#they think jazz is too well adjusted to be from the league

[phoenixgrl1412]

Jazz is Damian's bio sibling, not Danny

I see tons of Demon Twin AUs, and I love them, but I started to wonder about what the universe would look like if Jazz was Damian's sister.

Not sure what her birth name in this AU would be (Yasmin? Yasmina? Something else) so I'm going to just refer to her as Jazz.

I'm thinking that Jazz was attempt #1 at getting the perfect heir, and for whatever reason, she was deemed to be inferior. Is there something actually wrong with her? No, but Ra's is an asshole. If you'd like to go a more sexist route, Jazz could be unworthy because she's female (in this AU, Ra's keeps Talia around to make an heir, not to be the heir).

Despite not being the perfect child they wanted, Talia and Ra's train Jazz until they are able to try again. She's taught as if she was the heir, even though everyone knows she isn't, because there isn't a better choice at the moment.

When Jazz is three, Damian is born. Damian is her little brother and she loves him as best she can, but Damian is raised to treat her as inferior, and it shows. Everyone looks down on her, especially Ra's, and that attitude is the example Damian follows.

Jazz is still trained, because if nothing else she could still be an assassin, but no one holds out much hope for her. She isn't as talented as Damian, even though she's older. She's not as strong or as stealthy or as cutthroat. She is more clever, but she is older than him, so it's brushed off. Besides, good assassin soldiers don't need to be clever, they just need to obey.

But where Damian excels in the physical arts, Jazz excels at the mind arts. Solving puzzles, recognizing patterns, psychoanalyzing her opponents to predict their moves - that's what she's good at. It's clearly inherited from Batman (no one can explain her red hair, though).

When Jazz is eight and Damien is five, Jazz flees the League. Why and how is your choice. Maybe Damian is supposed to kill her in a show of superiority. Maybe Talia helps her fake her death and escape as a final act of motherly love. Maybe Jazz flees on her own, wanting to be something else even if she doesn't know what.

Jazz makes it to America, and then to a little podunk town in the middle of nowhere, Illinois, called Amity Park. She meets the Fenton parents and their almost six-year-old son, Danny. And somehow, they take her in. And for a while, it's the family she wished she had, with loving parents and a little brother who didn't want to stab her.

Danny isn't Damian. He isn't a replacement. She knows that they aren't the same. They are radically different, even if they both make her want to cuddle and love them (at least Danny doesn't try to stab her for doing it). She can miss Damian and what could have been while embracing what she has found.

And for a while, she's happy.

Sure, she didn't expect her little brother (Danny is her Little Brother, Damian is her Baby Brother, there has been and will always be a difference to her) to die and come back, but she's seen weirder stuff when she was in the League.

She also didn't expect Danny to use his newfound powers to become a hero, but it's his choice, and she's going to support him. At least she has her League training to fall back on, even if she's a bit rusty.

And yeah, she was hoping that her adoptive parents would take Danny's halfa status a lot better than they did, but she'd always known it wasn't going to end well. She's always been good at recognizing behavioral patterns, and theirs said nothing good. But she'd hoped, for Danny's sake, that she would be wrong.

She never thought she would flee for her life for a second time, but here she is, driving a stolen car with her unconscious and bleeding brother in the backseat, heading towards the one place she swore she would never set foot in: Gotham.

[flamingpudding]

DPxDC Family Week June 18 (Day 1)

Prompt: Parents | Discovery

A/N: I hope i did not miss the prompts but here is my Day 1 contribution! Enjoy!

AO3 Link: DPxDC Family Week Contributions

Danny sighed as he watched his parents lay out the display for their research as well as set up a showcasing of all their weapons. Why couldn't he skip this business thing like Jazz had. Oh right, Jazz was going to college next year and skipt out of this with the excuse of taking a college tour for Gotham Acadamy and their student programs. While he had missed his chance and was now stuck accompanying his parents to their meeting with a new potential business partner. In other words he was on parents babysitting duty.

Apparently Wayne Enterprise had shown some interest in regards to their research as well as ecto-powered utensils and weaponry. Danny was pretty sure that they only showed an interest because he had an accidentally meeting as ghost king with that Constantine guy who's soul became a trading game in the ghost zone. Apparently there was a Justice League Dark which needed some help with a couple rebellious ghosts. Instead of a Demon they had accidentally summoned Danny in his Ghost King form and Danny had used that chance to ramble on about the GIW and how half his council was close to demanding a war with the humans. They were pretty quickly interested in avoiding an interdimensional war, even promising to get the Justice League involved too and not only the Dark variant.

The moment Sam and Tucker heard about Wayne Enterprises being interested in a deal, they once again started up their discussion about whether or not Bruce Wayne was Batman's sugar daddy. Since the bat was a member of the Justice League. In a way he probably should be happy that his parents forced him to come with them, it gave him an out from his friends bickering. Don't get him wrong, he loves his friends, but if he has to listen to them argue one more time where or not Batman fucks a rich billionaire, Superman or Wonder Woman, he would be throwing them into the portal for an hour or have them deal with Technus alone.

Either way he was now helping his parents while they were discussing if they should or should not demonstrate the Fanton-Bazooka. His mom had already the Wraith Wrangler tested earlier while his dad had untangled the Fenton Ghost Fisher. The Fenton Finder was already on the table deactivated for now. Ancients, he was not looking forward to being its target, again. His parents were also already wearing the Fenton Specter Deflector which meant Danny was especially careful not to get to close to them since that thing still sapped him and the only one he had had the time to adjust and make his own ecto signature a exception in, was at home because he just forget taking it with him when his parents dragged him into the GAV.

Aside from the weaponry his parents had also brought out a bunch of their modified home appliances, like the Fenton toaster. Hopefully they wouldn't end up bringing the bread back to life during the presentation. Danny didn't think Wayne enterprise would be too thrilled about that. And the Ancients, did he hope that Bruce Wayne was not a fruitloop like Vlad.

---------

Tim sighed as he readjusted the necktie. What was Bruce thinking? Just because Constantine had contacted the Justice League about some negotiations that were going to happen with someone from another dimension known as the Ghost King, he was now stuck with trying to strike a deal with one of the only inventors that was actively publishing as well as selling research and weaponry that would work against ghosts.

Seriously that man and his contingency plans.

Just because he liked to have safety measures should negotiation with the Ghost King, who apparently can destroy entire dimensions, go wrong, didn't mean that the man could skip out on that meeting with the scientist couple and put that all instead on him. Really Tim had better things to do, like plotting a revenge plan on Jason for ratting out his coffee hiding space to Alfred. So what if he only slept like six hours in four days? He was still functioning very well.

He watched through the cams how the Fantons set up their display in the room WE had provided them. They were going to show off to a selected board and him. He eyed some of their weaponry as well as home appliances, they all had a pretty in theme green and silver design. Though he took special notice of the green glow or liquid some of them visibly contained that suspiciously looked very much like Lazarus Water. He would need to make sure to collect some samples if they didn't leave some willingly behind.

He also wondered how their son, who looked very much like an unwilling assistance, kept a certain distance from his parents after they put on some clunky looking belts. He got his answer as to why when he watched them longer. The poor kid got zapped apparently every time he got too close. Worse was that his parents apparently didn't notice or entirely dismissed it a second later if they noticed it.

The co-ceo of Wayne Enterprise narrowed his eyes at that, the detective in him screaming that something was amiss here. Sometimes the parents even carelessly reached out to touch their son, in what was probably supposed to be an affectionate gesture. The boy would flinch back slightly but they would still keep going only drawing back when the kid ended up flinching in actual pain and letting that show on his face. His parents then seemed instantly apologetic but only minutes later ended up repeating the same mistake distracted apparently by something else.

Tim took notes of this and decided that he would either look into their home life himself or ask Barbara to do it. He had a gut feeling that the kid needed some help and even if it were just a false alarm and these were actually good parents, it would be better safe than sorry. Taking a sip from his death wish coffee he readjusted the tie once more before closing his laptop.

It was time for the business meeting and he would make sure to watch their interaction and treatment of their child closely.

----------

Tim swore he was paying attention. The suspicious looks his board as well as the Fantons son were giving him just because he was typing away on his laptop while parallel listening to them as well as taking regular sips from his coffee was not him being distracted. Didn't these people ever hear about multitasking? Just because he sat in the back so no one could look into his laptop didn't mean he wasn't paying attention. For all they knew he was actively taking notes.

At these the Drs. Fenton didn't seem to mind it, they were easily distracted with just one well placed question from him. They would then go on and on about Ecto-Energy and all its uses and potential. By now the young CEO was pretty sure that this Ectoplasm had something to do with Lazarus water. Which only validated the research he was doing on the side even more.

It wasn't like he was hacking into Amity Park's network system, okay he was but it was surprisingly hard for such an in-the-middle-of-nowhere place. He only found an in into their network when he found a rather passionate online post about their local Vigilante being the Fantons son but got countered by several other users stating that they had seen the two of them at the same time several times.

That users net security wasn't the best so it was easy for Tim to find an in that way. He sent it to Barbara too, just in case she also had troubles. Really that town had an interesting firewall system that appeared to make no sense. It was also strange to see how little information was known about this place if you weren't tuned into their networks.

Like was that place a literal Bermuda triangle when it came to Information?

He looked up from his laptop just in time to see the Fantons go on about the uses of Ecto-Energy and how it can replace electricity if used correctly. Apparently their entire home didn't have to pay electricity bills in years now since they became self sufficient. They then went on showing off how to find the source of Ecto-Energy holding up something they named the Fenton-Finder. That thing beeped and then proceeded to insult them and point in the direction of their son.

Flustered they explained how because of an accident their son had their inventions tend to malfunction when he was close by. Their son very clearly grimaced when his parents shared that piece of information and Tim made sure to note that down too another point on the possible bad parenting list for the Fentons.

His attention turned back to his information gathering. That town's news looked like they got run over by 'ghosts' every two days. Additionally the entire town was not the least bit thankful to their vigilante Phantom, considering he found the same amount off news praising as well as bad mouthing their local hero.

So what if there was some property damage? At least they were somewhat saved form whatever these 'ghosts' were doing. He saved all the news clips he found regarding all the attacks this town appeared to have suffered into a separated folder. There had to be a reason why the Justice League hadn't taken any form of action yet. It couldn't be that one summoning going wrong in the JL Dark and making contact with a Ghost King was what it needed for them to step in, let alone notice the shit that went on in Amity.

Hell if nothing changed he would attempt to get Phantom to join Young Justice or his group specifically. The vigilante looked like a kid maybe a little younger than him, wait hold on. Tim pulled up the least blurry picture of the vigilante he could find and looked up from his screen just in time to see the Fanton's son back away from his mom hiding his arm behind him.

