#i might never write again

[thegirlwiththeblush]

My One Constant

Kate Bishop x Female Reader

 Word Count: 2.4k

Shared prompt with @vorsdany​

Summary: Told from Kate’s perspective and taking place in the family Christmas scene in Hawkeye episode 6, Clint forces her to confront feelings. 

a/n: I’m sorry for how terrible and cheesy and self-indulgent this is, I quite literally have a toothache and I’m not sure if it’s from writing this or all the energy drinks and candy I’m consuming.

Paulo Coelho once said, “Life is the train, not the station.” I think my life is prime evidence for this.

I’ve stopped by many varying but equally shocking ‘stations’ over time. Witnessing a herd of cybernetically enhanced beings invading earth and taking my father’s life. Discovering my mother was working under a crime lord to pay off family debts. Training under the world’s greatest archer, who I had previously believed had saved the world, only to learn I’d heard the twisted version of the story.

Needless to say, my life has been far from predictable, and wildly inconstant.

Now, I’m not saying this to sound like a huge downer. These events only serve to make me more grateful for the one thing that hasn’t ever changed: my best friend.  

I’ve known my best friend since childhood; she knows absolutely everything about me, even the most shameful qualities, and has stayed close in spite of it. Living in a universe like this one, with superpowered and supernatural beings, I’m always half expecting her to get unjustly murdered or possessed or something of the sort. But somehow, I’ve been lucky enough to keep hold of her all this time. She’s been with me through good and bad, thick and thin, and I’d give my own life to keep her safe.

So I’m sure you can understand why I’ve begun to develop feelings for her.

Having worked with Clint so much lately, he’s heard everything there is to know about my best friend. He may as well have met her already with how much I go on about her, and he’s definitely figured out about my crush. I know he gets kind of bored with my rambling, but occasionally, I swear I could see a hint of an amused smile pinching at his mouth. The only input he ever has for me is the obvious point that I should discuss my feelings with her, but of course, I always shyly but loudly disregard him. I don’t want to risk losing our friendship, the one constant, but Clint doesn’t seem to understand this. How could he? His life is all taken up by his wife, and kids, and superheroes and villains, and trauma, and all that fun stuff.

He’s invited me to his family home for Christmas, which means a lot, considering I have no real family to spend the holiday with now. He tells me I should invite her; her family are difficult to get along with, and she’s mentioned on multiple occasions that she’d rather spend the day away from them. I’m still torn. What if she feels awkward and unwelcome, and associates me with those feelings? What if she figures out that I’m attracted to her and leaves abruptly? There are so many worst-case scenarios, and the chances of avoiding them seem so slim.

But my growing addiction to her presence forces me to ask her anyway.

I pass on the invitation during our weekly catch-up in town, while we’re seated in a cozy café. The radiant smile she responds with warms my insides, despite the wintry chill passing through my coat. She puts her mug of hot chocolate to stand and embrace me tightly, and the somewhat unnecessary affection fills my stomach with butterflies. I bite back a nervous laugh as she sits back down and heartily agrees to come.

“I’ve heard so much about this Barton guy,” she adds, “it only seems fitting that I finally meet him!”

“I don’t talk about him that much,” I protest in vain.

“Kate, you’re practically in love with him,” she retorts with a giggle.  

I have to laugh along with her nervously before my expression reveals too much. If only she knew how much Clint knew of her.

On Christmas morning, I spend far too long deciding what to wear. I berate myself inwardly for acting like a middle school girl with a crush, before picking out a fairly plain but tidy red and black open sweater, over a black shirt tucked into jeans. Sometimes ‘simple’ goes a lot further than overdressing.  

Listen to me, talking like I understand fashion.

After a certain getaway incident with Clint, I don’t trust myself near the steering wheel of any car, so I entrust my friend with the role of chauffeur. She pulls up in her car, and goes the whole nine yards, climbing out to open the back door for Lucky.

“Oh, how kind of you,” I say in a posh voice, earning a laugh from her. She fakes taking a top hat from her head and bows deeply, pursing her lips comically. She’s incredibly adorable, I can’t stand it.

After securing Lucky in the backseat, we clamber into the front and turn the stereo on to play the trashiest Christmas songs we can find. Sitting next to her, screaming along to the music, I feel so safe. I know she doesn’t see this as any more than the homely platonic feeling, and I’d never expect anything more from her. Still, I have this unnerving suspicion that I’ll never find anyone who makes me feel so at ease, and who draws me in so irresistibly.  

We pull into Clint’s driveway, and spot him standing outside, waiting for us with a small pile of presents in his arms. He gives a small wave as we park, and I return the gesture with perhaps a little too much enthusiasm. I hear her laughing softly next to me at my excitement, and smile to myself. At least she doesn’t find my pep as irritating as Clint seems to.  

As I help Lucky out of the car, he looks my friend up and down respectfully. “So, this is her?” he says with a slight smile. “About time I met you.”

They formally introduce themselves while I watch fondly, like a proud parent. They know so much about each other already, all because of me.  

After greetings have been fully exchanged, he gestures toward the house, surrounded by abandoned bicycles and outdoor chairs. “Let’s go in and get warm.”

As we follow him to the front door, crunching through the gathering snow, I voice the doubts I’ve kept down until now. “Hey, are you sure this is okay?”

“I’m telling you,” he says over his shoulder, “they’re very excited to meet you.” He swivels his head between the two of us. “Both of you. They love to meet new people.”

I feel a reassuring hand on my shoulder and turn to see her smiling at me confidently. She knows when she’s welcome, and she wants to make sure I do, too.

