#it’s just a fun thought 👀👀

[mountainshroom]

The cowboys ever !!

[starry-bi-sky]

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.

[smoosey]

I needed to tell you that tiny shorts Cody has taken over my brain. I'm utterly obsessed

Ahhhhh hi, yes, hello!!!! Same same same!!! I was so delighted to receive this ask and I am so glad you share my obsession!!

If you're interested, I do have some critical background:

- They're Marshall Commander shorts. They say Marshall Commander across the ass.

- Bly, in possession of a discretionary fund ""for trooper morale,"" got them as a gag gift for each of his batchmates.*

- Cody (unfuckwithable) wears them unironically, unselfconsciously, daily, for his morning workout (....on the days he gets a morning workout.)

- It is widely understood that Cody is at his best and most approachable at this time. In the moments between his cooldown and hitting the sonics, Cody is in possession of serenity, mercy, benevolence. He's in a good mood.

- This is the time to come to him with. Just. The most aggravating issues. No matter how nightmarish the fuckup, Marshall Commander Shorts Cody can see the shape of the solution. No crisis will rattle his calm.

- Inevitably, someone shares this with Obi-Wan. Though not, perhaps, the full context.

- I think you know how this ends.

- Obi-Wan just isn't prepared, I think. The first time he sees the Marshall Commander Shorts. I think Cody is flushed and shirtless, thighs out, drinking his water, toweling off his face. I think he sees Obi-Wan and smiles. I think Cody so rarely smiles. It's like 💀💀 a dream. It's like he's dreaming.

[ofmdee]

elbow 😳 (reblogs appreciated but please do not repost!)

[aurorangen]

That I can take control of my decisions and make myself feel understood

Transcript:

Vincent: I don't want to attend this bar crawl event. It's that day today. Pam: Your mum wants you to enjoy uni life! Don't let the past and him get to you. Vincent: I'm just saying, I'd much rather keep her company.

Pam: Didn't you promise someone you'd show up? Anyway, you're already here, holding a beer. Vincent: Thanks to your persuading. I did, Renee. And this? I don't want to drink it, you gave it to me. Pam: We're blending in like everyone else! I've not met Renee yet, but what do you think of her?

Vincent: There's something about her like an instant connection, maybe because she's Charlie's cousin. And I dunno how to describe it, but I felt safe with Renee. Relaxed. I had a warm feeling inside of me. Pam: Sounds like you like her. Could be something more.

Vincent: Oh hmm that uhh [awkwardly talks] I have Nancy, but Renee…I don't even know anymore. This is embarrassing to ask, why would a girl stop texting a guy? It's close to a month. Pam: She's busy? Umm please don't hate me for saying this [quietly] maybe Nancy's moved on?

[Those were the words that hurt to hear. The longer it went on, the more believable it seemed. It was hard to move on without knowing anything…what if she was still waiting for me? Then we arrived at the next bar and there was Renee with her friends. My heart was telling me to move on. My head? The opposite]

[In the end, I went with my heart. Slowly though. Just in case I saw Nancy again. I was afraid of messing things up with her, even though I knew we were growing more detached as the days went by]

[pandaspwnz]

So I don't think this is actually the case but what if Eliza and Isaac's deaths werent over a petty amount of cash and a robbery gone wrong? What if, instead, Dutch had seen Arthur spending time with them, had perceived him slipping away as a threat: a threat to himself, his gang, his security, his family, afraid of losing his lead enforcer - whether he truly at that point did love him like a son, or not. And in his insecurity or fear or whatever other reason, he finds someone rotten, unrelated to the gang, and he pays them to murder Eliza and her little boy, so no one will ever tempt Arthur away from the flock, and he instead puts all his energy and time into the gang, the only family he has left.

[fistfuloflightning]

even to snake demons, mongooses are the devil

Ladder - tlj & zzl from @drivingmebonkas

[abuzd]

reminder that this is a free website for blogging and fun.

[good-beansdraws]

Very silly sequel to my other Fuuta/Mikoto duet art -- it turns out both VAs were in this singing group anime together! (I haven't seen any other Milgram vas overlap songs, and now I've found two for them, huh...) I cut the songs together to make a fun little duet, but the individual versions are here: 🔥 ⚾

The outfits are courtesy of @clover0101 's au here :D

[explodingstarlight]

i did it, i did the thing 😌✨ turtlesona time!!