Did he get zapped again? Dear God, aren't his parents paying attention to the kid at all? He added another point to the bad parents tally.

Okay wait, save that for later, focus on the task at hand, Tim scowled himself mentally. Taking a good look at the teenager before looking back at his laptop screen, the young Co-CEO nodded to himself. Yup, maybe that post that got him into their towns network wasn't that far off. If you change the colors then the Fanton kid looked very much like Phantom minus the pointy ears and sharp teeth. Additionally now that he put them next to each other in his mind. The name Phantom sounded awfully a lot like Fanton.

What did the Fantons say their son's name was? D- d- Danny, Daniel? Good the kid needed a teaching in how to better hide secret identity connections. Wearing a pretty but telling logo on your outfit was a dead giveaway. The kid was probably some sort of Meta and if he had to guess he was the accident that his parents had offhandedly mentioned. Even more reason to have Barbara look into them more.

For now he was somewhat satisfied with his findings as he closed his laptop and gave the Fentons his full attention. He did not miss Danny (was it?) looking down at his phone for a second and then narrowing his eyes at him. He did his best to suppress the forming grin. Really the kid was very intriguing, if his suspicions were right, they rarely weren't unless Barbara had found something else, and the kid was somewhat impulsive then he would probably get a little visit from Phantom later. After all he had made sure to leave some traces behind to arrange this.

------------

When Tucker contacted him that there were two people outside of Amity looking into Phantom, he was not amused especially when Tucker also stated that only one of them could be traced back to Wayne Enterprise.

Really what he was doing was probably dumb and he could hear his sisters scowling in his head. But when they were back at the hotel and he excused himself for the night and asking Jazz to cover for him should anything go wrong he changed forms and flew invisible all the way back to the Wayne tower.

It took some searching but soon enough he found the room of the young Co-CEO that had to be the one that looked into Amity and his family. Finding the office empty, Danny frowned before looking around. He couldn't find anything suspicious, it was just a normal office. Crossing his arms while floating to the middle of the room Danny tried to think about it more.

"Not finding what you are looking for Phantom?"

His head snapped to the side as he turned around ready for a fight. Instead Danny came face to face with Red Robin. Great he definitely did not want the attention of their local Bat-Clan. Wasn't it enough that his home town couldn't decide if he was a menace or not? He didn't need Gotham trying to decide too. Considering how Batman apparently disliking Metas it already wasn't looking good for him. It was already bad enough that the Justice League had finally gotten wind of Amity.

"Look I am not here to cause trouble, I just…"

"You're just looking into why someone in Wayne Enterprises would look into you or your identity and you suspected the young CEO Tim Drake-Wayne because he spent the majority of the business meeting with your parents on his laptop?"

"How do you…?"

"I have my sources."

Danny eyed the vigilante; this was not what he expected. Wait, did he say his parents? His eyes widened and he heard the other chuckle. "Yea you make it pretty easy on how to discover your identity, kid. Might wanna take that post down discussing your identity. That's dangerous even if seemingly no one believes it. If people pay close attention it's easy to figure out."

Danny narrowed his eyes. Okay fuck, so some outsider had figured out his identity and that one happened to be connected to Batman who hated Metas… Dear Acients he was fucked.

"If you are planning to arrest me and give me over to the GIW, I will not hesitate…"

"Arresting you? No, why would I do that? This is more interesting. Though I admit the Fentons research is pretty biased, you're a good guy no matter how torn your hometown is on that matter. Besides, the JL is already looking into these 'Guys in White' the Ghost King has informed us about." Red Robin shrugged but Danny did not let his guard down. "I was honestly thinking about black mailing you to join the Young Justice League and then work with you together or train you to find out more about this Ectoplasm. I have my suspicions that it has something to do with Lazarus Water and who better to get to help than the kid that lived with scientists researching and had a lap accident that gave him powers that he is also actively hiding from his parents. I saw the video footage of you getting zapped by their inventions."

Danny flinched at the last part, phantom pains running through his arm that had touched the button but he forced himself to stay calm. "You are blackmailing me?"

"I would call it forceful recruitment for help with a case." The vigilante shrugged. "But essentially yes."

"What if I refuse?"

"I will relate the information to batman including your home situation and depending on what we find I will have a new brother in about one to two."

"Months?"

"Weeks. It all depends on your parents though. Are you even safe with them? I heard them talking about tearing you apart molecule by molecule."

"I am fine! They are good parents, really!"

Acients his panic was slowly setting in. What was happening? First Red Robin revealed that he had discovered his identity, then he was getting blackmailed, then told to help in a case about something called Lazarus Water and now his parents are under suspicion, of what?

Red Robin only hummed. "Hey Oracle, you heard the kid right? Only Static? No matter, please look into Daniel Fentons home life and potential therapy. Yeah I will be mailing B the rest of the entire report."

"Wait, what are you doing?"

"Getting a new brother." After a short moment of Danny staring at the other vigilante they added "...and sister."

What in the name of Ancients was happening?!

[ecoamerica]

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[batsandbugs]

Bruce Wayne's Headache Classification System Chapter 4

IKEA Verse

AN: I'm so sorry for disappearing for months again, things have been very hectic for me, but I finally got this done so at least I'm starting off the new year strong. No promises as to when the next one comes out. I hope y'all enjoyed this fun little look at the girls. I wish I included them in the first story, but I wasn't thinking at the time. I choose Steph for the POV because I felt her internal snide commentary could help balance Cass's more quiet reserve. There was an alternative ending for this that had Marinette using her powers more, but I decided to go with something softer and mushy. It felt in line with where Marinette would be comfortable showing the depths of her powers and continuing to drive the Batfam insane by not finding out how her powers work.

Chapter 4: Interlude - The Stalking of Daminette, a Treatise by Steph and Cass

Slate grey skies hang heavy over Gotham promising rain. The city isn’t any less busy for it, especially not during the day when most sane people agree, on average, it’s safer to conduct one’s business. Steph thinks that’s boring of them, but eh, she parkours over rooftops and punches goons as a night job, so maybe she’s the crazy one.

Wait. Weather. Grey Skies. Rain on the horizon and all that jazz.

Not the best of circumstances for a stakeout, but they’ve survived worse.

The rooftop they posted themselves on is comfy at least. No bird’s nests, piles of beer bottles, or scattered needles. Not too high they can’t observe the streets below. But not too low to the ground for people to notice they’re hanging out up here. Which is, strictly speaking, not exactly legal.

Also, they don’t want Damian to spot them.

Steph sighs, peering down at the coffee shop she knows Damian is sitting at, but she can’t see. She pops an M&M in her mouth and nudges Cass. “Pass me the binoculars?”

Cass lowers the equipment with a blank face stare. Well, blank face to anyone who wasn’t siblings with her. Steph is familiar with her pseudo-adopted sister’s micro-expressions. This one read clear as day, ‘why didn’t you bring your own?’ 

Steph blows out a frustrated pout, “I forgot, okay? Damian slipped out of the manor all wily and suspiciously and we followed him on a whim. I didn’t think to grab them. Couldn’t figure we’d pull a stakeout on our own little brother.” 

Cass signs, “I had mine with me.”

“Yeah, well we don’t all hide stakeout equipment on us at all times like over-paranoid busybodies!”

“You had snacks on you.”

Without a trace of guilt, Steph grabs another M&M and places it in her mouth. “Snacks are not surveillance equipment. They’re a normal thing to keep in your bag.”

“Your bag also contains mace, a taser, and smoke pellets too.”

“It’s Gotham, sis. That’s just best practice.”   

Cass rolls her eyes, but hands over the binoculars. 

“Yay! Thanks.” Steph places them to her eyes. It takes a second to adjust before she focuses on the cafe down the street. Damian sits at an outdoor table, alone, sipping a drink out of one of those tiny white teacups.

Pshh, what a pretentious little twerp.

“Wonder who he’s meeting?”

“IKEA girl?” Cass says aloud softly since Steph’s looking down the street and can’t read her hands.

Steph grins wildly, searching blindly for another M&M with one hand, holding the binoculars steady with the other. “Oh, I hope so. Timmy’s frantic rambling over her is the most entertained I’ve been all year. And Jay’s spittin’ steam over her little trick on him.” 

“Dick’s worried.” 

Steph waves a hand clutching three pieces of candy with a careless air. “Dick’s always worried, Cass. He’s a serial worrier. He doesn’t know how to do anything but worry.” 

Steph pops the chocolate into her mouth, watching Damian peer up from his phone and scan the street with keen eyes. She’s, like, seventy-two percent sure he doesn’t know they’re watching him. After all, they’re halfway down the street, fifteen stories up, lying belly down on the roof of an office building. But it is Damian. The League and Bruce trained him. Steph’s still convinced the little brat has the psychic power to know when he’s followed. 

“No info.” 

Steph sighs at the short-remark reminder of her family’s tendencies to stick their noses fucking everywhere. “Yeah, well maybe she has decent cyber security for her life. More people need to do it these days.”

Silence. 

Groaning, Steph grabs another few M&Ms out of pure stress. “You went looking too, didn’t you?” 

“Little brother.” 

Good lord, this family. They’re lucky she loves them so much.

“Yeah, yeah, I care about the brat too, doesn’t mean he needs his hand held constantly. He can make his own choices. Including hanging out with people, regardless of if his extremely invasive family managed to compile a dossier on her entire life.” 

“You said we follow.” 

Steph scoffs through a mouth of chocolate, “Yeah, ‘cause he was actin’ sus, just because I think we should leave her alone doesn’t mean I don’t think we should annoy him by stalking his date.” She focuses back on Damian. “Plus,” she mutters. “I don’t want to deal with Bruce bitchin’ about that car chase we pulled with the Volkov Family gang members, so this seemed like the better option.”

It wasn’t their fault the stupid goons running point from the pet shop’s back room decided to run on them.

“We helped,” says Cass resolutely.

“I don’t think B will see it that way.” Steph readjusts the binoculars and notices Damian’s attention sharpening. He looks out onto the sidewalk, eyes focusing on a person drawing closer. “Oh, oh, oh I think she’s here!”

There, approaching the café, in the cutest little yellow dress, a woman approaches and pauses by Damian’s table. Thanks to the high-tech binoculars she can view every emotion flickering across Damian’s face as his newest acquaintance greets him. He places down his cup and vacates his seat, pulling out the opposite chair and allowing the young woman to sit, before retaking his own.

Steph whistles lowly.

“Hmm…” prompts Cass.

