#my writing.txt ;;

[avaritia-apotheosis]

They Might Be Giants

Alfred Pennyworth receives a phone call and is given custody over his recently orphaned nephew Danny Fenton.

A DPxDC Crossover // Read on [AO3] // Fic Masterlist

◆◆◆

one. 

Alfred received the phone call on an idyllic Sunday afternoon. Wayne Manor was a sleepy old thing in this weather, the house quiet and still as Alfred polished the silver to a shine. Mr. and Mrs. Wayne were out, taking little Master Bruce with them to see a new exhibit on the Mesozoic period.

He picked up the ringing kitchen landline and cradled the receiver in the juncture of his shoulder and ear, a practiced speech of “ Wayne Manor, may I know who is speaking? Apologies, the masters are unavailable at this moment, but may I pass on a message?” already at the tip of his tongue. 

Before he could open his mouth, the caller spoke. “Is this Mr. Alfred Beagle?”

Beagle was his mother’s maiden name, and the name Alfred took when he worked in Britain. The Pennyworth name, after all, was too closely associated with the Waynes. No one had called him that for years, now. He adjusted his grip on the receiver before resuming his polishing. “This is he. May I know who is calling?”

The caller—a tired sounding woman with a midwestern lilt—introduced herself as Mrs. Eller, the attorney to Jack and Madeline Fenton. “I am sorry that you had to learn about it like this, Mr. Pennyworth, but your cousin, Maddie Fenton, her husband, and their daughter Jasmine recently passed away in an accident this Wednesday. You have my deepest condolences.”

They were second cousins. That was the first thought that came to Alfred’s mind, the cloth in his hand frozen at the dip of the spoon he was shining. Their fathers were cousins who lived on opposite sides of the pond. Despite this, Alfred and Maddie remained in close contact with each other throughout their childhood. They were penpals, sending letters and photos and holiday postcards (Maddie more so than Alfred).

He was even invited to their wedding.

And now—

“Wait a minute…” Alfred’s mind stalled. He set down the silver and the cloth. “You said that the daughter died as well. They had a younger son. What happened to him?”

“He is alive and…as well as he could be in this situation. Danny is actually the reason why I needed to contact you.” Mrs. Eller cleared her throat. “In the Fentons’ will, you were named as their childrens’ legal guardian in case…the worst ever came to pass.”

“I…me? What about Alicia? Maddie’s sister?”

“It’s the late Doctors Fentons’ will, sir. And Danny has agreed to it as well.”

“I see.” Alfred’s breath came out in a shuddering gasp. “Well, if my dear late cousin willed it, then I am willing to comply. Please, let me make some arrangements first, and then I will get back to you with the details.” 

He hung up the phone—

—buried his face in his hands—

—and breathed. 

Alfred could not afford to cry right now.

◆◆◆

two. 

Thomas and Martha were more than happy to accommodate Danny within the manor when Alfred told them about his current situation. It was expected—the Waynes always had a penchant for generosity—but Alfred couldn’t help the sigh of relief all the same. 

(Master Bruce, precocious eight-year-old that he was, wrinkled his brows at the news. While fine with sharing his own things, the attention of his favorite people on the other hand, he hoards like a greedy dragon.)

A week after that terrible phone call, Alfred pulled the black Bentley up to the correct airport terminal and waited for his new charge’s arrival. 

Alfred had seen grief in many faces. Had experienced it himself. Despite this, nothing would ever prepare him for the utter desolation that seeped through Danny’s body. The boy was wan faced— skin almost gray. His cheeks were sunken and hollow, eyes bruised by shadows and stained red by tears. His back was hunched, less from the weight of his backpack and more so from the grief that hung on his shoulders. 

“Mr. Pennyworth?”  Danny’s voice was a dull timbre, nearly cracking at the edges. Alfred shook his hand (freezing cold, but not clammy). “I remember you. Mom always made sure to send you a Christmas card.”

The Fenton family Christmas card was always something Alfred appreciated. He had no family of his own that he was particularly close to, his immediate relatives all dead or estranged in some way. That Alfred received a card without fail every Christmas was always a novel feeling. It was…nice, to know that he still had ties somewhere. Danny, Alfred remembered, never really smiled in those cards. Oh he’d stretch his lips wide and show his teeth, but it was obvious from the way the smile never reached his eyes, and the tightness around his jaw that Danny wasn’t a Christmas person. 

And now, with only a few weeks left till Christmas, he might never be one. 

The two slid into the Bentley and drove off in relative silence. Danny had his head pressed against the window, eyes glazed as he watched the high-rise Gotham streets soon fade into open, rolling hills, and then the palatial monument that was Wayne Manor. 

At the sight of the manor, Danny blinked. “You a millionaire or something?” (Shoulders tensed. Hands curled into fist. His jaw clenched into a hard line, and there was a kind of acidity in his tone at the question. Problems with wealth? No. People with wealth.)

“No.” Alfred kept his tone bland. “But I do work for them. I am the Head Butler for the Wayne family, and have lived here with them while under their employ. They’ve graciously extended that hospitality to you.”

“Do I have to work for them or something?”

Most definitely a problem of someone with wealth.

Alfred shook his head. “While I would appreciate some help here and there, you have no obligation to do so. This is where you’ll live, with me. You can live here for as long as you’d like, and when you feel ready, we can also talk about entering you into school again.”

Danny drums his fingers against his forearm, eyes trained on the stone statues that guarded the door.

Thomas and Martha welcomed the boy with open arms. Danny shook their hands and thanked them with a raspy voice, polite smile not reaching his eyes. 

Master Bruce, shy and wary of the newest addition to the Wayne household, hid in the shadows of his mother’s ash mauve skirts. His blue eyes peeked upwards at Danny inquisitively.

(Later, after Alfred helped Danny settle into the room across from his own, Master Bruce would pull Alfred aside and ask why Danny looked so sad. 

Alfred knelt to Bruce’s eye level and pressed a warm hand on his shoulder. “He is sad because his family is gone.”

Master Bruce tilted his head. “Gone where? When will they be back?” For all that he was an intelligent lad, Bruce was barely more than a child. Death was a foreign concept. The death of a loved one was even moreso.

“Somewhere far, far away.” Alfred doesn’t want to be the one that teaches Bruce about death.)

◆◆◆

three. 

Wayne Manor was rumored to be haunted. It was a silly rumor of course; the Manor was an old house, and old houses have a tendency to make noises. But with Danny, one might almost be tricked into thinking it was true. 

Danny was a wraith. He haunted the wide and empty hallways with preternaturally silent footsteps, the hairs on Alfred’s nape standing on ends whenever he’d suddenly catch a glimpse of the boy at the corner of his eye. Sometimes Alfred would see him linger in shadowed nooks or in the solitude of his bedroom, staring vacantly at nothing. 

“He is still grieving,” Thomas would say. “Be patient with him.”

“He needs space,” Martha advised. “Just be there for him, Alfie. Let him know you’re someone he can trust, someone he can count on for support.”

Alfred looked down at his white-gloved hands. He knew that. He knew Danny needed support, needed space, needed time . But what about after? When the pang of grief had dulled with time, and Danny decided to step into the world instead of letting it pass by him? He was a child, and all children need parents.

Alfred remembers his time as an intelligence officer, slumming with petty criminals and socializing with wealthy targets. Living double, triple, quadruple lives, and exploiting every weakness that he could dig up in order to tear people down. 

Nurturing hands he had not.

(Fatherhood would never suit someone like him.)

“I don’t know if I can,” he confessed.

“But you must either way,” said Martha. “You are all Danny has left in the world.”

“The best is all you can really do,” added Thomas. “Look on the bright side: you’re already doing so well with Bruce.”

Sighing through his nose, Alfred rubbed the ache away from his temples. Recalled, then, the distant past with his own father who cared more for another family than his own. Jarvis Pennyworth was an austere man who embodied the ‘stiff upper lip’ idiom so commonly applied to the British people. Even in Alfred’s memory, Jarvis barely smiled. 

Jarvis was not a warm father. And yet…

Alfred still remembered the warmth that bloomed in his chest whenever he was young and saw a plate of freshly peeled fruit sitting on his desk.

Jarvis was not a particularly warm father, and more often than not was clumsy and awkward with his affection. But he loved his family still. Even far away, Alfred knew that his father would always be there for him.

And maybe, that’s what Danny needed from him too. 

◆◆◆

four. 

Alfred's previous occupation necessitated light sleeping habits, and for all Danny's too-quiet footsteps, he too was at the mercy of the Manor's age. Danny's door creaked open in the dead of night, rousing Alfred from his rest. From there, it only took Alfred fifteen seconds to ascertain that Danny had already turned around the hallway.

Alfred rose from his bed and tied his dressing robe around his waist. His nephew had a habit of wandering outside his room late at night. At first, from Alfred's observations, it was only to aimlessly walk throughout the Manor. After the first week, Danny had begun to gravitate to one place in particular.

The library.

Though it was less for the comfort of books or the rather comfortable wingback armchairs that surrounded the fireplace, and more for the small balcony that overlooked the topiary garden.

The first time Alfred had followed Danny there, he nearly had a heart attack when he saw Danny sit at the edge of the balustrade, feet dangling twenty feet above the ground. He nearly gave away his hiding spot in the shadow of some shelves. Fortunate for him that Danny wasn't the most observant person. He was like his mother in that way; for all that Maddie was an intelligent and frightfully observant little girl, she could be totally blind to some of the most obvious signs. (Alfred wondered if she ever grew past that.)

