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#filter chapter 3
greenglowinspooks · 4 months
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(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 2)
Tw: canon-typical violence (Batman), emetophobia at one point
Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually
(Pt. 1)
(Masterlist/subscription post)
Danny sat in the back of one of the transport trucks currently on the way to Arkham, his hands in his lap.
So far, everything was going to plan.
About a quarter of the team had gotten themselves admitted into Arkham in the days leading up to the raid, carefully sneaking in supplies and weapons for both themselves and the rogues they were going to free.
Half of the team was on trucks, ready to storm the building with their fancy new tech. A couple others were keeping an eye out for the Bats, and the last one was holed up in a recently condemned building, ecto-modified sniper rifle in hand, ready to fire.
Danny’s hands were cold.
He hadn’t always run cold, from what he remembered. Even after he died—hell, even after he started developing his ice powers—he had always been warm.
Now, though, his body was freezing.
Maybe it was because of the ecto siphoning he and Derringer had done the day before.
He couldn’t make the ecto guns work without fueling them, after all, and the only ectoplasm he had access to was the stuff inside his body. So, he had Derringer hook him up to a GiW machine and filter the ecto out of his blood.
The process was excruciating.
Not only did he get light-headed from the loss of fluids, the machine also chilled his blood considerably during the filtering process, and when it was pumped back into his body, it was freezing. Derringer had to cover him with heating pads and thick blankets to get him to stop shaking.
Still, that had been a little over eighteen hours ago, so that probably wasn’t it.
Maybe it was just another side affect of his time with the GiW.
Overuse of his ghostly wail, he had realized earlier, was the reason that he had lost his voice permanently. Maybe he had accidentally used his ice too many times the same way, and now his body was irrevocably changed. Maybe warmth was just another tiny privilege he had taken for granted, that had now been lost forever.
Danny stared down at his hands.
Maybe his body had just given up entirely on keeping him warm, on pretending to be human.
“Kid, you alright? We’re almost there.”
Derringer’s voice snapped Danny out of his thoughts.
“Yeah,” Danny signed, “just tired. And cold.”
“We’ve got to get you a jacket, kid,” Derringer said, “it’s not even winter and I already have to worry about you freezing to death.”
“I died a long time ago, it’s fine.”
“No,” one of the other men in the truck drawled, “it means you’ve got to be extra careful. You’ve got a second chance at living, so you better not screw it up.”
“What did he say?”
“Danny thinks that because he’s died before, he doesn’t need to worry about freezing to death.”
The truck went quiet for a few moments. Most of the guys in there didn’t know he had died before. He didn’t exactly like to advertise the fact.
“I have a cousin who had a heart attack, and it only made his heart worse,” one of the guys near the front of the truck offered.
“See, kid?” Derringer said, “I’m right. As soon as this is over, you’re getting a jacket.”
Danny crossed his arms, slumping over in his seat with a huff.
A few moments later, a loud clang echoed through the truck. Danny jolted, almost falling out of his seat.
The door opened, the driver looking at them with boredom written all over his face.
“Alright, up and at em. It’s go time,” he mumbled, smacking the door loudly for emphasis. “The sooner we’re done, the sooner we can leave.”
They all stood, hopping out of the truck and making their way to the fence line.
Danny moved his hand to the bandolier on his chest, fingers brushing against the small ecto-bombs he had attached to it.
There were five of them, their bodies made of tempered glass and black steel, and they glowed a sickly green in the night. They were designed mainly for combat; he had a few larger ones meant to blow a hole in a wall in his backpack, which was securely zipped shut.
His hand then drifted to the holster on his left side, and the ecto-gun nestled securely within it.
Most of his parents’ inventions were far too big and bulky to be practical in any real combat setting, so he had downsized them considerably. The weapon he had was modeled after a standard glock pistol, matte black paint covering the GiW white of the gun’s body.
The gun should be able to fire around fifty shots a minute without overheating, which was more than enough for Danny. Hopefully, he wouldn’t have to fire a single round tonight. However, for whatever reason, the words should and hopefully didn’t inspire much confidence in him.
Danny followed the group as they snuck up to the facility, Derringer by his side.
Originally, neither of them were going to go on the raid, but someone on the patient list had caught Danny’s eye, so he decided he would investigate in person. Derringer was just along for the ride because Mr. Cobblepot wasn’t willing to lose an asset as valuable as Danny.
Danny would make it up to the bodyguard later, he decided.
Entering Arkham was, all things considered, pretty easy. Mr. Cobblepot had connections to a few of the orderlies, and it was all too easy to convince them to “forget” a few steps in setting up the security system for the night.
