AKA "Danny Fenton accidentally hits the Joker with the GAV during a livestream. It quickly becomes a Gotham meme." DCxDP prompt! TW: Brief description of vehicular assault.
Pro tip: Don't drive while on the phone. You could hit somebody.
Okay, so Danny does ghost-hunting livestreams (endorsed by FentonWorks) and tours the most haunted cities in America. Gotham happens to be in the Top 10 Cursed Cities of America, featured by youtubers like Buzzfeed Unsolved and Netflix true crime documentaries. Danny just... capitalizes on that a bit. He needs to make money, okay?? His "ghost hunting" is mostly debunking supposedly haunted places, doing side quests for ghosts with unfinished business, and interviewing interesting people.
Anyways. Gotham City is confusing. The streets make no sense, half of the city is blocked off due to the latest Rogue attacks, and he's pretty sure he saw an ambulance smash through a barricade with zero hesitation followed by several cop cars. Danny's livestream chat is blowing up, begging to see what just happened, and he's fumbling with the dashboard phone holder when several groups of people in clown masks start swarming the street. They're surrounding the truck, actually shooting at him, a couple swinging baseball bats and crowbars. He takes his eyes off the road for one second just to check whether the GAV has its shield deployed.
One second is all it takes. He feels more than hears the thunk of something particularly human-shaped hitting his front bumper. And his stomach drops. Heart-stopping panic grips him and all he can do is grip the steering wheel and drive forward. He can vaguely hear shouts all around the GAV but shock blurs everything together until he's frantically driving away. He somehow ends up in a quiet one-way street that looks half-abandoned. His livestream comments are a mess of what just happened?? and r u okay?? and, notably: WAS THAT THE FUCKING JOKER?!
As Gotham finds out, Daniel J Fenton did, in fact, commit a hit and run on the Joker. The GCPD dismissed a vehicular assault charge as the livestream showed Danny being shot at during the time of the assault; judges would absolutely categorize the case as self-defense. The Joker unfortunately didn't die. Also unfortunately, screenshots of the livestream got leaked and now Danny's absurdly baffled and horrified expression post-hitting the Joker is trending on Gotham News.
A new trend of "Get Ready With Me to Hit The Joker With My Car" circulates, much to Danny's utter horror and mortification. Gothamites adore Danny. There's something hilariously ironic and slightly endearing about some out-of-towner hitting the only person in Gotham that everybody agrees should be dead with their car. Unintentionally, too. Even the Bats begrudgingly can't even be mad about it. The situation for the kid was clearly traumatizing and horrific.
(Although once Danny learns what the Joker's done and why everybody's so viciously gleeful, he feels a little less bad.)
DP x DC AU — The Hermit Who Accidentally Got Adopted by the League of Assassins
Danny Fenton is seventeen when everything finally becomes too much.
The GIW is closing in.
His parents are getting too close to the truth.
Dan and Dani—de-aged, confused, his responsibility—need somewhere safe.
So Danny runs.
He flies as far as he can think to go.
The middle of nowhere.
Deep in the Rocky Mountains.
Miles from civilization.
He finds an abandoned house, fixes it up just enough to survive, and disappears from the world.
Becomes a ghost story.
A hermit.
A kid raising two even younger kids in the wilderness.
Danny adapts.
He hunts.
He cooks.
He learns to patch wounds and set bones.
He tucks Dan and Dani in at night and pretends everything is okay.
He becomes—
A mom.
Then one night, he finds a body in the snow.
Barely alive.
Bleeding out.
Dangerous, even unconscious.
Danny hesitates for all of two seconds before hauling her inside.
Because that’s just who he is.
Talia al Ghul wakes up three days later.
In a stranger’s home.
Healed.
Alive.
She is not used to debts.
Especially not ones like this.
She watches.
The boy—Danny—moves through the house with quiet efficiency.
He cooks.
Cleans.
Checks on the two younger children constantly.
They cling to him like he’s the center of their world.
And perhaps he is.
Talia understands that kind of responsibility.
“You should not have saved me,” she tells him one evening.
Danny shrugs.
“You needed help.”
“That is not a sufficient reason.”
“It is for me.”
She learns more.
The hunters chasing him.
The experiments.
The fear.
The way he never fully relaxes.
The way he always keeps the children close.
This is not a safe environment for them.
This is survival.
Talia makes a decision.
One she considers… generous.
Danny wakes up to a blade at his throat.
Talia smiles calmly.
“Do not struggle. This will be easier if you cooperate.”
Danny, who has fought ghosts, clones, and government agents, just sighs.
“…You’re kidnapping me, aren’t you.”
“Yes.”
“…Do I at least get to pack?”
The League of Assassins is not prepared.
For Danny.
For Dan.
For Dani.
Danny adapts immediately.
He organizes.
He cooks.
He patches up injured assassins without question.
He enforces bedtime.
He somehow becomes a stable presence in a place built on violence.
Dan starts fights.
Dani explores everything.
Danny apologizes for both.
Constantly.
Talia watches it all with quiet satisfaction.
