#Go hound!
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keferon · 2 months ago
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“Mistakes on mistakes until” ch 69 spoilers below!
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Ahahahahahahah here I go again
Mistakes on mistakes until until I can draw Jazz with my eyes closed
I woke up, checked my phone, woke up for real and decided that whatever plans I had for this day yeah no they can wait a little bit kfkgnfk
Also. Consider listening this while reading. Or don't who am I to tell you what to do~
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dyslexic-mess · 1 year ago
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Okay so Danny gets adopted by Bruce. Yeah? Yeah.
And they don't know about his powers? Obviously. We know this part of the story.
BUT. On a casual trip out for food or whatever, Danny and some of the bat sibs get cornerd by reporters and paparazzi. There panicking bec danny JUST got here and they haven't had time to breif him on how to interact with the media and he's totally gonna flounder and they need to help him before he totally flubs it!
Exept, he doesn't. He smiles, nice and bright, into the camra. He waits patiently for each reporter to ask their questions and then answers confidently, giving them something walst acctually answering nothing. "Where are you from?" "A small town, I'm sure you wouldn't know it but, really, it's about where I am now."How did you come to be adopted by bruce?"Well, I look quite a bit like my new brothers, don't you think? Haha. I like to think it was meant to be."
And on and on he gose, dancing around them, shareing professionally worded jokes and calmly addressing eatch person as they viyed for his attention, controlling the flow of conversation.
The bat kids all look at eatchother.
This kids been media trained.
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brighteuphony · 7 months ago
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Why is anbu Sakura's hair black? Is it dyed for better disguising herself with the environment, or does she have a different family in that au?
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So in the ANBU!au, ANBU masks all come with a specific array of seals that can be customized at user request. In Sakura's case, its impossible to maintain anonymity with pink hair, so a Henge Seal helps deal with that.
Not all ANBU masks have a Henge- because not everyone has extremely unique features that need to be hidden.
Her ANBU mask seals also feature:
Chakra Key and Disguise : This keys the mask to her specific chakra signature (so it can't be stolen) and helps disguise it. Mandatory to all ANBU.
Poison Filters/Detection Seals: These seals help recognize and filter common airborne poisons. They don't help against ingestion or infection, and don't detect more exotic toxins. Mandatory to all ANBU.
Meshed Eyes/Enhanced Vision Seals: Helps the wearer see more clearly at night, though the mesh is optional- as some users might need clear vision to use dojutsu.
Scent Blocking Seals: These help nullify specific scent markers, as agents are often sweating due to physical exertion. The seal isn't mandatory, but scent blocks of some sort are. It's also highly encouraged to use neutral bodywash and shampoo before missions.
Vocal Distortion Seals: These seals help modulate the user's voice without putting a strain on their vocal cords, as the distortion is handled by the mask. Not mandatory, but Sakura really doesn't want to be recognized.
All seals need to be occasionally recharged/rewritten at ANBU HQ- as they will eventually wear off.
Additionally, these seals are usually invisible to the naked eye, though a skilled fuinjutsu specialist can usually make them visible. The masks are also very damage-resistant and can handle quite a bit of abuse before they start chipping. Since the seals are separate, it's possible to lose only a portion of the mask's seals and keep the others active as long as most of the seal is there.
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swagglessmoth · 12 days ago
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Thinking about my wife.. (rocks fall; scene end)
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starry-bi-sky · 7 months ago
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Stuck in the middle of a forest made of
Flesh and bones and they're all scared of
A lost little boy who has lost his heart
Fear's not enough, they have to
Tear him apart —-------
There are two things Daniel Fenton knows that his family knows as well: 
He’s adopted.
He can’t remember anything else before that.  
‘Adoption’ is a loose term, implying that they went through the official legal processes and troubles of adopting a child into their home willingly, and with the full intention of doing so going into it. That is not what happened. What happened is that Jasmine Fenton found a half-dead child, in strange clothing, in the middle of the woods at her Aunt Alicia’s cabin, and then she went and got her parents. 
What happened is that a twelve year old Danny woke up in the same cabin, wearing clothes much too big on him that didn’t belong to him, and with very little memory of before that moment. He wakes up like a spring being set loose, sitting up so fast he scares the daylights out of Jasmine Fenton sitting next to him. He wakes up, reaching for his sleeve for something that isn’t there, and when it isn’t his mind stutters, like he’s tripped at the top of a steep hill. 