Just before we reach the door, a small boy comes bounding down the stairs, crying, “Daddy!” He throws himself at Clint, who stacks the presents in one hand as he holds the boy close. “Hey, buddy, merry Christmas!” he replies, and looks up to see two more adolescents waiting for him at the top of the stairs with excited declarations that he’d made it and kept his promise. He hands off the presents for them to carry in, hurriedly introducing us as we all scramble inside.

I pause to take off my shoes, and she does the same, both of us leaving our woolly socks on.

“I hope they like us,” I murmur nervously.  

She smiles fondly up at me. “Well, if they don’t like you, they’re crazy,” she states softly.  

I raise an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”  

She chuckles, almost in disbelief. “Who wouldn’t like you, Kate?”

Before I can question this, she puts a hand on my back and gently pushes me toward the door, Lucky eagerly racing ahead of me the moment I get his leash off. The kids emit cries of adoration as he makes himself at home amongst them. “The dog is so cute!” The youngest one, Nathaniel, looks up at me, grinning. “What’s his name?”

“That’s Lucky,” I respond warmly, inadvertently grabbing the attention of an older woman who had been embracing Clint.  

Clint turns round, suddenly recalling our presence. “Oh, right, yeah,” he chuckles softly. “Brought home a couple strays.” He introduces each of us in turn with a sly smirk at his own joke.

Closing the door behind the two of us, I give my sweetest and most confident smile to Clint and his wife, Laura. “Hi,” I say shyly, before I feel a hand sneaking into mine. She, too, beams back at them, squeezing my hand gently to remind me she’s there.

“Welcome, Kate,” Laura said kindly, coming over to pull me into a hug. “So good to have you!”  

After embracing my friend, she pulls away to look us both up and down. “Are you two... together? Or...”

“Oh, no!” I hastily intervene, my nerves kicking up a notch. Instinctively, I pull my hand away and rub my neck with it instead. “Just... best friends.”  

Laura’s expression is dubious and concerned, but she nods and says, “Well, lovely to meet you both!”  

I sneak a glance at the girl next to me; her mouth has turned down slightly at the corners and her eyes are devoid of emotion. Have I made her uncomfortable? Has the thought of being my girlfriend made her sick? How do I fix this?  

I follow the rest of the family to the living room, trying to ignore my racing thoughts.  

But as we tuck in to Christmas lunch and watch as the kids open presents, I can’t disregard the tension growing between the two of us. Sure, she puts on a very good show of being cheery and joining in the rambunctious whoops of delight; but having known her for the majority of my lifetime, I know something isn’t right with her.  

But I have no choice but to play it off for now. That is, until Clint calls the two of us out, requesting our help.  

We follow him out to the woodshed, where he turns to face us, his expression as somber as ever and his hands stuffed into his pockets.  

“You are lucky my family are not as good at reading the room as I am,” he begins, “because that was painful.”  

The two of us glance back and forth, between Clint and each other, feigning ignorance.  

“What do you mean?” she says, bewildered.  

Clint rolls his eyes, the cheesiness of the entire situation getting on his nerves. He turns to me, exasperated. “Well, you seemed awfully happy that Laura thought you were a couple.”  

I open and close my mouth several times, making flabbergasted noises in an attempt to play it off. I hadn’t looked happy, had I? Had I really been smiling? Come to think of it, I recall the temperature of my cheeks rising slightly...

“What do you mean?” I protest, shutting my train of thought down. “I just found it funny, that’s all-”

“Right,” Clint interrupts, before turning to face my friend, nothing more to say to me. My petty excuse had probably done all the talking necessary. “And you,” he continues. I feel the girl next to me stiffen. Damn it. What have I done, bringing her here, having Clint and his family make these statements right in front of her? She’d probably rather be at home with her overbearing family than here next to me.  

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you,” is all Clint has to say to her. He nods at us both, and finished with, “I’m leaving you two to sort things out, you’re not coming back inside until this whole woeful sappy mess is dealt with.”

He stalks back to the house without another word, leaving us shivering and alone.

We stand in silence for what feels like hours. Where the heck am I supposed to begin?! I’m standing in front of the sweetest, most beautiful girl I’ve ever known, who is probably thinking about how much she hates me, with all these accusations piling up-

“I understand if you hate me.”

My eyes widen and I raise my head. She kicks a rock at her feet, her arms folded around herself. Avoiding my gaze, she adds, “I get it, really; you deserve better.”  

Taking a moment to kickstart my vocal cords, I murmur, “What?”  

She finally looks at me, her eyes watering; whether it’s from the cold or emotion, I’m not entirely sure.

“I really like you, Kate,” she continues. “I didn’t know how or if I should tell you. I mean, we never really talked about boys, but I assumed you still liked them. And besides, it’s not like you’d get feelings for your best friend, especially not when you hang around super cool people like Clint every day.” She shuffles her feet shyly as she looks away again.

I blink rapidly in shock. Before I know what I’m doing, I unwrap my arms from myself, place my hands on her cheeks, and kiss her softly. It’s only half a moment, but she’s even more perfect than I’d always hoped. Instinctively, she moves her head toward mine as I pull away, her doe-eyes full of astonishment.

“In all of this...” I wave my hands around for emphasis, “madness, you’ve been my one constant. If it’s gonna be anyone, it’s... it’s you.” I take her hands; now it’s my turn to nervously avoid her eyes. “You don’t have to be, cool, or superpowered, for me to care about you that way. And honestly...”  

Taking a deep breath and summoning up the necessary courage from God knows where, I blurt out, “I’d love to be your constant, too.”  

