Sep 18, 2025
Toy story DBH AU
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Toy story DBH AU
You guys needs to read The Spark on AO3! It’s a really cool Samurai Jack x Amazing World of Gumball fanfic with an awesome crossover ship! 💚🧡
Star's Charisma
Gift for @agdapl-arts
Raised in Silence, Reborn in Shadows — A DC x DP
They never gave him a name.
Names were dangerous. Names created identity, and identity created resistance. So he was Thirteen. A number carved into memory through repetition, whispered through cold halls lit only by flickering candles.
“Thirteen does not speak unless spoken to.” “Thirteen does not feel.” “Thirteen exists to serve.”
The words were not rules. They were reality.
The place he grew up in had no windows. No sense of time. Only rituals, voices, and the ever-present hum of something unseen—something watching. The cult called it The Infinite Quiet, a force beyond life and death. They said it would choose a vessel, and that vessel would transcend humanity.
Thirteen was meant to be that vessel.
They taught him silence before speech, obedience before thought. When he cried, they called it weakness. When he hesitated, they called it failure. Eventually, he stopped doing both.
But something inside him never fully broke.
The ritual happened when he was fourteen.
They drew symbols across the stone floor, old and wrong, their shapes twisting if you stared too long. Voices rose in unison, echoing off the walls like they were being swallowed instead of heard.
“Offer the vessel.”
Hands pushed him forward.
For the first time in years, fear surfaced—raw, unfamiliar, burning. Not because of what they were doing, but because of what he felt watching him from beyond the circle.
It wasn’t quiet.
It was waiting.
And it was curious.
The moment the ritual reached its peak, everything shattered.
Light—green, violent, alive—burst outward instead of inward. The symbols cracked. The air screamed. The thing they worshipped didn’t take him.
It touched him.
And then it let go.
When he woke up, the cult was gone.
Not dead. Not destroyed. Just… gone. Like they had never been there.
But he was still there.
And he wasn’t the same.
His reflection didn’t always match him. His breath sometimes came out cold. His body flickered when he panicked, edges dissolving into something not quite real.
He didn’t understand it.
So he ran.
Gotham City didn’t ask questions.
That’s why he chose it.
The city was loud, chaotic, alive in a way he didn’t understand. People shouted, laughed, argued—expressions he’d never been allowed. It overwhelmed him, but it also hid him.
He learned quickly. Stay in the shadows. Don’t draw attention. Don’t trust anyone.
But power doesn’t stay hidden forever.
It started with small things.
A mugger frozen in place, unable to move as something unseen pressed against his mind. A flicker on security cameras—white hair, glowing eyes, gone in a blink. Whispers in alleyways, like the air itself was watching.
Batman noticed.
Of course he did.
The first time they met, Danny didn’t fight.
He froze.
The man in black moved like authority, like control—like everything Thirteen had been trained to obey. His instincts screamed to kneel, to submit, to disappear.
Instead, he hovered.
Wrong. Weightless. Not human.
Batman didn’t attack.
“Who are you?”
The question felt… unfamiliar.
Danny hesitated. The word didn’t come easily.
“I…”
His voice cracked, unused.
“…don’t know.”
The Batcave was too quiet.
Not the empty quiet of the cult, but something controlled. Safe. That made it worse.
Danny didn’t sit. Didn’t relax. Didn’t even blink normally. He stood like he was waiting for instructions that never came.
“You’re not a metahuman,” Batman said. “Not entirely.”
Danny flinched at the analysis. Labels meant purpose. Purpose meant control.
“I’m not theirs,” he said quickly, the words sharper than intended.
The reaction was instant—defensive, afraid.
Batman noticed that too.
“The cult,” he guessed.
Danny’s silence confirmed it.
The Justice League didn’t agree on what to do with him.
Some saw a victim. Others saw a threat.
A being that could phase through walls, disappear at will, and radiate something that didn’t belong to the living world wasn’t easy to categorize.
But Constantine knew.
“You didn’t become a vessel,” he told Danny, lighting a cigarette he wasn’t supposed to have in the Watchtower. “You slipped the leash.”
Danny didn’t understand.
“You’re connected to it,” Constantine continued. “That thing they worshipped. But it didn’t claim you. Means you’re… something new.”
Danny’s expression didn’t change. But something flickered behind his eyes.