When they ask him for his name, he tells them, clearing muddled thoughts from his mind; Danny. He’s twelve.
(He thinks that’s his name, at least. It sounds right; it feels right. If he thinks really hard about it, he thinks he can remember someone calling him that, utter adoration in their voice. So it must be his name.) 
The Jasmine girl convinces her parents to take him home with them, and they give him the spare guest room upstairs. He has nothing to fill it with.
It’s… a strange experience, to go to a ‘new’ home when he doesn’t even remember his old one. 
The official adoption process… happens. He can’t say it’s easy, or difficult. He’s oblivious for the most of it, Jasmine intends on helping him settle in and Danny can’t say he enjoys the smothering. He learns that he is stubbornly self-independent, that’s one new thing he knows about himself. 
His adoption papers say ‘Daniel J. Fenton’. Danny remembers staring at the name ‘Daniel’ for a long, long moment, something curdling sour in his sternum. His name is Danny, that he knows. But it’s not Daniel. But he doesn’t know any other way of saying it, so he keeps his complaints to himself.
(Jack Fenton boisterously claps his hand on Danny’s shoulder and jerks him around, grinning wide as he welcomes him into the Fenton Family. Danny’s mind blanches at the touch on his shoulder, an instinct snapping like the maw of a snake, telling him to cut off the man’s fingers for daring to touch him.) 
(He keeps the thought to himself, tension rising up his shoulders the longer Jack Fenton’s heavy hand stays on him.) 
They found Danny in the summer. It’s a perfect coincidence, Maddie Fenton says before she goes back into her lab with Jack Fenton. She says it’s enough time to allow Danny to adjust; that they’ll enroll him into the school year in the fall. Then she stuffs a canister of ectoplasm onto the top shelf, and disappears like the ghosts she studies back down the stairs.  
(There’s something eerily familiar about the ectoplasm sitting in the fridge, something unsettlingly so. Danny knows what that stuff is, but he doesn’t know where. When the house is empty, he takes a can from the fridge and inspects it.)
Jazz wants him to leave the house. Danny doesn’t want to step foot outside of the FentonWorks building until he has something that quells the feeling of vulnerability he gets whenever he does. He tried to once, and he felt exposed. Unsafe. 
He turned back around and went inside.
—-------
Where do we go
When the river's running slow
Where do we run
When the cats kill one by one
—------
One day, when the house is empty — or, as empty as it can be; the Fenton parents down in the lab, and jazz out with friends. Danny is making a sandwich, and he caves into the urge to flip the knife in his hands between his fingers. A childish impulse, but one he falls for nonetheless. It comes to him easily, like second nature, in fact. The slip of the blade between his fingers is seamless, flowing with an ease like water running down the wall.  
He’s almost startled by it; his body holds memories that his mind does not. Muscles that know which way to move and twist, limbs that know how to hold and how to throw. He continues twirling it, fascinated, as if he were a scientist discovering a new species of animal. 
It’s not for a handful of minutes when a new thought hits him; an impulsive thought that pops in the back of his mind like a firecracker; Danny moves without thinking. 
He turns, and throws the knife. The pull of his shoulder, the flick of his elbow, is familiar like a hug. He knows when to let go, and the blade flies through the air in impressive speed, embedding itself into the wall with a hearty, loud thunk. Sinking into the drywall like butter. 
Danny stares at it in shock, he feels relieved — about what? — before he feels the guilt. He scrambles across the kitchen to pull it out, heart racing in his chest at being caught, and prays no one notices the hole it left behind. 
(He runs up the stairs before anyone can find him, food forgotten, and hides the knife beneath his mattress like a guilty murder weapon.)
After that, he leaves the house more. It’s more out of fear of being caught than the desire to leave. But Danny is quickly learning that among all things, he is someone who was dangerous, before he lost his memory. Even with his mind in fractures, he is still dangerous. 
He’s not sure how to feel about that — he thinks he should be scared. He feels a little proud, instead.
—------
Hazel beneath our claws
While we wait for cerulean to cry
Unsettled ticks run through time
Enough for the hunt to go awry
—-----
There’s another thing he learns about himself. That he knows about since he woke up. He knows that he left someone behind. He doesn’t know who, but he knows they must have been close; he’s always looking down and finding himself surprised when the only shadow he sees is his own. 