Wait, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever said. That doesn’t even complete the sentiment-

Before I can amend it, she’s grabbing my waist and pulling me close, and the shock of it topples us both into the snow, giggling and kissing softly. She whispers softly in my ear, “You already are, you silly goose.”

This is equally stupid, so I feel a little justified. She does make the stupid seem so adorable, though.

I hold her close for a moment longer, sharing body heat with her, before saying, “We should probably go back inside, huh.”

“Poor Clint will be relieved at the lack of tension,” she laughs.  

Helping each other up, we walk back to the house hand in hand, leaving a temporary mark in the snow of something far more permanent.

[unicornpopcorn14]

Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt during the Lovecraft fight has always been so interesting to me...

Because it's the kind of worry you'd never expect from a character as gruff as Chuuya, who had displayed nothing but hostility towards Dazai so far. Usually, characters that are labelled as "angry" or "anger issues" (which Chuuya is much more complex than that but you get my point) act more as a tsundere type of way when the one they "don't care about" gets hurt. And show their care in very, very subtle ways (ex. their eyes widen, their mouth parts and closes again, etc) before putting up their front once more.

Chuuya, however, is open, and vocal about it. His worry is clear not only to us, but to Dazai himself, the one he shouldn't be displaying the concern to (as per the cliche). Shouldn't it be some sort of secret that Chuuya does care? Isn't that what skk's dynamic has been shaping up to be until now?

I'm telling you- the way my mind blanked when Chuuya just casually.... showed concern not once, but twice, was a sight to see.

Besides, the context makes it much more confusing, because Dazai isn't some rookie, and Chuuya knows that more than anybody. He was the youngest executive in Port Mafia's history, of course he can handle a hit or two. Of course he'd seen him handle a hit or two, sometimes without batting an eye.

Heck, Chuuya himself was hurling Dazai like a ragdoll in their reunion, which was their last meeting. And you could argue that he was going easy on him, but Dazai has mostly withstood the same damage (as far as I could see), and Chuuya was as bitter as ever.

So that kind of contradicts both what we knew of Chuuya so far, and how their dynamic was shaped to be. I mean, that just makes Chuuya a hypocrite, yeah? What makes him care now, all of a sudden? What makes him care at all?

Well, to me, this backasswards reaction implies one (or more) of the following:

- Dazai rarely got physically hurt during their partnership and thus this is an unexpected thing for him to see (during a mission).

- The four years of separation made Chuuya unsure of how much Dazai can withstand physically now. Also the fact that he isn't in the mafia anymore, aka fighting enemy organizations on the weekly, would naturally make Dazai lose his touch in a way, what prompts Chuuya's reaction.

- Dazai getting taken off guard took him off guard which led to panic. Especially since the situation was (momentarily) out of their depth. Seriously wtf even was Lovecraft?

- During the dungeon scene Dazai was an enemy, while in the Lovecraft fight he was as an ally. The difference might be significant to Chuuya.

- This has always been Chuuya's reaction to Dazai getting hurt regardless of the situation.

- "Only I can hurt him like that" ahh logic

- Asagiri was still experimenting with their dynamic and thus there are some inconsistencies.

This scenario didn't play out again (after their reunion) for me to exactly determine which one is more plausible, but it is 100% canon for Chuuya to shamelessly show his concern and run to Dazai to check on him before properly dealing with their opponent, which I find to be such an appealing layer to their dynamic, and a good spin on the type of character he gets stereotyped as.

Bonus: Dazai also becomes a softy when Chuuya's hurt, especially post corruption. Dead Apple alone displays that multiple times.

All in all, Skk are doing a terrible job at maintaining their 'hostile' and 'antagonistic' relationship post their reunion. Freaks.

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

Hey hey hey may 31th anon! How's 2024 going? ☆ヾ(*´▽｀)ﾉ This year I have for you a leaked Sherlock season 5 image. Thinking of you!! And everyone!!

[egophiliac]

so on the subject of the "Crowley is secretly Revaan/Laverne/Levin/please Twst give us his name" theory, I think my feelings are best summed up as "I don't really buy it, but it's funny". like, in all seriousness, I'm not opposed to it; I have enjoyed the writing in Twst so far and I'm willing to trust that whatever happens will, you know, make sense and not be terrible. but I'm just not really convinced by the current evidence! maybe that'll change once we learn more, we'll see!

with that said, may I propose a few alternate theories about the possible Crowley/Revaan connection:

[stuckinapril]

Reprogrammed my own brain by realizing that people don’t just get your devotion outright, but have to work for it. You do not go from 100 to 0 as people fault u. You go from 0 to 100 as they prove bit by bit that they are worthy of ur trust and patience. I used to be infinitely patient & understanding bc I thought that was my “gambit”—an initial investment I was hoping would beget more investment from the other party. I don’t do that shit anymore bc it has never served me once. I will show kindness and compassion to someone, but unless they prove they’re willing to put in the work to make a relationship work (platonic or romantic alike), I’m not going out of my way to emulate patience bc I’m hoping that somehow that will change them. Never ever ever. Humans almost always never work like that. They either give a fuck when they see you’re on the outs w them and change, or they don’t and you’re better off. It’s not “you’re worthy of my time until proven otherwise.” It’s “you’re not worthy of extra effort by me until proven otherwise.” And that may sound harsh but it’s healthier than the opposite approach

[beesorcery]

silver and sulphur

[ID: a drawing of Zirk Vervain from NADDPOD in profile, visible from the chest up. He looks in front of him with a neutral expression and holds a glass flask of colourful liquid in each hand. Zirk is a young humanoid man with dark brown skin, droopy elf ears, and blonde hair with rainbow dipdyed ends. He has messy, curly bangs and a pair of round glasses, and wears a white shirt with puffed sleeves, thick black protective gloves, and a black apron. Behind him, the wall is covered in pipes, glass vials, and other alchemical equipment. Decorative writing on the wall reads "Vervain's Potions & Salves / Thornkirk". end ID] (id via transguyhawkeye)

[hipstergecko]

Okay people! DP X DC idea time!