Like the first time, Danny sat at the edge of the balustrade. His fingers drummed a rhythmic pattern against the stone, head tilted up as he watched the starry sky above. Unlike the first time, Alfred made a stop at the kitchen first, coming out with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate. Made just the way his own father used to. 

Alfred deliberately stepped on a few creaky floorboards on his way over to alert Danny of his presence. He set down his own mug atop the railing before offering the other to his nephew. "It's cold out."

Wordlessly, Danny wrapped his hands around the mug and tucked it close to his chest. His blue eyes— startlingly bright in the darkness—scrunched in confusion as he tried to figure out Alfred's angle.

"It's not poisoned," Alfred joked dryly. He took a sip of his own mug as if to prove it. "That's too cliche."

"Too suspicious, too. It'd be easier to just push me off the balcony. Makes it look like an accident." Danny turned pink, sheepish. "Oh no that was kinda morbid. I'm sorry, I don't — I don't know why I said that."

He chuckled. "I'm the last person to reprimand you for morbid jokes, boy. And besides, you're right." Alfred smiled from beneath his cup when he saw Danny take a sip of the hot chocolate. "What brings you out here, anyway?"

There was a line of chocolate above Danny's lip. He wiped it away with the back of his wrist. "Stargazing, I guess. It's— there's less light pollution here and I wanted to just…look, I guess."

"Do you like astronomy?"

Danny nodded, gazing upwards at the cluster of stars above. "I wanted to be an astronaut when I was little."

"And now?"

"I still do. A lot. But I don't think that's possible for me anymore."

Alfred adjusted his grip on his mug. “Why not?”

Danny shrugged. “I don’t…know, really.” His voice is infinitesimally small that it is almost carried away by the evening wind. He hunched forward, elbows resting on his knees and mug settled on the bannister. Looked as if he was teetering on the edge and Alfred’s hand itched to pull on his arm as if to anchor him. “It feels as though I’m someone else. Like the Danny that wanted to become an astronaut lives in an entirely separate reality, and it feels weird to still want that dream because he and I are so—” 

His breath catches in his throat. Eyes wide as a single tear slid down his cheek.

Then, all at once, his energy leaves him. “I’m sorry,” he said again. “I don’t know what I’m saying.”

Alfred shook his head. “No. Don’t apologize. You have nothing to apologize for.” He met Danny’s gaze. Hoped that the boy would see the sincerity in his own eyes. “You are right. You are changed, Danny. I don’t know in what way, but you have changed and it is alright that you feel like a different person. Grief changes you, but it doesn’t mean you have to distance yourself from who you once were.”

Danny gripped the bannister tight. Fingers dug harshly into the stone. “I heard a lot that ‘time heals all wounds.’ ” He laughed humorlessly. “Is that actually true?”

“No,” Alfred said. “It doesn’t. The wound will never heal, but time will numb it enough that it no longer feels as painful.”

Danny looked at Alfred for a long moment, searching for something. The cold wind tousled his hair. Despite the frigid temperatures, Danny had not shivered even once.

Then, he spoke. “I still don’t think I can become an astronaut.”

Alfred’s gaze softened. “That’s alright. You’re still young, and you have plenty of time to decide what you want to do with it.”

◆◆◆

five. 

Surprisingly—or perhaps, unsurprisingly—it was Master Bruce that pulled Danny out of the shadows of grief. Not completely, but…enough so that Danny began to finish everything on his plate and was unafraid to sleep some nights without waking up in nightmares.

Thomas and Martha were pleased, of course. For all Bruce’s brightness and endearing personality, he was so shy and struggled to make friends his own age. Danny at fourteen was still years older, but progress was progress. The Wayne couple would encourage the two’s friendship with a warm smile and an overindulgence in their antics. As long as Danny and Bruce didn’t leave the estate without their permission or stay out too late, the boys were free to wander as they liked.

In Alfred’s eyes, the connection between the two was obvious. Like called to like. Loneliness called to loneliness.

Once, Alfred caught the boys laying down in the soft grassy fields behind the manor. Their heads are pillowed by their arms, eyes craned towards the bright array of stars above, and willfully ignorant of the curfew they were breaking.

Danny lifted his arm to point at the sky. “See those three stars in a line?” he said to Bruce. “Those three stars make up Orion’s belt, and are the brightest stars in his constellation. See? If you follow it, you can sorta make the shape of a person.”

“I see it!” Master Bruce exclaimed. He traced a vague shape in the air. “There’s his chest. That, his arm. And look! I can even see his bow!”

“You know, a lot of people actually think that’s a shield.”

“But that looks nothing like a shield!” 

Alfred couldn’t see for certain, but he felt that Danny would’ve shrugged at that statement. “Shield, bow, pelt of fur, doesn’t really matter in the end. The important thing was that you could see it. The ancient Mediterraneans used Orion as, like, an old calendar to know when it was a good time to thresh—that is, to separate the seeds from like a barley plant—their crops.” He moved his hand again. “The other cool thing about Orion is that it’s a good way to find other stars. See, if you follow the line of his belt away from his bow, you’ll find Sirius, which is the brightest star in the canis major constellation.”

“Is that his dog?”

“Yeah, that’s his dog. Sirius is also the brightest star in our night sky— well, after the sun at least. Anyway, if you follow the line of Orion’s belt towards the bow and even past it, you can see a cluster of stars way up there. There should be seven, but it might be hard to see all of them.”

“I think I see it? Is it that one?”

“Uh, a bit further— yep! That one. That’s the Pleiades, an open star cluster and probably one of the most well known stars in history. There’s actually way more than seven stars up there, but as far as seeing with the naked eye goes, we can only see seven. Like Orion, they were used to mark when it was a good time to harvest, but more than that, they were used by Greek sailors to know when it was a good time to sail. If the Pleiades were setting, or they were gone from the sky, then the seas would be too dangerous and it was better to go home.”

“What about that star over there?”

Alfred sees Danny shift, his head tilting towards the small lump that made up Master Bruce. “Which one?”

“Between the Pleiades and Orion there’s this really bright orange star.”

“Alpha Taurus. The brightest star in the Taurus constellation.” A beat. “Aldebaran, I think is its name. They call it ‘The Follower’ because it always follows after the Pleiades. Fun fact, it’s like over forty-times larger than the sun.”

“Really?” Alfred could hear the incredulity in Master Bruce’s voice. “It doesn’t look like it.”

“Well, all of those stars are lightyears away. They’re so far away that, technically, we’re not really seeing the stars. The light they give takes a long time to actually reach here on earth for us to see, so what we’re looking at is the light of a star from hundreds or thousands of years ago.”

Danny went quiet for a moment. “Really…for all we know, some of the stars we’re looking at have been dead for a while. Alive to us, but dead in reality. A weird kind of limbo.”

“Does it matter though?” Master Bruce said.

“What?”

He turned over, laying on his belly and holding himself up on his forearms. “Dead or alive? Does it matter?” 

“I don’t…”

“I don’t think it does.” Master Bruce flopped back down to the grass. “If it’s alive, it’s alive. If it isn’t, then… it’s still alive in a way? My dad said that you’re never truly dead as long as someone remembers you, and as long as we see the star then it’ll always stay alive.”

Danny was silent for a moment.

Then he laughed and ruffled Bruce’s hair. “You know, Bruce, you’re way too smart for your age.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No. Never. You kinda remind me of my sister a bit.” 

Alfred’s breath hitched. It was the first time he had ever heard Danny willingly bring up his family since they first met. 

“She was a huge know-it-all,” Danny continued. “Annoyed me a lot because everyone always noticed that I wasn’t smart like her, but…she had a big heart, like you.”

Danny hauled himself to his feet before offering an arm to Master Bruce. “Come on, we better head back before anyone notices that we snuck out past your bedtime.”

Master Bruce whined. “Can’t we stay a bit longer?”

“We can do this again tomorrow night.”

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die and all that.”

The two walked arm in arm back through the patio entrance, Danny’s footsteps still that same eerie silence, and little Bruce’s slowly matching his gait to copy Danny’s movements. Neither were aware of Alfred, who clung to the shadows, watching his two boys go.

(Alfred said nothing of the boys’ late-night astronomy lessons. He continued to say nothing whenever he caught the two of them breaking curfew. Instead, he’d settle on a chair in a hidden nook that comfortably kept the two in sight, and watched the stars.)

◆◆◆

six. 

Months passed, and slowly, Danny learned to move on. He ate more now. Smiled more. Laughed more. Lived more. 

Danny was a delight to have in the Manor. He was an extra voice that bounced around the vast hallways, another plate set down for family meals, and a point of normalcy in the glittering world of the Waynes. He was Alfred’s apprentice in the kitchen, their handy mechanic when technology went awry, and Bruce’s ever watchful guardian. 

Martha and Thomas loved him. Bruce adored him. 

And Alfred?

Alfred could not help the little voice at the back of his head that wanted to call the boy his own. Danny was his nephew, his family along with the Waynes. 

Despite all the tragedy that brought Danny to Gotham, Alfred could not help but be happy that Danny was here with them.

But Gotham was a cruel mistress.

