League members discussing meeting Robin at work:
"Compared to Bats, Robin was a total sweetheart. Ball of sunshine."
"Man, must've been a good day then, the kid I met was a real anklebiter. He pulled out a sword and everything."
"Anklebiter is harsh, the sweet boy I met barely said a word, he just kept asking about Themyscira and the lasso."
"He? I met a blonde girl."
"No, no, black haired boy with blue eyes. We're talking about Robin."
"Yeah same here, blue eyed and tanned."
"Pretty sure he had green eyes. And talked fancy. And kind of scolded me for time travelling."
"The child I met was paler than the moon."
"I'm telling you I met a girl, and she was Robin."
"Well... either we're all wrong or we're all right."
So they arrive at the conclusion that Bats has a shape-shifter for a kid.
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DP x DC Prompt
…
There are no more heroes.
Well, okay. Rewind a bit.
Danny has been doing the hero thing for a while now. He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great. Some of the A-Listers are even training as junior ghost hunters to help give him a break from his rogues! (Being Ghost King makes things hectic sometimes, and he just needs the extra help. Sue him!)
The point is, literally nothing is wrong with Danny Phantom’s afterlife.
And then Valerie Gray, the Red Huntress, disappears in front of his eyes.
Danny is baffled! She’s just…gone! Valerie just popped out of existence, like she was never there. But no matter how hard he searches in the Ghost Zone, he can’t find her soul anywhere. His core isn't broken in grief. So she’s not dead. Which is good. So then, where is she?
Some of the others come forward with ideas on how to find her. A few ghosts volunteer to go out into the mortal realm, an area Danny had declared off-limits, to see if she was out there. Danny approves it. He rounds up some of the friendlier (i.e., discreet) ghosts and Amity Parkers and demolishes the outside travel ban.
So everyone spreads out, looking for their dear frenemy and teammate. But it becomes apparent very quickly that something is wrong with the rest of the world.
There are no more heroes.
Every single living superhero on the face of the Earth has just…vanished. Villains are running amok; the countries are in chaos! Some aliens are invading Earth, mythical deities are trying to take over, and society is crumbling to the ground. Everything is on the brink of collapse.
Well, Danny was still there. And so were his people. They were pretty spread out, so could they just…take up the mantles? He also knew where to find the souls of dead heroes in the Zone; surely they wouldn't mind coming out of retirement for a little bit, especially if they couldn't die again. Oh! And that skeleton army leftover from Pariah Dark's reign might be useful in repelling those invading forces.
Honestly, there were more than enough hands to go around! And with the heroes gone, Danny didn't mind letting everyone out for a little break, as long as they followed his rules. They wouldn't stop the search for the other heroes, but hopefully, when they found them, the heroes wouldn't mind Danny's intervention too much. :)
In other words:
Someone fucks up, and all of Earth's living heroes are either wished out of existence or are whisked away to some far-off realm where Danny hasn't checked yet. In the attempt to figure out what's going on, Danny lets the dead run amok over the Earth as they search for clues. The skeleton army repels the invading armies, the souls of dead heroes deal with the world leaders, and his rogues and other Amity Parkers set up shop in place of famous heroes, trying to get the cities under control again.
Basically, they just do their best to keep everything from imploding until the Justice League and others are back.
(And why is it that Danny hasn't disappeared? Well, whatever caused everyone to go poof! only affected living heroes. Anyone heroes that were dead in the first place, or even just half-dead, stayed behind.)