The boy needed protection.
The children needed structure.
And she—
Has repaid her debt.
The League now has:
• one feral ghost teen with terrifying power
• two chaotic children with even worse tendencies
• a surprisingly effective “caretaker” who has somehow domesticated assassins
No one is entirely sure how it happened.
But the League has never run more efficiently.
Somewhere far away, certain vigilantes are going to have a lot of questions.
You are part of a hivemind that has a rule about bodies periodically needing to be disconnected from the hive for a time. It is now time for you to link back up when the hive desperately reaches out and tells you not to reconnect..
Someone got RickRolled again. They are trying to stop the song but it's like a wave in a stadium. It doesn't give up... Or let you down. Or run around and desert- oh no. The song has got you too!
i keep seeing stuff about how the robins have been tmnt-ified on various platforms and between the 10+ years old tmnt opinions hardwired into me and how deep into the robin sauce i am— NO.
NO.
core four yj maps neater to the turtles. “the robins are basically the turtles now” WHAT IS THIS MICHELANGELO ERASURE. HOW DARE YOU INSULT RAPHAEL LIKE THAT. OH BC THEY WEAR BLUE AND THEY’RE THE LEADERS THEY’RE TWINS ARE THEY? IF YOU WANNA SAY DONNIE AND TIM ARE ALIKE AND YOUR FIRST THOUGHT IS BRAINS AND NOT THEIR SASS— WRONG.
i need you to engage with more team media if you think it’s anything significant to highlight a specific trait when quickly showcasing a group omg
i’m not saying dc is consistently doing their best work ever with their characters, but the vast majority of flattening when it comes to these characters really comes from the fandom more often than not
DPxDC short angst cause why not if you put this on TT I want credit :(
It starts with the incessant ringing of a phone that shouldn’t be going off til the sun has fallen below the city skyline. Yet the sun hangs heavy in the sky watching through the cracks of curtained windows as the phone chimes away from its place.
A nap interrupted by the ringing draws out anger so easily let lose in curses as the phone is lifted from its charger and the call is answered.
“Someone better be-“ Jason hadn’t even gotten all of the words out before he is stopped by the sound of crying on the other end. Crying itself would be unordinary for anyone contacting him of all people. but these? These are truly heart wrenching wet sobs. The kind that shake the entire body and rattle ribs.
“Jazz…’m sorry!” The person -a kid from how young the wet voice sounds- cries over the phone, having not heard the start of Jason’s sentence. Whether that be because of his own crying or the shouting a commotion in the background, Jason can’t tell. “I told mom an-and dad.” He stops the stutter out a breath, sobs berly breaking. “You tol’ me not to without you an’ I did any way. And now they’re gonna-“
The call didn’t end only his voice stopped as the sounds in the background came closer to the phone. Shouting, threats of violence and then the phone call ends. Just like that.
It’s early noon when Jason is woken by a wrong number call from a terrified and sobbing kid.
He didn't waste any time and immediately called Barbara. "Jason, I thought-", "Can you find who called me just now? Somethings wrong." He could hardly hold on to his senses. A child's voice. Scared one. About his parents. "Gimme a second, what happened?", he could hear her moving around, "Wrong number. Called me Jazz? He said he didn't listened her now his parents are attacking him." A strangled sound came from her throat. "Give me the number."
He took the phone off his ear and read the numbers. He started to put his clothes on as he waited. "Belongs to someone named Samantha Manson. It's her second number, bought it a few years ago but never used until now. It's from Illinois, somewhere called Amity Park." "Can you send someone from JL? And send me the first number. They must know who uses this one."
"Sending Flash as he is closest. Have sent you the number. Looking for 'Jazz' now. If I find it will send it too." While he didn't have a speedster friend, he knew they were competent enough. "Thanks Babs, heading to Cave, will go up to tower if necessary. Let them know.", "Will do, be careful." He took his keys and left his apartment.
Before starting his motorcycle, he called the number. "Hello?" Confused girls voice came to his ear. "Is this Samantha Manson?", he pulled out to the road. "Yes it is? Who am I speaking with?" His sight filled with green for a second, "Do you have a friend that's unsafe in their home?" There was a gasp and the line went dead. Was this enough to realize? Was his home this bad?
His travel to the manor was in a blur. Keeping the green down was getting harder but he managed. Alfred greeted him and directed him to Cave. "Master Bruce has been informed by Miss Gordon. He is waiting for you." He huffed, but nodded. When elevator stopped, they stepped out.
"Jason." Bruce's voice was strained. There was some documents opened up on the screen of the Bat-Computer, and some in his hands. "Did they found him?" He nodded. "Flash did. Took him to Watchtower. He is in bad shape, was unconscious. His sister was notified, by his friends. We took his parents in for custody, they are in police station in their town. His name is Daniel, and turns out, he is not fully human. He should be protected by the Meta-Human Rights but there's an act called Anti-Ecto Acts. Makes him non-sentient, captured on sight. Once captured, experimented and exterminated. It was vetoed, yet they tricked the townsfolk and said it was approved." Blood drained from his face. What?