This hit me like a trainwreck and I must release it into the wild. Will I write this properly one day?

Anyway!

Let's think about sensory deprivation tanks. Danny phantom. What if the thermos acted like one? It was only meant for short term storage. What if the Fenton's built a coffin like one meant for long term? 

And they caught Danny first?

—---

The Fenton's newest invention "ghost in a box" had caught him. It was a dumber bigger heavier version of the thermos and somehow they managed to catch him right as he was falling to earth after a nasty hit to the jaw from the latest ghost of the week.

He propped himself up on his elbows and hissed through his teeth. Better to get out of this box quickly. His parents probably couldn't handle this guy. Using the bright glow of his eyes, he examined the inside of his new holding cell. It was fairly big. Big enough for him to roll about and prop himself up on his elbows. There was 10 inches or so of watery ectoplasm sloshing around him as he moved and shifted. Surprisingly comfy too. At least compared to the cramped space of the thermos.

Without the glow of his eyes it was dark. Completely dark. The kind of dark that makes you wonder if you really had that hand on front of your face. And it was quiet. The only sounds were the faint sloshing of the ectoplasm and his own breathing. 

He saw the faint line of the lid and tried with all his might to push it open. His ghostly strength didn't seem to do much. He was panting by the time he decided to try to phase through it instead. He ended up with a sore head for his efforts. Airtight, watertight and ghost proof. 

There was no way out. 

He tried his phone which had luckily enough survived the fight.

No service.

Danny sighed heavily and lay back in the water, staring at his phone with a tired frown. So much for luck. Hopefully, Tucker, Sam, or Jazz would break him out before school tomorrow.

The silence was so strange. He'd never been somewhere this quiet before. Even the ghost zone at its most peaceful had the sounds of flowing ectoplasmic winds. He felt his eyelids fall shut as he slipped into a doze. He was frankly exhausted from everything that had happened that day and needed a nap. So he took one as he waited for someone to open the box.

But Nobody did. Nobody could. Apart from his friends and sister, nobody cared to.

You see, immediately upon his capture, the elder Fentons rushed the box back to the lab for testing. After several hours they had declared the invention a success. As long as no one opened the box, the ghost couldn't escape. 

Meanwhile Tucker, Sam, and Jazz were consumed with worry. They hadn't seen Danny get captured, but after Jack and Maddie proclaimed Phantom was caught the next day on the news, they feared the worst.

Jazz confronted her parents about Phantom in the box, but she was kindly and lovingly dismissed. You see, they had given it some thought and finally agreed with their daughter that ghosts too dangerous to be studied should just be caught and dealt with humanely. A compromise. Sure they couldn't do all the tests they wanted, but they would rather have their town and family safe.

The "Ghost in a box" was equipped with noise canceling movement dampening ecto-sustaining technology. In essence a sensory deprivation tank. The ghost would be kept safe until they were docile enough to be released for study or simply turned back into base ectoplasm to be recycled for something else.

But they didn't know about cores.

And they didn't know about Danny.

Cores would not dissipate like regular formless ectoplasm. They would remain even as the physical form of the ghost melted away as their consciousness faded into everything and nothing within the box.

But Danny wouldn't. Jazz knew that Danny couldn't.

A core wasn't made to house a human. A ghost, who was the personification of a person's emotions the moment they died, a being made of obsession, could be condensed and made dormant inside the fragile safety of a core. But a human flesh and bone body? A heartbeat? He would always be there. Able to be sucked in a thermos, yes. Ghost in a box, yes. His ghostly abilities made him pliable enough. But into his core? Never going to happen.

His heart and core were very different, but worked together in harmony. Neither could exist without the other. Neither could be taken out without issue. (The ghost catcher notwithstanding. Freaky duplication personality splitting weirdness) Should his heart vanish into the core, it would die. Hearts do not take compression and dormancy well. Should his heart be removed, the core would have no filter and overtake the body, burning it into pure ectoplasmic fire.

Danny was the perfect balance. His heart strengthened his core and his core energized his heart. He could not be easily shattered or dissipated. But this meant he also could not retreat into his core when his mind or body failed him. 

He had to remain fully formed. Fully in ghost form. The ectoplasm that was being cycled through the box made sure he was stable, but he would suffocate and starve if he became human.

He was well and truly stuck.

Jazz begged and pleaded with them to let him go. The psychological damage would be so severe if he stayed in longer than a few hours. But their success had blinded them to the point of pride. Instead they praised her for her empathy and willingness to study the obsessions ghosts were known for.

They only really started listening to her after Danny had been missing for an entire week. And even then it was just a call to the police and a search to hunt "they ghost who took our baby boy".

(Did Jazz ever break down and tell her parents the truth? Who knows.)

Perhaps the worst part was that his loved ones couldn't even get to the box. It had been locked up in some government facility almost immediately after the Fenton's announced their success. The patent was sold to the government for a truly amazing amount of money.

Danny was out of reach.

It was only after months of petitioning and rallying and absolutely threatening Vlad with ruining his political reputation, Sam was able to gain access to the box to "see for herself if they were truly as humane as the Fenton's claimed". She had 20 minutes with the box and she and Tucker did everything they could to open it. 