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for so long, midoriya and bakugou had competed with each other over the title of number one hero.
constantly butting heads both inside and outside of class, trying to one-up each other out in the field, fighting together to nitpick at their strengths and weaknesses. they were both so steadfast in their decision to be at the top, nothing seemed like it could sway them.
it had gotten to the point where everyone in their little class at yuuei ruminated on who would be the victor. they were both strong—terrifyingly so—and had potential that reached the very stars. they were leagues ahead of their colleagues as they grew and this was recognized—even celebrated in some cases.
people starting placing bets once they'd all graduated, judging the two based on how well they interacted with people, dealt with villains, supported fellow heroes—everything.
of course, they each had their own separate strengths and weaknesses. where bakugou prevailed with his flashy, explosive quirk, devilish good looks, and minor injuries when dealing with villains, midoriya fell. where midoriya prevailed with his kind smile, heartwarming words towards civilians, and willingness to help even small-time heroes, bakugou fell. they see-sawed—balanced each other out—but they were too thick-headed to realize as they focused on themselves.
they had to work hard as sidekicks to make their way up to the pro-hero status. they busted their asses, put their all into saving people. the race to the top was as invigorating and demanding as ever, but by god they were going to win.
so when it was finally time for the yearly reveal on the top ten pro-heroes of japan, they both waited with bated breaths. who was it going to be?
dynamite? with his 100% win-rate against villains and deadly efficiency?
or deku? with his blinding smile and determination to save everyone?
the answer? it was neither of them.
it was you.
you, with your warm smiles that made your eyes crinkle and put anyone at ease. you with your strength, your powerful quirk, that could save anyone within minutes—seconds, even. you, with a public approval rate that skyrocketed once you were out on the scene. you, who had snuck up behind them and caught them both completely by surprise.
they'd been so wrapped up in competing with each other that they hadn't realized there were other heroes with the same goal—same potential.
midoriya was stupefied and immediately started flipping through his hero journal so he could see if he'd written anything on you. he hadn't—you'd appeared seemingly out of nowhere. he mumbled to himself and started looking you up, pouring over article after article, watching interview after interview.
bakugou was outraged—justifiably so, in his opinion. who was this fucking extra that stole the number one spot from him? he sneered at the picture of you on the official hero ranking website. he made a promise to himself then and there that he would beat you, no matter what it would take.
after so many years of vying against each other, midoriya and bakugou finally had a common goal that didn't involve fighting between themselves. and that was to win against you.
but you wouldn't make it easy for them, that was for sure.
and if they found themselves developing teeny little crushes as they saw you more and more, practically inserting themselves into your life in an attempt to topple you from the number one spot, well... that wasn't anyone's business now, was it?
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#73
(part 1) (part 2) (part 3) (part 4) (part 5) (part 6) (part 7) (part 8) (part 9) (part 10) (part 11)
tw: blood
The late shift was never particularly kind to the villain. It’s when villains are the most active—and so the heroes are more so too. The cover of night is meant to make crime easier, but the heroes are out in droves at this time and the cover of night turns out to, actually, not cover shit.
Their front door clanks shut behind them, a relieved sigh slipping from their lips. Their eyes trace down the hall—to their bedroom, hell yes—and catch their kitchen door swinging shut.
The evening’s tiredness is evaporated in a second. The villain’s hand is inside their coat on instinct, the feeling of the well-loved knife hilt in their hand a much-needed comfort as they start down the hall.
They push the door open slowly, wishing that they oiled its hinges last week. They peer inside from the safety of the hallway—there’s… nothing in there. It’s just as they left it this afternoon. Except, no, wait—
There’s a handprint on their windowsill. Shiny, still wet, and crimson red.
Invisibility is a habit by now. They glide through the kitchen quietly, their footsteps practised, their coat blending them into the gloom, to glance down at the blood staining the wood. They look outside, back in, across the kitchen. What the– this bitch has been in their fridge.
They open it, letting the light blind them momentarily. Well, there’s a lot of food they’re going to have to throw out now. Specks of blood taint most of this. They glance back, the yellowing light brightening the room and their face, and they hear a very muffled, presumably very unintentional, “shit”.
The fridge slams shut and sinks the room back into darkness. There’s a red trail trickled over the tile floor, leading straight to their pantry.
The villain adjusts their knife in their grasp, creeping towards the little cupboard. They pause outside, heaving a heavy sigh in preparation before tugging the door out and thrusting their blade into the darkness beyond.