"What?" Anger could be heard in his voice. Green crept and covered his sight. His ears were ringing. He could hear screams for help, of cursing, begging. I didn't do it! They tricked me! It's so cold, I don't wanna be alone. Who would put that there, that's dangerous! There is no need for him now. I want to play! I don't want to be sick anymore...
Men and women, adult to child. So many, so many screams. "-the! Please Jason! Breathe!" He took a deep breath. His lungs burned. Bruce was right in front of him, holding his shoulders. He could feel Alfred's hand on his back. "I'm fine." He pushed his father's Bruce's hands away. He looked a little sad but it was not his problem. Bruce took a few steps back and shook his head, Alfred had stepped back too. "Once Daniel gets better, we are going to move him to Hall of Justice, so his friends and sister can meet up." Until then we're going to interrogate his parents and shut down this Ghost Investigation Ward." Jason nodded.
"You did good... Jason." His eyes burned a little but he ignored it and nodded again. "I want to see the kid." Bruce paused for a second. "Hn, put a mask on. I will clear a code for you." As Bruce went to change, he turned to Alfred but he was gone. Pulled out his spare red mask and put it on his face. His general clothes were close enough to look like Red Hood's, only the red bat symbol and his red helmet was missing. A few minutes later Batman has emerged and they both went up to Watchtower.
Using Zeta-Beam always made him wonky. Not that he would ever say that out loud. Just, just felt weird.
Bruce, no, Batman lead him to medical bay, halls were empty as they walked. Some rooms had a few heroes but both of them ignored others. As they approached the room, his stomach did flips. His chest ached, throat feeling a little dry. When they reached the room, Batman turned to him. "It's been 15 to 20 minutes since he got here. He might still be unconscious." Jason shrugged, not really listening. There was buzzing under his skin. His ears popped when the door opened and he stepped inside.
The kid's skin was pale, almost matched with the sheets. Face sunken, a few scars on his upper brow. Lip busted and purplish-greenish scar on his eye. Had cuts going on his right arm, which he could see from where he stood. As they approached, his heart beats almost hurt him, like it wanted to break free from his ribcage and stay with the kid. Heart monitor beeps were slow. Like slow-slow. 10 per minute. It sounded like clock ticking.
"That's slow." He could manage to say. He didn't know why but he felt like he should be doing something. Something like the kid needed something from him. There was a heaviness over his head, like he should be bowing down. His hands shook as he reached for boy's hand... And immediately fell on his knees. "Hood!"
He shook his head. His sight was blurry but he could see it, greenish veins were going up on kid's arm. Batman tried to pull him but he was immovable. He held kid's hand like a lifeline. Maybe it was a lifeline. He could hear Batman saying something, he could hear monitor beeping just like a clock but most importantly, he could hear the buzzing. Buzzing from kid's and his chest.
His arm burned. Like, a cat was sharpening their claws; like, getting a thousands of cuts. It burned. It burned! It burned! It burned! Fuck it burned and hurt so bad!
Blood burst in his mouth, he had bitten his tongue. His throat felt sore, maybe from screaming. His ears rang with the beeping sound. Or was it ticking? It was getting faster. Oh, and his hand burned, as if someone played doctor with it. What was going on? This, shouldn't be like this. It felt wrong, wrong, wrong. His King was wounded. They injured his King! How dare-
He felt dizzy. He blinked a few times, he was looking at the ceiling. Batman was there in seconds. Getting help, just to sat up... "What happened?" He felt tired. His whole body ached. He looked around and saw the kid. He was awake... He was awake!
"Thank you." he rasped. Gosh, his voice was so small. "I didn't know one of my denizen was a hero. Or... close enough to that. I shall repay you... for waking me up earlier. From this... coma? Yeah, that would have taken longer...". Kid was out of breath, yet he looked like he wanted to ramble more. Heart monitor kept ticking. "I need to get to my doctor and... looks like you need it too...".
"Let me handle this Daniel.", sudden voice startled him. He turned around, only to see walking purple cloak. His father, Bruce, Batman. Batman looked frozen in his place. No body movement, not even a twitch. "Apologizes, My King. There was a deviation in the timeline, I yet to find. If you like an explanation, this is me attempting to fixing it.".
Suddenly, floating cloak changed and he could finally see a face. It was youngish? It was definitely younger than Bruce but older than Dick. He swung his staff and a Lazarus green portal opened up. "What the fuck?".
They both turned to Jason. "I see you found yourself a Knight.". A Knight?
Staffed man reached with his empty hand and now he was floating. He pulled them towards the portal but he held on to Batman. Sadly, purple-blue wizard man pulled him stronger so three of them passed through it. He should have protested more. Or stopped them. Or something!
Oh fuuuuck, Bruce gonna be up in his ass for this stunt.
Fic idea number 4 (might actually be 3rd or 5th one idk)
Jason has started giving online cooking classes for free for a bit of fun relaxing community service thing. It goes real well, but there's this one student who one time out of two, closes the camera half-way through and sometimes leaves all together.