And Happiness was as fragile as a string of pearls.

Alfred drove Bruce away from that godforsaken alley as soon as he could. The boy (eight years old, he was eight years old and stained in his own parents’ blood) shivered in the passenger seat, an officer’s jacket slung over his small frame. He was silent. Unmoving. Hollow eyes trained at the darkening sky ahead.

They reached the Manor to find Danny furiously pacing on the front steps, teeth worrying the end of his thumb. He froze as soon as Alfred stepped out of the black Bentley.

He jumped down the front steps, shoes skidding against the gravel. “Alfred?”

What happened?

Is everything alright?

Alfred could read every bit of Danny’s body language as if the boy was an open book. The tense line of his shoulders; the rigidness of his spine; the sudden depth of his respirations as if Danny was forcing himself to calm down but couldn’t quite get there in time. There was a wild sort of desperation in his eyes— but Danny wasn’t looking at Alfred. Wasn’t here. Not completely at least.

Some part of Danny was back in Amity again. A young boy like Master Bruce watching his whole world fall apart with a bang. 

Alfred kept a stiff upper lip as he opened the passenger door and helped Master Bruce onto unsteady legs. He had to be strong now, for both his boys. 

“Alfred,” Danny started again. “What— what happened? Where’s—” At the sight of Master Bruce, Danny stumbled to his knees. 

“Bruce? Are you—” He cradled Bruce’s blood-stained cheek, fingers shaking. 

Bruce spoke. The first words he’d said since Alfred came to get him. “What do I do, Danny?” His voice is shaking and raw and so small . The wind could almost carry it away. “They’re gone, Danny. My parents are gone, too.”

Alfred could see the instant Danny broke. 

(Alfred could feel the second he broke, too.)

He pulled both his boys into his arms and held them tight. They were all each other had in this world, and Alfred begged to a god he hadn’t believed in for years that the world not separate them even more.

◆◆◆

seven. 

It’s been a week. 

Alfred found both boys curled up in the grassy fields behind Wayne Manor, staring at the dark expanse of night.

“I never want anyone else to go through what we did,” Bruce said. 

A promise. 

Danny turned to look at Bruce, a hand held out. Aldebaran shone bright and red above him. “Never again.” 

A pact. 

◆◆◆

eight. 

When Bruce is midway through his first year of university and Danny is nearly finished with his bachelor’s degree in aerospace engineering, the two of them dropped out of college, packed a bag each, and disappeared into the night.

 They gave no word. They left no note.

Months later, they were declared dead. Another tragedy for the people of Gotham, who mourned their bright prince. 

All of Bruce Wayne’s finances and belongings were left to Alfred, who continued to tend to them, as if any day Bruce Wayne and his smiling shadow would return. 

Time passed.

The world turned.

Bruce Wayne and Danny Fenton remained dead. 

Until one night, when the Pleiades had begun their descent from the sky, Alfred woke to a phone call. He held the phone to his ear, spoke into the receiver in hushed tones, and hung up a few minutes later. 

He readies his uniform. Made sure that it was free of lint, and the fabric was ironed out of any wrinkles. He dressed, made himself presentable, and drove the black Bentley all the way to a lonely airfield on the outskirts of Gotham.

He waits. 

He does not wait long. (He’s waited long enough.)

A small plane descends. Landed on the runway. Stopped. 

An eternity, and the doors opened. 

Out steps two young men, tall and lean, with whipcord muscles and scars that held stories that Alfred might never know.  Their eyes are tired but bright. Hungry for vengeance, for justice, for Gotham .

Alfred smiled at his boys.

“Welcome home.”

[heatcaged]

i am unfortunately writing a fic about jake talley’s sister bringing him back life its bewitched me

[wanderingblindly]

what are some other aus you want to write for landoscar? would you do like toxic relationships? post-apocalyptic? college frat bro lando? greys anatomy? crime? hehe so curious and love your writing!!!!

Oh god, my fatal flaw is that I’m CONSTANTLY thinking of AUs hahahahha. Some that I’ve talked about recently, but haven’t gotten around to starting, are:

- youth soccer rivals turned D1 teammates (yes, it’ll be set in America because I said so and also because I only know how this all works in the U.S.). I want rivals to begrudgingly well-suited teammates to lovers!!!!!

- university AU centered around sculpture courses (trust me I have a vision)

- ceramics-studio owner Lando x office worker Oscar

- tattoo artist Lando x Just Some Guy Oscar

- Alpha Oscar that accidentally ended up in our non-A/B/O universe. Omega Lando and Alpha Oscar aren’t dating yet, but our Lando and Oscar are. Chaos? (Inspired by @mossistyping )

- Lando and Oscar as teammates, where Lando — in an attempt to be a Good Senior Teammate — accidentally kind of. Becomes Oscar’s sugar daddy.

- some sort of AU where Oscar is famous and Lando isn’t? I want to try a dynamic I don’t often touch.

- hmmmmm some sort of soulmate AU

- I kind of want to try my hand at an AU based on a show/movie/book universe, but I’m not sure what I’d do?????????

- also want to write something. Miserable. I was listening to Miserable music again the other day in the shower and I made me want to inflict pain.

- toxic relationships sound interesting!!!! But it’s one of those things where like…. I’m not sure how I’d find a plot I’m compelled by, you know? I’m so fussy

[scaramew]

BEST PART. multi

you took the best part of me, when you left. you took my heart with you. ( or, the aftermath of a breakup. )

ft. diluc, albedo, childe, xiao, zhongli, kazuha x genderneutral reader

warnings : angst with a capital A !!! Angst !! post-breakup, lovers to exes to HMM?? HUH???, ooc characters HUHU, THIS IS SUPER LONG, i haven't written in awhile hihi sorry

sticky note : i got a lot of inspiration from quotes !! i cant link every quote i got inspiration from but please just send me an ask for a specific character like "whats ur inspo for zhongli?" and i will happily try and find it !! ALSO I HAD SONGS IN MIND FOR EACH CHARACTER PLEAAASEE ASK ME ABOUT THEM

DILUC RAGNVINDR. noctua

the day things fell apart was the day diluc lost every bit of light in his life — every bit of you. the day you left was the same day diluc realized how big the house truly was. pictures of you and him line the walls, and no matter how much it hurts to look at them, diluc can't bring himself to take any of them down. diluc can't bring himself to even come home. can't even stand to be in such an empty house.

the day the burning embers had gotten out of control, the flames enough to swallow him whole, diluc realized you weren't there to snuff them out anymore. to soothe the burn, to wash everything away.

you see him and speak of fire as if it's the softest thing in the world. speak of fire as if it hadn't burned you before, as if you could start fires with the feelings you have.

like a candle that has been lit for far too long, his love burns quietly, yet it burns all the same. his love for you was quiet, but yours? your love was loud. brighter than any flame he's created from the vision that dangles along his waist. your love lit suns into his heart and diluc ragnvindr fears that he will never be able to repay it.

he stands in the doorway of his room, silently watching as you slip through his grasp, as you pack your things and despite how much he wants to stop you, he makes no move to do so. he isn't good for you, and despite how endlessly he will miss your presence, your laugh, your smile, the habits he's worked his daily life around just so he could have more of you in it, if it meant he could save you from himself — diluc is willing to burn alone.

you were leaving and there was nothing else he could do. diluc ragnvindr could do nothing but sit in the silence, his house—his world was too quiet without you in it. diluc ragnvindr thought he was fluent in silence, until he locked eyes with you and his throat runs dry. until he's run out of things to say with you, of all people. you were leaving and everything diluc wants to say remains. you leave some of your things behind and you leave him behind too.

restless in his own bed, diluc would rather sleep on the floor than have to inhale another whiff of your cologne. he says he can't rest because of his work, but the truth is diluc ragnvindr can't — won't rest until he has you next to him. he knows better than to ask you to sleep next to him just so he knows he isn't alone, so instead he compromises with the fact he will never rest.

even now, as pieces and remnants of you and the history you both share litter his house, diluc is restless, yet he leaves it all alone. he leaves everything right where you left it, too scared to move it, lest he breaks what you left behind, what reminds him it was all real. he refuses to get rid of it, despite adelinde's countless offers of handling it for him, he can't. he can't bring himself to, because then, you'd really be gone from diluc's life. and he refuses to fill in the space you left, he refuses to take up the space in this house that's way too big for him, just as he refuses to fill in the gaping hole in his heart with anyone else. with anyone but you.

diluc finds you again when the burns start to heal, when all that's left is a scar on his heart. diluc finds you again holding the things he couldn't keep, the things he knew you'd need. you see him and, pained and still in love, still so in love, he sees you.

"i haven't forgotten about you — if that's what you were thinking. i am never . . . not thinking about you." he sighs, "i didn't say it then, but . . i love you."

"did you mean loved?"

"love. i still love you. i think . . . i always will."