He thinks that he must have sung to them a lot; he finds himself humming familiar melodies when he’s lost in thought. Lullabies lingering at the tip of his tongue, an instinct to turn and sing them to someone beside him. He can’t remember the lyrics, but his mouth does, it tries to get him to say them when he’s not thinking. He can’t. 
Danny’s found himself humming under his breath more times than he can count, trying to recall whatever it is his mind is trying to claw forward. 
(“That’s a pretty song, Danny.” Jazz tells him at breakfast one day, Danny screws his mouth shut. He hadn’t realized he was humming. “What is it?”) 
(Something mean and possessive rears its head on instinct, uncoiling like a snake from its ball. His shoulders hunch defensively, he bites his cheek to prevent himself from baring his teeth. He doesn’t know what song it is, but it’s not for her. “I don’t know.”)  
He misses his person. Dearly. He knows, the longer he is without them, that they must have been close. Otherwise, he wouldn’t feel like he’s missing a chunk from himself. He wouldn’t be turning to someone who's not there; reaching for a hand that’s missing, birdsong on his tongue, a story to tell. 
A dream haunts him one night. Warm and familiar, he’s holding onto someone smaller than him, they’re tucked into his side like a puzzle piece. He’s humming one of his songs that is always playing in the back of his mind, an unfinished tale of a harpy and a hare. Danny can’t remember their face, not all of it. He remembers green eyes, hair dark like his own, skin brown like his. 
He loves them more than anything else in the world, a fact he knows down to his soul. He loves them so much it fills his heart with sunlight. Danny squeezes them tight, nuzzling into their hair; he makes them laugh. Then, he proudly boasts something. That when he takes something of their father’s, that his person — a sibling? That feels right — will be… the word fades from Danny’s mind before he can make sense of it. 
His person hugs him tight, his… brother? And their mother — a woman whose face he can’t remember either, but who he loves like a limb nonetheless — appears, smiling. Her hands reach for them both, voice calling them, ‘her sons’. There’s ticking in the distance, it sounds like the fastening of chains.
Danny wakes up cold, tears streaming down his face. The details of the dream already fading from his mind like the cold pull of a corpse.   
—-------
Harpy hare
Where have you buried all your children?
Tell me so I say
—-------
When school starts that Fall, Danny joins the sixth grade class, and quickly learns more things about himself. One of those things being that he’s smarter than the rest of his grade, whatever education he had before, it was better than the one he’s getting now. 
Everyone knows he’s adopted right off the bat. He tells them when the teacher forces himself to introduce himself, but it’s not like they needed him to tell them for them to know; he never existed in their little world before now, and the Fentons are pale as they come. Danny is not.
He befriends Sam Manson and Tucker Foley; they ask him about the scars fading up and down his arms, they ask him about the scar carved diagonal across his face.
Danny, as politely as he can, tells them he doesn’t remember. He thought kindness would come second nature to him, his dream burned into his mind where he hugged his brother so sweetly. Apparently, his sweetness is only second nature to people he considers his own. 
(It becomes even more apparent when Dash Baxter tries to bully him later that day, and Danny ruffles like an eagle threatened. His mind whispers, hissy and agitated, sinking like a shadow at his shoulder, several different ways Danny could kill him for talking to him like that, and fifteen more ways he could cripple him.)
(Danny ignores those thoughts, up until Dash Baxter tries to grab him. Then he breaks his nose on the wood of his desk. It’s easy how quickly the rest of his grade sinks him down to the status of social pariah.)
(At least Sam and Tucker still talk to him after that. When Danny goes to the principal’s office later, he wisely doesn’t mention the worse things he could’ve done than break Dash Baxter’s nose.)  
—--------------
It clicks and it clatters in corners and borders
And they will never
Hear me here listen to croons and a calling
I'll tell them all the
Story, the sun, and the swallow, her sorrow
Singing me the tale of the Harpy and the Hare
—-------
More dreams come, of course they do. Each one halfway to forgotten whenever he wakes up, ticking faint in his ears. He is many different ages. He is young, shorter than a table. He is older, holding onto his little brother. He is singing in almost every single one. He is singing to his brother. 
Danny can barely remember the lyrics, he’s begun leaving a journal by his bedside so that it’s the first thing he can write down when he wakes up. He’s a storyteller, he learns. He feels like a historian, trying to piece together a culture long dead and forgotten. 