“I- I don’t think the others are joking. He- he just pulled out her chair for her.” They are all capable of manners. Alfred made sure of that. Even for those in the family who’d joined later. (The disparity between the manners the Drakes’ taught Tim and the actual behavior expected of a Wayne was night and day and not in a good way. Meanwhile, people like Cass or Damian needed teaching ground up how to interact with people without pulling weapons on them. Quite frankly so did the rest of them, but Alfred was unafraid and whipped them all (metaphorically) into shape.)

So, yeah, manners.

Something they all could do.

But not necessarily likely to be performed by all.

Especially Damian.

Damian is like a feral raccoon who wields a bowie knife when it comes to Untested People. Short. Prickly. Rude in the way where you know you’re getting insulted, but the conversation already turned the corner and you stand there, shell-shocked, that this kid verbally bested you six ways to Sunday.

Of course, Damian isn’t much of a kid nowadays.

Standing as tall as Bruce and starting to shake off the lankiness of his teen years, Damian was growing into, as a posher person might say, 'a fine young man’. Steph still remembers him as that little feral kid, who only smiled when besting others or petting furry creatures. But no, now he’s smiling at other things. Adult things. Things that happened to include pretty French girls.

“She’s dangerous,” says Cass.

Steph pulls down her binoculars to find Cass peering at the seated couple with her phone, camera mode engaged, and zoomed in to see their interactions.

“Why didn’t you use that in the first place?!” Steph asks, annoyed. Reaching towards the candy wrapper her fingers find empty plastic. Damn it.  

 Cass narrows her eyes at her screen, ignoring the question. Steph huffs. Rude.

“What do you mean dangerous?” Replacing the binoculars, she focuses back on the couple. If she didn’t know who Damian was, her eyes would slip over them as another pair of lovebirds, eking out a final moment of good weather before Gotham’s stormy ways crushed the vibe. “She’s a little slip of nothing.”

“So am I.”

Steph rolls her eyes. “Yeah, but you were trained to fight since birth. She looks like the human embodiment of sunshine.” And the woman does. From this angle, she sees both their faces while they talk. The girl, Marinette, has sleek black hair possessing a blueish shine. Striking bright blue eyes and a smile that lit her face like the summer sun contribute to the overall impression this was a very normal, very friendly person.

“Looks are deceiving.”

“Of course, they can, and I’m not sayin’ she’s not sus, but…” she gestures down. “Look at them! This is the most normal I remember Damian acting in his life. Would he do that, could he really do that if he thought she was dangerous?”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t ‘hmm’ me! I’m serious! Sure, she might have powers, so what? Lots of people are magical and metas these days. Doesn’t mean she’s inherently dangerous.”

“No info.”

“Good security.”

“Something to hide.”

“A healthy sense of caution.”

Cass snorts. “She moved to Gotham.”

Steph pauses. And yeah, when you consider where the girl came from (Paris! Freaking Paris) and what she was studying… Moving to Gotham for a fashion degree sounds like moving to Las Vegas to join a nunnery.

“Yeah, okay that’s weird, I fully admit that. But maybe she has, like, I dunno? A danger kink or somethin’?” Steph shrugs. “Which, you know, is kinda good 'cause I think the demon brat has one too, so they’re like a match made for each other.”

Cass shoots her a highly unimpressed look.

“What!? At least I’m trying to think of somethin’ plausible, instead of jumpin’ to the doomsday scenario like the rest of you paranoid weirdos.” She turns back to her binoculars and her long-distance observing. “Listen, doin’ the whole overbearing intrusive family routine maybe isn’t the best way to act the first time Damian has, voluntarily, shown interest in a person more than complimentin’ their fightin’ skills.”

She places the binoculars back up to her eyes and watches Damian and Marinette chat. Damian’s smile hasn’t disappeared yet. In fact, it’s grown even larger. Marinette says something, her accent strong enough to throw Steph off on the exact words, and Damian throws back his head in laughter.

It’s a normal human reaction, laughing with such abandon. But it’s so not for Damian, that Steph’s mouth drops open in shock.

“Please tell me you took a picture of that?” she asks. Dick is so bound to freak the fuck out when he sees this.

“Mh hmm,” Cass hums in agreement.

They probably spend another thirty minutes watching the young couple. Cass takes pictures, and Steph makes commentary whenever Damian or Marinette looks sickeningly sweet. Cass sends the photos over to Steph’s phone, and in turn, she sends them to Dick. Most people would probably find it mind-numbingly boring, but both of them spend hours casing joints and running point of stakeouts before, so less than an hour is easy. But as the top of the hour approaches, the grey skies grow darker, and rumbling thunder appears.

Steph watches Damian blink as if shocked the weather suddenly turned bad.

Shit. Bruce would so kill him for that lack of awareness. “He’s in so deep,” she mutters.

“No covering. Will get wet,” Cass warns about their own situation.

Steph sighs, placing down her binoculars. “Shit, yeah, you’re right. Damn it, I wanted to keep watching them.”

Cass tucks the phone into her pocket with a sly smile and signs, “I took plenty of photos. We should go and find cover. Can’t head home yet because we took the bikes.”

“Yeah,” Steph mutters. Quickly though, she grabs the binoculars again and looks back at Damian and Marinette. The couple grabs their umbrellas – smart of them, too bad Steph didn’t think of those when she impulsively decided to follow Damian – and head off down the street. Together.

The date, apparently, isn’t over yet.

“Do we wanna trail them?” she asks Cass. “Any chance you stored umbrellas in that bag of yours?” Half joking, half serious. What? You never know.

Cass shakes her head though. “No, but I do have ponchos. Do you want to follow them? They’ll be heading inside. Damian will surely spot us.”

Steph snorts, highly doubting it. “He’s so damn distracted at the moment, I’m pretty sure an alien invasion could happen down the street and he wouldn’t notice unless little-miss-sunshine started screamin’.” She grins, wide and mischievous. “Pass me a poncho sis. We’re not giving up this hunt yet.”

Despite the high-quality ponchos, they still end up quite soaked. That’s the tradeoff for having an unnoticed trail high above their intended targets. Sharp stabs of water bite at their faces, as they race across the rooftops. Steph’s shirt clings stuck to her body, damp and humid between the poncho and her chest. Damn, a shower is gonna feel soooo good later.

For any normal person, the weather would make it impossible to follow the young couple. Not to mention the distance from the ground. But Steph and Cass were trained by the best hunters in the world, following their prey was simple – if very wet and uncomfortable – matter.

Rain pours from the sky even faster, thunderous noise drowning out all other sounds, and quickly empties the streets below. The typically numb Gotham populace seeking shelter from the crappy weather. Eventually, Marinette and Damian duck into an older building, the overhead awning buckled in from the rain collecting on top. The windows are dimly lit, and a cracked and faded sign flickers reading:

MAGNUS ANTIQUES ~ EST. 1902

Cass and Steph cross over the street with a quick grapple line. Both wouldn’t dare under normal circumstances; it’s the middle of the day and they aren’t even in domino masks. The slip in procedure would hardly endanger them with nobody around, heavy clouds turning the early afternoon dark as dusk, and the rain pouring thick sheets, obscuring even the highest tech cameras. They land on a building next door, and carefully climb down the siding, landing in the alleyway, behind the antique store.

A young man, in his mid-twenties, slouches against the brick wall a few feet down the alley huddled under another old and tattered awning that barely keeps him dry as he vapes. The shop’s back door sits propped open with a crate, and it takes all of a second while the man leans against the old brick façade with his eyes closed enjoying his few minutes of damp peace for Steph and Cass to slip quietly inside through the back door.

Score!

An old, musty smell hits them as they creep through the back entrance. Piles of boxes line the walls, old antiques half-boxed, or laid on shelves. The store is dark and stale. All of old Gotham oozes an aura of grime and darkness to it, like no matter how hard you scrub the walls and floors will never be clean, the shadows grow thicker in corners, and the cold lingers even in the depths of summer. But that might just be the fault of an old store with even older objects inside. Steph’s never put much stock on that old fairy tale of Gotham being cursed and all.

Under a worktable sits a box – of what she could generously call towels but would more accurately call rags – and they wriggle out of the rain-soaked ponchos. Steph stuffs the soaked ponchos in the box and pulls out a handful of the least questionable-looking rags. Handing one to Cass, Steph does her best to sop up the worst of the water.

“I’m gonna get blisters later,” Steph whines softly, her toes wriggling in soaked-through socks.

“You always have blisters, all of us do,” signs Cass, drying the front of her shirt.

“No, we have calluses, we haven’t formed blisters since we were teeny tiny baby vigilantes who didn’t know shit and our bodies thought they had the right to strike about their living conditions.” Steph tries to wrangle the water out of her hair. “We wear waterproof suits though, so my feet don’t get regularly soaked.”

“Well, sorry for not having pocket rainboots too,” Cass signs sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

“How unprepared,” Steph shoots back, gaining another eye roll in return.

Steph pulls her hair into a ponytail and wrings out her shirt and feels slightly more human now they’re back on dry land. Cass, with her pixie cut, vigorously scrubs her hair with a towel before it flops out, mostly dry. Lucky.

Quietly, both of them creep out of the back workroom. A glistening crystal doorknob attached to an old wood door sends Steph cringing when it creaks open into the store proper. Dim lighting flickers above, a high wine pitch of electricity crackles in the old wires. Tall shelves chock full of nick-nacks and blasts-from-the-pasts cast the store in even deeper shadows. Heavy rain pounds the building’s walls, mixing with the hum of electricity. Barely any light pierces through the charcoal clouds, which traps the store in an evening aesthetic rather than the middle of the afternoon.

Steph turns to Cass, signing, “Spilt up? Or stick together?”

Cass shakes her head. “Stick together, two chances to spot us are worse than one moving target.” Steph nods in agreement.

The store is quiet, minus the rain and a faint sound of classical music drifting from the front. Steph pads softly over wooden floorboards, which look like they’ll creak if you look at them wrong, and Cass follows behind, silent as a mouse. Rows of shelves stretch from front to back, ladened down with objects, Furniture and old clothes pile up on the sides. It is a chaotic, yet organized mess. None of it’s her style, but she’s sure Tim would enjoy it in here.

Slowly, ever so slowly, they creep from aisle to aisle listening for the low drawl of Damian’s pretentious voice. The store’s chaos turns what should be a straightforward search into a winding maze, but eventually right before they turn a corner, Damian’s distinctive scoff rings through the air and stops Steph and Cass in their tracks before giving the game away.