Nothing worked. No hacking or code they tried could open it. They had no power tools or weapons to try attacking it with. For 20 minutes they tried.

For 20 minutes they failed.

There was nothing they could do. They were escorted from the premises kicking and screaming.

Meanwhile the product went viral. Some opposed it, some praised it. The Fentons became famous for the "ghost in a box". Soon they were available widespread. Ghosts were being caught left and right and safely contained. most of whom were peacefully living out their afterlives in their chosen haunt.

Many ghosts were caught actively seeking Phantom. Skulker, Ember, some invisible ghost kid, a great hairy looking wolf man, and more. Ghosts were being caught all over the country. None of them could escape once they were put in the box. And none of the other ghosts knew what was truly happening to their kind. They only knew that if you went into the human realm, you didn't come back. 

Surprisingly enough, Vlad was eventually the one to put a stop to it. By forcibly closing the portals. The Fentons were too busy with their manic search for their son to rebuild their own portal. (And even if they tried after jazz told them the truth, would it have even worked?) His own portal was hardly ever used anymore. Mostly because alongside the "ghost in a box", the Fenton finder and ectoplasmic tracker were also extremely popular tools for ghost catching. It was too risky to activate his personal portal. If he was caught, he was as good as dead. 

But he too was eventually caught.

Somebody had finally looked into his shady dealings. Suspicious of him, and not wanting to rule out anything ghostly, they opened a box on him during a packers game.

He never saw it coming.

Eventually almost every ghost people across the world knew of were caught. The U.S. government paid for the boxes and had them categorized and stored deep underground in a ghost proof facility that slowly faded from history.

But what about Danny?

Let's ask a different question. Do you know what happens when a human stays too long without sensory input?

The hallucinations started when his phone battery gave out.

—————

The justice league had been an entity for quite some time now. Long enough that they felt secure in digging down into the underbelly of various world governments to root out world ending threats at the source. Especially after what had been going on with CADMUS and their government sanctioned cloning operation.

Someone (the flash? Batman? TBD) finds old records of a bunker buried deep under the earth full of something called "ectoplasmic" radiation. For the safety of the nearby town of Amity Park, they felt the need to dig it up and clean it out.

Upon entering the bunker in full OSHA approved hazmat, they find strange looking boxes. Boxes upon boxes stretching for at least a mile, maybe more if there are sublevels. Each box is labeled with a number. The first one they find is marked 3278 (or some other arbitrary number). All the boxes are sealed tight with no known way to open/dispose of them.

Most of the heroes agree just to let the bunker be. It was sealed and doing no visible harm to anyone or the environment.

But Batman (or other super? Dealer's choice) decides to do a bit more looking.

He stalks through the boxes, noting the numbers, the lights saying 'occupied' and 'dissolved'. Many of the boxes are buried deep. He can really only observe the ones close to the walkways.

He walks all the way to the very bottom. The very end of the bunker. Where there is a solitary box set on a raised platform. It is labeled number 1. The lights flash 'occupied'.

'Corporeal'.

He takes it back to the watchtower for analysis.

——————

The justice league cannot safely open the box. Any attempt to break it open could compromise whatever is inside. Scans do not indicate what could be inside.

More research is done into these boxes. Nothing digital is found. Eventually someone looked through some old offices stationed outside the bunker and finds patents for the boxes. Dr.s Fenton describe in detail what the box does and how to use it. It was meant to never be opened by anyone without the proper DNA match.

Apparently Jack Fenton, understanding that ghosts can possess people (read overshadow) coded the box to reject anything that had human DNA in it. He had to manually override the security to open the boxes. Which included several (read 100) security questions and passwords pertaining to Jack directly.

So only someone completely non human and non ectoplasmic could open the box.

Good thing they had aliens on payroll.

—————

Superman pressed his thumb to the scanner. There was a light beep and a sudden rush of pressurized air. A cheery voice rattled out of a small speaker embedded in the box's control panel.

"Wow! I don't know how you found an alien, but well done! Please enjoy your docile ghost or ectoplasmic goo! Thank you for using the Fenton GHOST IN A BOX! Patent pending please don't sue."

Superman, startled by the sudden voice, took a step back. The lid of the box opened slowly the inside dark. Toxic looking green mist sluggishly broiled out of the box. It spread almost like fog across the floor.

A black hand with abnormally long and skeletal fingers stretched slowly rose out of the mist, rising to grip the side of the box.

All the superheroes were immediately on edge. Hands flying to weapons and dropping into fighting stances. Superman himself jumped back to guard against whatever was coming out of the box.

What emerged was frankly horrifying to look at. A black mass of bulbous limbs and... Tentacles? Were those tentacles? Claws and teeth scrabbled at the edges of the box until the entire bulk of the thing fell from the edge, squelching with whatever liquid had been inside. It hit the floor of the watchtower with a wet sounding thud.

There was an immediate reaction among the heroes.

"Oh gross!"

"That... What IS that?!"

"Eugh..."

"It's not human, that's for sure!"

"Someone find a member of JLD!!"

"Get Constantine up here!"

Amidst the noise the thing on the floor writhed about. All over it's amorphous body, eyes opened. Countless eyes appearing all over it's form. They were the same toxic green color as the mist, but brighter.

The eyes rolled about and winced. The thing shuddered as if in pain and the eyes squeezed shut back into the void. Instead, teeth appeared, countless mouths inside mouths and razor sharp teeth upon teeth. It scrabbled on the floor and opened it's countless mouths.

And screamed.

