#yes i know i suck at ending things

[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.

[infiniteorangethethird]

tumblrinas when the disability disables you: oh wow that's so cringe. Stop doing that. Actually, I have disability too, and I can do it, which means you're just using your disability as an excuse. I'm morally correct therefore to mock you for being disabled and using tools and aids to help you. I'm not ableist, I'm just saying the hard truth 😊

[the-way-astray]

alright everybody can we please stop tagging me/talking about me in the notes of pro keefe/sokeefe posts. i know strieefe has made it so that it's really funny to talk about how much i love him and how much i'm in denial when i say negative things about him under those posts (and that's all in good fun and not the problem), but we have to think about the fact that the ops are just trying to make a positive post and probably don't want a keefe hater in their notes /srs

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

All I’m going to say I think now that my brain remembered part of what it was thinking is that Taylor and Joe went through a lot together (good and bad) and regardless of how it ended or what led to it they both seem to be determined to keep that private and not throw each other under the bus and in the end they’re just two very, very different people whose outlooks in the long term were just never going to align and never has that been clearer.

[hella1975]

i cannot stand the aot fandom this is not a new take at all they are universally intolerable but oh my dayssss u are FORBIDDEN from making ANY take about the show it's actually insane to watch. 'aot is perfect' no show is perfect. 'tell me you didnt get the show 😂🫵' people have different opinions/interpretations about things. 'eren is a good guy they could never make me hate him' i think there's actually 4 seasons and two movies explicitely using him as a tool to show that no one is 'good' or 'evil' they are only trying to survive. hello. the fandom r all so far up aot's ass that they actually discredit its writing in the process and it would be laughable if it wasn't so frustrating

[sundial-bee-scribbles]

I've been looking for this one au where Len basically becomes a mad scientist and turns his friends into robots one by one for a while now, and I'm beginning to realize that I just read through your blog while half asleep a few months back and mixed together my memories of your flower hivemind and composite au

this is very funny to me. i'm absolutely honored this blog's posts were enough to evil-farming-game an entire vocaloid au into your memories 😂

i can give you this doodle; it's composite au but i'm sure it'd fit very well with this theoretical mad scientist len au lololl

[todayisafridaynight]

would it be okay if u told me why u like aoki😭/gen😭😭😭😭BEEN TRYNA LIKE HIM FOR SO LONG I JUST CANTT but i love ur art so much so i still consume it otherwise lol

i liked tohru adachi in high school and tbh i think that alone is enough of an explanation for why i ended up liking aoki

[triglycercule]

no funny little thoughts today. have this instead,,,,,, mtt fighting shshahsgahagsgaa CHOKES ok i lied maybe i DO have funny little thoughts below where the reference is :3

this is SUCH a cool composition shot i had to draw something based off it (ignoring the erm. the flashing,,,,, this game came out like 10 years ago just ignore that)

anyways triglycercule what are your thoughts??? funny you asked triglycercule allow me to illuminate :3 so ive been remembering that one ask from like 3 or 4 months ago where i answered like well i like to consider the trio to just have met one day and then decided oh hey we should like totally explore the multiverse together (my excuse to draw them in any possible situation possible (mtt at an amusement park when) (soon (probably not))) and recently i was like WAIT i could probably like totally find a way for them to meet because just saying they met (is a totally valid use of my creator powers BUT) is uncreative and vague,,,,,

so i was like damn. how COULD i get them to meet 🧐🧐🧐 so i was like ok so dust beats human. done and done. but like bros BOUND to get bored. like if he gets bored from not having the human to kill then he's gonna seek out SOME other form of entertainment. so dust is like ok how about i work on some old ancient machines i made b4 to pass the time and one of these ends up being like a universal traveler thingy. and to his own surprise he actually MANAGES to get it done???? (i totally didnt steal this idea from myself,,,,, whaaat youre saying there's another triglycercule dust that came up with a universe hopper machine??? NO (sorry mania))

and oops instead of staying in dusttale like he intended dust accidentally gets chucked into horrortale (bro just wanted the sense of accomplishment not to thrown into some random world.) and then cue like horror and him meeting and its all tense and confusing and then horror paps comes around and hes like OMG ⁉️TWO BROTHERS ‼️‼️ and then invites dust over for a nice sweet little bowl of human spaghetti. unfortunately for dust the little teleporter device is no longer connected to dusttale's core (because hes not IN dusttale) so he just kinda has to suck it up and deal with it until he can find a portable power source

dust's not trying to get KILLED out here so he asks horror (who sadly cannot push dust into blue snow because paps is very enthusiastic about his appearance) where he can find like batteries or something. and horror makes some off hand comment about like power sources and his eye being in the core and how theres like no power and oh why did dust immediately start listening once horror mentioned his eye,,,,,, dusts not gonna rip horror's eye out (he has no reason 2 if theres a perfectly good 1 @ the core!) so he tells horror what he needs the power source for and then hes like i can help you get food for your buddies if you help me help you. ok? ok

and then they sneak into the core to get the eye and oops dust didnt you learn your lesson last time!! the little teleporter thingy brings them to another world AGAIN (and now horror's PISSED because this wasn't in their little deal) and guess where is is,,,,, you already know its something new. and i guess to make things uncomplicated this is a something new where killer already killed his chara but he hasn't tried to reset the world and kill himself (and therefore attract nightmare) yet (he's getting there!)