However, since nothing can ever just be simple, they ran into an unexpected patrol of nightshift guards just a few minutes after all splitting up to find the rogues.
Danny and Derringer were able to take them down pretty quickly, but not before they sounded the alarms. And, according to a few guys on the comms, they weren’t the only ones to run into guards where they shouldn’t be.
“They must have changed their patrols,” Derringer huffed, spinning the pistol in his hands, “c’mon, let’s go see about freeing our good friend Victor Fries.”
Danny nodded, scampering after the man as he sprinted through the halls.
The inmates, who had woken up from the loud alarm’s continuous blaring, shouted at them from their cells. Danny’s pulse was loud in his ears, drowning everything out.
Distantly, he wondered if those guards were going to die. Maybe they were dead already.
He supposed that it didn’t really change much if they were.
Soon, they were at the cell. It was custom-built to hold Mr. Freeze, constantly kept at subzero temperatures to avoid killing him.
Derringer hefted his bag off of his back, pulling out the suit and freeze gun that Mr. Cobblepot had procured. As he did so, Danny took a few of the larger ecto-bombs and placed them on the joints of the door.
They carefully moved away, putting some distance between themselves and the door, and Danny detonated it.
The explosion was loud. It shook the entire building, the shockwave knocking Danny to the floor.
Danny brought his hand up to his safety goggles, yanking a small piece of metal shrapnel out of them and dropping it on the floor. He was dimly aware of more pieces sticking out of his kevlar suit. Derringer was similarly peppered with metal, luckily uninjured as well.
They had come from the body and mechanism of the bomb, he realized. He’d have to fix that later.
Mr. Freeze emerged from the cell a few moments later, a scowl on his face. Derringer quickly shoved the suit and freeze gun into his hands and he retreated back into the cell for a few moments, getting dressed.
“I could have died from that, you know,” he hissed. “Killed by some amateurs with shoddy explosives.”
“The Penguin sent us,” Derringer said, ignoring the man’s clear annoyance, “our getaway car is outside. If you’d come with us…”
Mr. Freeze nodded sternly.
“Hurry up, then.”
Derringer and Danny hurried out, Mr. Freeze right behind them. Then, at a certain hallway, Danny paused.
He had to check.
“Kid,” Derringer barked, “we have to go.”
Danny shook his head.
“You go,” he signed, hands trembling, “I have to check.”
“Oh, what’s the problem now?” Mr. Freeze asked, his frown more pronounced by the minute.
“Danny…” Derringer sighed, “Danny thinks his sister might be in here. He hasn’t seen her in years. It’s the whole reason he was a part of the Arkham raid, actually.”
Mr. Freeze paused for a moment.
“Well, lead the way, then,” he said, clearly regretting his words as soon as he said them. Danny just nodded, scurrying forward, the other two men close behind him.
They came to the right cell quickly. Danny looked in through the glass, and he felt a piece of himself shatter.
That was Jazz, his sister, sitting in a padded wall wearing a straightjacket and a muzzle.
She didn’t bother looking up at them as they arrived, not stirring even when Danny slammed his hands on the door to get her attention.
Shakily, he attached an ecto-bomb to the door, hoping with all his might that she wouldn’t get hurt.
The door blew open, and Danny rushed in.
Jazz’s head swiveled to look up at him, her eyes narrowed.
He slipped the goggles up and his bandanna down, exposing his face as he came to kneel beside her.
Slowly, her expression shifted to shock.
“Jazz,” he creaked, his broken vocal chords cracking painfully as he spoke, “it’s me.”
She looked at him like a deer caught in the headlights.
“Danny?”
He nodded, pulling her into a hug, careful not to let the shrapnel dig into her skin.
“I thought you were…”
“Very heartwarming,” Mr. Freeze snapped, “but now isn’t the time. We’ve got to go, now.”
Jazz nodded, leaping to her feet. Danny stood as well, slipping his mask and bandanna back on, and grabbing onto one of her arms for support.
They left the cell, Danny doing a double-take as he saw the frozen-over pathway that they had just come from. He looked to Mr. Freeze, tilting his head questioningly.
“There were guards,” he said flatly. “Now hurry up, we need to get out of here.”
Derringer grabbed the two of them, dragging them along as he sprinted through the hallways. They had to take a bit of a detour, coming out of the main entrance instead of the side one they had entered.
Unfortunately, there was an active gunfight going down.
Danny was roughly pulled behind a desk, just barely dodging a few rounds.