ALBEDO. princeps cretaceous

in your absence, you'd taken albedo's comfort in the stars. the everlasting winter of dragonspine does not falter, albedo does not falter, and on the surface, it seems like everything is okay. if it were anybody else, everything would seem just fine. but you're not everybody else, and he hates it. albedo hates how the absence of a single person could affect him so deeply. he hates how often you run through his mind, sketches that were supposed to be rough diagrams turning into portraits of you, accidentally ending sentences in your name because that's all he can think about.

to the rest of the world, there is nothing wrong with the chief alchemist, but to him? — he feels sick. there must be something wrong with him, to see pieces of you in everything he does, in everything he reads, in every breath of life — in every star in the sky.

your eyes were so bright, he thinks, your smile even brighter, looking at the stars, at every constellation you remember. he didn't even notice, or maybe he just didn't care when you get the names wrong. it felt surreal, then. breathtaking, to look at the stars he sees every night. nothing in the sky had changed, but to have you next to him — it felt magical. you made everything feel magical. albedo can't even remember if he was looking at the stars or if he was just looking at you.

that's why it feels so wrong, to look at the stars without you next to him. it's unexplainable, the feeling of being without you. the feeling of having someone fade out of your life and having no way to stop it. having to wonder if anything was real, because if it was real it shouldn't have been so easy to drift apart. after all, the only stars you see in the night sky are the ones that've already died, their light the only sign that they were real, once. they were alive and they were burning so bright . . . were we real?

maybe it just wasn't meant to work, maybe there was nothing you both could've done. albedo had convinced himself that he was just never fit for the relationship he craved so dearly, he knew that. even if it hurt to know. even if it was one of the most painful things he's had to learn. he wasn't fit for human relationships, but at the same time, it felt—it feels like loving you was the only thing he was ever made for.

so even as he watches you walk away, even as he feels the ache in his mind and his chest that he could never quite explain grow stronger — albedo isn't sure of anything. of the time you've spent together — if any of this was worth the pain.

albedo isn't sure of anything, and yet there is one thing he'll always be sure of. until every last star dies, he will always, always, love you the exact same.

CHILDE. monoceros caeli

childe had lost the bits of peace that remained in war when he left. his breath is warm against your shoulder, hushed sobs as the strongest person you knew fell apart in your arms. the days leading up to his departure filled with the grief of losing someone who was right in front of you — childe had lost the peace in your embrace when he started counting down the hours. when he started thinking of when he would have to leave. when childe — ajax, your ajax, was torn from the times he was allowed to be more than destruction, more than a weapon, when he was allowed to just be yours. when you were allowed to be his.

it was night when he left, the sky so dark he hoped his family couldn't see how how red his eyes and cheeks had become. he had to be strong, he always had to be strong. if not for himself, for them, for his family, for you. it was night when you childe kissed you for the first time, when you both had to pretend nothing happened so it wouldn't hurt as much when he left, his pinky tucked under yours, you'd made a promise. you had to wait — please, wait for him.

his visits home were few and far between, there were times you'd rarely see him, but he made sure. he always made sure to come home to you. even when his body would nearly collapse out of sheer exhaustion, childe would always try to come home with a smile on his face.

no matter how tired he was, childe made sure to fill every memory he had with you with sheer happiness.he wouldn't be able to handle it — if the few times he'd get to see you were filled with the emotions that came with missing you.

so he'd come home and say his hellos that sounded too much like early goodbyes. he'd come home and crawl into your arms with the exhaustion of someone with the world on his shoulders, just to hide from that very world in your embrace — even if just for a day or two. childe will come home not to a house, but to a person, and he will try desperately to ignore the way everything's changed. he's not a teenager anymore, and neither are you. but while he can, childe will pretend you're both just kids, and he will take the few days of peace in your arms before he is forced to face the world outside.

XIAO. alatus nemeseos

you have changed the meaning of "forever" the moment you stepped into xiao's life, and the moment he decided it was too much to stay. the word had little significance to the yaksha, forever just another word stuck in the back of his mind, forever just another empty promise. for no one could promise forever and truly mean it. it was warm the day you first said it, warm being almost all he could remember about that day. how warm it was to have your hand resting atop his, how warm it was to bask in sunlight and you — how warm it could feel to be wanted.

you changed forever on days where xiao would find himself staring down from the roof of wangshu inn, expecting your footsteps, expecting you — he has to slap himself before it becomes too much. you changed forever the day xiao asked why someone like you would ever stay with someone like him. why someone so perfect in his eyes would want anything to do with the mess he is. what did he do to deserve it?

your touch was so gentle on his skin. so gentle it was terrifying. your arms would wrap around his torso and he'd never hug you back because he destroys everything he touches and he wouldn't know what to do if he ruined one of the greatest things he's known in this lifetime.

xiao had always wondered what it felt like, love. he'd never admit it, but it's always lingered in his mind. and if anyone ever asked, it would be your name on his mind. because if anything, if anyone was love then it had to be you. it had to be you. it had to be you and he hated it, because for the first time, he wishes he'd never known. xiao wishes he'd never known the answer to that question, if it meant he'd never have to say it; "i love you."

and maybe forever started to change when he met you, maybe forever changed when he had to utter words he didn't even believe himself, when xiao had to rid himself of what he thinks is the one good thing in his life. when he cut you out and desperately tried not to make you cry because he'd take it all back if you did and he couldn't. he couldn't take any of it back — that's exactly why he was saying goodbye in the first place. "i can't have you in my life." when all he really wants to say is he shouldn't have you. when you could have so much more.

and he prays that there will come a day where forever won't have to mean the life you both could've had, where forever won't mean something lost. where forever won't be filled with longing for something unattainable. where forever is nothing but the promise of finding eachother. in this lifetime. in every lifetime.

if it meant sorry, goodbye, i love you, everything he wishes he could say — every doubt, every regret he could ever have, he's not sure. "i don't regret it." his voice comes out choked, barely above a whisper. you stare at him and he keeps going even though he so desperately wants to stop talking. "meeting you, it was — "

"it was everything. you . . . were everything."

ZHONGLI. lapis dei

the day you parted ways was the day zhongli knew he would always, always remember you. the day you left you'd taken his peace of mind with you. countless nights spent wondering, because to wonder is to set your soul free, but to wonder and to never find out is prison. a prison zhongli has willingly trapped himself in for years, a prison he will continue to trap himself in for thousands of years to come.

zhongli isn't one to lie to himself, so when he passes you in the street, when he locks eyes with you in the crowds of people, when he sees you again, not as a god, but as a mortal man, zhongli makes no move to lie and say that he's fallen out of love with you.

memories will flood back with every stolen glance, memories of love and of loss. for that's all these memories really felt like; loss. but even then, zhongli didn't have it in himself to think of your memories as just loss — when he knew there was so much more to the memories you shared.

he had a new life now — you did too. and maybe that's why it felt so different. maybe that's why he felt so stiff saying hello. maybe that's why he had to catch himself before he stared into your eyes for too long. you always respected his decisions, he had to respect yours. even if he ached to hold your hand as you walked next to him for the first time in a thousand years.

you'd done this all before, lifetimes ago. when it felt like the two of you were on top of the world, when it felt like time was on your side, when you hadn't known the feeling of loss yet. zhongli just wasn't sure if you were willing to do it all again. if he was willing to do it all again.

he doesn't ask, so neither do you.

so as he sits next to you in the theater, exchanging simple pleasantries in the dark, for once, he lets the play fade into the background, stories he's heard a million times all of a sudden brand new as he watches you stare in amazement. a million questions playing on his lips as the play comes to a close. he wants to ask how you're doing, what you've been up to, if you even remember — he wants to ask if you've fallen in love. but as the two of you get up to leave, the only thing he can say is "take care of yourself." because he no longer has the right to ask these questions. he no longer has the right to know about you — to know you. and with that, he no longer has the right to peace of mind.

KAEDEHARA KAZUHA. acer palmatum

it feels as if you took the color from kaedehara kazuha's life the moment he walked away, the moment he left and you didn't chase after him. the moment he left and you didn't beg him to stay. you couldn't, not when he needed to leave, so you stay in the same place. you stay right there, smiling through the tears, and kazuha can feel his breath catching in his throat as he steps on that ship.

at times, he finds that his mind wanders to you everytime he sees the breathtaking scenery, the leaves that rush through the wind, the skies right before sunset, because archons, it cannot compare to the sight that is you. soft flowers fall from the branches as red as his puffy eyes and, despite the overwhelming amounts of color that paint the landscapes, he sighs at how dull, how colorless—lifeless his world seems when you're not in it.

ink stains the sides of his hand, poems he didn't even intend to write about you always tying back to you anyway. it makes him feel seasick, at times, the ache in his gut at the thought of how he left.

kazuha's heart weighs on him like an anchor, tides crashing against it as he is forced to stand still; lest he drift away into the depths of his emotions. blood stains his clothes, it stains the bandages that wrap around his body, the bandages that do nothing to mend his heart.

kazuha runs his fingers across the paper, the indentations of words on paper for letters he knows he will never send. the words aren't romantic, or as poetic as he wanted, instead filled with the guilt, the unresolved grief of being the one to leave — there is so much he wants to say. there is so much he wants to tell you and none of it can come out in words. pages littered with ellipses and crossed out sentences because there is absolutely nothing poetic or romantic he can write about missing you.

the ink smudges on his finger and he can't bring himself to rewrite the same letter again — so he doesn't. he packs everything he wishes he could say into a single envelope, and amongst the smudged ink he can only hope you can't make out the last sentence. i wish you were here to kiss my scars.

© scaramew — do not repost, translate, copy, etc.

[the-bite-of-87-lol]

I just remembered my 5 dystopian OCS for this (not completely finished) world build or whatever.

