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 He’s had a big reveal; everyone has accepted him (including his parents), the GIW disbanded, the Anti-Ecto acts repealed, and generally, everything is going great.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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It's in the Blood.
Danny's adopted, but his parents...aren't who you'd think.
It was a genuine adoption; a teenage mother who couldn't handle a child, giving up a baby to a family better suited for it.
Danny, meanwhile, turned into a halfa, saved the world multiple times, and became the Ghost King.
He's sitting through a boring meeting with the Observants, subtly doing his math homework behind the piles of paperwork in front of him, when one of them says something...off.
"I suppose it would only make sense you'd inherit a throne; you were always destined for one."
After some questioning, prodding, and outright threatening, the Observant flat out says what he means.
Danny's father is Arthur Curry, Aquaman; King of Atlantis.
The only reason Danny survived becoming a halfa the way he did was because of the diluted Atlantean blood in him. It wouldn't be enough for him to live underwater, but it was enough to bolster him so that he could semi-survive high exposure to Ectoplasmic Radiation.
He'd be seen as crippled by any pureblood Atlantean, due to his human heritage outweighing his Atlantean one.
That was what the Observant had meant.
Atlantis was always going to deny Danny the throne there, so of course Fate would rewrite itself to see that the little King got a Throne regardless.
Now Danny has a conundrum.
Because he was invited to a meeting with the Justice League, and Aquaman is absolutely going to be there.
Aquaman, who 100% has no idea Danny exists.
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Look who's back from yet another flight! 🌈✉️
Also him and his wifey as humans lol
(plus Daria being silly :3)
Being more of a background character, Sean would mostly be shown in some educational pieces of the show (mostly geographical themed) and a sort of "arts and crafts" lessons with Eddie, telling about all the lands, cultures and puppets Sean had a chance to see (and various fun stories from his flights too!).
Sean may come off as rather shy, but he's as energetic and talkative as his wife, who oftenly would join him on his part of episodes.
His job as a pilot is to fly puppet travelers on his plane from the neighborhood and/to all other places of colorful puppet world and/or delivering mail, which could include anything from various personal requests of neighbors, to new goods for bodega and to letters as well (maybe that's why he gets along so well with the neighborhood's mailman and bugdega owner?). So he's quite the busy bird I'd say!
Sean always has a joke or pun up his sleeve - this guy sure likes to have a good laugh!
He's transmasc, bi & poly
I'm super burned out and dry on ideas lately so I'll infodump more abt him later 💔💔 local himbo pilot my beloved-
Template by @/cloudysunflowr
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nothing makes my hackles rise more than seeing people ascribe to fanon labelling sam's empathy and compassionate nature as something purely cognitive, cold, and calculating. because for some reason, people are quicker to jump to the conclusion that deep down he's uncaring - that his compassion is purely scripted, that he's going through the motions. which is patently false! if you would spend more than two seconds paying attention to his character and his stated AND unstated motivations and core beliefs.
also. would you say the same thing to an EMT running through a script while dealing with a patient during an emergency. hunting mirrors a lot of emergency service work that puts workers in high stress, life-or-death situations, day in, day out! compassion fatigue is real, and anyone on the job will tell you that no one is surviving the work week running on pure compassion alone.
like emergency services workers in the real world, both brothers rely on scripts. dean often defaults to lines that let him take charge of a situation, especially useful for when decisive action needs to take place. sam on the other hand, usually defaults to supportive lines and does far better at defusing tense situations. they're also capable of swapping roles, and will readily do so when required. it's all part of why they're an effective hunting unit when working together, operating at their best.
because we repeatedly see in the show that tactical combat is only one facet of hunting. there's the research and detective work, but more importantly, there's the people work that comes with it. they're constantly having to work with people, often victims/survivors experiencing great distress.
like yeah they have their own host of issues when it comes to communicating with each other and managing close interpersonal conflicts. but i'd argue they're an effective unit out in the field. and i'm really not judging how they talk to people on their random case-of-the-week by the same standards i use to judge their familial dysfunction. lol.
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AN APPRORIATE STARING DISTANCE
While at the beach, you take a moment to appreciate your handsome boyfriend while he's taking a nap—and also when he's not.
— word count: 1.2k
— pairing: [modern] clarence clayden x little painter/you
— tags: romantic fluff, established relationship, takes place during azure island phase 1 [no spoilers for the event stories tho]
— notes: absolutely wild that my first time writing for clarence happens to be modern ver, not archmage!! anyways, this is the screenshot you can blame for this silly lil fic's existence.
return to lbc masterlist | series: none
NAVY BLUE STICKS OUT TO you the moment you open your eyes.
Your aching shoulder protests your decision to stay as you are, on your side, facing a still sleeping Clarence. Like this, he looks much younger—you're reminded of the time you had to force him to take a nap. Like this, he's simply the cute guy you managed to score not one but multiple dates with, just Clarence, instead of the incredibly smart and wonderful and kind Student Council President.