Ducking into one of those separated booths – the kind most antique stores were made of, creating tiny stores within one big one – a genuine score, because Magnus Antiques only sported a few. Fully cluttered with racks of mothball-smelling vintage clothing, the booth made for a perfect hiding spot, while also allowing them full-view access. Steph swipes a dull scarf off the table and ties it over her head, helping to disguise her distinctive blonde hair, as she hides halfway into a rack of big, dull winter clothing. Cass, using her smaller size and an all-black outfit, gracefully climbs an antique dresser and camouflages with an elaborate black feathered bouquet.

Truly, masters of stealth.

Damian and Marinette walk into view; fully focused on the shelves before them, and completely oblivious to the stalker duo creeping in on their date.

“I can call us a car. We do not need to linger until the storm passes,” Damian says with that highly entitled vibe he always gives off, despite Steph knowing Damian’s pretentiousness is mostly a font these days.

“Oh, come on Damian,” chides Marinette, crouching low to look at the bottom shelf. Her accented lilting voice is soft but carries in the quiet store. “It’s just a little bit of bad weather. There’s no reason to call a person to drive through it, we don’t want anyone hurt in an accident. We can wait it out here.”

Damian’s face contorts, “Here?” Eyeing the shelf full of porcelain dolls with dread – which, you know, totally fair. They were creepy as fuck.

But Marinette rolls her eyes and shifts through the pile on her side. “Yes, here. It’s like a treasure hunt, you never know what you’ll  find.” She pushes a large black blanket off a cardboard box and smiles wide. “Ooh, see, a whole box full of ribbons and trim.” She fully falls to the floor and starts pulling rolls out of the box.

“Careful, we are likely to find germs.” Damian swipes a finger across the shelf and pulls it away covered in dust. He grimaces. “Or tetanus.”

Marinette giggles, like actually giggles, and not out of politeness either. She genuinely finds Damian’s offbeat, dry-as-a-bone, humor funny. Steph, safely out of sight, rolls her eyes. Oh, good lord, they’re perfectly horrible for each other.

“Says the man willing to climb into a box store air vent shaft at the drop of a hat.” Steph watches as Marinette sets aside a number of trims to buy.

Damian places a hand against his chest, offended. “That was tactical. This is stubborn desperation.”

“We were on the run, sounds a bit like desperation to me.”

“On the run? We were hunting our prey.”

Marinette’s face turns questioning, “Oh I’m sorry, did you not get chased by Jason with a nerf gun through half the store and the back areas? Was I not barely outrunning Dick before I took out the store’s electricity? We won by luck and the skin of our teeth. That does not sound like apex predators to me.”

Damian turns to the shelf he’s standing on, and, with a mutter, Steph barely makes out, says, “We could have taken them.”

“Sure, in a fight,” says Marinette without skipping a beat. And oh, isn’t that interesting. Steph knows the boys don’t tone down their personalities and skills the same way Bruce does (he doesn’t so much as tone down, as does a complete one-eighty, but it works for B, so Steph ain’t hatin’) when out of costume, but even they wouldn’t be so stupid as to act completely like their vigilante selves. It’s still, you know, not a lot, and Marinette probably saw more than most due to the game’s competitive nature. So, for her to say she could take them in a fight, with certainty, means she thinks quite highly of her own skills.

She could totally be overestimating herself.

Or… the rest of the family could be right, and Marinette is very dangerous indeed.

“… but we weren’t trying to take them in a fight, we were trying to outlast them. And anyway, it’s a moot point, we won, they lost, and now they hate me.”

Well, at least she was perceptive, Steph would give her that.

“They don’t hate you,” Damian shoots back.

Marinette rises from the floor holding an old roll of ribbon, bright emerald green, the lettering faded and worn on the cardboard spool. She lets out an inelegant snort, “Fine, Dick is suspicious, Tim is frustrated, and Jason hates me.” 

Oh, she’s very perceptive.

Damian pauses for a second, then tilts his head and smiles thinly. “Yes, it is quite likely Todd does hate you. But he should blame me, not you. I told you what to say. He’s directing his anger all wrong.”  

Steph blinks. That was… a shocking amount of self-reflection from the demon spawn. All directed towards this tiny little slip of a woman who looked like she could barely harm a fly, much less impress the likes of Damian Wayne. At this point, Steph has to believe this girl is magical because this shit is just unreal.

“Perhaps, but what I said obviously scared him-”

“That’s what we were trying to accomplish,” Damian mutters, mulishly.

“And one day I will learn the context of it, so I can properly apologize.” Steph watches Marinette’s eyes; focused and regretful. “I know I do not have their trust, and I do not have the right, but when I do, I will.”

Damian’s face flickers through emotions faster than a roulette wheel, eventually settling on a variation of soft and amazed Steph’s only seen on a besotted movie protagonist. And barely makes out his words. “I have no doubt you will earn those secrets. Your heart is big enough, and your will strong enough to melt my family’s own.”

Oh.

Oh.  

Steph's mouth falls open in complete shock. Damn… just, damn.

This isn’t just a crush.

This is full-on, head-over-heels, besotted beyond belief, in love.

Damian is implying Marinette is important enough to earn the details of Jason’s death, to know why he was so scared of his family being hurt and dying and him unable to help (yeah, Jason ranted to her about Marinette’s little speech; yeah, it was harsh, but what else could you expect from Damian, he doesn’t do shit by halves). All of that implies she’ll learn of their identities, the biggest secret their family kept under lock and key. Only a handful of Justice League members and assorted friends (and enemies) knew of their full identities.

This is a girl Damian met two and a half days ago.

Steph, nearly so lost in her own shock and incredulity, almost misses Marinette’s reaction.

Face flushed and eyes tilted down, Marinette’s smile conveys embarrassment, joy, and a hint of sadness all at once. “Has anyone ever told you, you’re very sweet?”

Sheepishness seeps into Damian’s face and body, as he raises a hand to rub the back of his neck, a move making him look exactly like Dick. “Most people say the exact opposite, or they are in the middle of cussing me out.”

He’s not wrong.

Marinette's smile grows wider, “Well, I’m-”

“Not most people.” Damian and her finish together with a look building the foundation of an inside joke.

“No, all the more I learn of you,” Damian says, tone fond. “I find you are definitely not most people.”

“I aim to impress,” Marinette says, with a sly and besotted smile, and Steph doesn’t know if she will pass out from the sweetness or vomit, and at this point, it could go fifty-fifty. The woman looks over Damian’s shoulder. “Looks like the rain stopped.” Steph vaguely sees weak rays of light coming from the store’s front. The kind indicating the Gotham sun, a rare and noteworthy presence, has burst through the clouds to shine upon rain-soaked streets. “I should probably head back to my apartment before it starts again; I have a commission project to work on.”

Damian readjusts himself, folding away the soft, besotted emotions until he looks more like himself again. “And I need to return home as well, my father’s back from his business trip and will wish to speak with me.” He winces, “He is most likely already speaking with my brothers, which means I need to run interference before they blow the entire situation out of proportion.”

Marinette smirks, unrepentant and teasing, and for the first time Steph understands why Jason kept ranting ‘she’s just as demented as he is’, “To be fair, we did set Tim on fire, and break the store multiple times.”

Damian smirks right back, and “First off you broke-”

“We, don’t forget your part with the display and tying up a security guard.”

“-second, we set fire around him, he wasn’t hurt. No one got hurt. Except for their pride.” He pauses, and amends, “Well, perhaps that unpleasant woman at the end had an aneurysm with her screaming, but that’s hardly our fault, so it shouldn’t count.”  

Both of them laugh until it fades into a contented silence. Then, Marinette places a dainty hand on Damian’s arm, and says, “This was fun. We could… do it again sometime?” For the first time, uncertainty crosses the young woman’s face.

Damian’s face, on the other hand, is as eager as Steph has ever seen it. Wow, what must his head and chest feel like with all these new intense emotions bandying about? “Uh, o-of course, yes, this was fun. We’ll… text?”

“Sounds like a good idea.” Marinette leans down and picks up the small pile of trimmings and ribbon she found in the box earlier. The spool of emerald ribbon balanced on top.

“You took the bus in? I can walk you to the stop?” Oh, kid; if he had a tail, it would be wagging.

Marinette tilts her head, “Didn’t you ride in on a motorcycle? Shouldn’t you take advantage of the break in the rain?”

Damian shrugs off the offer, “I drive in far worse than a little rain regularly..” 

“Don’t compromise your safety for my own, I can take care of myself perfectly fine,” Marinette says. 

“I’m sure you can, but I want to,” insists Damian. “I parked near the bus stop’s location, it will be no trouble.”

“Alright then, maybe on the way you can tell me more about that art store you mentioned was down my way, I’m looking for a new set of brushes; mine became damaged in the move.” They walk down the aisle and swiftly out of view and hearing range.

Steph doesn’t move, and neither does Cass until Marinette pays for her purchases, and they hear the door to the shop open and close with a creak and a chiming of bells. A second more passes by, before Steph slips out of the clothes rack, and Cass descends the dresser, and they stand in silence for a moment.

“Whelp,” Steph says, popping the p. “That was certainly something. I don’t quite have the words for it yet, cause my brain’s still rebooting. How about you Cassie?”

Cass shakes her head, then pauses, contemplation playing across her features. “I still think she’s dangerous. Her body has the grace of a fighter, with years of practical experience moving quickly and efficiently. But I don’t think she uses her magic, whatever it may be, to influence Damian.” Cass smiles, now looking like a cat holding a canary between her lips. “That’s all due to him being very, very in love.”

“Great, so I wasn’t the only one seeing literal hearts in Damian’s eyes, cool, cool, cool.” She stretches her arms high above her head, spine popping brutally, as she tries to get feeling back in her limbs after observing the two lovebirds for long. “Well, I’m not in the mood to deal with Bruce and his game of twenty questions, so what say we go eat? How ‘bout the new Italian place that opened near my apartment, worse case it starts raining again and we head back there, we covered and hid the bikes well enough.”

Cass nods and they leave the store, passing by an ancient old man seated at the front desk totally absorbed in a creaking leather tome. Summer sun barely peaking through gaps in the clouds. It hasn’t truly stopped raining yet. The sky drizzles a small smattering of rain, and fog mists up from the pavement. It’s a pleasant change from the chaotic, faint oppressive feel of the antique shop.

Steph’s brain turns over the interactions she witnessed between Damian and Marinette. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. People meet, flirt, and fall in love all the time. But it just is because it’s, well, Damian. Even as a little kid he always seemed so removed, he really wasn’t, but he was good at pretending. Steph never pictured him falling in love, not because he wasn’t capable of it, but because she always thought he’d be too prickly for anyone to break through his walls. And certainly not a civilian who had no clue about their double lives.