More under cut

I think I remember all their names, there was

Pickle (penny)

Lotus

Nox/noxus

Pip

Tadpole (Olivia)

And I think there might be one more, not entirely sure

I drew them then used Pinterest images as face claims, tadpole was one of my favorites.

Rest of the images are the cutoff names

Each place had a description

Tadpole came from the slums, they ran away from home after getting a this badass axe made of scrap metal.

They had a space themed room, it was messy and had torn books everywhere with toys and plushies, parents weren't the greatest people ever, but they got them some stuff.

The characters aren't all finished and fleshed out because I was never able to use them, I'm more of an rp focused person, writing is hard on my ADHD, I can do it sometimes, sometimes I can't, but I can always RP, and no one found interest in them (specifically my ex) and refused to let me use them. Anyways

Pip was found in a safe haven, I forgot if it was solaris or not,

Noxus was met in the dark void

I don't remember where they found lotus

They found pickle in ashtown

And tadpole was the one who started the group.

There's monsters and stuff too, I don't have those fully developed though. I also don't have a name for the event yet, I'm working on it, it's a nuclear thing

And here's the channel descriptions, there's a lot.

I can't figure out how to see the channel descriptions for fucks sake, i hate discords updates grrr

Ough, I have to reblog to put more images gimme a sec

[moriihana]

we can’t fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || seventeen: dabi's dance

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won’t leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: machia makes a beeline for shigaraki, dabi reveals who he is, you pass out from pain

content: angst with fluff ig

word count: 2973

a/n: sorry this is so late i'm cripplingly depressed and my mental health has tanked lmao

taglist: @iincandescenttt

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

“Mister. Where’re the others?” Dabi slid down to Compress using Geten’s ice, helping you and Boo after he regained his balance. You compartmentalised your emotions, locking away your grief for a later date. 

Find Himiko and Spinner. Get to safety. Deal with your emotions later. In the four months you’d spent at the PLF, you had gotten even closer to Toga—you’d even started to call her by her first name, per her request.

“You’re like an older sibling to me! Call me Himiko, pretty please! Siblings call each other by their first names!”

You smiled a little bit at the memory, the ache in your heart easing slightly. You let some of the tension out of the leash as Boo pulled at it, letting her run over to where Compress was crouched and licking at his mask.

“Dabi!! Y/N!!” Compress said as he gently pushed Boo’s head away. “Where’d you two run off to? You’re meant to be lieutenants!”

“Uh, so are you,” Dabi deadpanned. “The whole regiment system doesn’t really work when they catch us off guard. Anyway, wanna blow this joint?”

“I believe Twice was… killed,” Compress said quietly. “Alas, I tried but failed to stop her. Even though jumping into the fray was tantamount to suicide. I’ve never seen little Toga lose her cool like this.”

“You mean Himiko just ran out there?” You hissed and shook your head.

“She did,” Compress confirmed with a nod. “She took some hero’s blood and ran off.”

“...Mister, please tell me you have an extra set of clothes for her.” Dabi narrowed his eyes. 

Compress huffed, “Of course I do. Last time I forgot to pack extra clothes, someone nearly bit my head off.” He looked at you. You had a feeling he was squinting at you from behind his mask.

“I don’t want to see Himiko running around naked.” You shrugged, tugging lightly at Boo’s leash to get her to come back over. You turned to Dabi. “What now?”

“Hang on—is that a backpack for Nugget?” Compress sounded delighted. You snorted, shooting him a smile. 

Before you could respond, the ground began to shake violently and Machia’s hand burst through the concrete. You yelped, stepping back. Boo ran behind you, peeking out from behind your legs. As Machia reached for you, Dabi jumped out of the way. You quickly hoisted Boo up underneath your arm before Machia picked you and Compress up. He was surprisingly careful, making note not to crush the backpack or Boo, as well as avoiding aggravating your arthritis.

“Whoa, wait! What? Stop! What do you think you’re doing?” Compress said frantically, wiggling around in Machia’s grasp. 

“Calm down, Mister! He’s just giving us a ride,” you laughed, putting Boo down when Machia set you onto the ridged part of his back. Nugget meowed loudly and Boo whined, shaking her fur out unhappily. You looked down, watching as Dabi jumped out of the way again when Machia tried to pick him up. 

“Wait a minute, Machia. There’s someone I want to use,” he said, walking over to where Skeptic was sitting in the rubble. “I liked him from the moment I laid eyes on him.”

Skeptic yelped, “What are you talking about?!”

Dabi ignored him. “Okay, Machia.”

“I said—wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait—!” Skeptic’s panicked yelling went unheard, Machia lifting him and Dabi and placing them onto his back as well.

“What the hell’s going on?” Compress asked as Machia took off out of the villa.

Spinner looked over his shoulder at him. “I was underground, and then suddenly I was grabbed and put here.”

“The boss must be awake.” Dabi grinned a little when Skeptic groaned. “Nothing else would get this big lump to budge.”

“This is sooner than expected,” Toga said as she adjusted her shirt. You wiggled over to her and settled beside her. 

“Here, Himiko.” You smiled at her softly, placing your hand on her cheek and healing the cut that was there. “No need for your sweet face to be all cut up.”

“Thank you, Y/N-kun.” Toga smiled slightly. “Can I hold Nugget?”

“Of course,” you hummed, shrugging off the backpack and lifting Nugget out. “Remember to keep a hold of his harness, okay? We don’t want him falling off of Machia.”

Toga nodded, holding Nugget in her arms carefully with one hand wrapped tightly around the handle of his harness. “I won’t let anything happen to him.”

“Let me off, Dabi! Why take me and not the others?! I must protect Re-Destro!” Skeptic yelled, his eyes wide.

“Keep it down,” Dabi snapped. “They haven’t noticed us yet.”

You leaned back against one of Machia’s ridges, closing your eyes. You kept an ear out for any sign of danger, keeping a secure grip on Boo’s harness while you pet her with your free hand in an attempt to calm her down—Machia’s overjoyed voice was hurting her ears.

“I have been waiting, Master! I am on my way!”

You couldn’t help but compare the giant to an overgrown puppy, somehow simultaneously surprised and unsurprised at the sheer determination he had to get to Shigaraki.

“Shortest route to master.” Machia grabbed Mt. Lady—who had been trying to hinder his movements—by her back leg, pulling her away and throwing her to the side. Kamui Woods was at their right with Midnight. He yelled out in concern, but maintained his focus and tried to throw the other hero closer to Machia.

Dabi set off a large blast of flames at them, burning Kamui Woods and sending him falling. “See?” He grinned. 

When Midnight didn’t fall, Compress flicked out three marbles that contained large pieces of debris, decompressing them so they would hit the hero. “It is unwise to underestimate heroes,” he scolded Dabi, who pouted.

You laughed at his pout. “Awh, pretty boy, are you pouting?” You teased. He glared at you halfheartedly. 

Machia laughed excitedly as he kept running, but suddenly lunged to a stop, sinking into the ground—everyone made varying sounds of surprise as you were launched into the air. You pulled Boo into your lap, holding her close to your chest to protect her. You grunted in pain as you landed again, pain shooting up your spine. Toga looked to see what was happening, her expression unreadable.

“It’s U.A.! Why are so many of them here?” Compress leaned over the side.

One of the kids—the one with the lightning Quirk, you remembered—attached several metal discs to Machia. Compress shot off marbles from his prosthetic, decompressing them to hit the kid with debris. “He nearly had us—that’s the child who sucked up the electric attack at the villa! Unfortunately, now I’ve depleted my stock of seeds.”

As the rest of the U.A. kids lunged for Machia, he blew out air with the force of gale winds. At the same time, Dabi unleashed a wave of fire, using Machia’s breath to spread the flames. Smoke billowed off of his arm, much to your dismay.

“Is your arm okay?” Toga asked quietly, cradling Nugget close to her chest. 

Dabi looked at it, unconcerned and smiling slightly. “A Quirk that turns morale into physical energy. Another that renders him to pain. And a whole bunch more… all of these Quirks help him last on the battlefield. It’s just like Ujiko told us… this guy really is our guardian.”

Your brow furrowed and you placed your hand on his arm, healing whatever damage had been inflicted on his body by his Quirk. “Careful, pretty boy,” you murmured. “Don’t go acting all reckless now.”

“Consider us even after what you did at the villa,” Dabi shot back, albeit not meanly. You laughed nervously.

Machia struggled to get up, falling back down as something under the ground exploded. Spinner snickered, “This guy’s a pro at digging underground! Might even be faster that way…”

Compress shook his head. “That would surely kill us.”

“Ah.”

“He was likely ordered to bring us along, and since he’s being held back because of us, he might actually be at a disadvantage right now.” 

You frowned at that. You clenched your jaw as Mt. Lady tried to pry Machia’s mouth open while one of the U.A. students tried to throw something into his mouth. The student seemed to panic and failed to throw the object—her lapse in concentration giving Machia the chance to rip Mt. Lady off. He gently caught everybody on his back as he stood up, setting you in the ridges on his back. “The gnats… are down. Hold on tight, comrades.”

“I am… Red Riot! And no one behind me… is gonna bleed!” One of the U.A. students—the one with the hardening Quirk—was climbing up Machia’s arm.

