#some that bawl at everything

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) The obligations of a rogue versus those of a parent (pt. 2)

—

Tw: N/A

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Pt. 1 here) - (Pt. 3 here)

(Masterlist/subscription post)

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It was a beautiful morning. Somehow, against all odds, the sun was shining through the thick smog perpetually covering Gotham.

And Danny hated it.

He was in pain, he was exhausted, he was grieving, and all he wanted to do was sleep for at least a week.

In an act of celestial mockery, the sun shone regardless.

After around twenty minutes of tossing and turning in bed, trying to get back to sleep, Danny gave up and pried himself out of bed.

He stumbled through the hallway and into the living room, staring openly at every splash of color he saw in the small apartment. He hadn’t forgotten what color looked like in the time he was in the lab, but it was comforting to see.

Someone cleared their throat. Danny whipped his head around, eyes falling on a scrawny, gangly man sitting down in a worn armchair, hunched over a laptop. He was looking at him with a dull, bored expression.

Right. Scarecrow.

His escape.

The chase.

His mom.

“You look a lot less terrifying without the mask,” Danny blurted out, slapping his hand over his mouth. “I didn’t mean that.”

“Well, I certainly wouldn’t call my normal appearance frightening,” Scarecrow hummed, focusing his attention back onto the laptop, “that’s what the costume is for, after all.”

“Oh.”

After a brief moment of excruciating silence, Scarecrow spoke.

“You any good with computers, Danny? Hacking, and all that?”

Danny jolted. Scarecrow needed his help with something! This was great! Now, he’d have more of a reason not to get rid of him!

“Oh, uh, yeah! Not as good as my friend Tucker, but I think I’m pretty good.”

“And you’re familiar with the GiW’s systems specifically,” Scarecrow continued, beckoning him over. Danny complied, shuffling over awkwardly. “Right?”

“Well, I guess? My friends and I got into their stuff a couple of times before they…”

“Wonderful,” Scarecrow said, standing up with a stretch. He shoved the laptop into Danny’s hands and gestured for him to sit down on the couch. “Then you can hack into their system and extract whatever files you can find.”

Danny stared at the man like he’d lost his mind. He looked back at him expectantly.

Danny sat down.

“Yeah, I-I can do that. Tuck and I built a back door into their system ages ago,” he said, checking the screen. It was clear that for all the skills that Scarecrow had, hacking was definitely not one of them. “But, uh, don’t you have someone else that usually does this sort of thing for you? Not that I’m complaining!”

Scarecrow scowled, and Danny felt his heart fall into his ass.

“Usually, I do,” Scarecrow huffed, “but I chose to leave my most recent job with the Penguin early, so now there’s no way that he or Eddie will help me with anything until I make it up to them somehow.”

“Oh,” Danny said.

He had no clue whatsoever who Eddie was.

Danny got to work quickly, hoping that if he ignored the gangly man, he would leave him be. Luckily, he did just that, leaving to go work on something in another room.

Danny checked the laptop’s security before continuing Scarecrow’s progress, making sure that the GiW wouldn’t be able to grab their location.

It was…threateningly good. Whoever Eddie was, he had somehow crammed the functionality of a top-of-the-line PC into a tiny, beat-up old laptop. It almost reminded Danny of Tucker and his terrifying competence with his PDA.

Tucker.

Amity park.

Home.

Danny snapped himself out of his thoughts, tabbing back into the application Scarecrow had up and began to work his magic.

He had near full access to the entire GiW database within half an hour.

Mumbling out a quick thank-you to Tucker, he called Scarecrow over to appraise his work.

“Fixed up some food for you while you worked,” the rogue said, handing him a bowl of oatmeal, taking the laptop into his lap as he did so, “didn’t know how well you could eat, considering you’re recovering from… surgery, so I decided to stay on the safe side.”

Danny had no clue what this guy’s deal was.

He definitely did not tear up at the first genuine thoughtfulness he encountered in weeks, and he did not look away as he ate so that Scarecrow couldn’t see his face.

At least Scarecrow was too focused on the laptop to notice or care.

Or, maybe, he was just mercifully ignoring him.

Either way, Danny ate slowly, not wanting to make himself sick. He allowed himself to absentmindedly look around the room for the first time, taking everything in.

It was strangely homey. The space was filled with warm browns and yellows, a few splashes of color on the wall in the form of (obviously gifted) paintings. There was a beat-up bookshelf against the wall, clearly second-hand, filled to the brim with psychology books. On every available surface there was a different colored candle, all at different stages of use, clearly collected over the course of years.

Danny knew that the man next to him was a crazed, murderous criminal, but his home was oddly reminiscent of Jazz.