Now, Jason's not gonna be offended or anything, he gets it, but he's curious. Is the guy maybe shy because his dishes don't turn out right? Or is it just that he's really unlucky and keeps getting called away? Anyways, one day the guy is clearly going for the close camera button again, but it somehow doesn't work without the guy noticing.
Jason himself doesn't noticse at first but then he looks up from the sauce he's making and sees a green glowing fish trying to maim the guy who's fending it off with a knife. After that, the whole class is treated to a very intense battle between the zombie fish and the guy that looks epic and probably sounds like a warzone.
Finally, the guy manages to skewer the fish to the cutting board and trap it there, still struggling. As if noticing the silence from Jason (who's stopped everything to gawk like all the other students), the guy looks to the computer. Then his eyes grow wide as he realizes they can still see him. He flushes bright red before scrambling for the computer and then his camera feed is gone.
Has there been a JL post/story about the JL finding out that Batman is the youngest on the team??
Obviously, this connects to the Young Bruce Wayne trope, but has there been one where the JL just doesn't know Bruce's age or assumes he's older because Dick is like 25?
Like Let’s say the Batfam ages are:
Alfred - 60, Bruce - 36, Barbara - 27, Dick - 25, Cass - 23, Jason - 22, Steph - 22, Tim - 18, Duke - 17 (about to turn 18), Damian - 11
This means Bruce adopted Dick at 19/20 (whether Dick was 8 or 9), and became Batman at like 17. (He first met Superman at 18)
So when Dick joined the YJ team at 13, Bruce was only 25/26 while the rest of the members of the JL were 30-36, with Barry (who everyone thinks is the youngest) being 30. A 5-year age gap between the two.
Now we have the JL assuming Batman is older while Batman is assuming the JL is younger.
I bet the whole thing would come to light with the BatKids giving Bruce a "Happy 40th Birthday" surprise (a joke to call him old).
By then, the JL is 45-51. Their souls are crushed (especially Barry's) to find out that Batman is 5-10 years YOUNGER than them.
At the same time, Batman is absolutely astonished to find out the JL is not as young as he is and that he just became the "Baby of the Team".
When Jason goes back to the manor for the first time he calls Damian Demon Spawn. Everyone is thinking that its because Damian is Ra's grandson, but no, Jason wouldnt use facts about someone [That they cant control] to come um with piss-off-nicknames, give him his creativity back.
Jason calls Damian Demon Spawn because every time they were on a League Mission together and they would stumble upon the supernatural, Demons would ALWAYS come out from above or below Damian. He was ALWAYS in the place the demons would come from purely by COINCIDENCE. It happened so much that every time they were expecting a supernatural fight they'd turn to Damian ready to attack the demons. And it pissed Damian off every time someone would report the mission and mention in so much that Jason started to call him Demon Spawn.
Its months later when Robin, Red Robin, Red Hood and Nightwing were on a mission together and they'd knew a fight with supernatural beings were coming [It wasnt the main purpose of the mission obviously but it happens] and Jason pointed his guns at Damian that they understood. When the Demon portal came from below Damian Jason cheered SO HARD "DEMON SPAWN!!!!!!" That it made Damian try to slice his helmet off at some point
Before it became common knowledge that Batman always came with a Robin, there must have been at least one goon who misunderstood the situation. Dick, being faster and smaller, would often reach a scene before Bruce. Imagine some low-level criminal suddenly face-to-face with a ten-year-old in a bright costume. And then, moments later, Batman emerges from the shadows. He's terrifying, inhuman even.
Not realizing they’re partners, the goon assumes the boy is just that: a random kid caught in the wrong place. Then Batman finally steps out of the shadows, looking like the nightmare everyone in Gotham whispers about.
So for one brief moment, the goon actually moves to shield Robin from him.
Joker comes back ranting about how the colored nuisance has been dealt with. The Robin is dead. One less winged moron to deal with. And the Bat gets more violent. So much more violent. It gets bad quick and spirals to worse even quicker
But then you see colors. It's another kid. Looks like Robin, but different somehow. Now, the goons aren't scared of the colors, they're afraid of what the bat might do to him. So they try to hide him. Batman is viciously beating everyone within an inch of their life and they're trying their best to keep the boy wonder from being next. Joker said he's dead. What if the Bat finds out joker lied and chooses to change that?
Tim would probably have friends among the goons during his starting months because of how often they tried to protect him. Dick would see them trying to shield tim and chuckle while being reminded of his time at the start. Until he saw the fear for Robin's safety in the goons eyes instead of the realization that they were working together.
Don't imagine a little Bruce Wayne, eyes wide and innocent, before bursting out in giggles as the space-night creature growls playfully at him.
Don't imagine him 'growling' back, playing with the wandering spirit, mimicking the young Ancient's noises.
Don't imagine Bruce finding refuge in night and shadow, even as fear of bats made him tremble, as he tries to escape haunting memories of his parents' deaths.