“Gnat.” Machia turned his head, glaring at the boy. The student tried to throw an object identical to what the last student had, but Toga threw a knife at it, shattering the glass. The boy pulled out a second jar and threw it into Machia’s mouth, who crushed it by accident. As more heroes began to swarm, Machia snarled. “So many gnats…”

Your eyes widened as Machia’s fingers transformed into mole-like claws and began to rip into the heroes, throwing them out of his path as he continued his path out of the mountain and into the city below. “Jeez. That’s some serious destruction.”

Skeptic’s fingers tapped away on his laptop keyboard. “I got a visual on Shigaraki Tomura with a camera. He’s fighting Endeavor!”

“Shigaraki’s fighting Endeavor?” Dabi leaned against one of the ridges and looked at him. “That’s good! Get ready.”

“To do what?” Skeptic’s eyebrows furrowed.

Dabi beamed. “To destroy this fake hero society, of course.”

“Are you fine with this, Toga?” Compress turned to Toga. She hummed. “I know you’ve been scanning for them. Those U.A. scamps you love so much! They’re heroes too.”

“...” Toga’s expression darkened. “Where do they draw the line? If heroes are supposed to save people… then was Jin-kun not considered a person…? Will they kill me too?” She turned and walked to you, gently placing Nugget back into the backpack and zipping it up again. “That’s what I want to ask Izuku-chan and Ochaco-chan. Depending on their answer… I’ll be fine.”

Your heart ached. Poor girl.

“Heroes incoming,” Skeptic warned.

You watched silently as Compress noticed the U.A. kids and Toga harassed him for her gear, which he handed over. Concern was blatantly obvious on your face as Toga started to run off. Please be careful, Himiko. I know we can’t stop you, but please… be careful.

“—ay something, Y/N!” You snapped back to attention when Compress said your name. “You too, Dabi! Don’t just stand there grinning!”

“Uhhh… who cares?” Dabi drawled, then glared at Skeptic. “Hey. Stop spying on random crap and hurry up! Unless you wanna get burned?” 

“Toga,” Spinner spoke up. “I know we’re just a gang of strays who happened to find each other, but you’re not the only one feeling messed up over Twice. The League was the only place he felt he could belong. And the boss probably wants us to stick together. I know that doing as we please is the villain way… but you’d better come back to us.”

You nodded, looking Toga in the eyes. “Come back safe, Himiko, you hear me?” You gave her a smile. “Nugget would miss you terribly if you didn’t—and so would the rest of us. So you be safe, got it?” 

Toga smiled brightly in return before running off, disappearing into the crowd. You looked at Dabi as you all closed in on Shigaraki’s location. “You got everything in order, pretty boy?”

“Sure as hell do.” Dabi grinned at you.

“Then let’s have fun, shall we?”

“Master! I’ve come! Your will is my command, so give me an order!” Machia looked at Shigaraki, whose body was smoking as he laid in his palm.

“Shigaraki! You’re not looking so good!” Spinner shouted, alarmed.

“He’s got a regenerative Quirk now. He’ll be okay.” You pat your friend on the shoulder, then walked over to Dabi. “Time to start the show, pretty boy.”

Dabi was practically beaming, a malicious gleam in his eyes. He pulled out his water bottle, shaking it from side to side as he stepped into view of the heroes, with you standing close by. “Ooh, there you are! You all look like ants from way up here.” He waved. “Oh?! Do I spy Shoto too? That’s perfect!”

“Dabi!” Endeavor shouted, his face screwing up in anger. You had to bite back a giggle at how beat up he was.

“Ouch… is that any way to address me…?” Dabi twisted open the bottle, dumping the water onto his head, then tossed it down. “I have a great name. Call me Touya.” At Endeavor and Shoto’s shocked expressions, Dabi laughed, “You’re that dumbstruck? Really���? I know my face ain’t exactly what it was, but I was sure my own kin would’ve figured it out. And guess what? Right now, my prerecorded life story is broadcasting nationwide and on the net! Man, I’m having a blast!!” He clapped, his grin growing ever-wider. “Sorry, where was I?

“How could I make you hurt?! How to best stomp all over your life?! I’ve been pondering all this ever since that day!” Dabi danced in excitement, mania and insanity in his voice. “I couldn’t figure out why I even existed, and every day, I’d crawl to Natsu, crying my eyes out. Not that you ever knew, right?!

“When you finally achieved success with your little puppet Shoto, I thought killing him might do the trick! But then—who would’ve guessed… you got bumped up to number one! Suddenly, I was rooting for your happiness. My blood ran cold when I thought you might bite the big one in Kyushu! Then, I led Starservant and Ending Straight to you, one after the other! You were finally number one! It’s all you ever wanted! 

“But it must’ve weighed on you, right?! Or was all the praise and admiration like chicken soup for your soul?! When, at long last, you could stare your kids in the eye… didja finally start to feel the warm and fuzzy bonds of family?! You must’ve thought, ‘as long as I can face the future, I can be better!’ I can tell you’re at a loss for words, so here’s the answer!” Dabi pressed his hands to his chest, his expression wild. “The past never dies! Get it yet?! Y’reap what you sow! So let’s tango, you and me, Todoroki Enji!! Dance with your son, here in hell!!”

“No, Touya is dead. Take back that despicable lie.” Endeavor was staring, wide-eyed.

“Nope, I’m clearly alive! And that’s the despicable truth, dad!” Dabi quipped. “Because you put a whole agency together of fire and heat type Quirks, you didn’t even suspect me!”

You couldn’t help but laugh at Endeavor. “Someone’s in deniiiiallll!” You taunted in a sing-song voice, bracing your forearms on one of Machia’s ridges as you leaned over, grinning down at Dabi’s brother and father. You turned your head to the side as you heard Spinner and Compress talking.

“Dabi never spoke a word of this…” Compress took his mask off.

Spinner glowered as he held Shigaraki. “He kept it hidden from us… but you knew, Y/N? What’s up with that?” At that, you gave him a sheepish smile. He shook his head, looking down at Shigaraki. You turned your attention back to Dabi as he started speaking again.

“Don’t believe me? I’m happy to donate some blood or a hunk of skin. Go ahead—get a DNA test. Not that it matters, since the test I ran has already gone public.”

Skeptic looked up, smug. “Perfectly spliced and edited, even on the fly. Bow down to my skills.”

Dabi glanced at him. “Thanks to you and your camera for that prime footage. No reason not to use what we got, right?” He looked back at Endeavor, smirking. “This is my present to you, Endeavor. See, I did some digging into Hawks—that filthy spy.” With an unhinged grin, he leaped off of Machia, his body igniting. “Thanks for going strong up until now, Endeavor!!”

You scowled. “Be careful, Touya!” You shouted, holding Boo close to your chest and sliding down Machia after him.

“Flashfire Fist: Prominence—” Dabi was cut off as thick threads shot out, wrapping around everybody.

“Apologies for the delay! As of today, Beast Jeanist is back on duty!!” Best Jeanist had jumped down from a dropship, landing on one of the threads.

Dabi glared, surprise on his face. “You! You’re supposed to be dead! That corpse was real!”

“You’ve overreached, and now you’re coming apart at the seams… like cheap, inferior denim!”

“Don’t you dare imply he’s inferior!” You immediately snarled, staring at the hero with hatred in your eyes. You were curled around Boo in order to protect her from getting hurt, using your body to shield her from the threads.

“So what if you’re alive…?” Dabi scoffed, rolling his eyes. He started to burn away the threads. “That doesn’t change the hard truths about my family’s past! Right, Shoto?!”

You thrashed around as Jeanist tightened the threads, letting out a shriek of pain as your arthritis flared up. You faintly heard Compress yelling your name, but you were too overwhelmed by the agony thrumming through your body. Boo started to lick at your face, whining. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Dabi’s flames raging and struggled to retain enough focus to pay attention to him. Black spots swam in your vision and you swam in and out of consciousness. At some point, you vaguely registered Dabi burning away the threads from around you and then signalling something to Compress, who activated his Quirk, compressing you both into a marble.

[velkyr]

fighting my demons* rn yippee <3

(* creative burnout and a lack of confidence that any of this shit is good)

[avaritia-apotheosis]

5 Universes Parallel and 7 Perpendicular

Trouble often found Constantine like maggots to a corpse

A DPxDC Crossover // Read on [AO3] [FF.net] // Fic Masterlist

Trouble often found Constantine like maggots to a corpse. 

This time, Trouble’s name went by Danny Fenton. Some random kid— “hey I’m fourteen!” — with an impossible physiology and a soul that not even the most desperate demon or benevolent angel would take. Not because Danny is in any way particularly good or evil, but because Constantine is 99.998% sure the Lords of Hell and the Heavenly Hosts even knew what Danny’s soul even was in the first place. 

(If you could even…call it a soul, anyway. He isn’t sure how he can explain it, and Danny has zero clue at what Constantine’s asking for anyway. “It’s science,” Danny would say with a shrug. “Weird science, anyway. Something about ectoplasm and imprinted consciences and mutations in the DNA. I’m not sure on the specifics, but my parents can tell you.”)

Of course, being lost in another fucking universe probably didn’t help.

He clips another cigar and lights it. Cuban, full-bodied, good blend; he got it as a bonus from some clients a few weeks back and he’d been slowly making his way through the pack. He lets the smoke settle on his tongue before he puffs it out, slinging his legs up to rest on top of the coffee table with a groan. 

