hey!  Freakton!  Get back here!”
Names like that were a lot less distressing when the people using them had no power to hurt you.  
Danny continued on his path upwards, touching on higher and higher buildings.  It was tough to get the proper amount of momentum to make some of his jumps, especially since he'd stopped to talk to Dash, but he managed to make all of them, and soon he was standing on top of the tallest building in Amity Park.  
In the center of the roof was a small tree, a sapling.  It hadn't been there the first time Danny had made it up here, and it had grown rapidly since then.  Next time he came, it'd probably be taller than he was. 
For now, though, Danny knelt to check the roots where they grew through a widening crack in the building's roof.  He'd warned the people in the building (he had warned everyone in buildings that had suddenly found themselves with roof trees), but he hadn't heard that anyone had done anything about it, and the roof trees felt friendly to him, so he hadn't pushed the issue.  From the descriptions and pictures Sam had given him, this one seemed healthy enough.  
He pulled a bottle from his backpack and gave the tree a generous sprinkle.  Then he stood up, gave the crown of leaves an affectionate ruffle, and made his way to the edge of the roof.
The city spread out in all directions below him, vibrant and changing.  Towards the edges of town, some buildings had lifted off their foundations, becoming floating islands.  Across the viridian, iridescent forest to the north, he could see blue-bright-gray flashes of Lake Eerie.  Fentonworks was easily visible off to the west, silver dishes and spires chased with green halos.  The parks bloomed with flowers both alien and familiar, vines trailing up into the air, trees growing explosively fast.  A breeze from behind turned his attention south, and he saw high clouds letting down shimmering curtains of rain.  
It wasn’t like Amity Park had been drab and horrible before, but why would anyone want to go back?
He looked away, back down at the street far below him.  Steeling himself, he grasped the edges of the shawl, he spread his arms wide.  
“Time to lift off,” he said, quietly.  “T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two–” Where he would have said one, he instead inhaled deeply.  Where he would have said zero, he jumped.  
For a heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, if he’d made an error in his calculations, if reality had chosen that moment to reassert itself and he was about to drop like a rock.  
The moment passed quickly.  He was flying.  Or, at least, gliding.  
He laughed, and flapped his ‘wings.’  The shawl snapped behind him and gave him a small amount of lift.  
He was doing it.  He was doing it.  
And now that he was doing it, it felt as natural as breathing.  All that planning, all those calculations, all that running, climbing, and jumping–
He could fly.  
Oh, maybe it wasn’t as impressive as it would have been in the old world, where gravity was a cruel mistress.  But it was still flight, unpowered, human flight, and no one he knew of had done this before.  
He laughed, and banked to the side, flying in spirals.  He wasn’t brave enough to try a loop, yet, but he would, eventually, when he learned more about this.  
His spirals took him over the park, the school, the mall, even the Nasty Burger.  But he was losing altitude, his arms were getting tired, and he knew that if he got too close to the ground, gravity would get him again.  Not to the point of hurting him at all, but he didn’t want to land just anywhere after all this work.  
He tipped his wings westward, and started gliding home, pumping his ‘wings’ as infrequently as he could get away with.  He didn’t quite make it all the way back to his front door, but he got close, just a few houses down the street.  He rubbed his shoulders.  That was going to leave him sore.  He’d have to work out and practice more if he wanted to fly any real distance.  He'd also need a way to take off that didn’t involve climbing the tallest building in town. 
The front door of Fentonworks slammed open, revealing a pale Jack and a furiously pink Maddie.
“Daniel James Fenton!  What do you think you're doing?”
Danny looked down at his bare feet, then back up at his parents.  “Walking?”
Maddie sucked a breath in between her teeth.  “Inside,” she said
Danny hurried to obey, taking the steps up to the door two at a time and squeezing past her and Jack to get into the house.  Maddie closed the door behind him. 
“So, um,” said Danny, shuffling from foot to foot.  “What, um.  I thought you guys were going to be working all day today?”
“On the Ops Center,” said Jack.  “Not in the la– Not downstairs.”
Danny made note of the near-slip but didn’t comment on it.  He was already in trouble.  He didn’t need to remind them that the lab didn’t exactly exist anymore and make their mood worse.  
“Oh,” he said.  “What were you–?”
“Never mind what we were doing.  What were you doing?  What were you thinking, jumping off a building like that?  You could have died?”
“Or been seriously hurt!”
“But I wasn’t!  I’m fine.  I planned it all out, and it worked.”
“And it shouldn’t have!” shouted Jack and Maddie at the same time.  
Danny blinked up at them.  “What?”
Jack explained.  “We’ve been tracking the changes to gravity, too, Danny.  We’ve been measuring it, measuring all the changes, to see what those darn ghosts did.”
Danny held back a sigh.  There still wasn’t any sign that ghosts had done this, or even that ghosts existed.  
“Gravity might have changed a bit,” continued Jack, “but not enough to keep a human being airborne like that.”
“There are whole buildings floating,” said Danny.  “I’m a lot smaller than a building.”
“The rules seem to be different for different masses, as well as different altitudes,” said Maddie, making a face.  