You glance at the circular table set between your two beach chairs, taking note of his glasses resting primly upon its surface. With him often having to juggle two different kinds of glasses, you'd offered to put them in your bag so that he could pack lighter. Or, as light as he can.
Right now, it's awkwardly squished behind you, miraculously still on the chair only because it's too big to fall out the gap under the armrest.
Filling in the blanks comes as easily to you as the smile on your face when you get to see your boyfriend, nearly the same one on your face right now—and the expression that goes with it is so endlessly fond that you find yourself with the urge to hit something.
Simply put, your boyfriend is a handsome man—the most handsome one, of all the men your keen eyes have gazed upon. And gazed, they certainly have. But even if they didn't have to pick, then they would gaze at only Clarence for the rest of their life..
You almost giggle at the thought, but think against it at the last minute.
But pressing your lips firmly into a thin line has the opposite effect on your budding smile. You imagine you look rather strange to anyone who passes by—what with your mockery of a wide smile and the silent scream building up in your throat, paired with the quiet thumping of your feet against the legrest.
If you were in a more private space, you would resort to kicking instead.
A proper squish to your still warm cheeks as you begin to sit up helps ease up the passion swirling chaotically across your body. You exhale, then allow your hands to slide off your face. One side of it bears the consequences of your actions more than the other.
With a one last longing at the sleeping Clarence, you start to dig through your bag for the only thing in your arsenal that could substitute for a sketchbook.
There are a few miscellaneous promotion emails waiting for you on the lockscreen. A message from Cael asking about dinner tomorrow too. Somewhere between them, there's a notice about the weather, with the temperature from an almost hour ago listed uselessly.
You swipe past them all and hurriedly slip into the camera app.
The hand holding your phone steadies itself against the armrest as you swing your legs over the edge of your chair. A thumb hovers over the capture button, vigilantly awaiting your command. The fingers of your other hand, meanwhile, busy themselves with zooming in on the captivating scenery.
With each pinch, the focus grows ever narrow—until all that remains is Clarence and nothing else.
At one point, you try to zoom into the mole under his eye, but it doesn't make for a very compelling photo. After a few attempts, quite a few of which involve staring at your screen for prolonged periods of time, you reluctantly give up.
Your pout is soon covered up by your phone. When its front camera presses against your upper lip, your gaze is free to wander back to the sleeping beauty beside you once more.
A healing effect, exclusive to him, takes hold of you instantaneously.
Eyes brimming with fondness narrow slightly. You slide off your beach chair, hands on your bent knees as you take a closer look. You can make out the shadows cast by his long lashes and the drool dribbling past his chin.
He's perfect.
You're content to stay there until your knees begin to ache, reminding you insistently that this isn't a very comfortable position to be in. As a compromise of some kind, you adjust your arms atop the nearby armrest.
It really would be better if you'd brought your sketchbook along—but, you think, remembering his workaholic tendencies, would he even bother to take a nap then?
You scrunch your nose up at the thought.
In that moment, Clarence seems sense to your presence. When you look back at him, you're greeted with the sight of confusion in his now opened, but still drowsy gaze. He blinks, and it earns him an amused grin from you.
"Morning," you say, though it's well into afternoon.
That seems to wake him up. His cheeks flush a warm pink, and he hurriedly wipes away the drool on his face, as though you haven't already committed the sight to your memory.
Clearing his throat, he responds in kind, careful to sit up in such a way that he avoids looking at you.
"You don't have to be so close...I can see you just fine."
You laugh, not unkindly. "What if I'm the one who's having trouble?"
For a moment, when he turns back to look at you, he looks alarmed. Then, his shoulders relax to the tune of a sigh, his groggy mind apparently having caught onto the fact that you were joking.
Without breaking eye contact, you reach for his glasses. But as with the issue of walking into a cave without a flashlight, even if you vaguely recall where your destination is, there's no guarantee you'll actually reach it.
"Give me a second," you mutter, your annoyance making your tone a bit too sharp.
You follow your words up with an apology. His glasses held are carefully by the frames as your sheepish gaze connects with his faintly amused one. Clarence reaches out, getting as far as grasping the slanted tips of the frame before the two of you reach a mutual agreement.
"Well." His cheeks return to being a rosy hue. He coughs politely. "If you would."
Cute. Biting your lip giddily, you shake his grip off. A quick once-over of your surroundings before you stand up shows that no one seems to be paying attention to you. And unless your friends and acquaintences have come to together to unlock the secrets of invisibility, no one you know seems to be present either.
Leaning over, you line his glasses up against his face, the tips of his frame brushing against his cheek. It takes only a moment to slot them into place—and you have enough experience with doing so that they don't snag against his ears.
It takes only a moment longer to give him an innocent peck on the lips.
"There," you murmur, not entirely satisfied with the kiss.
His Adam's apple bobs. Clarence adjusts his glasses with an awkward look that suggests he has some kind of solution to your dilemma. You, of course, beat him to the punch.
"Why—" Your voice cracks a little. "—don't we go find a different spot?"
He smiles, narrowed eyes watching you fondly. "I was about to suggest the same thing."
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