MAJOR thanks to my rad moot @snailsnaps for actually getting me to draw him because the executive was not functioning on the task until they brought it up /g

Just some additional lil fun facts/ramblings about Nova that I figured might be an interesting read ^^

+ Nova's name refers to both supernovas (which I think are super cool and am totally projecting my interest onto him) & 80's bossa nova music (very vibey and also gave inspiration for their color palette)

+ Crippling energy drink addiction /lh

+ Likes bugs, particularly moths (death's-head and poodle moths are very cool) & salamanders (their coloration).

+ Places stickers/decals all over themselves and their stuff. The shiny heart and wavey-line details on their shell?? Vinyl decals they made. They only have a few spots on their shell naturally (as natural as a mutant bog turtle is lmao) and thought it was too boring, so they "fixed" it.

+ Draws but only digitally; hates the mess/stickiness of traditional art (chalk pastels are the DEVIL; he's just like me,,,, he's just like me FR 😭🖐️)

+ HUGE seafood fan: will go rabid over a plate of shrimp alfredo; also really enjoys noodles in any form.

+ Hates hot tea but really enjoys a good iced tea.

+ Special interest in astronomy

+ OBNOXIOUS music taste (based off of mine lmao): mainly hyperpop-esque EDM or emo music, but as the design implies, also enjoys some bossa nova music when the mood hits.

+ If he's not wearing his mask, they're very partial to beanies (likes to have something on their face/head at all times)

+ This mf autistic as hell /pos (he's just like me fr x2)

+ Generally seems very laid-back and calm. He's just kinda there for the vibes. BUT they are a massive enabler for chaos--they may not be coming up with the plan, but they Will assist the cause to see what happens. He Can and Will lie with a straight face to help said chaos goblin out. He likes the drama 🤷

And THIS, is a bog turtle! I obviously changed coloration to have more fun with it (and didn't go with yellow markings cuz it resembled Mikey too much), but I kept them in mind:

They're actually pretty similar in size and general build to little box turtles, so I went with Mikey's general body shape when designing Nova. :)

ANYWAY, that's it for now! Thanks for sticking around and reading, if you made it this far 😌✨

[robertwaltons]

i love this website because every time i come on here i get shown a post that’s like “i just started reading frankenstein and it’s gay as fuck?” like buddy. you don’t even know how gay it is Going To Get

[britcision]

So partner and I are nearly done the first season of Arcane

And listen

We all knew Mr Who Needs Therapy When I Can Be Edgy And Menacing With My Robot Eye wasn’t going to suddenly realise the wonders of psychological health and good coping mechanisms just because he’s acquired a sad blue child

He already murdered his bf it’s too late anyway

But post time skip I do think he’s really starting to question that decision, and I think that’s beautiful

Of course, his solution thus far has been “uuuuuh what if we have matching trauma”, and I bet I know how that’s gonna go for him 👀

[dawdlecentric]

As the world caves in

[chatonlaveur]

POV, your imaginary friend is real and he wants to eat fish fingers and custard with you

[casioblancas]

I like to imagine that Rincewind is a great magic conductor even after the spell leaves him, or like an amplifier that other wizards can use to ham up their own magic

[sassyandclassy94]

My brother has been researching men’s fashion and etiquette from the 1930s and 1940s and he told me a bit of interesting information.

Apparently it was improper for a man to reveal his suspenders because they weee considered an undergarment (🤷🏻‍♀️😂).

Of course we went to The Boys in the Boat. In the victory dance scene, Don (and Joe) has his blazer on. Suspenders covered like a proper gentleman. Whereas Bobby and the other boys had their blazers off - suspenders in full view. Granted they were dancing around with girls getting warm and sweaty (I mean that appropriately, get y’all’s heads outta the gutter). But MAYBE, just MAYBE, George Clooney either didn’t know that about men’s fashion and etiquette OR, hear me out: MAYBE Bobby and the other boys didn’t give a crap and had the same attitude I had when a lady told me my bra strap was showing back when I worked at the library. Like “Yeah okay? I wouldn’t want you to think I wasn’t wearing one!”

MAYBE THEY HAD THAT MENTALITY?!👀 like “Yeah well belts are expensive and all the ladies know SOMETHING is keeping our trousers from falling down. Whats the big freaking deal?”

As you can see: Joe and Don: always proper gentlemen🤗