Don't imagine his familiar 'friend' curling close, cooing to the child, letting Bruce cry as much as he needed.
Don't imagine Bruce, as the years go by, finding a perpetual shadow guiding him, guiding his fury and anger, guiding his grief and remorse. Unknowingly guiding him towards vigilantism.
Don't imagine Bruce being able to sense shadows, spirits, entities, but especially his 'friend'. There's a reason why he tried to learn from Giovanni Zatara.
Don't imagine Bruce sometimes seeking the night to feel a connection to the wandering Ancient; to feel familiar, cold claws carefully run through his hair as a steady purr-growl rumbles in a too still chest.
Don't imagine Bruce remembering the sounds the Ancient taught him as a kid, embracing the otherworldly aspect to put fear into criminals. There's a reason why they thought for years that Batman was a myth, a cryptid.
Don't imagine Bruce feeling relief when the Ancient seemed to take a liking to Dick, knowing his Robin was safe.
Don't imagine his fury and rage and grief when the Ancient couldn't save Jason.
Don't imagine him sobbing into that familiar, cold chest, begging for his son back. It was one of the rare times a somewhat human voice whispered into his hair, "I'm sorry."
Don't imagine Bruce, drowning in grief and fury, finding the tenacious Tim Drake braving the mantle of Robin, untrained and oh so tragically young, with a familiar space-shadow figure behind the youth.
Don't imagine Bruce always searching for the entity, seeing the creature more and more, as if the creature refuses to leave post anymore.
Don't imagine Bruce finally seeing the true face of his friend during a crisis, and seeing only a boy.
*Shoves this at you and runs*
…Sorry it’s nearly been a year since last update, life has been life and this chapter refused to be finished😅 At least you get to see Cas’s reaction to Danny’s true form now—hope it’s worth the wait!
Super special thanks to my beta @ladyquestion for their edit suggestions and SPN fact corrections!
Content Warnings: brief mention of gore, Fictional take on a religion/christianity (Supernatural's version with author possibly taking further creative liberty)
WC: 2k~ Masterpost
It's with a sigh of relief that Castiel notes the new quiet in the hall. Distracted by something further down, the Winchester brothers have finally ceased their bickering over the local library’s merits and he is now free to focus completely on his 'soul searching'.
...And sample taking, though he isn't entirely convinced that wanting the kid's guts in a bottle is common sense. It seems more like the collectionary habits of the things they hunt, rather than those of the hunters themselves. Barring the involvement of certain exorcisms and the like, of course.
Castiel is far from an expert on human behaviour though, so if the Winchesters insist such gathering is standard 'cop behaviour' necessary for their cover, he can get his hands a little dirty. It's just...unpleasant. He, as an angel, is far more accustomed to dealing with carnage of the metaphysical. That of the physical sort is... a lot slimier, he's finding.
And staining, he thinks, mourning his once clean trench coat as its edges start absorbing the blood where he kneels.
Swiftly capping said container and vanishing it into his coat, Castiel is quick to move on.
Hoping to feel a lingering soul, rather than the admittedly more likely residue of an ascended or stolen one, he reaches out with his Grace only to be met with nothing. There's no sign of a soul anywhere in the blood splatter; even the body's remains, where the soul's touch lasts longest, are devoid of its echo. Castiel is perplexed—while he may have struggled to feel the soul properly earlier, needing far more time than usual to even find the crime scene, that's because it was too weak to pick up at such a distance and his companions were distracting, wasn't it?
There shouldn't be any other reason why he, an angel of the Lord, would have difficulty tracking a mortal soul or its remnants. Even when devoured or stolen away, a soul's echo lingers on whatever it touches with no exceptions.
This seemingly normal body shouldn't be reading as empty mere hours after the murder. Not when he is so close to it, and looking so hard. Just once during this trip through Amity, Castiel would like things to work how they're supposed to.
The very town itself is strange, begetting caution the instant Dean's precious Impala crossed the boundary. Castiel had immediately done a precautionary sweep of the city, vanishing from the car and letting his Grace flow through the ground and homes as he explored the streets. He’d found nothing of particular interest during his search, aside from a weird number of men in white and a building bearing some sort of spaceship, but he did note an excessive straining of his abilities given the ease of his task upon his return to the impala.
Whatever the reason, the faith of God and His is fainter here.
But, again, not so faint that the soul of a child so brutally murdered should evade him so completely.
Regardless of what his Grace is telling him, Castiel knows the soul is there. He felt it, if intermittently, as they approached the school. No matter it's fragility, or what Dean speculates about the ghoul devouring it alongside most the victim's body, there should still be some sign of it and the soul being devoured is extremely unlikely. The soul, while innocent, was...off-putting...unappetizing...in a way that repelled his Grace. Castiel couldn't explain why—it didn't burn like the demonic, or harmonize like the angelic, energies he'd previously encountered influencing souls. It felt like something new all together, a hypothesis as exciting as it was worrisome to a being as old as he.