He was not about to cry.

“Danny,” Scarecrow hummed, snapping him out of his spiraling, “can you explain this to me?”

He looked over. The rogue was pointing to a new report, seemingly posted only a few hours ago.

Nodding, he took the computer into his lap, pouring over the contents.

He read the report again.

And again.

And again.

Danny swore loudly, crumpling like a wet paper bag, head in his hands.

“What?”

“It’s…” he swore again, glancing back at the laptop, “they…since you became liminal from synthetic ectoplasm, when we’re within about 500 meters of one another, our ectoplasm signatures resonate, and they can’t track us with any of their technology.”

“How is that a bad thing?”

“If we’re not that close to each other, they can track us down from anywhere in the world.”

Scarecrow went dead quiet. After what felt like the single longest minute of Danny’s life, he let out a truly exasperated sigh, slumping over in his seat.

“Yeah, me too,” Danny mumbled, utterly miserable.

“…I’ll have to move my plans back a little,” Scarecrow sighed, “I can’t drag an injured child with me when I attack the Gotham GiW base, you’ll just get in the way.”

“Oh come on,” Danny whined, “I can take care of myself just fine. Besides, Batman brings kids with him to do dangerous stuff all the time, and he’s fine!”

“Might I remind you that the second Robin died violently,” Scarecrow snapped, “and that Batman most likely has more traumatic brain injuries than all of the Gotham rogues combined. That really isn’t the winning argument you think it is.”

Danny paused, trying to think up some way to win the argument. Then, he realized what he had ignored before.

“Wait, Scarecrow, you’re gonna attack the GiW?”

“That’s the plan,” he nodded, “and call me Dr. Crane. I’m only Scarecrow when I’m in the mask.”

But,” Danny sputtered, “Sca—uh, Dr. Crane—that’s insane! The weapons they’ve got- they’ll rip you apart!”

“Not my first time,” Crane said, making Danny wince. “Besides, I have plenty of experience avoiding gunfire. I’ll live.”

“You…” Danny was silent for a while, trying to think of something to say, “fine, but you have to take me with you wherever you go. As soon as they see either of us on their radars, they’ll hunt us down.”

Dr. Crane sighed.

“…Fine. I need some time to plan anyways. Now, you’re going to help me download these files, properly format them, and send them out.”

“…Why?”

“Well, some of the other rogues might appreciate the heads up, and I’d quite like them to be indebted to me. Besides, I still need to pay back the Penguin for ditching him, and he loves knowing things that other people don’t.”

Danny paused.

“That’s an awful idea, no offense. If any of the rogues know our weaknesses, they—”

“Danny, we’re censoring everything. The only things they need to know about are the GiW specifically, and any sort of laws surrounding them.”

Danny snorted.

“You care about laws now?”

“Yes, because if we get taken to Arkham, they’ll hand us off to the GiW the moment they ask, and it’ll be completely legal.”

Oh. Danny had honestly forgotten that Arkham was an option.

“…Ok. I’ll help you. Who are we telling?”

“I don’t think you really need to know,” Dr. Crane said, the faintest shadow of an amused look on his face, “but I’ll humor you for now. We’re sending the files out to the Penguin, Riddler, Poison Ivy via Harley Quinn, Two-Face, and Red Hood.”

Danny nodded. He could live with that.

“Alright, then let’s get to work.”

—

[randomness-is-my-order]

something about wei wuxian and wen qing’s relationship is so profoundly heartening and i think it’s because, in that first life, they were each other’s confidants in the sense that they voluntarily allowed the other person to see them at their most vulnerable and trust the other to take care of them. wei wuxian trusted wen qing to carry out the golden core transfer and trusted her when he was helpless on that bed, his core cut out from him. and wen qing could think of no one else but wei wuxian to help her when she was in her most dire circumstances, trusting him to help her and her family out when no one else would.

“all that pride–all gone.”

at her lowest, wen qing went to wei wuxian and allowed him to see her that way. partly because her family was so much more important than a game of saving face and partly because if there was someone who would see her in such a state and not think ill of her and continue to respect her, it was wei wuxian. because he’s also been at his worst, circumstantially, and it was exactly in those days that their initial bond/friendship was forged.

there is alot of talk about debts when wwx and the wens are concerned but i think the way they helped each other transcends the obligation of debts. of course, you simply cannot overlook who was owed what, given the setting but it’s interesting that we have this passage to make us reflect on the true nature of wei wuxian and wen qing helping each other:

when wei wuxian had bid her farewell, carrying jiang cheng on his back, wen qing had told him this: “no matter how this war ends, we do not owe each other anything from now on. our debts are cleared.” her haughtiness was clear as day in his memory. but last night, she had clutched his hand in a death grip and almost dropped to her knees as she pleaded.