Steph hopes everyone comes out on the other side, lives, and emotions relatively intact, and in the meantime, she plans to wring this situation for all the blackmail material it’s worth.

[npcemi]

The long road of how starting a fight with superman over clone parenting eventually lead to Danny Phantom become God Part 4.5 and 5: Aftermath + Promotions and Shattering Mirrors

Superman collapsed to his knee as the other members of the justice league went to his side. Superman couldn’t believe what he just experienced. The league had never faced a threat this powerful. To summon both a black hole and create a star out of nothing. His eyes still hurt from even looking at whatever that thing was-- He knew they couldn’t let a threat like that go unchecked.

Constantine appeared through a portal, “Oh now you show up!” Superman said in an incredulous breath.

“Oh, I’ve been here since King Phantom kicked your ass out a window, I’m just not so cotton headed I’d try and fight the King of the Infinite realms.” Superman scoffed at Constantine’s words and turned to Batman, “Bruce we need to figure out some kind of contingency…” The leader of the Justice League Dark cut him off,

“Oh, fuck no mate, you’re benched. You stick to Metropolis !”

“You have no right!”

“Actually this contract you lot signed when you begged me to be the leader of your precious little supernatural branch says I can!” Constantine summoned a roll of parchment that unrolled revealing the document with the original JLA member's signatures.

“That’s only if one of us angers a celestial angel or some higher-level entity.” Wonderwoman pointed out as the blonde occult detective pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Who do you think is the King…”

“Just because he is the ruler of his own dimension doesn’t mean he…” Constantine really was starting to get what Phantom meant when he called the man of steel an obstinate dick.

“All of the realms, High King Phantom rules over all of the realms. Ours and any in existence. In all of Anu, there is no realm that King Phantom does not have sovereignty over.

Do you really think any of the ancients have time or care to mess about in random realities?

No, they normally have nothing to do with them, do you have any idea of how bad things have gotten? Between the GIW and you Clark, I am honestly surprised our reality still exists. So yes, you are benched!” At the end of Constantine’s rant Superman stood up.

“You really think a piece of paper will…AH!” The man of steel screamed as electricity overcame his body. When it was over he once again collapsed to his knees. Constantine walked over to tower over Superman,

“And you thought the contract you all signed wouldn’t be magically binding, are you daft ?” Constantine then turned to look Bruce directly in the eye. Constantine knew the man too well.

“And you, no looking up or into anything about Phantom!” Batman held his hands up in surrender,

“I promise I will not look up or into Danny Phantom.” Constantine’s eyes narrowed before he turned and left through a portal muttering something about attempting to salvage this situation.

_____________________________________________________________

Jazz Fenton was in a great mood. Her degree was almost finished and she just got a paid internship that would turn into a full-time position once she graduated. She would be a liaison for any cases that involved the infinite realms. Her new org worked with a lot of supers and villains. It was headed by Dinah Lance and Harley Quinn. Most people thought it was a little weird, but she knew that heroes, villains, and even the dead needed help with their mental health.

She was just finishing organizing her desk when her boss called to her and told her to follow.

“Yes, Miss Lance.” She said,

“Dinah, we aren't too formal around here.”

“Right, Dinah.” Jazz said as they both took a seat in Dinah’s office,

“Look, Jazz we have a special case coming in today:” Jazz was surprised they were already letting her work on cases.

“What is it?”

“One of the main league members is being brought in, he’s having some trouble adjusting to the fact he was cloned and according to the leader of Dark, he also angered some supernatural entity and is according to Constantine, the aforementioned leader,  is acting like a stubborn fuckwit who needs to pull his own dick out of his arse.” Dinah read off of the referral form she got.

“I’ll help however I can, when are they coming?”

“Right about now,” Dinah said as a portal opened and John Constantine walked in followed by Clark and Conner Kent. John introduced himself and his tagalongs.

“And this is my associate, Jasmine Fenton,” Dinah said as Constantine’s jaw dropped and he failed to take a puff of the cigarette he had been smoking. “Did you say, Fenton?”

Jazz was about to respond when she looked at Clark. There was something off about the man in glasses. Something that was resonating with her being, like his very soul angered her, and then she remembered who Clark really was under the glasses.

The man who had caused such a bad PTSD episode in her brother that he cried in her arms for over two hours. The man who broke multiple taboos of the infinite realms. The man who hurt her brother. Her movement was faster than anyone had expected and came with more force than would be possible for even most metahumans. In that instance of realization, Jasmine Fenton closed the distance between the man of steel and herself and struck him so hard in the face that he collapsed to the floor in pain, hands to his face. Which was now gushing blood from his broken nose.

“How dare you!” She screamed. Conner and Dinah pulled her back as she continued to scream.

“How dare you ask a ghost about their death, how dare you make the King re-live that pain!” She was about to attack again when she was interrupted when Constantine asked, “Sweetheart, you know you’re glowing green right?”

“Shit!” The redhead calmed as much as she could, she took a device out of her pocket. She turned it on and saw her ambient ecto plasma was higher than normal. She clicked a button and a sensor popped out the side of the device.

She cut her finger with one of her fangs and dropped some blood on the sensor. She was thankful her blood was still red, but it was darkening into a muddy colour with a slight greenish glow. The device told her her blood ectoplasm level was at 8%, way lower than normal. The machine also indicated her heightened emotions and that if she didn’t calm down she might die right there in the office.

“What is that?” Conner asked not caring if his original was still on the ground trying to stop his nose bleeding.

“It’s a device that measures ectoplasm levels. Ambient levels, levels with a particular signature, and blood ectoplasm concentration.” she sighed and calmed down.

“Why do you need it?” Conner asked curiously despite Constantine's glare telling him he was being rather rude.

“I’m a death-leaning liminal, the smelly blonde man can explain later.” She said as there was a flash of flames.

“Jasmine, are you alright?” Everyone turned to see a nearly seven-foot Dracula knockoff with red eyes.

“Yes, I just let my anger get ahead of me, I'm fine.” She said, trying to waive off the ghost who then pulled out a vile of a green glowing liquid and attempted to hand it over to her.

“Vlad, I’m fine.” She said as he put the vial in her hands.

‘I’m sure our loving patriarch would love it if you died because of all of your ectoplasm burning up and became a full ghost before he did.” Jazz begrudgingly drank the vile, knowing how much shit Danny would give her if she died.

“Honestly I don’t know what would cause a normally level-headed young woman to lash out like her feral niece.” Jazz pointed over to Superman who was now in one of the chairs. Vlad scowled,

“Do you want me to take care of that for you?” He said in disgust. Everyone’s eyes went wide at the implied threat, Constantine prepared a portal to run, Dinah prepared to fight and Conner was right behind Constantine. After what he saw in Dani's mirror, he didn’t want anything to do with an angry ghost.

“It’s fine you can leave.” Jazz said.

“Can I expect you all at the Keep this weekend?’ he asked.

“Yes,” She said as Vlad teleported in a flash of flames and was gone. Jazz looked up to see Dinah looking at her wide-eyed. The realization she had just punched a client finally settled in,

“I’m fired aren’t I?”

_______________________________________________________________

Danny heard a knock at the door and went to open it and looking at him was Bruce Fucking Wayne.

“What do you want.”

“I wanted to talk to you about something, and make sure you and Danielle are safe.” Danny immediately moved to shut the man up.

“Shush, don’t say her name or talk about her here, my parents don’t know about her!” Bruce's face softened. Danny led them out of the house and brought them to a more private alleyway, which made the dark knight feel more at home.

“I’m not sorry about what I did to Superman,” Danny said getting down to business.

“I’m not expecting you to be. Both Constantine and I have tried to talk with him before, but now we’re forcing him into therapy. I think you did exactly what he needed.” he was shocked by Bruce's words. Even the Observants yelled at him about what he did, all the clockwork said in his defense was say “Everything is as it should be.”

“Oh, what do you want with me then?”

“My associate oracle looked into Danny Fenton, and we found you live with ghost hunters and were concerned about you and your daughter’s safety.”

“We’re fine.” Danny snapped and Bruce held his hands up defensively before handing him a small card.

“I just wanted you to know if there was anything you need, or if you have to escape we can provide assistance.” Danny looked at the man skeptically,

“So this isn’t like some crazy scheme to adopt me?” Bruce had to rip his earpiece due to the collective volume of the snickers.

“No.”

“Good because that wouldn’t turn out how you think it would.” Bruce gave him a look that told him to explain and Danny sighed.

“A fruit loop named Vlad Plasmius was college friends with my parents. He likes my mom. There was an accident, he was hospitalized and got ghost powers. Many years later he tried to kill my dad, marry my mom, and make me his son. It never worked.” Danny shook his head and continued.

“After I became King, I was able to learn of his obsession with family and love,” Danny remembered how he learned of Vlad’s true obsession, realizing that he must have been alone and abandoned in the hospital room when he died.

“After he shot me in the chest because he was mind controlled. I decided as the more powerful ghost to give him what he desired in a way.” Danny snickered.

“I ghost-adopted him, effectively making him my son as far as ghosts are concerned, he’s much happier now, but he is still a little salty.” Bruce looked at him dumbfounded, Danny was glad Vlad could fulfill his obsession even if it did make him a bit of a mother hen.

“But yea I wouldn’t recommend trying to adopt me.” The rest of their conversation went smoothly and no offers for adoption were made. When they got back to Fenton's works, Jazz and another red-headed woman were sitting at the table. She introduced herself as Barb. They engaged in a basic conversation about ghosts. Until Danny asked,

“How was your first day of your internship?” Jazz sighed with a dejected look,

“I got promoted.” Before Danny could ask why she sounded like that was a bad thing, Jack and Maddie came bursting in showing off their latest captured ghost with proud grins. They were testing out a new time of large containment device that would allow them to study ghosts in real-time.

Jazz’s hands went straight to her mouth, her eyes wide, glowing, and dripping tears of rage. Bruce turned to look at Danny who was wide-eyed as his eyes began to change, his hair whitening as he looked at the small white-haired ghost in the container. He was breathing to try and calm himself down.

“Daddy help!” Danielle screamed as the containment device shocked her.

All light ceased to exist in that room all anyone could see was an endless black.

[theycallme-thejackal]

One MidgeLenny x TSwift Fic Per Day

180. Come Back...Be Here

He leaves for California tomorrow.

He doesn’t want to deal with his mother, but he misses Kitty, promised he’d come visit her over the holidays, and he’s broken too many promises to her in her short life.

The promise to be there for her, for one.