It was a child's soul, that was for certain, and mortal in that it Died rather than Ended, but that same something kept Castiel from confidently claiming it as such. It had registered as a normal mortal's soul, looked and felt the part, but he couldn't shake the feeling he'd missed the full picture. Like there was a lingering of energy after his acknowledgment of the soul that didn't quite fit, as if some part of the soul wasn't being seen, escaping his Grace. Dean would liken it to discovering a peculiar 'aftertaste' in a once familiar food. Not that Castiel is in the business of eating souls.
Either way, what he's attempting to rationalize is impossible; a soul incomplete, splintered so thoroughly it registers as different energies opposed to as a shattered whole, would not have felt as entirely intact as this one had in the glimpses Castiel caught of it previously. He also would have been able to properly separate the energies, and feel the soul’s pieces individually, without one remaining firming only in his metaphorical peripheral.
Reaching out again, both physically now as well as with his Grace as if being closer yet may help, he closes his eyes to better focus on what he recalls of the soul from his earlier brief brushes with it. He still can't find it, but this time he registers a firm resistance in the space between him and where the soul surely rests.
Is that...a wall?
He gently probes the 'blockage', Grace sliding smoothly across the invisible surface. Akin to cool glass, whatever it is is perfectly smooth and contact brings with it an eerie chill. It surrounds not the corpse, but Castiel himself, beginning right where he, his true self rather than his physical incarnation, ends. It swells and shrinks with him when he flexes his true self, 'separating' him from outside energies but not at all restricting.
Perhaps less of a constructed wall, and more a concentration of Nothing gravitating toward the Lord of Creation's Light?
It does not ensnare, but isolates all the same.
Mentally branching out, he can't feel Dean's Wild Fire or Sam's Pending Tsunami either, despite their closeness. He can, however, register flickering souls loitering outside the school once his Grace seeps through the school's brickwork.
The hallway, home to a presumably powerful Unknown, has suddenly become a dead zone for Grace. There's no way Castiel wouldn't have noticed if it was like this when they first arrived.
The heart in his vessel's chest skips a beat, the hairs on the back of its neck standing on end. His borrowed body is confused, like Castiel, and has chosen to react as prey. A rarity, for angelic vessels protected by divinity.
He chooses to prioritize his companions' safety over finding the missing soul or solving the hallway mystery, turning his full attention back to the nearby brothers to issue a warning—
Oh. So that's what's blocking me.
Towering over Sam is something Castiel can only describe, in human terms, as Darkness. Not the Nothing he compared the void surrounding him to before, but something that may as well be for all his Grace can feel it.
Whatever it is, this Unknown he has now met, it fortunately doesn’t seem inherently malevolent. Not one of Hell's many horrors, or earth's own twisted mutations like the potential ghoul they're hunting.
It's pure, innocent like a child yet Whole as the universe itself. It is Space, one of God's many dominions, yet It knows not of His control. It permeates the dimensional plane itself, yet exists outside of it even as It impossibly interacts with its inhabitants, the mortals beside It and Winchesters before It, on a physical level.
It Is, and It Isn't, not staying the same long enough for Castiel to get a stable reading on It. Him?
Castiel won't pretend to know the being, but then, he doesn't need to. The being is telling him, much in the same way as Father would, much about Itself. Not through speech, concepts and truths crammed into clumsy, ill-fitting sounds that always fail to encompass the whole message, but through Knowledge.
Simply by Knowing of It, Castiel is Learning.
The being is a boy; young, male and a mortal of the human variety.
Yet Castiel Knows the opposite too.
The being simply Is; unmeasurable by time, whatever it wishes to be, and the furthest thing from mortal.
Both are true, a certainty that grows the longer Castiel observes.
—radiates outward, the being exuding Its essence for all to Know—
Amity—Home—Crowned—Space—Bridge—Death—Life—
As his Knowledge grows, Castiel puts together a complicated picture. Despite his status as one working under the Lord, accustomed to receiving Knowledge this way when the world was new, he is unable to properly recall the Knowledge being passed on when he tries to review it. He can get close, but Knowledge is still lost. Further simplifying the being into human words, English none the less, would even further water-down the understanding.
The best Castiel could translate for his companions would have so much imperative nuance lost that there may as well be no information being passed on at all. There's no point in attempting translation of what he has Learned. Knowledge of It cannot be crammed into the boxes humans understand. Especially not when there is Knowledge even Ennochian has no translation for. Already, the Knowledge is diluting itself, slipping from his memory and leaving behind only vague renditions. King—Bridge—Other. The Knowledge too much for even angels to retain in completion.
Dean and Sam can pester him all they like, but if it comes up, Castiel will not be explaining how he knows what he does about the child.
What is it humans say?
It's complicated? A long story?
Explaining would be a dreadfully complicated and tedious process. It wouldn't be a lie, and having them draw their own conclusions based off what they perceive is probably for the best. The being would likely prefer that, and Castiel would rather It be pleased than upset.
Squinting, Castiel tries to focus on the physical half of the being: Danny. The human boy the being considers itself to be above all else.