Heroes threw their hands over their ears in an attempt to stop the sound. Those with enhanced hearing took it the worst. Superman himself was forced to kneel, hands pressing to the sides of his head desperately. It sounded like the screams of the damned. Of someone dying. Of thousands suffering. He couldn't move, couldn't react. It was going to drive him mad if it didn't stop.

It came almost in waves, battering against the triple reinforced windows protecting the inhabitants from space. Lights above their heads popped and broke as sound crashed about the room. Coffee mugs shattered, fuses blew, and the watchtower was plunged into darkness.

With the darkness came a panic. The screaming was unending, debilitating. Some curled into fetal positions, uncaring of their peers. Others tried to run, but with the power gone, doors wouldn't open.

Not many paid attention to the thing on the floor.

It is important to note that in attendance that day alongside batman were a few of his brood. Namely Red Robin and Black Bat. It is also important to note that Black Bat is a hero who is hearing impaired.

So of the heroes in the watchtower that day, Black Bat was the only one to focus on the amorphous thing despite the noise.

She watched the Eldritch horror even as the watchtower fell to darkness. It had too many mouths. Too many eyes. It's form was barely recognizable in the darkness, but as she watched she could see the makings of something humanoid.

It had a discernable head.

She watched it try to open its eyes various times only to see it shriek louder and shut them swiftly. It was in pain? Even though the lights had gone out? She looked at batman and the other heroes. They were screaming and yelling and trying to figure out a course of action.

She looked back at the thing. The sound beat at her ears in waves. Growing ever louder as those around her screamed in pain.

In that moment, Cass had an epiphany.

She lunged across the room, reaching Red Robin almost instantly. She allowed the sound to reach her ears as her hands left them to dig around in Tim's utility belt. She knew he had them, she'd seen him wear them often enough.

Ahah! She triumphantly pulled the headphones from a side pouch. Dick and Jason teased Tim about the headphones when he first got them for working on casefiles. They were the big chunky kind. Designed to fit over the entire ear.

Designed to be noise cancelling

She turned and sprinted towards the thing on the floor with her prize. The closer she got the worse the sound was. It beat on her brain painfully, she could feel a nosebleed trickle down her lip. Still she darted forward. She leapt ito the air, flipping upsidedown as she did. She aimed to the beings... Head? What could've been it's head... And deftly slipped the headphones onto it.

There was a flailing of... Limbs?... In her direction as she sailed through the air. She landed a bit ungracefully as the sound crashed over her again. She covered her ears with her hands and retreated, turning to face the entity as she backed away.

There were hands... Or hand like things... Clutching the headphones. Slowly the screaming dwindled. Soon it was quiet save for the cursing and crying and relief voiced by the heroes.

"Oh thank god!"

"It's over!"

"Ugh my head..."

"Is everyone okay?"

"I understand why they had that thing locked away now."

"Black Bat." Cass turned to see Batman holding his head in one hand. "What did you do?"

Cass mimed putting the headphones on. "Overstimulation." She said simply.

"What do you mean?" Batman looked to the entity. His eyes narrowed at the way it clung to the headphones. His gaze swiveled to the inky darkness of the box. An idea swirled in his brain and he nodded. "Extreme sensory deprivation."

Cass nodded, pleased.

"Batman! What happened? Are you alright?" Superman approached the pair. His voice was raised slightly. Blood dripped from his ears.

"I'm fine Superman." Batman faced him fully, moving his mouth in exaggerated syllables. "But you're not."

Superman smiled sheepishly. "I see you noticed. I can't hear anything right now." He turned towards the entity. "What do we do now? It's clearly too dangerous to simply let free." He turned back to Batman. "With the watchtower out of power the best option we have is to put it back into the box."

"Hnn..." Batman frowned. "I don't think that would work well. Based on how it reacted to light and sound, we can assume that the box was some sort of sensory deprivation tank."

"Sensory deprivation tank?"

"It's a box that cuts off all stimuli from the outside." Red Robin pulled himself off the floor with a groan. "It's a form of extreme isolation. Do you think that's why it was screaming?"

"What?"

Batman ignored Superman. "I believe so. Black Bat was the first to notice."

Red Robin squinted. "Are those my headphones?"

Cass grinned at him. "Useful."

He huffed and passed her a handkerchief from his belt. "You owe me new ones." She giggled silently and took the handkerchief, wiping away the nosebleed.

Batman grunted, gaze shifting back to the writhing mass of black in the darkness. "We'll have to quarantine this room. I don't believe trying to handle the entity would be wise."

"No kidding." Superman winced, putting a hand to his head. "But we won't be able to do much until Cyborg restores power. He was in the control room when the screaming started, right?"

Not a moment after Superman had finished speaking the backup lights came on.

And the shrieking started anew.

Heroes were once again forced to their knees as the sound hit them. Cass wasted no time and ran towards the entity. It was no longer a roiling bulbous mass, but rather had a partial humanoid form. A clear and present head and shoulders, thin long arms with hands clasped around the headphones.

She didn't know where it's eyes were supposed to be, but she didn't bother taking the time to figure it out. She ripped her cape from her shoulders and flung it over top of the entity. There was an immediate flailing of limbs and tentacles as it tried to get the offending object off.

Cass worked quickly. Pulling a blindfold from her belt, she wrapped it swiftly around the "head" of the thing in front of her. The knot was tied equally as fast, but before she could pull away, her hands were caught.

Long, impossibly long fingers held her hands in a vice grip. They were icy. So cold that it felt like her skin was burning.

But the screaming stopped.

"Black Bat!"

Cass ignored Red Robin's cry and Batman's frantic run towards her.