It kills him that he hasn’t been there for her, that he’s had to leave her with his mother, but it’s the best chance she has at a normal life - even if Ma is hell-bent on getting her granddaughter into showbiz.

But he doesn’t want to leave Midge for a month.

They just got here. Well, she got here. He’s been head-over-heels for her since practically the moment they met. And now that he finally gets to be with her this way, to spend time with her in a way that isn’t strictly friendly, he has to leave.

“You alright?” She asks as her fingers trail over his chest.

He sighs and pulls her hand to his lips, gently kissing the tips of her fingers. “I don’t want to go,” he admits quietly. He adjusts his hold on her, pulling her a little closer to his side.

She rests her chin on his chest and looks up at him. “Aren’t you excited to see your daughter?”

“Yeah...but I’ll miss you.”

A slow grin finds her lips, and she shifts to kiss him sweetly. “I’ll still be here when you get back.”

He arches a brow. “You sure about that?” He asks, half teasing, half skeptical. She’s Midge fucking Maisel. He doesn’t have any illusions that he’s way out of his league, here - that she couldn’t do so much better.

She pretends to think for a minute and then nods decisively. “Completely.”

He sighs through his nose and holds her a little tighter. “You know, I tried not to let this happen,” he admits after a long while.

“Let what happen?”

“Us,” he answers quietly.

“Could’ve fooled me,” she teases. “Men who don’t want something to happen don’t typically ask to see your underwear.”

He chuckles. “You tell me about your show corset and expect me not to want to see it?”

She laughs a little. “You know...it’s strange. I know you so well, but I don’t really know anything about you.”

He arches a brow at her, glances down at their naked bodies tangled up together in his sheets. “No?”

“I don’t know your daughter’s name,” she points out.

He looks at her, confused. He must have said Kitty’s name at some point in their relationship, right? But as he looks at Midge, he knows she knows better than he does. “Kitty,” he replies. “Well...Brandi Kathleen, but we call her Kitty.”

“Really bucking that Jewish heritage with that name,” Midge comments with a soft laugh.

“Honey’s Catholic,” he explains with a shrug. “And we were both pretty high around the time Kitty was born.”

He feels her tense a little in his arms, but she doesn’t comment on that information. “What kind of music do you like?”

He grins. “Jazz...Blues...a little of everything, really.”

“Is your favorite color really blue?” She asks then, gazing up at him.

He looks at her, brushes a little hair away from her eyes. Her blue, blue eyes. The very eyes that appeared in his mind when the good people at Carnegie Hall asked what his favorite color was.

He grazes his thumb over her cheek as those blue eyes stare into his soul, and he nods. “Absolutely.”

She smiles softly and kisses him again.

[dannyphantom-justiceleauge]

Have you ever considered Jazz Fenton/Jason Todd or Damian Wayne/Dani Fenton? What are your thoughts?

i like my ships healthy and mutual so good with these ships in a general sense.

i think jason would need to do a lot of work before he's ready to date. i am giving a firm no to jazz being his therapist in any official capacity because doctor/patient relationships aren't healthy or balanced. but the scenario i'm imagining for them is maybe jason after getting a better hold of his life and anger issues starts attending collage just because he likes learning and considers it a nice break. a place where he can pretend to be normal. and there he'd meet jazz who is attending for a semester to take advantage of their famous psych program and act as a ta. she still went to an ivy league this is a temporary arrangement. and they have some sort heroic meet cute where jazz places herself in his mind by having a level head during a crisis and being ready and willing to body slam a villain. they'll meet again after this as civilians and jason doesn't entirely trust her, because the schools psych department has a Bad history, and pretty ivy league girls don't belong in Gotham. she's also a touch too naive and chipper and far too observant for his liking. she notices that he's hurting almost immediately and probably puts together that he's jason todd a little to quickly for anyone's comfort. i imagine there would be an exchange where he tries to gaslight her like "jason todd is dead." and jazz just kinda waves him off because "who says death is the end."

i reckon he gets properly paranoid and does a background check on her and finds her crazy parents and her crazy town and ends up deciding actually the fact that she's so well adjusted is suspicious. crazy breeds crazy. where is she keeping hers.

so of course he enters full paranoia, and kinda stalking mode and jazz notices that he's stalking her and calls him out and he's genuinely startled that she notice she was being stalked at all. probably leads to an argument that has them not talking to each other until of course something goes wrong. i'm kinda imagining the sheer horror that would be scarecrow and spectra teaming up and trying to experiment on the psych students. so jazz ends up teaming up with red hood to handle the situation because she recognizes spectra and knows how to deal with her. jason is all hesitant and rude as hell to her but she doesn't care because they have lives to save. they end up saving each other back and forth and jason truly takes in the fact that jazz is a badass with some sort of training. especially because spectra is really bad for him and jazz handles that entire part of the fight.

afterwards jazz ends up revealing that she figured out red hood and most of the bats identity a long time ago. jason's slightly more willing to trust her, since it's basically been spelled out to him that her crazy is that she's been literally fighting ghosts for years. that's the kind of crazy he's comfortable with. but jazz is having none of it. just because they fight well together and he's decided to trust her doesn't make stalking her okay. she like her privacy and she wants her boundaries respected. and if their relationship is going to go anywhere he's going to have to learn to be less paranoid.

from their we could have a proper slow burn, healing fic, where jason has to deal with his baggage and earn jazz's trust and love. i absolutely see them having fantastic chemistry. bad boy/nerdy girl. jazz doesn't take his shit but can help him through the rough process that is therapy. the sass and affection would come out in equal measure. they argue about books. jason teasing jazz about being short and a perfectionist. jazz inflicted his family on him whenever possible (minus bruce because she can read the room). and that's not to mention the future plot moments, such as jason meeting danny and being faced with a protective paranoid little brother. jazz meeting the bats and dealing with seven paranoid protective siblings and their dad. ghost fighting. figuring out how the Lazarus pit relates to the ghost zone. comparing and contrasting danny and jason. jazz and harley meeting at some point. what happens when it's time for jazz to go back to her ivy league. i see a lot of potential in this pairing.

as for dani/damian. well my first thought is gremlin x gremlin dynamic. they're too young for me to think seriously about their relationship. but crushes and friendship possibly growing into something more when they're older can be a thing. for the time being though i see them as best friends who fight and tease each other constantly but who also enable and encourage each other to do the most chaotic shit imaginable. they sap each others brain cells and even though they're highly capable and intelligent and powerful, they will just do the dumbest shit. like they will do smart things to pull off the dumb shit. alfred deserves a vacation. you know damian is taking full advantage of dani's ghost powers. and dani's learning assassin skills from him. and she encourages damian to pull more pranks and he encourages her to be more ruthless. and they've stolen a concerning amount of animals. and they both struggle with issues of abandonment and inferiority. they're just chaotic and i love that for them.

you didn't bring it up but i could also see dani/billy batson being a ship though the dynamic would be a bit more fun and angsty. homeless kids bonding and going on brightly colored adventures. they would definitely bring out each others goofy sides. but also deal with identity issues and questions of mortality so angst potential is there to. family drama. friendship, having to handle things on their own. they have their lion's share of adventures. also just the mental image of this ten year old in an grown up costume introducing a 12 year old ghost clone as his girlfriend would be chaotic as hell. especially because they can't confirm dani's age without asking. she might be as old as shazam but look young because she's dead (the reality that she's technically only a year old). it's awkward. and just seeing their two figures next to each other is funny to me. meanwhile in human form they could pass as siblings. there's a dynamic here, i'm sure of it. still pretty childish as far as romance goes but fun - Hestia

[bluecloudious]

Kinda angst I guess (but it has Zanaz so take that with a grain of salt)

Trying out writing a story this time.

I mean, yeah, I wrote for the comics, but not long dialog.

So yea, as per both the funni boys mature content warning. (There's no canoodling, there is talk of it tho.)

Also there's quite a bit of text (8 pages worth on Word)

So ye:

“Get up, I have some juicy gossip for you.”

...What?

I open my eyes and the world around me is blinding. It’s so bright that it takes a second to adjust to it. There’s nothing around me other than vast white and empty space.

This definitely isn’t Nevada anymore. (Unless Hank managed to ruin everything even further somehow.)

“Get up now, I know you heard me.”

I get up and look around. Who the hell is talking? There’s literally nothing but white for miles.

“I’m in your head, pretty boy.”

Uh, that…

“I’m holding my eyes closed, don’t worry. I regret ever having them open in here, in fact.”

Welp, that answers that. Now for the other question.

“Who I am is not important. What info I have, may be of interest, though.”

Alright?

“There’s a deal attached to this knowledge, Zanaz. Hear me out before you start fidgeting.”

I’ll sure try.

“You know Kits, right?”

No duh, he’s my best friend.

“Excellent. He’s going to die soon.”

…

What?! Wha, when, how, uh--

“Calm down, jitterbug. There’s nothing you can do to stop his fate, so don’t try. If he doesn’t die one way, another thing will go wrong. Understand?”

I-- NO! What the fuck?! Are you gonna kill him?!

“No, not me. I’m just sharing the news.”

Yeah, right, sure. Fucking… When then?

“Soon.”

How soon? In a month, week or a few days?

“Hm… A month then, give or take.”

...Fuck… How?

“Depends on what leads up to it.”

So, there are a lot of different ways it can happen, right?

“Indeed there are.”

...Do I die with him?

“No.”

NO?! In none of the different variations, I don’t die by his side?

“Oh, you can be by his side, of course. But death isn’t after you.”

What if I try to block a bullet, but it goes through both of us.

“Oddly specific. You’ll still survive.”

What if I block it with my head?!

“Brain damage, possible vegetable state. Will still survive though.”

What if Hank slices us with one of his multiple katanas?!

“People have lived through being sliced in half before.”

WHAT.

“This world has zombie clowns with god like powers and the AAHW is lead by a man consisting of black fire.”

...Ugh, fair enough. So… Wait those are all possible deaths for him?

“If you do everything in your power for it to happen, then yes.”

I… I can kill him before his time?

“Of course! You have free will, don’t you? It’s more of a question if you want to.”

Of course I fucking don’t! I care about him!

“I saw. You daydream about him an uncomfortable amount.”

He’s the main person I’m around, give me a break!

“Have you ever considered not being horny?”

Until I’m castrated, there’ll be nothing of the sorts.

“You’re not even fertile! None of the clones are!”

You think I’m tryna get anyone pregnant at this sausage fest? Besides, that has not stopped me before.

“I refuse to believe that any of those scenes I saw play out in your head happened for real.”

You’d be surprised then.

“WHICH?!?”

Those are for me to treasure.