“This is no place for a petty thief,” they say whilst their eyes adjust. It’s darker in there without the streetlamps outside invading. “I’m giving you a chance to get out before I cut you to shreds.”
Someone squeaks from inside. “P–Please don’t!” they cry, and the villain squints suspiciously. They can just see the figure of the person pressed into the back of their pantry.
They fumble for the light switch, showering the tiny room in dull light. Of all people the villain expected to rob them, well, they weren’t really expecting to see—
“[Hero]?” they demand incredulously, and the hero winces. They squeak again when the villain gets the mind to shove their knife against their throat. “How the hell do you know where I live?”
“I– I don’t!” the hero cries. “I didn’t know you lived here, I swear!”
The villain narrows their eyes disbelievingly. “So, what? You break into people’s houses now? Doesn’t sound very agency-friendly.”
The hero’s eyes nervously slip to the bloodstained fridge behind them. “I– I’m hiding.”
An admission of weakness. They’re hiding.
Sirens shriek outside. Blue and red dance merrily on the ceiling. “From what?”
“From [Superhero].”
From the superhero. The villain doesn’t doubt that they’re hiding. The hero looks terrified—though they do have a knife slowly drawing blood at their throat, they suppose. But from the superhero?
“Why?”
The hero swallows nervously. They won’t meet the villain’s eye. “I did something wrong,” they say quietly. “Really wrong. [Superhero]’s practically out for my blood now. I can’t be trusted.”
The sound that comes out of the hero is either a laugh or a sob. It’s hard to tell. “So you’re hiding from him,” the villain finishes.
The hero nods before they remember the blade resting on their skin. “Yeah.”
“And so you’re hiding… in my pantry.”
“... Yeah.”
“And you helped yourself to some of my fridge.”
The hero has the decency to flush in embarrassment. “I’ll replace it. I was desperate.”
“Give me one good reason I shouldn’t kill you right now,” the villain says lowly, “or throw you back into the street.”
Clearly the hero didn’t think this far. They lick their lips, their wide-eyed gaze finally meeting the suspicious squint of the villain’s. “I can– I could do something for you?”
“You dying would do me a great favour.”
The hero swallows again, and their stare turns nervously outward again. “I– I don’t know. I don’t have any of my weapons, I’m not dangerous.”
“You get in fist fights.”
“I usually lose those.”
The hero laughs, the sound taut with anxiety. The villain leans away from them slightly, letting their blade sit a little lighter on them. “I have an idea,” they say flatly.
“Yeah,” the hero says instantly.
“I need a maid.” The hero’s face falls slightly at the wording, and the villain grins ecstatically. “I have the clothes. You work on my whim, without snooping, and you can sleep on the sofa.”
“Isn’t there anything less humiliating I could do?” they ask quietly. God no, the villain thinks. The humiliation is part of the fun.
“I could let you stay in my basement,” they offer pointedly, and the hero grimaces, “if you’re so attached to the clothes you’re wearing.”
Sirens whoop outside. The villain glances at the blood trails on the floor. “I’m going to clean this up before your friends inevitably bust the door down,” they say. “We can talk business when I get rid of them. Stay in there. If I so much as hear from you, they can have you. Got it?”
The hero nods numbly. “Yeah.”
And with that, the villain flicks the light off and slams the door on them.
Cleaning is easy enough, though they’ll need to mop later—or the hero will. They turn over a few pieces of furniture, drag a few drawers open, and then they casually let themself out the front door with a giant, full backpack.
The police are exactly where they wanted them. They spot the villain halfway out of the garden.
“Thief!” one of them cries. “Stop in the name of the law!”
The villain turns on their heel and bolts for the back of the house.
This part is easy. Lose the police in the city, wait for them to clear out from their house, loop back home. They’ll never suspect that the villain lives there. God, they’d have some problems if they did.
The next part is the fun one. They have a hero to blackmail—and by god, are they going to use that to their advantage.
Next part
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