The entity had stilled.

It's limbs shrunk instantly, leaving almost normally proportioned arms and legs. The tentacles shrank away to nothing. The claws and fangs receding with them. The grip on her hands turned gentle, the fingers shrinking to a normal, proportional size.

Cass's eyes darted to Batman, stopping him just before he reached her. She shook her head minutely. This thing was not hostile.

It was scared.

Cass turned her gaze back to the thing and watched, tense as the fingers slowly ran up and down her hand. It felt her wrist, palm and fingers.

Slowly, the blackness faded into color. Blinding white hair fluttered with an unseen breeze. Skin tan underneath the headphones and blindfold. A tattered jumpsuit in black and white stained green.

A nose peeked out from under the blindfold. A pair of lips, thin and chapped. Freckles dotted what she could see of the cheeks.

It looked young. A young humanoid. It probably wasn't human at all but, the similarities were there. It looked like a boy. Younger than Tim, but older than Damien.

He looked thin. She traced the line of his ribs with her eyes. She would see where his hip bones jutted out. He was emaciated. Or very nearly. He looked as of he'd been starving.

She head Batman shift as he knelt beside her. She knew he'd seen it too. This boy had been tortured in extreme isolation. What had happened to him?

He didn't speak. She didn't really expect him to. He searched her hands for a moment more, before his hands stilled. Then, slowly, carefully, his fingers intertwined with hers. He gave a gentle squeeze.

She squeezed back.

The blindfold covering his eyes grew wet. The wetness seeped down the blindfold and dripped to the floor.

The boy was crying.

"You're real." Came a raspy whisper.

There was a flash of bright white light and suddenly a very starved human boy was collapsing into Cass's arms.

—————

(Cass looked up at Bruce with wide eyes, cradling the boy to herself. He now had pale skin, tattered blue jeans and a worn T-shirt. His tousled black hair was grimy with filth. Dark circles shadowed long dark eyelashes and hollowed cheeks.

Cass was suddenly sure. Whatever he was, he was hers now.

"New baby brother."

Batman sighed heavily.)

————-—

Aaaaaand I have more? Maybe? Like the idea that he has gone crazy and lost his senses for a time really appealed to me. Cue rehabilitation and him trying to free the other ghosts/Vlad and get them back to the ghost zone. Maybe try to go back in time to stop it all from happening? Idk.

I felt the need to post this before I dedicated too much time to it and wrote a multi chapter fic but never actually post it anywhere. 🫠

Tell me what you thiiiiink.

[fishyartist]

Ui idea tests, thrown together bc im eepy. Was planning on doing more but I spent all my days energy on the second one oops

[thekittyokat]

you ever just have a lot, a LOT of feelings all at once about a character and not even remotely enough words or brainpower to FORM the words to describe everything you're feeling. so it feels like you may explode. yeah

[dannyphantomiscool]

I think something interesting in the damian&danny twins/danyal al ghul au that i don't see explored,,, basically ever, is how Danny heals.

I always see his personality made more similar to Damian's, which does make sense bc of his altered childhood. But i think it's far more interesting to keep it more canonincal.

He doesn't text w proper grammar bc he rejects the strict way he was raised. He makes puns and jokes and laughs freely because he was never allowed that when he was young. He freely admits to caring about his friends and family bc that is something he can have now.

I want to see a healed Danny. I want to see an Al Ghul that actually got to leave the league, got to heal and become normal.

And it'd add a really interesting aspect to his death, and Phantom. He escaped and he healed and then he still got fucked over and lost it all.

He's right back to having to fight constantly, his friends are weaknesses that can be exploited against him, and his parents are fighting him.

Danny directly and explicitly rejecting his upbringing and taking his life back. Eating nasty burger and playing doomed and having friends and crushes like a normal teenager.

And then losing it all.

(But better to be like his father than his mother.)

[xx-thedarklord-xx]

Took me way too long to make this, enjoy the sneak peek 👀 (the gif better work)

[stay-funky-ponyboy]

i swear if matt pulls anything dorym related to Dorian and/or Orym being under Dominox's influence i will never be the same again

[wellijustfinnihedoneofthebooks]

I understand why everyones so mad about five x lila (i dont like it either) BUT i do think the setup of it (lost in time with no one else to rely on, protecting eachother, ect) would probably make five fall in love with just about anyone. Just like, this is kind of what he always imagined having with deloras. So i dont fully agree with the wide consensus that its out of character for him to fuck his brothers wife (in this specific scenario)

That being said, he absolutely wouldnt give up on his family over it.

[dantoru]

sorcevalier kissy

[hypewinter]

Prev

The last few weeks had been... tiring to say the least. It started with the mystery boy from the night prior waking up with soft giggles. As Danny was comforting him back to sleep he heard Jason come into the living room. Danny looked up, expecting to see a look of confusion, maybe annoyance. But the look he saw was much worse. Jason's eyes were glued to the boy in open terror. Before long, he started hyperventilating.

Danny remembered trying to call out to Jason but it was no use. He was already lost in his own mind. Danny had tried to inch closer to him, the boy still in hand but Jason stumbled back. He fell on his butt, eyes still wide as his breath came out in short loud bursts. Danny could see all the progress they'd made being undone in a matter of moments. Desperate, he had put the boy down and moved a half step towards Jason, hands up in surrender. He still remembered what he had said to calm the boy down.

"Jason close your eyes," Danny had breathed.

Jason hadn't seemed to hear him, his eyes still fixed on the boy behind him. Danny had moved to the side, blocking the boy with his body and tried again.

"Close your eyes Jason," Danny repeated.