His hands shook as he pulled a small ecto-bomb from his bandolier, priming it and throwing it at a small grouping of night guards. They cried out as the pure ectoplasm collided with them, covering their bodies in burns.
The smell, while familiar to Danny, was still horrific.
They took a few shots off at the night guards, trying to take them down. Their group was efficient, but with the rate they were going at, it wasn’t going to be enough. Only adding to that, the gun Mr. Cobblepot had prepared for Mr. Freeze had broken after just a few uses, leaving them unable to create an ice wall.
Then, Danny heard the sound of a gun’s safety being turned off behind them, and his vision went white.
He grabbed onto Jazz and Derringer, making them intangible right as the night guard opened fire.
Waves of nausea hit him all at once and he doubled over, his vision swimming. Danny was only dimly aware of Jazz taking the guard down with a high kick right to the head, and Derringer pulling him into a protective hold.
Ignoring everything, he pulled the last of the large bombs from his bag, throwing it into the air, pulling everyone behind the desk.
The entire room went white.
Danny’s ears rung as he scrambled out from behind the reception desk, dragging Jazz with him.
Luckily, none of the hired hands on his team had gotten injured, but the guards…
Danny looked away, trying to ignore the taste of bile in his mouth.
It was fine. He was fine. Everything would be okay.
The next few minutes were a blur. He knew that he had puked only a few seconds after they had left the building, and that Derringer had picked him up afterwards, carrying him to the truck with Mr. Freeze and Jazz in tow.
Danny’s entire body was wracked with tremors, an unbearable phantom pain passing through the still-healing surgical wounds in his head and torso like lightning. He dry-heaved, shivering uncontrollably.
They drove off soon after. Luckily, no one had been left behind. Someone, probably Derringer, helped Danny rinse out his mouth and got him a bottle of water to drink, wrapping him in his jacket.
As soon as the truck doors were opened within one of Mr. Cobblepot’s safehouses, Danny became aware of the sound of wailing.
Hopping out of the truck, most of his mind still far away, he saw a man being rolled out of the room on a stretcher. He was one of the people who had been on the other truck, Danny realized.
Beside him was a teenager, probably only a few years younger than Danny, who was screaming and crying uncontrollably. They wailed at Mr. Cobblepot, who only stood there with an uncomfortable expression on his face.
“Oh shit,” Derringer breathed. Danny pulled on his sleeve, tilting his head at him questioningly.
“The guy on the stretcher, that’s his sibling.”
Danny just stared, a hollow feeling deep in his chest.
Jazz, her arms now freed from the straightjacket, pulled him away from the scene. Danny let her.
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intravention · 8 months
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in The Right Hand of God
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lalalauraroslin · 3 months
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“I think you'll find,” she drawled, loading the first bullet into the chamber, “that I'm quite,” she loaded the second one, “a good shot.” ~ beneath the desert stars, chapter 2 by stunning @madamairlock 💜
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fruitybashir · 1 month
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alriiiiight outline for ch10 is done, time for some chapter spoiler asks
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corfisers · 11 days
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saezuru side blog over at @nanayashi-agenda it was inevitable and i should've made it sooner, but oh well
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astranauticus · 2 months
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todays orv mood: standing at the water dispenser under my dorm building waiting for my instant noodles to cook just pacing in circles and swearing
#orv liveblog#should i tag spoilers for like. ramble in tags??#ok i'll do it just to be safe#orv spoilers#idk in case my webtoon only irl friend suddenly decides to log back into her tumblr after 3 years#context chapter 311/46th scenario#ok theres a lot going on here#first off 1863th round yjh is a character made to haunt me specifically so when the name hell of eternity came up wow i was feeling like#500 emotions at once and none of them were good#second i saw someone on lofter say today that most of the talking kdj and yjh do in this book is through fights and just#LIKE I JUST. cannot get over how our perspective of their relationship is just always being filtered through these two people#who are just fuckin INCAPABLE of TALKING ABOUT THEIR FEELINGS like NORMAL PEOPLE#like it drives me so insane that this book is so show dont tell by necessity bc kdj is a fucking moron so we just get these#insanity inducing details like yjh paying to extend his midday rendezvous with kdj for 3 years and just using it as a personal journal#and then you get past all the fuckin. the two of them beating the shit out of each other by way of communicating and its like#'i want to lock you up so you'll stop dying because im scared im not strong enough to be able to stop you and we cant lose you again' LIKE?#SIR WHAT??????? HELLO??????????????#also the line that made me start pacing in circles around the water cooler while swearing in mandarin was specifically#'i couldn't be the protagonist. i couldn't save someone else'#says the DEMON KING OF SALVATION. like damn its 'sacrifice's will is a stigma that didn't really suit me' all over again#like i love that kdj has the nerve to be like 'of course i dont want to die' and yjh just absolutely does not buy it for a second#god. i want to hit him on the head with a brick.