“Yeah!  It’s really exciting.  We’re trying to measure the ectoplasm levels– It has to be related, but we haven’t been able to detect any yet– Those ghosts are tricky, son–”  
“Well, yeah.  But the rules are also different for things that are alive.”
“Really?” asked Jack, leaning close.  
“Uh, yes?  Otherwise I wouldn’t have done, um.  That.  I tested it.”
“You tested it?  Did you write it down?”
Danny nodded, cautiously.  Jack swept him off his feet.  “Our boy has been doing science, Mads!”
“He’s been jumping off of buildings!”
“Putting his research to practical use!”
“He’s been jumping off buildings without being peer reviewed!”
“Oh, yeah, son, you should have had someone check your work.”
“You never get peer reviewed,” said Danny, scowling.  
“That’s different,” said Maddie, quickly.  
“If anyone else believed in ghosts, you’d be sure we would be!”  
Hanging limp in Jack’s arms, Danny grumbled.  
“Danny,” said Maddie.  
“Yes?” he mumbled.  
“No more testing theories without checking in with us first.  Safety first.  You should know this by now.”
Danny hunched his shoulders and tried not to think too hard about his scars.  They weren’t very visible, and the doctors had said that they’d fade away, probably entirely, eventually, but they were still there now, if you knew where to look.
A month ago, reality had broken.  
A few days before that, Danny had almost died.  Lab accident.  It turned out that his parents thought portals to other dimensions which may or may not exist needed a lot of electricity and chemicals to function.  Danny had been curious.  He’d wanted to explore, to investigate.  He’d stepped on a loose wire that had led to a capacitor.  He’d been horribly electrocuted, and then exposed to a chemical cocktail.  Sam and Tucker, who had been in the lab with him, had called for an ambulance, and he’d been brought to the hospital.
At least, that’s what he was told, later.  He hadn’t woken up until he’d been in the hospital for a few days.  Of course, when he had woken up, he did so because a bunch of the medicines going into him had started to do weird things while reality restructured itself, and that had been… incredibly unpleasant.  Everyone had been grateful that only a very few things - like whatever Danny had been on to take care of the chemicals he’d picked up in the lab - had acted like that.
Later, Jazz had told Danny that for a brief period of time between the accident and reality breaking, Jack and Maddie had sworn off ghost hunting.  Presumably forever.  But once the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology started to rebel and twist, they’d taken it back.  Well, to be fair, apparently they didn’t take it back until the lab disappeared.  And the Fenton Stockades.    
Although, to be fair in the other direction, it was more a case of everyone’s basements disappearing and being replaced by weird misty caverns than ghosts specifically targeting his parents.  It was a whole thing. 
(Personally, Danny was glad to see them go, although it had sounded like Sam was mourning hers.)
“Danny,” said Maddie, “tell us that you understand.”
“I understand.  I don’t test theories without you,” said Danny, grudgingly.  “Not even about cool things like flying.”
Maddie scowled.  Jack beamed.  
“Great!” shouted Jack.  He whirled Danny around again.  “Let’s go see your data!  Where is it?”
“Upstairs,” mumbled Danny.  “I’ve got a notebook.”
“A notebook, Mads!”  
Maddie sighed.  “Alright, let’s see the notebook.”
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five-rivers · 11 days
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17K notes · View notes
five-rivers · 11 days
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I'm not responding directly to them because I know I'll be mean and I do not want to be mean but. Argh.
Literally every single time I start to psych myself up to write Long Night in the Valley's sequel or to continue Danger First (usually because someone left me a lovely, kind, thoughtful comment) someone comes swinging in with the worst fandom etiquette ever and completely kills my motivation. It's amazing how consistent this is. I'd be fascinated if it wasn't so annoying.
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five-rivers · 11 days
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The fic is, in fact, tagged for canon divergence and some characters having different backstories specifically so people who hate that kind of thing can avoid it.
Literally every single time I start to psych myself up to write Long Night in the Valley's sequel or to continue Danger First (usually because someone left me a lovely, kind, thoughtful comment) someone comes swinging in with the worst fandom etiquette ever and completely kills my motivation. It's amazing how consistent this is. I'd be fascinated if it wasn't so annoying.
108 notes · View notes
five-rivers · 11 days
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Worst ever is admittedly an exaggeration, but it's like, do you really have to tell me my fic sucks because I didn't guess the right names for characters that didn't even have faces when I started writing it? Just go read something else...
Literally every single time I start to psych myself up to write Long Night in the Valley's sequel or to continue Danger First (usually because someone left me a lovely, kind, thoughtful comment) someone comes swinging in with the worst fandom etiquette ever and completely kills my motivation. It's amazing how consistent this is. I'd be fascinated if it wasn't so annoying.
108 notes · View notes
five-rivers · 11 days
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Literally every single time I start to psych myself up to write Long Night in the Valley's sequel or to continue Danger First (usually because someone left me a lovely, kind, thoughtful comment) someone comes swinging in with the worst fandom etiquette ever and completely kills my motivation. It's amazing how consistent this is. I'd be fascinated if it wasn't so annoying.
108 notes · View notes