“wei wuxian…wei wuxian…wei-gongzi. please help me. i have no one else to turn to. you have to help me save a-ning! i really have no one else, i can only come to you!”

it’s the way that following wen qing’s refuge of wei wuxian and jiang cheng, there was a sentiment of: oh the wens did this to you and now we, also wens, have helped you just to compensate a little. let’s settle these debts and leave them behind. and this is despite wen qing clearly stating that the wen clan’s actions do NOT reflect her own and that she’s only ever saved lives, not taken any. and yet she declares “our” debts as cleared as if she had taken some accountability anyway. it’s part that and part her attempt to obscure what her actions towards wwx and jc truly were: an unconditional show of support and help. and wei wuxian knows this and it is only reasonable and honorable to still see the help as a debt owed later down the line.

and the same thing repeats itself when wen qing comes to wei wuxian and explicitly asks for help. there is a sense that this isn’t about some give-and-take or reciprocation of prior debts. it is simply a person reaching out to someone in their most desparate times, hoping their hand will be held. and wei wuxian does hold her hand and they remain each other’s staunch supporters through the rescue and the hellish survival in the burial mounds that follows.

wei wuxian trusts wen qing with his wounds and wen qing opens up her most loved ones to wei wuxian’s care. for two people who spent their lives looking after their loved ones, shouldering massive burdens and going through the destruction of their respective clans, their intrinsic understanding of each other makes their bond so special, so grounded. they both took massive risks to help each other out and they both did what was right over what was easy to extend that help to each other.

despite my fair share of problems with the cql, i appreciated that scene with wq and jc where wen qing made it clear that she couldn’t pursue anything with jiang cheng because he wouldn’t stand by her. he simply didn’t have the guts. and this is reflected in the novel canon, in the sense, that if debts owed are the metric to measure who could have helped wen qing, jiang cheng was also on the list and he was obligated to aid her as much as, if not more than wei wuxian (and i say this because the whole reason wwx ended up staying under wen qing’s extended care was because jc was injured. he would’ve left as soon as he was discovered had he been alone). and yet wen qing doesn’t ever approach jiang cheng. her only option is wei wuxian because she knows, deep down, that he would truly help her and go to greater lengths for her than any debts would warrant. that he would understand.

and thing is, despite being the outliers of their clans, they both (+wen ning) embodied their mottos. “attempt the impossible”/“knowingly do what you know you cannot do” for the jiangs and “every kindness should be returned” for the wens (very hilarious ik) and that is just one amongst the hundreds of commonalities they shared.

and all of this doesn’t even account for the fact that they basically died for each other. if this isn’t platonic love at its best, most brutal, most beautiful, then what is?

[agentc0rn]

Dreams sweet as peach

Mushed into pulp

All gone but the pit

Out of mind, swallowed it whole

amygladin comes

[carbonateddrinks]

“And I mean, hell. If you’re have to live the rest of your life in a memory… ya might as well make it a good one.”

[p0tat0-g0ddess]

every so often I am reminded that having severe food restrictions sucks actually

[gelphiegifs]

"Elphie, don't blame yourself."

[microwavablefork]

i just finished. bbc sherlock. there is nothing left for me now.

[theflyingfeeling]

the love of my entire life

[ljesaw]

WHERE DO YOU HOLD YOUR LOVE ?

in your heart // you hold your love in your heart. love is intrinsic, inevitable, love is the beating core of everything; love is also hard to talk about. your love comes out with more rareness, mostly shows up for the big things in a big way — this doesn't mean it doesn't beat for the small stuff, you feel it all, in fact you feel it more intensely than most which is why it's so hard to get out. you hold your love inside you because it matters, it might be the only thing that does.

tagged by: @huozhi <3 tagging: @imaguk , @yuespirit , @grayboxed , @icaryan for sadie! , @inflame , @saintlarue , @proditeur & whoever else wants to!!

[fingertipsmp3]

I’m gonna challenge my subconscious to a fist fight and I’m gonna lose

[isdalinarhot]

The nice thing about Dalinar all things considered is that if he is fond of you, and you are in his good graces, and you are having a Random Irrational Very Sad Moment, he will let you do crying into his big huge large strong but also soft torso. And he will hold you tight. And if you wish to be pressurized into a diamond he will do that too. He’ll be so fucking awkward throughout but he will do it 💯

[lesbianraskolnikov]

Guy who makes crime punishment gifsets only

[chickennuggeg]

Roots

It starts with a hangover that has him stumbling into the bathroom to throw up. He heaves empty air, grimacing at the feeling of the skin on his cheek tearing from moving too fast. The staples are due for a change anyways, he thinks. In the distance a phone rings. It’s probably Shigaraki being a pain and asking him to find more recruitments.