At first glance, he isn't anything special. Ratty sneakers, blue jeans, an oversized white tee, fair skin, black hair, blue eyes—
Castiel braces himself against the emotional onslaught—nothing like the neutral and calm aura from before, instead a direct and violent in-pour of negative emotion—wrapping himself tightly in his Grace and withdrawing his Sight in an effort to protect the body he inhabits. Castiel knows what happens to mortal bodies that lay eyes upon the Other, can already feel the permafrost beneath his skin and shattering of slumbering spirit. Danny may not be of God, but he is undeniably of Something...possibly even Danny Hisself.
This reaction—am I his first sight of Divinity? The implications—
Is God aware of him? So like Himself, but so terribly young and lost?
He isn't part of the Plan—
It hurts, where it hurts when Dean is sad, that Castiel would strike such depthless fear into a youngling.
Was God like this once, young and terrified of the unknown despite the power within him begging to be used? To rend the world to ashes, or deliver unto it salvation, at the hands of a wielder fearful of what mere slivers of power they've seen?
It is a blasphemous thought process, but not one he can stop. Not when the Being, Danny, reminds him of his 'friends' as much as he does of Father.
The passionate emotions, spontaneous nature, and ability to exist in ignorance of the Plan, are all tell tale marks of 'humanity'.
Was the sharing of Itself, the projection of Its feelings, even intentional? Is It aware that It is screaming Its identity as something Foreign to Castiel, to God, for all who can listen to hear?
Castiel turns himself further inward, grasping for a message from his Father and doing his best to keep his physical body disconnected, sheltered, from the war of wills. He's so caught up in his tasks, that he doesn't even notice that what he's battling is the being's residue, the boy long gone.
*Spaceless text:
FEAR CONFUSION PAIN RUN DANGER LOSS FEAR PANIC WHAT WRONG WRONG WRONG DEATH FADING PROTECT RUN GHOST-ZONE PANIC RUN DESOLATE WORSE-THAN-THE-HOT-DOGS HOPELESS LOST WHY ANGER DEFEND PANIC BITTER INTRUDER MINE WRONG SCARED RUN MONSTER—
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Sorry if I missed anyone, but there is a masterpost for subscriptions :)
Clark learned to bake growing up from his mom and now as an adult he tends to stress bake. His coworkers at the Plant have grown so used to Clark bringing in pies and cookies whenever he's working on a difficult article. About three months into the founding of the Justice League Clark started bringing baked goods to meetings on occasion. Everyone loves what he brings, and they will all eat it except for Batman who claims that he doesn't eat sweets. Jump forward about a year and Clark is in the middle of a difficult article, so he decides to bring brownies to the watch tower for a meeting. He's early so he sets the brownies in the kitchen and goes to see if anyone else is there yet. When Clark realizes he’s the first one there he heads back to the kitchen only to find Batman hunched over, tupperware of brownies clutched against his chest shoveling the chocolaty goodness into his mouth. Clark is so shocked that he can't help but to bursts out laughing which startles Batman who’s head jerks up in horror mouth rimmed in chocolate.
DPxDC short angst cause why not if you put this on TT I want credit :(
It starts with the incessant ringing of a phone that shouldn’t be going off til the sun has fallen below the city skyline. Yet the sun hangs heavy in the sky watching through the cracks of curtained windows as the phone chimes away from its place.
A nap interrupted by the ringing draws out anger so easily let lose in curses as the phone is lifted from its charger and the call is answered.
“Someone better be-“ Jason hadn’t even gotten all of the words out before he is stopped by the sound of crying on the other end. Crying itself would be unordinary for anyone contacting him of all people. but these? These are truly heart wrenching wet sobs. The kind that shake the entire body and rattle ribs.
“Jazz…’m sorry!” The person -a kid from how young the wet voice sounds- cries over the phone, having not heard the start of Jason’s sentence. Whether that be because of his own crying or the shouting a commotion in the background, Jason can’t tell. “I told mom an-and dad.” He stops the stutter out a breath, sobs berly breaking. “You tol’ me not to without you an’ I did any way. And now they’re gonna-“
The call didn’t end only his voice stopped as the sounds in the background came closer to the phone. Shouting, threats of violence and then the phone call ends. Just like that.
It’s early noon when Jason is woken by a wrong number call from a terrified and sobbing kid.
He didn't waste any time and immediately called Barbara. "Jason, I thought-", "Can you find who called me just now? Somethings wrong." He could hardly hold on to his senses. A child's voice. Scared one. About his parents. "Gimme a second, what happened?", he could hear her moving around, "Wrong number. Called me Jazz? He said he didn't listened her now his parents are attacking him." A strangled sound came from her throat. "Give me the number."
He took the phone off his ear and read the numbers. He started to put his clothes on as he waited. "Belongs to someone named Samantha Manson. It's her second number, bought it a few years ago but never used until now. It's from Illinois, somewhere called Amity Park." "Can you send someone from JL? And send me the first number. They must know who uses this one."
