#It’s the little things 🥰 | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

starry-bi-sky · 6 months

Text

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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justlightlysedated · 4 months

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Another kiss!!!

- Edwin/cat king again lmao (I love mess)

35…to gain something

"I can think of one person who would have the information that you need, but you're not going to like it."

Both Edwin and Charles turn to Crystal curiously, to see her pointing at Charles, even though usually her plans are things that Edwin won't like.

He turns to look at Charles, who turns to look at him at the same time. They both shrug and turn back to Crystal.

Edwin raises an eyebrow in question, and Charles tilts his head to one side.

Crystal makes a face at them both, "Well, there is one person who is a couple hundred years old, who may know what kind of shit this witch is involved with since he was able to help with Esther."

"Ah," Edwin says, realizing who she meant at the same time that Charles scoffs.

"You're really not saying that we ask the Cat King for help, are you?" he says, and then turns to Edwin, who hasn't said anything, because Crystal isn't wrong.

They need information, and the Cat King would be their best bet.

"You are not seriously considering this after he trapped you in his 'kingdom' and tried to-"

"Charles," Edwin says, turning to face him. "While I understand where you are coming from, I've already told you that we ended things on good terms, and I'm not upset about what he did anymore."

He lifts an eyebrow pointedly, asking why Charles is still so upset about it.

Charles grumbles under his breath, but doesn't exactly say anything, so Edwin turns back to Crystal, who is looking at Charles with a pointed expression that she turns on Edwin, who just raises an eyebrow in response.

"Well, it seems like we know what to do next," he says, and tugs against the sleeves of his shirt, clearing his throat. "Maybe I should-"

"No," both Charles and Crystal say at the same time.

Edwin raises both of his eyebrows at them both.

"We're on a time crunch, god only knows what he'd ask you for if you're on your own," Crystal says, crossing her arms and smirking.

At the same time Charles steps closer and says, "There's no way you're going to meet him on your own after what happened last time."

Edwin's eyes dart all over Charles' face, and he softens at the obvious worry marring his features.

"Fine," Edwin says. "But this time, actually let me do all the talking."

Both Crystal and Charles turn and look at each other momentarily, before turning back to Edwin. Edwin sighs at the look on both of their faces, but ignores them both to walk over to the mirror.

Might as well get this over with.

Edwin presses his hand to the mirror and barely has to concentrate before he's sure he's got the right destination.

It's not like this will be the first time that he's used this mirror to travel back to Port Townsend.

Charles grabs on to Edwin's hand as he goes to walk through, and Edwin doesn't really question the move, just tightens his hold on Charles' hand as Charles grabs on to Crystal's hand, who snorts like she finds this whole thing ridiculous. Edwin ignores them both as he walks through.

They walk out right inside of the warehouse, cats yowling and cursing out of their way.

Edwin looks to Charles and Crystal to make sure that they are both out before he lets go of Charles' hand. Charles looks around, frowning, probably because there wasn't a mirror leaning against the wall the last time they'd been here.

He gives Edwin a look that Edwin ignores as he makes his way through the cats and towards the throne, still ostentatiously on top of a pile of crates and towering over the rest of the room. Edwin walks right up to the crates that serve as steps up to the throne, and waits for the cat licking it's paw right on the bottom step to nod its head before he walks up two steps and looks at Thomas, inclining his head a little, which is as close to bowing as he's willing to get.

Thomas grins, wide and pleased. He's lounging on his throne sideways, one leg hooked on the arm, and seems to have not put on a shirt, which Edwin knows is only for his benefit. He tries not to look as flustered as he feels.

"Seeing as you brought the old ball and chain and his side piece, I'm assuming this is for business not pleasure?"

"Quite right," Edwin replies, ignoring Charles and Crystal sputtering in protest behind him. "We're searching for any information that you can give us on how to break a spell a witch has on a fire breathing entity."

"Ah," he says, and then gets to his feet in one swift movement.

Edwin's eyes drop down his chest, and he looks away hurriedly.

"Well then, I certainly do have a little book around here somewhere that should be very helpful, but it'll cost ya."

He leans in meaningfully and raises his eyebrows pointedly, eyes darting down to Edwin's lips.

He looks both mischievous and desperate, and Edwin straightens up at the implication.

Charles says something, but Edwin isn't paying attention.

"Fine," Edwin replies. "I'll do one thing to make you happy, and you give me the book. No binding spells, and certainly no talk of punishments."

Both Charles and Crystal are suspiciously silent behind him, and he would love to turn and check on them, but Thomas takes another step closer, smiling too wide and pleased, like the cat that caught the canary.

"Should we take this somewhere private?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows.

"No," Edwin says, and both Charles and Crystal echo him. He's not planning on doing anything too salacious. And taking a trip to the Cat King's lair is not in the cards, given the time crunch they are under. "Here is fine."

Before anyone can say or do anything else, Edwin takes the last step up which leads him right into Thomas' personal space, which takes him aback.

Edwin smiles, and fists the open collar of his coat and pulls him in.

Edwin doesn't have any experience in kissing, but after Monty, he'd done the research. Niko had helped him, and while everything you read didn't translate well enough into practical application, he was sure that his inexperience won't actually matter.

He's sure that that is part of the appeal for Thomas, but he does like having the upperhand every now and again.

So Edwin kisses him, with his limited experience and vast knowledge, lips pressed together chastely, once, twice, three times, before dragging his tongue across his mouth, which he hadn't expected to have any reaction given the way that Thomas was practically pliant and unmoving in his hands, as though Edwin shocked him into stillness.

But Thomas moves then, placing his hands at the back of Edwin's head as he tilts his head and opens his mouth to Edwin's. And this time when Edwin licks into his mouth the kiss changes, and he makes a low sound, understanding now why tongues are so involved in the graphic novels that Niko insists he read.

Edwin isn't sure how long they kiss, because he doesn't need to breathe, but it's enough for him to see exactly what Charles meant by a kiss not being felt on the lips but in the head.

He pulls away once he's aware that a lot of time has passed, and Thomas looks dazed, eyes lidded, cheeks flushed, lips parted.

Edwin curbs the instinct to push in and kiss him again, by pushing him away. Thomas stumbles a few steps before he drops to sit back on his throne.

Edwin swallows and resists the urge to tug against his clothes like they're too tight.

"Was that satisfactory?"

Thomas laughs, a bubbly thing that seems involuntarily, but he's grinning more happy and satisfied than before.

"For now, yeah," he answers, lazily and out of breath.

He waves a hand in the air, and a book materializes in Edwin's hands.

"Thank you," Edwin says, gratefully, turning the book in his hands.

"No, thank you," Thomas replies, almost purring.

Edwin turns around before he decides that the kiss wasn't enough and stops short one foot on the steps leading down.

Crystal and Charles are just staring at him in silence. Crystal with a wide and delighted grin, while Charles frowned, loudly.

"What?" Edwin asks, lifting one hand to his hair and then putting it back down.

Charles scoffs, and turns around, stalking back towards the mirror. Crystal follows after him, bouncing and sending Edwin a thumbs up as she goes.

Edwin looks back to Thomas to see if he understood what just happened any better than he did, but Thomas just grins lazily, and blows him a kiss.

Edwin turns around quickly and almost stumbles down the last two steps in his hurry to follow after his friends.

#*walks up a month late with a starbucks*#i can explain but i won't #dead boy detectives #catwin #anyway i love you christi 🩷🖤#and also i SEE you #this was the first thing to pop into my head and i had written out the entire scene in a little blurb #and then spent a month trying to write it #hope you like it 🥰🥰🥰#catwin fic #dbda fic

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