“...You’re pulling my leg.”

Believe what you want.

“Augh, never mind, TMI. Back onto the topic at hand.”

Oh, yeah, right. Kit… Dying…

Could you for real not give me a date?

“If it depends on the circumstances beforehand, then there’s no possible way to tell which one belongs to this timeline.”

And that means…?

“I don’t know how this Kits dies.”

Can I at least warn him?

“Well, there’s where the other side of the deal comes in. If you tell him, then the effect kicks in immediately.”

What effect? Death?

“Precisely.”

...Ah. Wait, so if I don’t tell him, he dies in a month but if I do, he dies immediately? Of what?

“Stroke, heart attack or brain aneurysm. Chosen at random. Oh, also sneak assassination. That’s also a valid option.”

...This feels set up.

“Mh?”

This feels like either you or whoever sent you here set this up so I’d suffer. You enjoy the pain of others, don’t you?

“I’m only the messen--”

Yeah, yeah, Messenger Bullshit. Then whoever decided this is probably a reality tv producer, who is jacking off to someone pushing in the soft part of a baby’s skull as we speak. You encourage such behaviour by working with them, ya know.

“...Do you think you sound smart?”

I know for a fact I’m not, so no. I’m pretty sure I’m on the money with this one though.

“If I wasn’t here then Kits’ death would come as a surprise to you though!”

I’d prefer that, actually! Now I have to deal with knowing that he… He… Won’t be here anymore soon.

“Well, knowing how overwhelmingly perverted you are, wouldn’t you wanna grab this opportunity?”

...What?

“Shoot your shot, ask him out. Not like you could do it with a corpse… …Right…?”

I may be horny, but I’m not messed up.

“Had to make sure.”

Ugh, you’re just making fun of me, aren’t you?

“Which instance are you referring to?”

Kit would never date me.

“And why exactly do you think that?”

He has standards?

“You’re a decently handsome fellow. You also get along with him just fine.”

That… That’s not a determinant of shit like that. There’s way better out there for him.

“He won’t meet em then. Only a month to live, remember?”

I… It’s not worth it.

“What isn’t?”

I know he’ll say no, there’s no point in trying.

“How do you know for sure until you actually ask?”

Cause it’s obvious! He’s actually got a brain in his noggin and he knows me way too well! He’d be fucking disgusted, man! We’re just friends and that’s that.

“Do you not want to then?”

...Why do you assume I do? How do you know that those aren’t just blissful fantasies like the rest of them?

“He’s the only one that you dream of in a non-perverted way. I see no other person in this graphic landscape that you want to hold hands with. (Also, I am closing my eyes again now, Jebus Christoff.)”

...Ffffuck.

“Well, did hit the nail on the head?”

Y-You’re stupid and gay!

“I’m rubber, you’re glue.”

That doesn’t affect me, I’m already openly gay and stupid!

“I guess we’re both such then.”

Dammit.

“So, you gonna give him a month to remember or not?”

…Eh?

“Come on, how much romance could a member of the A.A.H.W. really experience throughout their lifetime? If you’d make this month worth his and your own time, perhaps it would be less painful to see him go? At least he died happy?”

THAT WOULD BE EXTRA PAINFUL FOR ME, THOUGH!

“Oop, Zanaz selfish, you heard it here first, folks.”

That’s not what I meant. I’d already be upset over losing my best friend, imagine how fucking devastating losing a sweetheart would be.

“…I dunno, still sounds selfish to me. Does his happiness not mean anything to you?”

Who says he’d be happy with me?

“I know you want to make him happy, at least. You dream about his smile.”

STOP FUCKING LOOKING THOUGH MY THOUGHTS!!

“I’m not looking anymore, I just memorized the ones I already saw. (I wish I couldn’t.)”

I- You- Fucking-- UggHHH! It’s not worth it!

“What exactly do you imagine will happen if you tell him how you feel, huh? World combusts?”

I already told you, he already knows way too much about me! He’d be fucking grossed out and we’ll… We’ll stop being friends.

He’d quicken his pace whenever we’d have to pass each other in one of the halls. He’d desperately keep his glance away from me. He’d… I’d stop being the main person he talks and comes to company for a-and I can’t fucking have that, man!

I-I wouldn’t be able to handle it. He means too much to me.

“…I had no idea you were this insecure.”

FUCK OFF! It’s a bitter reality that I’ve come to accept!

“You haven’t even given it a shot!”

You don’t need to get crushed by a piano to know you’d die on impact!

“Those two things don’t correlate even remotely!”

It’s a metaphor!

“I know that, I’m saying that Kits has a thing for you too!”

…He what?

“He has major league crush on you! The things you say when play-flirting excite him! He’s gotten off to the thought of you touching him up! The works! (Why did I word it like that?)”

Whuh-- How the fuck do you know this??

“While you were monologuing, I visited his subconscious and confirmed it for myself.”

You can do that??

“You don’t even know my name.”

...Fair nuff. So, wait, he’s actually gotten off thinking about me?

“I don’t even need to open my eyes to already know you’re imagining it. Short answer, yes. He’s into you, Zanaz.”

Augh, I dunno what to do with this info. It’s kinda... Overwhelming in a way.

Actually, wait, how do I know you haven’t been lying to me this whole time?

“I’m an incorporeal voice in your head that’s having a back and forth with you in a white void.”

Yeah, and?

“…I’m supernatural?”

Yeah, and?

“Come on! I just know, okay?!”

Sounds fake, not gonna lie.

“The part where I knew that Kits was gonna die was convincing, but the moment I mention that he might have a thing for you, you question the validity of my claims thus far??”

One sounds way more far-fetched than the other, you gotta admit.

“NO IT DOESN’T?!?!”

For you maybe! I’ve known him since I’ve been out the cloning tube! We became agents together! I think I’d know what kinda stuff is off the table for him, buddy.

“Well, not only are you wrong, you’re in denial.”

I am not!

“Then try it! Just attempt asking him out! In the very least, you’ll remain friends after. I promise you. Cross my heart and all that jazz.”

…

…You’re absolutely positive? You are also the person that told me he’d die in a month’s time.

“A hundred percent positive. I have never been more sure of anything in my life.”

You have a life?

“Unfortunately. So, you’ll do it?”

Why’re you so adamant about me fucking Kits?

“Affgdgfdgfg, it’s not about you fucking him, it’s you making his last living month worthwhile!”

Okay, so, why do you want me to do that?

“…Do you not??”

I mean, I guess that sounds worth my time. But you didn’t answer my question.

“Sorry for assuming that you want the person you’re madly in love with to be happy, I guess??”

Apology accepted. Now, how do I get outta here?

“Ugh, just wake up.”

Whu--

And I’m sitting up in my own mat, back at the facility. The clock shows that it’s early morning.

What the fuck do I make of what I just saw? Or heard, for that matter? It clearly wasn’t a normal dream, I never remember those. Plus the topic tends to blur together usually.

I gotta tell-- Wait, I can’t do that, fuck.

…

It’s way to early for shit like this, man!!

Augh…

[redhoodssweetheart]

Mom Down

Genre: Fluff

Relationship: Dick Grayson x Female!Reader 

Requested: Yes by Anon (REQUESTS ARE CLOSED BUT I WILL TAKE SUGGESTIONS FOR FICS YOU’D LIKE TO SEE)

Word Count: 1.7K

Warnings: Fluff, Reader passes out

Description:  You’re stressed when the League decides to make a visit to see how you and Dick have been doing running things.  As the mom of the group you have a lot more stress on your shoulders than the others.  Because of the stress you pass out right as the League visit is in progress.

A/N: Anon, I hope this is what you had in mind.  If you’d like an actual Mom!Reader x Dad!Dick then just let me know and I’ll totally do that.

No one questioned that Y/N and Dick were the mom and dad of the Titans.  It was a running joke amongst the young Titans that Dick and you were practically married to one another at this point.  Damian was especially vocal with Dick about this.  He took every opportunity to tease his older brother about the apparent attraction between the two of you.

You weren’t sure when the title of ‘mom’ had been slapped on you.  And to be honest you didn’t really care either.  If it meant making sure the kids under your leadership stayed healthy and safe then hell yeah you were a mom.  Dick was your co-parent of sorts.  The two of you working together to keep the Titans in tip top shape.

You had been fast friends when the two of you were Titans.  Dick had always been a natural born leader.  He had the charisma and charm to be a leader and get people to follow orders.  He commanded respect and the Titans listened to him.

And you weren’t gonna lie, it was incredibly sexy when he went into leader mode.  You had to remind yourself that there were others present and you shouldn’t be having those types of thoughts with teenagers present.

Especially the really perceptive ones like Damian Wayne.  

Being the son of the world’s greatest detective was a good and bad thing.  Good because he caught things that sometimes you and the others didn’t.  Bad because he knew everything.  He once got you a CD by your favorite artist and you had no idea how he had known since you barely talked about them.  He also knew when you were feeling down and brought you your favorite sweets to cheer you up.

Sometimes he would catch you staring at Dick and give you that smirk of his and you felt insanely embarrassed that you had been caught ogling his brother.

Right now you were preparing the Titans for a visit from the Justice League.  Visits from the League were rare, but they liked to drop by sometimes to see how the younger generation was coming along.  Those visits were stressful for both you and Dick as you tried to make sure the Tower was in tip top shape.

Lately you had been feeling more stressed because Garfield had been injured on a previous mission and you were making sure that he was all right.  He had broken it when one of the bad guys had managed to catch him off guard.  You had been there in an instant making sure that no other harm befell him as the rest of the Titans came to your aid.

On top of Garfield being injured Raven had been having nightmares recently.  She had been coming to you for comfort in the middle of the night when she was awoken by the particularly scary ones.

“Hey,” the sound of Dick’s voice made you jump and you turned to see what he needed.  “They’re about to arrive, are you ready?”

You gulped, praying that your anxiety would subside, and nodded your head.  “Yeah, is everyone waiting in the main room?”

“Yeah, I just came to find you,” he offered a reassuring smile.  “It’ll be okay Y/N.  We’ve been doing really well, and they’re just making sure that we’re not slacking off.  They have faith in us.”

You let out a sigh, “I know, I know, but I still worry that they’re gonna think that there’s something wrong with the way we do things.”

“I’m pretty sure the Titans will fight tooth and nail to keep us in charge here,” Dick chuckled.  “They like us too much to let the League replace us.  And trust me, Damian would make Bruce’s life a living hell if we were replaced.  He would deny it of course because he has an image he needs to keep up, but he totally likes us.”

You laughed, “It’s the little things he does that tells you he’s not as tough as his facade makes him out to be.”