Danny scrunched his nose at him, uncrossing his arms to go over and open a window. 

“What?” Constantine rolled his eyes, gesturing to the boy with a cigar. “You don’t get to complain. You don’t even need to breathe.”

“Yeah and smoking still makes everything smell like crap. It’s a terrible habit, y’know.”

He huffs, smoke billowing out, and makes a note to himself to smoke like he’s a goddamn dragon just to annoy the kid. “Hey, I think putting up with a bit of my bad habit is enough compensation for having to help your penniless ass, brat.”

Danny scoffed. “It’s not like I had any choice in that.”

Which was the crux of the matter, of course. See, Constantine has had his fair share of inter-dimensional or inter-planar travel. But shit like parallel universes …well, that was more the Justice League’s purview anyway. All those alternate universes where everything is a distorted mirror of their own reality—and apparently home to way too many evil Supermen to be comfortable with— not exactly Constantine’s cup of tea. He’s had his fair share of experiences with them, but definitely not enough to actually help someone whose universe is nowhere even remotely similar to his own.

Oh, according to Danny his Earth did have a London and an America and a Korea, etc. The majority of their countries were the same, give or take a few that only seemed to exist in Constantine’s universe. But it was the people where they differed.  Remarkably, there was no Justice League in Danny’s world. Or any kind of superheroes at all. ( Like in comic books? Danny had said when Constantine asked.)

As far as Danny knew, he was the closest thing that came to a superhero in his world and half of the time people just consider him a menace.  Even big shot ‘civilians’ like Bruce Wayne, Lex Luthor, or Oliver Queen were non-entities in that parallel world. Instead they got some creepy asshole called Vlad Masters who should probably get another hobby that isn’t ‘terrorizing a fourteen-year-old.’

But where this strange alternate world lacked in martians and cosmic world-ending threats, they made up for with a shit ton of ghosts. Which brought them to their current predicament: through a ridiculous set of circumstances that Danny really didn’t want to explain, the kid managed to tumble through a rift in the Infinite Realms (something that Constantine hasn’t heard of but you’ll be damn sure he’s gonna make it his business to know) and landed probably five parallel universes and seven perpendicular universes away from  his own earth and right in front of Constantine’s doorstep. (No, those were probably not the correct scientific terms but Constantine was a fucking occultist not a physicist so sue him.)

(Actually, don’t. He’d rather not deal with it.)

Constantine did try his best to do right by the kid. He’d taken Danny’s case up to the Justice League to see if they had the tech that could send the kid home. No such luck at the moment. And even if they did, they weren’t sure if they had the capabilities to connect to not only Danny’s specific branch in whatever cosmic tree was keeping everything afloat, but the correct version of Danny’s universe as well. Constantine’s other contacts said much the same thing.

And since Danny Fenton didn’t exist in this universe, he felt bad leaving the kid alone, so he offered him room and board at his place until they could find a way to get Danny home. (Or until the kid got sick and tired of Constantine’s antics and just moved out.)

(Or until Danny died. Constantine had a pretty bad track record of getting his friends killed by association, y’know. Though considering Danny’s half-ghost… could he even die again?)

(Better not push his luck.)

Constantine set his cigar aside. Danny’s still by the window, elbows propped up on the sill, eyes trained a thousand miles away. No— ‘light-years’ is probably the correct measurement here. 

Constantine rests his chin against his knuckles. “Penny for your thoughts?”

Danny shrugged, chin nestled against his open palm, fingers curled near the seam of his mouth. Nervous nail-biter, maybe? “Just…worried.” His voice is level, but you could feel the anxiety nestled deep within from the sharp staccato of his fingers against the windowsill. Tap-tap-tap-tap-tap. “I’ve never been gone this long from Amity Park before. It tends to…attract a lot of annoying ghosts, and it’s up to me to make sure their trouble doesn’t get too out of hand.”

“Ah. Define trouble.”

Danny laughs. “It depends on which ghost it is, I guess. Some of the regulars honestly just want to annoy me. There’s the Box Ghost—yeah that’s literally what he calls himself, he controls boxes, no I am not making this up—who should really learn to just stay in the Zone already. I think my record for beating him is like 15 minutes, and 10 of those minutes was just trying to find him. Skulker’s a bounty hunter that’s just dead set—pun intended—on skinning me for my pelt. I don’t know what he’s gonna do with that pelt, and at the rate things are going I don’t think I’ll ever find out. I’ve probably destroyed more of his robot suits than anyone else.”

Some of his rogues want to skin him? Huh. Maybe Constantine should be more concerned about how nonchalant Danny is when describing all of this. “If you got regulars, then that means you also got ghosts that only come in sometimes, right?”

“Yeah…” Danny raked a hand through his hair. “It’s part of the reason why I’m so worried. Those kinds of ghosts have been coming up at an alarming rate recently. Like, the last ghost I dealt with was this guy named Undergrowth. He’s big, green, looks like a giant weed, and is pretty much able to control all plant life. He took control of the entire town and essentially enslaved everyone using mind vines. I literally had to develop a new powerset just to fight him.”

“Huh. Must be tough, having to fight all this on your own.” 

“It is, yeah…but I’m not alone. My friends help me.”

Constantine lowers his feet to the floor. He scoots up to the edge of his ratty old sofa and pats down the spot next to him. “Friends? That’s good, at least. Tell me about them.”

“Well…” Danny let out a sharp exhale, eyes wavering between the window and the empty spot on the couch as if deciding where he’d be more comfortable being at. Eventually, he pushes himself away from the window and tentatively sits down on the couch, fingers drumming against the burgundy cushions. “There’s Sam and Tucker. I’ve known Tucker since forever ago, but the two of us became friends with Sam back in middle school. They were there with me when I, well, became this. And ever since then, they’ve been helping me fight all the ghosts that’ve been coming through the portal.”

There’s a smile on Danny’s lips as he talks about them. Soft but bright. A flash of teeth every time he has to hold back a laugh whenever he suddenly remembers a funny story. He talks about Tucker’s genius with technology, Sam’s interest in the occult,  and how the two of them have a running argument regarding their food preferences. He goes into anecdotes about their adventures, and how so many of Danny’s own victories couldn’t have been done without their help.

“Sounds like you trust them,” Constantine said.

“With my life.” There’s an air of gravity in the way Danny said those words. As if they were an unwavering truth of the universe.

He placed a comforting hand on Danny’s shoulder. “Then trust that they’ll be able to hold down the fort until you get back.”

Danny’s eyes widened a fraction, before he hung his head low, smiling sheepishly. “Yeah, yeah, I guess you’re right.”

Suddenly finding himself feeling very awkward at this almost-tender moment, Constantine slapped his knees once and pushed himself off the couch. “Well, best stop your worrying for now, kid. Come on, grab your jacket. Let's go get some Nando’s.”

Danny’s brows scrunched up in confusion. “The heck is Nando’s?”

“Oh you poor, poor, American. Come on, let me introduce you to the wonders that is peri peri chicken.”

Trouble often found Constantine like maggots to a corpse. But maybe this time, he didn’t mind Trouble so much. 

[heatcaged]

here’s the first chapter for my jake talley fic :P

[chuuyanakaahara]

6 and 16 for the excerpt ask game? <3

6. that i struggled with, but triumphed over

it's just act of faith. it's just act of faith. fuck you aof. (it's okay, it's complete now.)

but in all reality, I haven't technically triumphed over it, but i might as well have triumphed over it every time I open the document. beyond saints is my fyodor backstory fic !

There is no place in heaven for sin, and there is no room on earth for saints.  Fyodor learns this when he is twelve years old.  There is a gun shoved into his hands and there is a deer in the scope. The gun is too big for his hands. He does not know the model and he doesn’t care to.  The deer is a simple creature, foraging for food before the winter sets in and it’s forced to change its diet and physiology to accommodate such an environmental change. It is a simple creature who does not yet know of death, and a creature that does not need to die to feed them for the night or the week.  Fyodor does not want to kill the deer.  His father is not a man of honor — he preaches that there is no place in heaven for sin and he goes to church every Sunday, but Fyodor doesn’t understand how such a man can be a man of God when he comes home every other night and leaves a bruise across mother’s face, something to be hidden with shame and make-up. Such a thing wouldn’t happen if the Lord had made her a better woman, after all.  There is no place for boys who do not know of boyhood, his father hisses in his ear, and Fyodor does not pull the trigger.  He drops the gun on the ground. 

16. from a recent piece I want to brag about

i know shirase is not popular but GOD I loved corruption bringer / my chuuya-shirase reconciliation fic sm I wish it got more love !!!

“Not learning how to read until twelve will do that to you.”  Shirase hums. “I learned how to read before then. That’s when I taught you, remember?”  “I… thought we learned together?”  Shirase’s gaze, turning back to him, is clouded with confusion before clarity sinks in. “Ah. Right. I just, uh, I didn’t want you to be embarrassed, y’know?”  Chuuya makes a sound of acknowledgement. He doesn’t believe that for a second.  Not because he questions where Shirase was raised, not because he’s startled Shirase would lie, but because Chuuya didn’t have a sense of embarrassment before he became the Sheep’s protector. Before then — it didn’t matter if he didn’t know the things the others did because he wasn’t supposed to be better than them, or protect them. 

from this list of writing excerpt asks !