This time, the boy had done as he was told, squeezing his eyes shut. "Good," Danny had coaxed. "Now, pay attention to my voice. Focus on my voice and my voice alone. You are safe. You are fine. Just breathe."

Danny had watched as Jason's breath evened out, he chest slowly finding its rhythm again.

"That's right. Now talk to me bud, what happened?" Danny had finally asked after a time.

Jason had slowly peeled his eyes open and looked at Danny. "T-that boy," he started. "H-he looks like.. like the man that..." That killed him. Danny hadn't needed Jason to finish.

Well shit. Was all Danny could think in the moment. And honestly shit was probably an understatement considering everything proceeded to go drastically downhill after that.

The boy had woken up soon after Danny had managed to calm Jason down and quickly broke out into another laughing fit. Jason had once again tensed, his breathing increasing rapidly. But the stare in his eyes was different than before. This one was more distant. More similar to the stare he would get on his worst days. Danny could tell that whatever Jason was looking at, it wasn't what was currently happening. Then it hit him. He's reliving his death, he had realized.

In that moment, Danny was caught between two clearly traumatized children who needed him. But which one needed him first? The longer he delayed, the more both of them suffered. Crap. Crap crap crap. Danny remembered taking a deep breath, then he had turned to Jason. He had scooped the boy up and carried him to his room. He then grabbed Jason's phone, played the first calming playlist he could find and turned it to full volume. Danny recalled sitting Jason on his bed and waiting a bit. As soon as some of the life began returning to his eyes, Danny had shot back up.

"Stay here. I'll be right back," he called before rushing out, closing the door behind him. He had then returned to the boy still laughing on the couch where he'd left him. The memory of fat tears streaming down his face still played in Danny's mind. Danny had soothed him, calming him down to a small fit of hiccups and giggles.

"How about a bath?" Danny had finally offered.

He had been able to end that night with both boys in relatively good places all things considered but that hadn't lasted long. The following weeks were plagued with multiple panic attacks, outbursts and Danny playing damage control. In between all of that, Danny also worked on getting some information out of the boy. So far, all he had found out was that his name was Tim.

Once, Jason lashed out at Tim after yet another laughing fit and Danny had made the mistake of admonishing him. "Jason! It's not his fault," he had said. Jason had stepped back in shock before his face hardened into anger. Danny didn't even have time to react before Jason was racing out the door.

It had taken Danny all day to find him. Then it had taken an additional half hour of apologies and bribery to coax him back home. That day had resulted in Jason getting state of the art headphones made by Tucker that could block out all noise or play back to back audiobooks depending on his mood.

Now Danny laid flopped onto the couch. At his wits end with Tim sleeping in an oversized hoodie on top of him and Jason dozing in the love seat across from him. It had been a particularly good day that day and they had celebrated with some pizza and a movie.

It had been incredibly hard balancing everything up until that point and oftentimes Danny wished he'd taken up Vlad's offer to teach him how to duplicate but he still wouldn't take anything back. These were his two boys and he wouldn't trade them for the world.

[cerise-on-top]

Hank with an Eldritch Horror Reader

Here's another thing I wrote two years back! It was an interesting concept which I really liked, so I actually really enjoyed writing this request!

Hank J Wimbleton was a grunt of many things, but not one to be scared unless he had a good reason to be. There were many things in this world he did not understand, you were one of them. Upon meeting you, his first instinct would have been to either fight or run away - who could blame him, it was all he knew. No matter how many times you reassured him that the very last thing you wanted to do was to harm him, he’d draw his weapon, uncertain of whether or not he should believe your words.

Once you show no resistance towards him whatsoever and simply restrain him using your powers or other methods, that’s when, thrashing around as much as he could, he would start listening. You may or may not have seen a grunt up close, but this was your chance to finally examine one. As you scrutinise him from every possible angle Hank realises that you were simply curious about his being and finally lowers weapon.

Your voice would likely hurt his head and freeze the blood in his veins, so you might have to resort to telepathy or speak through a marionette, if you can find one. Though, once Hank’s interest in you has been piqued, he’d be more than happy to find you one. A lot of people in Nevada seem to be redundant in the first place. Regarding telepathy: You will be able to have a two-way conversation with Hank like that, but, for the most part, he doesn’t think in words. Still, he can do so, if needed.

If you’re on the rather small side, he will make an effort to pick you up, or hold you, and bring you back to base. Depending on whether you can float or not, this might be rather difficult, but he’ll try. If you’re large, however, then he will simply “tell” you to follow him. As an eldritch being you could likely either change your form or scare away anyone in your path in the first place, so he doesn’t particularly worry about anyone being stupid enough to attack you.

Spend time with him, he’ll get used to you more and more and, eventually, grow a bond with you. Proud, he’ll show you to Doc so he can figure out what you are, but do not be fooled. Hank wants to know what you are to some degree too. Once comfortable with you and certain you won’t harm him, he’ll start observing you, touching you to some degree. See how you react, how you feel, how you are.

Despite your conversations being, for the most part, one-sided, Hank will ask you directly what you are and if you’re some form of eldritch deity. Since you’re an amicable creature he can’t exactly wrap his head around, it’s worth a try.

Although he would like to do so to some degree, he won’t take you with him on missions. It’s his way of saying “I care a great deal about you, I don’t want you to die or worse even if you are capable of defending yourself.” If you really insist on aiding him, he will let you, begrudgingly. But beware that he will have your back. In fact, having you around will give him a greater reason to fight and improve his overall performance. Though, it will also be a major stress factor to him if something were to happen to you, so choose wisely.