“Will it come back?”
Constantine didn’t lie.
“Maybe.”
The cult returned three weeks later.
Gotham felt it before anyone saw it. The air turned heavy, like something was pressing down from above. Symbols appeared again—on walls, streets, even in places no one could reach.
They weren’t hiding anymore.
They were calling him back.
Danny didn’t run this time.
He stood at the center of it, the same way he had years ago. The same symbols. The same voices.
But he wasn’t Thirteen anymore.
“You belong to us,” one of them said.
The words hit something deep, something old.
For a second, he almost believed it.
Then Batman’s voice cut through the noise.
“No. He doesn’t.”
Simple. Certain.
Danny had never heard certainty used like that before.
Not as control. Not as a command.
As… belief.
The fight wasn’t loud.
It was strange. Warped. Reality bending at the edges as Danny’s powers clashed with whatever the cult had brought with them.
They tried to bind him again. Tried to reduce him to a vessel, a tool.
But he wasn’t empty anymore.
Fear was still there. So was anger. Confusion. Pain.
But there was something else too.
Choice.
The green light returned.
Not violent this time. Not out of control.
Steady.
Danny stepped forward, not as Thirteen—but as himself, whatever that meant.
“I’m not yours,” he said.
The words didn’t shake.
The connection snapped.
The symbols shattered.
And for the first time, the silence in his mind wasn’t forced.
It was peaceful.
Later, Gotham was still loud.
Still chaotic.
Still confusing.
But Danny stayed.
He didn’t understand everything yet. Probably never would.
But when Batman asked him his name again, he didn’t hesitate as long.
“…Danny,” he said.
It wasn’t perfect.
It wasn’t complete.
But it was his, Readmore
*throwing some Altami artworks at you*
(↓ Credits under Keep reading)
Pairing: Spencer Reid x CIA agent! Reader
Summary: For your entire life you've always straddled that delicate line between black and white, somewhere in the morally gray is where you reside and had to grow beneath the ever watchful gaze of your father, a monster whose yet to be caught and as fate would have it, the CIA stepped in and gave you an opportunity to become something that could finally stop him, you've spent the last few years devoted to the path you've been walking on and yet the one thing you never counted on was falling for a man who was the opposite of everything you've ever known and never dared to want.
Content Warnings: Mature 18+ 🔞 (Graphic content and imagery including depictions of murder, assassinations of despicable characters you won't be shedding any tears over, later sexual content, allusions and flashbacks to childhood trauma and abuse, nightmare sequences) and other dark and disturbing topics, so consider yourself warned foolish mortals, if any of these topics triggers you turn back now while you still have a chance.
A/N: So this really niche crossover idea is something that has been brewing in the back of my head for who knows how long and I've finally gotten fed up enough with it to finally write it out of my system, this series is going to be a crossover universe between criminal minds and Netflix's You with the reader being an assassin that works for the CIA and the general vibe is a mixture between espionage/spy thriller, slice of life realism, slow burn love story, psychological horror with gothic lit subtones and dark academia so if you like any or all those things then I hope you'll enjoy my writing since this is going to be a pretty self indulgent fic with a cast of characters across fandom boundaries playing out in the theater of my imagination in written form and also because I'm a simp for character studies and build up I'm going to be heavily focused on those aspects specifically so if you're not a fan of tension then there are plenty of fics out there to consume with a faster pace. I hope you enjoy freaky witches!
A post about Martha from @prom-is-slavery inspired this idea how my version of Martha in the Heathers AU would react if given a weapon. In the AU, Martha is raised by her grandparents, it’s never properly explained what became of her parents, but her grandfather is very traditional and “manly” (which means having a lot of guns, and having a very dim view on what he views as non masculine boys). Naturally he prefers the muscular jock Ram, and wants Martha to date him, and detests the geeky and more nurturing Braverman Martha actually likes.
So naturally Gramps is very unhappy when he figures out Ram is gay and is back to being Martha’s friend, and Martha went against his wishes and began dating Braverman anyway. Grammy told Gramps to put a sock in it, and welcomed both Braverman and Ram as they are to the fold.
Martha actually knows how to fire a gun, and is a great shot, but hates everything about it. When given the choice, she’ll just take a croquet mallet and the balls as a weapon if need be, and will only resort to a gun if she absolutely has to.