[wanderingblindly]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers! Spread the self-love 💞

oooooooh this is so cruel, how dare you make me consider my fics this way????? reflecting on this made me realize that a lot of my personal favs are actually my less popular ones. that makes sense, in a way; often my favorites are where i'm trying to express a really specific emotion or idea, which might not always resonate with people? anyways, ordered from oldest to newest:

Eighteenth Summer (Do You Wish We'd Fall in Love?)

ambient, pining, sort of sepia toned vignette filtered lestappen. i remember really wanting to capture the ambiguity that comes with being 18 and finishing high school -- a new future looms even when you feel like you haven't finished living what you have now. very much being on a precipice, but with a happy ending :)

You Bring Me Closer To God

i literally fucking love this universe so much. even if the fic wasn't special, writing all the dynamics between the bandmates, between the bar flies, between oscar and lando... it was such a joy. i still think about writing more within Dirty Blondes all the time.

I Know Your Name (But Not Who You Are)

lestappen in grief! the passage of time! the fear that life has somehow stopped moving on but also changed more than you can stomach! wanting things from your childhood but having to accept that you can never go back! but perhaps learning that moving forward is beautiful, too! yet another one where i entered it trying to capture a specific feeling, and i think i managed to like... use the setting in a way that achieved that.

Someone in Seattle

i like this one because i managed to write a fic i'd love to read. i love fics that explore the soft, meandering development of relationships -- the ones where falling in love is a bit of a blurry line, and it happens just by the nature of truly Seeing each other. it's a love letter to my home, and i think of her very fondly.

Impasse of Biting

THIS IS THE ONLY FIC WHERE I FEEL LIKE I GOT EVEN CLOSER TO LIKE. SOMETHING YOU COULD ANALYZE. THERE ARE CHARACTER MOTIVATIONS! THERE'S SPECIFIC WORD CHOICE! THERE'S UNRELIABLE NARRATION AND COMPLICATED EMOTIONAL TIES! idk. it's one that i feel like each reader could come away with something wildly different, and (as someone who doesn't often deal in ambiguity), that makes me proud.

[kiochisato]

dni if you interact w maidenlove , thanks ^_^

edit : i meant uhhh the OG maidenlove thank u

[halcionic]

today's goal: get as close as possible to completing the first draft of the disinformation age.

current wc: 70116. anticipated final (1st draft) word count: like 85000

current chapter count: 9 anticipated final (1st draft) chapter count: 12

[beevean]

Me: I'm sad. I'm tired of bitching online. I should do something productive that brings me happiness.

Me: *opens up WIP and puts Hector through mental and emotional torture*

Me: hell yeah now we're back on track baby 😎 huh why am i still miserable tho

[moriihana]

we can't fix each other but we sure as hell can enable each other instead || one: an extremely determined cat

pairing: dabi x disabled!gn!reader

overview: you meet dabi pre-canon because your cat, nugget, literally won't leave the guy alone. friendship, fluff and (eventual) angst ensue.

chapter summary: nugget literally will not leave dabi alone, dabi calls him gay, you threaten to dump stolen soup on his head.

content: fluff, angst

word count: 1170 words

*previously known as "we can't fix each other (but we can heal our wounds together)"; i changed the title bc these assholes aint healin shit they're just being overall menaces

AO3 link

← previous ; next →

“Oi, little mouse.” Dabi’s voice roused you from your nap. “Your fuckin’ cat got into my apartment again.”

It’d been four months since Dabi moved into the apartment complex, and Nugget fucking loved the guy—his quirk was fire-based, and he constantly ran several degrees warmer than the normal human. The little fucker was always sneaking out of the apartment to sniff out Dabi and latch onto him like a leech.

“Listen man, I’ve tried to keep him in the apartment. He’s a damn escape artist. Y’know I tried barricading the fuckin’ door? He got around it! Don’t ask me how, I’ve no fuckin’ clue!” You groaned, sitting up. 

Dabi placed Nugget onto the floor, watching the little shit trot happily over to you. “Stick him in a cabinet or somethin’, I dunno.”

“I am not sticking my cat in a cabinet!”

“Is there a closet?”

“Are you calling my cat gay?”

“Could be. Never leaves me alone.” Dabi leaned against the doorframe, grinning lazily.

You snorted, shaking your head. “Insufferable, you are.”

“Yet you let me stay here,” he countered.

“I don’t think I could make you leave, my guy. You’re like… several times stronger than me. Probably.”

“Oh, I’m definitely stronger than you, little mouse.” With that and a wink, Dabi waved and walked off.

You grumbled to yourself, giving Nugget a couple pats on the head. “What am I going to do with you, hm?” You shook your head and smiled. “Clever little thing.” Nugget bumped his head up against them a couple times, then went and curled up next to Boo's side.

Two days later, Dabi showed up in your doorway again, holding Nugget out in front of him. His hair was wet from just getting out of the shower. You raised an eyebrow at him from your spot in the kitchen, looking between his bored expression and Nugget. “This is getting ridiculous. Your cat broke into my bathroom. You sure he ain't gay, little mouse? Cus he seems determined to see my—”

“Please don't say your dick. I really don't need that mental image in my head,” you cut him off, willing away the heat in your cheeks before Dabi noticed. Judging by the smirk that curled at his lips, he definitely noticed.

“You sure about that, little mouse?” He drawled, setting Nugget down and stepping closer to you. You laughed nervously, your face growing warmer.

“Don't flatter yourself, pretty boy.” Fuck. Definitely didn't mean to say that.

“Pretty boy, huh?” Dabi huffed out a laugh. He fixed his gaze on you. You shrugged a little helplessly. “You really are an odd one, little mouse.” He turned on his heel and headed out the doorway with a wave. “I'll see you around.”

Once you were certain Dabi was out of earshot, you groaned loudly. “Fuck. I really need to think before I speak.” You looked at Nugget and sighed, shaking your head. “Why can't you just stay in the apartment like Boo does? You're gonna be the death of me, Nug.” The little bastard just purred, wrapping himself around your leg a few times before going and curling up in a sunny spot.

You shook your head again, then turned and searched through your cabinets for some food. “...shit. Okay. I'm out of food. Guess I gotta go find some. Fuck.” You ground your teeth together and turned back to Boo and Nugget.

“Alright, you two. I have to go out. Nugget,” you pointed your finger at the circle of fur, “you better stay here. Boo, keep an eye on your brother. I don't think I can see Dabi again today without spontaneously combusting. Of all the people who had to find this place, it had to be a pretty boy with an attractive personality.” You ran a hand over your face and grabbed your cane and backpack, heading out the doorway. As soon as you were gone, Nugget got up from his spot on the floor and trotted right out. Boo did absolutely nothing to stop him. Oh well.

You came back a few hours past sunset to find Dabi sitting on your mattress with Nugget in his lap. He had his head tilted back, seeming to be asleep.

“Oh, you have got to be fucking kidding me.”

“Came by to hand him off and saw you weren't here, thought I'd stick around to make sure ya got back from wherever in one piece,” Dabi mumbled drowsily, patting Nugget's head once before dropping his hand back down.

You raised an eyebrow, walking to your kitchen and setting your backpack down. “Worried about me, pretty boy?” You asked teasingly as you began to retrieve the food you stole, deciding to keep the nickname for him. Dug my grave, might as well lie in it. 

Dabi cracked an eye open, watching you pull out a water bottle and take a drink from it. “Your company ain't half bad, doll. I'd hate to see your pretty face all banged up.” He snickered when you choked on your sip of water.

“Doll—?” You sputtered, thumping a fist against your chest. Dabi had the most shit-eating grin you had ever seen curling at his lips and pulling at his staples. 

“Yep.” His grin grew wider at your surprised expression, laughter rumbling out of his chest. You stared at him.

“You're also going to be the death of me. You and Nugget are going to put me in an early grave. Boo's the only one on my side here.”

“Awh, don’t be like that, little mouse,” Dabi said, closing his eyes again. “I wouldn’t let anythin’ happen to you.” He sounded like he was falling asleep. 

You chose to ignore that last part, instead focusing on the fact that he was falling asleep on your mattress. “Hey, don’t go falling asleep on my bed! I have to sleep there!” 

The man faked a loud, obnoxious snore. 

“Dabi!” You abandoned your task of putting away the stolen food, glaring at him. You narrowed your eyes when he didn’t respond. “Pretty boy, if you don’t move off my mattress, I will dump canned soup on your head.”

“Harsh, doll.” Dabi relocated Nugget from his lap, grinning at your scowl. “Lucky for you, I don’t want soup in my hair.” He got up and stretched his arms above his head. You made a point to ignore the fact his shirt rode up and showed some of his stomach.

“Yeah, yeah.” You rolled your eyes, then eyed the canned soup. “You got food in your apartment? I’ve got enough to last a couple of days, and you look awfully bony, pretty boy.”

Dabi seemed to hesitate, before nodding and swiping two cans off the counter. “I guess the least you can do after your cat keeps tormenting me is give me some shitty canned soup.”

“Nugget does not torment you,” you laughed. “Now go, before I take my shitty canned soup back.” 

“You would never,” Dabi shot back, heading out the door. “Later, little mouse.”

[velkyr]

redemption arc: I think this is the most I've ever written in one day? academic work aside. wild

one more scene left then I'm done :3c it'll have to wait until wednesday though