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armoricaroyalty · 1 year
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“...the first task of the therapist is the creation of a therapeutic space in which the client feels safe accessing negative emotions which may have been suppressed or denied for years or even decades.” Patel, I. (2009). The three therapeutic factors: Improving client outcomes by moving toward a co-relational therapeutic model. The Armorican Journal of Psychology, 15(4), 211-217.
Previous | Chapter Start | From the Beginning | Next
transcript below the cut.
LATE SEPTEMBER, 2015
JACQUES | [presses a button on an intercom outside of a brick building] [intercom buzzing] JACQUES | Dr. Patel? INTERCOM VOICE | Come on up. Second floor, first door on the left. [clock ticking] DOCTOR PATEL | [clears throat] DOCTOR PATEL | What brings you to therapy? JACQUES | Nothing. It was my mom’s idea. DOCTOR PATEL | Okay. That’s a good place to start. Why do you think your mom wanted you to come to therapy? JACQUES | ... JACQUES | I guess...she probably thinks I’m unhappy or something. DOCTOR PATEL | Okay. And why would your mother think that? JACQUES | [sighs] This is stupid. JACQUES | I know what you’re trying to do, okay? You and everybody else. You’re all trying to get me to say that I’m unhappy, but I’m not. I have no reason to be. DOCTOR PATEL | Emotions don’t always have a clear reason. Even when we feel things very deeply, we don’t always understand why. JACQUES | [scoffs] Bullshit. Half the time, I don’t feel anything at all. DOCTOR PATEL | Really? When was the last time you felt a really strong emotion? JACQUES | ... [clock ticking] JACQUES | ...I don’t remember.
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starlooove · 3 months
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Batman fans fighting to be as classist as possible bc “Jason deserves it for beating up tim”
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lloydfrontera · 1 year
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chapters 383-384 my fucking beloved you are everything to me i'm so sorry i forgot how much i adore you </3
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abysslll · 8 months
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Does bsd 109 mean there are 109 parts
109 chapters yes !
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tennant-davids · 1 year
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"The second voice belonged to Adam Parrish" excuse me it's 1am on a school night and i'm crying because ronan is elated and i'm elated and it's going to be okay and i really hope he's right
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atherix0 · 2 years
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👀 looking at the way Grian has repeatedly been shown to be able to read every nuance of people’s emotions with a pinpoint accuracy that seems almost supernatural, something that was recently called attention to in Mumbo’s internal monologue
👀 simultaneously looking at the ‘Grian isn’t a watcher yet’ tag and wondering if the two are somehow connected
👀 someone has finally pointed it out 👀
👀 spoilers-
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waffliesinyoface · 1 year
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*shaking the FMA-tag on Ao3* cmon, I know you have good content in there somewhere for me, where is it. show it to me!!!
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lalalauraroslin · 3 months
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“maybe I proved myself. showed them I can be a damn good sheriff, even better than some of you.” ~ inspired by talented & gorgeous @madamairlock's beneath the desert stars <3
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holdhoiyghost · 2 years
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@ anyone writing fic pls dont do this. a 'named' reader character is an oc. a 'you have long hair, blue eyes, etc' reader character is an oc (even unnamed). anything that isnt a quick "hey, it makes sense for this story for this *detail*" is probably gonna be an oc, ngl. having to fill out a character sheet for your 'reader' isnt somethin you should feel you need to do.
im annoyed but not too much since at least this was posted in the summary - but there have been so many good fics with great writing that are advertised as RIs and it turns out that no, it's actually an oc. and then everything is bad because there was genuinely no mention that it was anything but an insert. im not saying oc fics are bad, but there is a reason that people get annoyed with false advertisement - they'll seek out oc works if they want to. a lot of people just don't want to.
i dont think ive mentioned it on this acc before bc not really a need to, but dont try n write somethin that you arent comfortable with. it took me a while to even get to where i am with how i write, and i still struggle to make my stuff as inclusive as possible - its hard, yeah, but it is possible.
not everything written in second-person is a reader insert. thank you.
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anime-nymph · 2 years
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chanting: it’s not a dabi fic it’s not a dabi fic it’s not a dabi fic its n—
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