Drip. He watches a bead of red fall into the murky water of the toilet. It mixes with spit to make a murky brownish pink. Gross. Ring, ring! The phone from the bedroom goes off again, and Dabi tells it to fuckoff. Crazy villian in his sad apartment cursing out his phone. It’d be funny if he wasn’t about to pass out right now. Ring! Maybe it isn’t Shigaraki. It could be Toga bothering him with a cute boy or girl she saw on the street. Or maybe Hawks with his all cool double agent persona asking when the next meeting is. Yeah, he can afford to ignore that. He’s a villian, he can do whatever the fuck he wants. The sound of the phone sounds a lot less annoying once he thinks about it that way.

Slumping away from the toilet seat, he goes to brush his teeth. His cheeks are gaunt and hollow in the yellowing mirror. Purple scars only look worse each passing day, but it’s nothing he hasn’t been seeing for the past ten years. There’s a mild stench of burning flesh and cigarettes permanently engrained in his apartment now. It’ll probably stay there for years after he dies, which he expects is soon.

Turning his head he notices another line of blood from his ear to his chin. An addition to the staples he needs to change today. Tilting his head to get a better look at the damage, he sees it.

White roots show.

Dabi smells the fire before he feels it. There’s too much dead skin on his hands. He goes through protocol whenever he gets like this. Breathe through it, count from three… that’s what Google said, right? Smoke comes out of his ruined mouth when he sighs.

Dabi opens the cabinet to his left and fishes past bottles of old beer cans and expired snacks to find a half empty bottle of black hair dye. He made the mistake of buying one of those extra girly ones, hence the bottle is a sickly pink with a little rose engraved at the end. Seeing the pink brings another flash of flames and red in his vision, but thankfully this time no real fire starts out. He presses the bottle cap to get out some foamy black substance and applies. He’s supposed to wash his hair afterwards, but at some point Dabi stopped caring. He had hoped that leaving it in long enough would get rid of the ashen white. Still wishes it now, even though it never seems to work.

Why couldn’t it at least have been a pretty white? Post drunk, annoying questions pop up in his head. His natural hair color is all grey and ashy, like he somehow dirtied something that couldn’t be ruined.

Dabi could live with burning off his skin. It was never that nice anyway, always red and angry and rough. He hates his eyes. He wishes his eyes would burn. And the black hair is just something to add to the look. It’s a necessity for the grand reveal. But somewhere along the way he started hating his hair too.

White hair that always looked away, always shook gently when someone was crying, white hair that could only grow darker. Dabi looks in the mirror and sees the best version of himself. He presses the dye harder into his scalp and blocks out the name that he wants to forget. He knows he’ll burn with it. Dabi’s just hoping he can drag the right people down with him. Laughter bubbles from his throat and is rough on his mouth. The harsh lights on the ceiling taunt him with a past he can’t control. Red blood drips down from his chin and he thinks he’ll throw up again. His body is burning.

This must be what happiness feels like.

Real happiness, not like the rest of those fools. Somewhere down the city little Shoto must be moping with his new friends. Natsuo is studying for an exam. Fuyumi is waking up and getting ready for whatever job she has. Painting? Teaching? He doesn’t know what his mother is doing. He doesn’t care what dear old dad is doing.

It must feel so nice to be alive. Dabi can’t help being a walking corpse. Can’t help but dream of flames and wake up in a cold sweat going back to a hell that never ends. The only question is whether hell is in this apartment or a room filled with tatami mats and crying. Ah, he’s rambling again.

Beer and drugs will help. Maybe he’ll invite Toga over to watch a movie. He can look at her ‘ooing’ and ‘awing’ at the characters on the screen and pretend that he isn’t Dabi. He isn’t Touya. He’s just a person watching TV.

The phone rings. Dabi stalks out the restroom. Shigaraki’s probably bitching about finding new recruits again.

[steelthroat]

Just wrote an angry wall text about something and decided not to post it because that was too negative even for a wrathful glitch like me.

It's very liberating writing it out tho. Like yeah okay now I get it, that's the point of the catharsis.

Cool.

[judasofsuburbia]

what is it about my uterine lining shedding that makes me want to fucking self destruct

[non-un-topo]

How do you fight the demon inside of you that wants to snap and scream at everyone around you when you're in severe pain? 😔