not like they think the au is anything other than just a wasteland because there is literally like nobody around but they stumble into killer and it doesn't even take like more than a minute before a fight breaks out (i probably need to think more about what happened and why they started fighting but knowing the trio its BOUND to happen) and lowkey killer is getting his ass beat what the hell??? he has never experienced a fight where he's been on the losing end in a long ass time & mindgames arent working because they keep seeing through his shit??? (because horror and dust somehow even though they barely know each other and horror's pissed @ dust have like craaaazy synergy and coordination & killer hasnt faught them ever before + yk yk inner turmoil at seeing other versions of yourself) so he gets annoyed and pulls out the blaster to end it

dust and horror don't DIE outright (not like they would be able to tank killer's blaster) because killer decided to be like hey these guys are new and cool and interesting. i should keep them around instead of killing them off and see how much i can play around with them :3 so he just blasts them until theyre at like 0.0000000000000001 HP :3333 and then idk thats it 4 now,,,,,, i think this is silly and fun and cool and i can imagine it in my head and OH NO THE VOICES (make a comic) THEYRE GETTING LOUDER (you should draw this) NO WAIT MY MOTIVATION (coooomic would be a perfect medium for this) im sorry inner voices i cant,,,,,,,

[captainshyguy]

i do wish that people hadnt been so rabidly critical and vicious towards steven universe back in the day, because now it feels like u cant discuss any parts of the show u didnt like without getting lumped in with those guys lol

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

14 tbh

[montanabohemian]

soooooo this afternoon i found out some devastating news about my current financial situation and am basically screwed. if ANYONE can help me out with rent and some recent medical and vehicle emergency bills, i would so greatly appreciate it. (or just sharing this helps i guess i don't know.)

paypal

[seilon]

pro: ran into a coworker at a bar last night who I don’t really talk to usually (he works upstairs, I work downstairs) and we talked and im pretty sure we were highkey flirting and he bought me a drink and the bar merch shirt i was interested in and thanks to the power of alcohol i guess i asked for his number and he gladly gave it to me and. yeah

con: i have the second worst hangover i have ever had and have been fighting for my fucking life just to eat saltines

[princemick]

sometimes I talk to my dad abt controversial things and/or literally give my opinion and he responds and I'm just like 'yeah no you're why people dont like me'

[magentagalaxies]

hey so i'm not making a DNI because i don't want to (i initially had a longer attempt at articulating a reason and then i realized i don't have to explain more than "i don't want to") but the past few blogs that have followed me are very harry pottter focused and given the actions and rhetoric of jk rowling i'd appreciate it if any blogs who prominently post harry potter themed content would kindly refrain from following me.

you can probably still reblog my posts, not bc of my moral stance but bc honestly i don't really notice who reblogs from me unless they have a huge red flag in their url, but in terms of following my blog i'd prefer it if harry potter bloggers could just not

and i know there's always the excuse of separating the art from the artist (like people who continue to post about harry potter but end every post with "fuck jkr tho"), and not everyone even knows why jkr is a horrible person bc a lot of the discussion is very online (that's the reason this is worded so empathetically, i'm assuming harry potter fans who follow me are in either of these two camps but if you're just an outright terf then go fuck yourself of course). but even if you're entirely dedicated to balancing every harry potter post with a post about hating terfs, the fact that harry potter is still being promoted in a way that's uncritical of the content itself makes me uncomfortable and by making the harry potter brand maintain relevance that's still supporting jkr no matter how many times you put "fuck terfs" on your blog

disagree with me if you want bc i can't control whether people post about one of the largest fandoms in history, but i can make a statement being like "hey if you follow me and your most recent posts are all harry potter gifsets i will be blocking you so honestly for your own convenience please don't put in the effort of following me"

[wavesoutbeingtossed]

.

[the-hopeless-haze]

Ok but Wilson baby girl this isn’t why House told Stacy to leave.

I think it’s interesting how House didn’t tell Wilson that he talked to Mark. That scene is probably the best Mark is in and like the desperation like he’s at the end of his rope and he’s where House was five years ago. House’s face when Mark says “I don’t know how to stop yelling at her” he recognizes that…. I don’t know how to not transfer this pain I’m feeling and I don’t know how to not resent you. That scene where both of the men Stacy fucked over (the original girlboss fr) that scene where both of them are struggling to walk up the stairs and Mark has to lean on House like it’s so good.

But Mark will get better. House knows Stacy is running to him because it’s bad right now but Mark is going to get better. House is not. And… he knows the pain of being left behind by a partner when struggling with a disability.