His most vivid dream-like memory is not a happy one, and for once he’s almost relieved he barely recalls it. He is somewhere that isn’t home, but his mother and brother are there. He is dressed in black, blades keen in his hands. 
They are atop a moving train. They are fleeing something. His brother is struggling to keep up, he is small, and young. It’s beautifully sunny, they are somewhere green and lovely. 
It is a fast dream. 
His brother stumbles on something, and Danny, fast as a whip, snatches him by the back of his shirt and hoists him up to his feet before he can fall. “Watch your feet, habibi.” He murmurs low, a hand on his back. It’s hard to hear, there is wind in their ears.
His brother, face obscured in all but his eyes, which are green as emeralds, nods. 
The dream blurs, but Danny falls behind. His foot catches on air — impossible, it should’ve been, at least. He never trips. — and he lands against the roof with a thud and a grunt. His mother and brother stop, and turn for him. 
The train hits a turn before Danny can get up, and he shouldn’t have, something pulls on him, he swears, but he slips. He can’t find the purchase to pull himself up, cold fear hits him as his nails scrape against the metal. 
His mother and brother’s horrified faces are the last thing he sees before he disappears off the side of the train. 
(The ticking is at its loudest when he wakes up, pounding against his inner skull. He only manages to write down ‘train fall’ in his journal, before he’s flipping over to press his head into his pillow to get the pain to stop.) 
—---  
She can't keep them all safe
They will die and be afraid
Mother, tell me so I say
(Mother, tell me so I say)
—-------
When Danny is fourteen he is still humming songs he can’t remember, his mind still in a broken puzzle. But his room is now decorated with stars and plants in every corner. He has a guitar he keeps in the corner of his room, and he plays the lullabies in his head on the strings over and over again. 
The ectoplasm in the fridge still unsettles him, still reminds him of a past he can’t recall. The knife beneath his mattress has returned to the kitchen — he doesn’t need it. He found a box in the attic last year, it had his name on it, and inside he found familiar, strange clothes, and more weapons than he thought was possible to carry on one person. 
(Even without knowing that the Fentons prefer guns to blades, Danny knows, instinctively, that they were his weapons. He was — was? Is — a dangerous person. He takes the box down to his room to sort through. The weapons all fit into his callused hands almost perfectly — the grooves worn to fit his palm. They’re just a little small.) 
(He tentatively takes a small blade with him to school one day, and feels much more comfortable with it sheathed beneath his shirt. He’s kept it on him ever since, like he’s reunited a lost limb to himself.)   
Danny doesn’t have a name for his person, his little brother, nor does he have a name for his beloved mother. He’s haunted by dreams every few weeks, many of them repeating. He’s ingrained the words he can remember to memory, and the ones he doesn’t, he writes down in his journal. His little brother; Danny calls him a bird, he can’t figure out what kind. His little bird of some kind; when Danny takes something from their father — what, he can’t remember what — then his little brother will be a little bird. 
(He doesn’t have a name for his brother, yet, but he’s calling his birdie in his head. It’s better than nothing.)
—------
Seeker, do you ever come to wonder
If what you're looking for is within where you hold
Will you leave a trail for them to follow a path
You'll soon forget
Home
—---------
When he’s fourteen, Danny dies. It does nothing to fix his fractured memories, much to his consternation. It just confirms something he already knows; that he was someone dangerous, and that he still is. 
When the shock of death has worn off, Danny inspects his ghost in the metal reflection of the closest table. It’s blurry, hard to see, but shock green eyes pierce back at him, green like the portal. Lazarus, Danny’s mind whispers, and he blinks rapidly.
‘Lazarus,’ he mouths to himself. It’s familiar. Sam shows him with her phone what he looks like, joking that he looks like an assassin. Danny doesn’t think she’s that too far off. 
He doesn’t tell her that. He tucks the thought away with the rest of his secrets, and fiddles with the hood gathering at his neck, attached to a cape with torn edges swinging down to his ankles. He pulls it over his shock white hair. It shadows over his face impossibly so, until all you can see are his green-green eyes peering out like a wolf hiding in the brush.
He ends up calling himself Phantom. 
(Maybe now he can start putting lyrics to his lullabies; his memories may not have returned, locked away with the sound of a clock, but the dead can talk. One of them may just have answers.) 