"Sending Flash as he is closest. Have sent you the number. Looking for 'Jazz' now. If I find it will send it too." While he didn't have a speedster friend, he knew they were competent enough. "Thanks Babs, heading to Cave, will go up to tower if necessary. Let them know.", "Will do, be careful." He took his keys and left his apartment.
Before starting his motorcycle, he called the number. "Hello?" Confused girls voice came to his ear. "Is this Samantha Manson?", he pulled out to the road. "Yes it is? Who am I speaking with?" His sight filled with green for a second, "Do you have a friend that's unsafe in their home?" There was a gasp and the line went dead. Was this enough to realize? Was his home this bad?
His travel to the manor was in a blur. Keeping the green down was getting harder but he managed. Alfred greeted him and directed him to Cave. "Master Bruce has been informed by Miss Gordon. He is waiting for you." He huffed, but nodded. When elevator stopped, they stepped out.
"Jason." Bruce's voice was strained. There was some documents opened up on the screen of the Bat-Computer, and some in his hands. "Did they found him?" He nodded. "Flash did. Took him to Watchtower. He is in bad shape, was unconscious. His sister was notified, by his friends. We took his parents in for custody, they are in police station in their town. His name is Daniel, and turns out, he is not fully human. He should be protected by the Meta-Human Rights but there's an act called Anti-Ecto Acts. Makes him non-sentient, captured on sight. Once captured, experimented and exterminated. It was vetoed, yet they tricked the townsfolk and said it was approved." Blood drained from his face. What?
"What?" Anger could be heard in his voice. Green crept and covered his sight. His ears were ringing. He could hear screams for help, of cursing, begging. I didn't do it! They tricked me! It's so cold, I don't wanna be alone. Who would put that there, that's dangerous! There is no need for him now. I want to play! I don't want to be sick anymore...
Men and women, adult to child. So many, so many screams. "-the! Please Jason! Breathe!" He took a deep breath. His lungs burned. Bruce was right in front of him, holding his shoulders. He could feel Alfred's hand on his back. "I'm fine." He pushed his father's Bruce's hands away. He looked a little sad but it was not his problem. Bruce took a few steps back and shook his head, Alfred had stepped back too. "Once Daniel gets better, we are going to move him to Hall of Justice, so his friends and sister can meet up." Until then we're going to interrogate his parents and shut down this Ghost Investigation Ward." Jason nodded.
"You did good... Jason." His eyes burned a little but he ignored it and nodded again. "I want to see the kid." Bruce paused for a second. "Hn, put a mask on. I will clear a code for you." As Bruce went to change, he turned to Alfred but he was gone. Pulled out his spare red mask and put it on his face. His general clothes were close enough to look like Red Hood's, only the red bat symbol and his red helmet was missing. A few minutes later Batman has emerged and they both went up to Watchtower.
AU where jason Todd actually has pit madness, but it’s because his shitty crime alley apartment is directly above one of the natural pits. it’s in his tap water.
Batkids early adoption au except it all happens in the same night (also Bruce Wayne is an idiot)
Picture this:
Bruce goes to the circus. A tragedy occurs. He starts walking back to his car with a freshly orphaned Dick Grayson clinging to his neck. He gets there only to find...
The tires are gone. All but one, which is in the process of being removed by a scrawny street kid named Jason Todd. The boy runs.
Bruce panics. He obviously can't let this poor, obviously homeless kid run off to get crimed in Crime Alley. Bruce does the only thing he can think of: he throws Dick like a pokeball. It works, sort of. Dick catches the kid, the kid catches a concussion.
Bruce panics harder.
He bundles the kids into the back of his car and hops in the drivers seat. "Hospital," he says to himself, "I can do this. I'm Batman."
"What?" Dick says.
"What?" Jason says.
"What?" Bruce says.
THUMP. They're interrupted by the sound of someone landing bodily on the roof.
Bruce stumbles out of the car to find Tim Drake doing the family guy death pose on top of his $400,000 Mercedes. Above them, a broken fire escape squeaks a threat of more violence. Bruce is distracted by it for only a second, but when he looks back down, Tim is already upright and setting off a camera in his face.
"Hi, Batman!" Tim grins. "I knew it was you."
Bruce blinks away the stars with a sigh and opens the back door again. Tim scrambles off the roof and wanders in.
Bruce now has three childr- wait when did that one get here? Cassandra Cain is wedged into the middle seat between Dick and Jason. She smiles at him sweetly.
"Who-" Bruce begins.
Someone wings a brick at them out of nowhere. Tim narrowly avoids further head trauma only because Bruce's dad reflexes activate in time to bat (ha!) it away. Bruce turns to see a little blonde girl sprinting off. He moves to catch her, but steps on Jason's discarded tire iron; it flips up and nails him in the balls. Stephanie Brown gets away.
Bruce realises, while he's writhing pitifully on the ground, that the car still has no tires.
He calls Alfred for help.
---
Four hours, a hospital visit, a whole lot of paperwork and one long phone call to CPS later, Bruce arrives home with four emergency foster kids in tow.
Talia Al Ghul is sitting in his living room with a baby carrier.