----------
Home is where we are
Home is where you are
Home is where I am
-----------------
Dedicated to @gascansposts for being the one who introduced me to the band Yaelokre, and thus being the whole reason I was inspired to write this in the first place >:] Those lyrics at the line breaks are all from their album Hayfields.
#dpxdc#dp x dc#danny fenton is not the ghost king#dp x dc crossover#dpxdc crossover#dpdc#danyal al ghul au#amnesiac danyal al ghul au#songs in order of the album: the hartebeest / harpy hare / and the hound / neath the grove is a heart#musician danny has my heart and soul#yes this danyal IS an alternative danny from the other au. an au where things were a little better :) but still sucks#implied good mom talia al ghul#danyal is a momma's boy send tweet#dpxdc ficlet#dpxdc prompts#dp x dc au#dp x dc fanfic#danyal is sTILL five years older than damian in this au#no beta no edits we die like danny fenton#poc danny fentons#i didnt know where to end this :(( i was gonna go on but i blanked. i thought about going into his relationships with his rogues and so on.#but that felt too much like trying to just increase the word count rather than actually writing?? if that makes sense#ugh im gonna have forgotten to include things and im gonna be kicking myself later#morally ambiguous danny whoo! we love to see it#since this was just for fun it doesnt really go into it all that much other than like. it happens. and that danny realizes he's dangerous#phantom in a hazmat suit? nah phantom looking like an assassin >:].#danyal al ghul with damian and his mom: 🥰🌸✨#danyal al ghul with everyone else: 👹🔪#am i heavily implying that clockwork had smth to do with Danyal’s amnesia and appearance by the cabin? 👀 maybe#not enough danyal al ghul aus where him being an assassin actually. has some kind of affect on him
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damallarky · 3 months ago
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I’ve been thinking about those posts about Solas missing his Inquisition friends and my hope is that at least some of them are still willing to give him a chance after everything is said and done. That, and the members of the Veilguard force themselves into Solas’s friend group. Somehow.
Get found family’d idiot.
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welcometothesewers · 2 months ago
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Could you draw my boi cliffjumper 🥺
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What about Cliffjumper and his besties? I love cliff so much, he deserves a little happiness.
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puppyeared · 1 year ago
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Unsurprisingly assigned fairy type so heres me as a pokemon/fakemon lol
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ogsherlockholmes · 5 months ago
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Don't think about Watson making Holmes up to compensate for his loneliness after his injury. Don't think about Watson sitting alone in his hospital bed conjuring up problems just to be solved by an enigmatic imaginary friend. Don't think about all the inconsistencies in the book being due to Watson's weakening health. Don't think about Watson killing off Holmes as a means of trying to support himself without living in his imagination but failing and having to bring Holmes back to save him. Don't think about Watson writing all those historical novels (which ACD preferred to write) as another outlet for his loneliness but ultimately always returning to Holmes because that was the man who saved him. Don't think about Watson putting himself down in the stories continuously because that's how little he thought of himself, but writing Holmes, someone he thought as superior, complimenting him to try and make himself feel better. Don't think about-
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identityquest · 6 months ago
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check out the shirt i got for my birthday :)
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sracha · 1 year ago
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💀 My Hound piece for @rwbyprism ! 💀
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carnivalcarriondiscarded · 1 year ago
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a Mr. Beagle warmup for the masses! he continues to be so soft and soothing to scribble!
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z0mbie2b0y · 19 days ago
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Younger!Stiles: I'm a fox! My name is Stiles. What's your name, kid?
Younger!Derek: Mine's Derek, I'm a werewolf
Now imagine that as a fanfic where the Hales and the Stilinski don't get along until Stiles and Derek become friends (of course, they have a sad but happy ending like applejacks parents)
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merciawintersageposting · 1 month ago
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about that Emmrich media pipeline- let’s talk about the actor who put the gentleman in camp horror.
Peter Cushing
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you know him as either grand moff tarkin
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or the Man Who Wasn’t Dr. Who (👀)
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often typecast, but never outdone
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he played intense characters but was known for being affable and kind
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on his wife’s passing😭
“Time is interminable, the loneliness is almost unbearable and the only thing that keeps me going is the knowledge that my dear Helen and I will be reunited again some day ... really, you know, dear boy, it's all just killing time.”
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romancemedia · 3 months ago
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Classic Animated Movies about Dogs
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kaiserouo · 9 months ago
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red liquid
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