The two of you made your way down the hall toward the main room of the Tower to wait for the upcoming arrival of the League members.  They had specified which members it would be, but you had a feeling Batman would be one of them.  Bruce wasn’t going to pass up an opportunity to see either one of his sons.

The boom tube opened and Wonder Woman, Batman, Superman, and Flash all stepped through.  Dick stepped forward with a smile on his face, “It’s nice to see you all again.”

“Dick,” Bruce said courteously before shaking his hand.  You wanted to roll your eyes at the stiffness and tease them and say to hug each other like they meant it.  But given that this was a formal meeting you kept your mouth shut.  You stepped forward next and greeted the other members as well and soon the introductions and greetings were out of the way.

Dick and you walked alongside the members, Dick doing most of the talking about what had been happening recently and how training was going.  The first stop was the training room where Superman asked for a demonstration on the training exercises that the team would go through on a daily basis.  You stepped into the middle of the room and motioned for Damian to join you.  He obliged and the two of you began the training session.  

You corrected Damian a few times when you noticed something off about his stance.  Damian was a perfect fighter, but he sometimes was more offensive than defensive.  You were working on him with that though, helping him see the bigger picture than just winning.

During your fight though Damian noticed that you were sluggish in your moments and his concerns grew when you staggered a bit.  The rest of the group saw it as well.  Dick stepped forward, his breath catching in his throat.  “Y/N,” Damian said your name, but it seemed far away.

You collapsed to the group, Damian catching you before you could hit the hard floor.  Dick and a few of the others came racing over.  “What happened?”  Dick demanded.

“I don’t know,” Damian said truthfully.  “She was fine a moment ago and then she started to slow down.  I was just about to voice my concerns when she collapsed.”

Dick looked at Raven, “Check her.”

Raven nodded and used her powers on you to see if there was anything major going on below the surface.  When she was finished she said, “She’s just exhausted.  She’s been pushing herself a lot harder lately.”  She looked down guiltily, “I feel partly to blame.  I’ve been having nightmares and she’s been there to help me through them.  Plus with Garfield’s injury she’s been spreading herself a bit thin these days.”

Bruce put a hand on Dick’s shoulder, “Take her back to her room so she can get some proper rest, the Titans can show us around the rest of the Tower.”

Dick agreed with Bruce and carefully lifted you into his arms and carried you back to your room.  Garfield followed after the two of you as quickly as his leg would allow him too.  “Go back to the others, I can stay here and watch over her.  If anything happens I’ll come find you.”  Dick was hesitant to leave, but he nodded and headed out of your room while Garfield transformed into a dog and curled up beside you. 

A few hours later you woke up in your room.  It was dark out by this point and you felt a little disoriented.  The last thing that you remembered was training with Damian as the League watched, then everything had gone black.

You looked over and discovered Dick asleep in the chair beside you.  “Dick?”  Your voice drew Dick out of his not very restful sleep.  He blinked his eyes a couple of times trying to adjust to the dark room.  “What happened?”

“You passed out when you were training with Damian.  The others are worried sick and blaming themselves over this,” he informed you as he joined you on the bed.  You snuggled closer to Dick.  “Why didn’t you tell me that you were feeling stressed?”

“Because I didn’t even really realize just how stressed I was,” you admitted.  “I just thought it was because the League was visiting and then of course Garfield being injured and Raven’s nightmares.  I thought I could handle it.  I’ve handled a lot worse before.”  You looked up at him, he could see the worried expression on your face, “What did the League say?  Are they upset?”

He shook his head and stroked your back, “They aren’t upset.  Bruce gets it.  He knows how stressful watching over a bunch of kids is and then on top of that having your superiors coming for a visit can always create tension.  No one is blaming you for this.  They all know how good you are at your job.  They did recommend taking a few personal days just to recover and relax.”

“But--”

“No buts,” Dick said, his leader's voice coming out.  “You’re taking a few days to rest and relax.  Maybe take a little trip, stay in a nice hotel, go to a spa, whatever you need to do to unwind.”

You sighed knowing that you weren’t going to win this one, “Fine, but I don’t like being forced out.  The others need me.”

“They will all still be here when you get back.  I’ll make sure they don’t get into too much trouble.  No wild parties or using powers unsupervised and all that jazz.”  He kissed the top of your head, “Now get some more rest and we can plan where you’re gonna go tomorrow.”

“You mean you’re gonna decide where I go and then shove me into a taxi and wave goodbye as I stare longingly out the window as the disappearing Tower,” you scoffed.

“So dramatic,” Dick chuckled.  “Get some rest, Y/N, tomorrow will be good for you.”

You wanted to protest some more, but you were still feeling tired and held onto Dick a little bit tighter as you drifted off back to sleep.

[aradias-crypt]

Sinful Symphonies

“This song again?” You rub your temples, your eye twitching as the sound of heavy metal drones on in your head. It overwhelms the sound of your own music. Setting down your palette, you drop your paintbrush into a jar of solvent before marching to your radio resting on the windowsill of your room.

Lowering the volume, you wait for the music on your other’s “side” to soften. You honestly pity their eardrums if they listen to music this loudly.

Soon, the music stops altogether.

Good.

You crank up your own music to full blast. A smug smile tugs at your lips.

“Hope you like jazz, jerk face.”

Ever since the day you were born, music seemed to stream constantly to you from your other half’s side. Whether it was night or day, music played ceaselessly. When you were young, you’d make a game of playing your favorite records to try and share your tastes with your soulmate, hoping they’d eventually show an interest in the same music.

Their music didn’t change exactly, mostly sticking to classics and rock, but on nights when your room grew uncomfortably quiet, soft music would play and lull you to sleep.

Childhood was fun, full of guessing games and the like, but the tune changed when you reached your teens. As supers made more and more appearances in your life, the music grew darker and twisted, as if the person on the other side was directly affected in some way.

Soon, your game of appeasing your other evolved into a game of bothering them as they did you. Some days you won, some you lost. You blasted ballads and pop songs while they flooded you with death metal and songs you couldn’t decipher. You won the mornings while they won the nights. Mostly when you were preparing to sleep.

At the very least, they didn’t often get hurt. That, you were grateful for. Pain is also shared between soulmates, though the physical wound of the other is only momentary for the partner.

“Still, you have a wicked sense of humor, love.” You sigh, rubbing your eyes as the memory of flesh falling from your face comes to mind. There’s been plenty of times where your body ached from phantom shifting, but the physical wounds always hurt the most. “Making me worry about you when you put yourself in situations like that.”

Perhaps they're a hero or a villain. Its entirely possible. Supers put themselves in harms way all the time. Maybe it wasn’t recklessness but the goodness of their hearts that drove them into danger.

...or they were just a prankster

Either way, they were getting drop kicked to the heavens when you found them.

“Now that I think of it, they have to be pretty old if they’ve been at this since I was born.” You muse to yourself, brushing your hair back as you pick up where you left off on the canvas covered in oil paint before you.

“Maybe I’ll paint you one day.”

——

“Starting off with Dean Martin I see” you adjust the strap of your supply bag to rest more comfortably across your chest. The smooth crooning of the late singer invades your thoughts; its a nice change of pace. “You must be having a good day huh?” Exiting your car, you hum along to the song as you open the trunk of your car to take out your painting.

For your college class, you decide to bring in your painting of the final battle between the Headless Rider and Bright Knight; a super-villain and superhero who later disappeared from the public’s eye. You were pretty damn proud of the piece, seeing how it had taken you weeks to finish.

Entering the liberal and performing arts center, you head for the elevators. On the way you pass by several.. odd looking individuals. They were robots. However, living in a world full of supers means not much phases you anymore.

Shrugging, you continue your journey and makes your way up to the 11th floor. Passing by Mara, one of your classmates, the two of you start up a conversation about the sudden appearance of the Four Horsemen. Mercenaries that arrived from Calamni {a country far to the south}, the Horsemen brought with them a new wave of terror; ranging from riots to bio weapons. They didn't act on their own but would do nearly anything for the right price.

“I’m afraid to go outside at night.. I hear Pestilence is preparing something real nasty. They say she’s the one behind the break in at the CDC.” Mara says, her skin turning ashen at the thought of the pale rider.

”Are you up to date on all your shots?” You respond jokingly, smiling down at the shorter girl.

Mara whines and clutches her sculpture to her chest,”Its not funny, I get sick super easily. And what if my soulmate is in the area of the attack? I don’t want to lose them before I even meet them!”

“I’m sure you and your soulmate will be just fine” You reassuringly state,”Just drink a lot of orange juice and take your vitamins.” You wink playfully.

Your classmate frowns. ”What about you, aren’t you worried about your soulmate?”

“They’ve gone through worse than a little cold. I think they’ll be just fine” They didn’t seem to feel worried, if the transitioning sound to Frank Sinatra was any indication of their mood.

Diverting from your original discussion, you both prepare yourselves for the upcoming critiques.

However, before you can step through the doors to class, a rattling boom shakes you both to the core. You drop to the ground and assess the environment around you.

The floor titters and jolts.

Never a good sign.

“Oh gods please-!” Mara shouts as the ceiling begins to crack and bend.

‘Time to go.’ You think.

Jumping to your feet you yank Mara up, leaving behind your painting as you run to the emergency stairs,”Lets get out of here!”

Mara clutches your sleeve as people fleeing from classrooms bump and push against her. Many head towards the closest stairway while others rush towards the windows in hopes of flagging down help from the outside.

“What if the stairs are blocked!” Mara screams over the sound of mayhem.

You yank open the door and begin your descent,”We’ll burn that bridge when we get there!”

———————————

True to Maras fear, the stairway was blocked in by bent beams and debris.

Still, music comes from your other.

Such lovely music in such a shitty time.

Mara backs away and begins tangling her fingers in her hair,”We have to call the police!”

You mumble,”They won’t get here in time, the building will collapse by then.” Peeking under a leaning beam, you spot a ray of light. A small whistle can be heard from the other side as well.

Wind?

“I think the explosion must’ve caused the rubble to break the wall on the other side.” You back up slightly, flinching as the foundations above you begin to groan.

“We aren’t strong enough to get through, and we’re still on the 7th floor! There’s no way we would survive that fall!”

“Actually..” You whisper nervously,”I am strong enough..”

With a flick of your wrists, gauntlets form around your hands and down to your elbows; encasing them in polished metal.

“H..how-“ Mara sputters, instantly recognizing the emblem on the back of your hands. She presses herself against the wall, glancing at the stairs behind her.

“You’re a Horseman” she squeaks,”the same family as-“

You raise your hands in defense,”Same as the Headless Rider and the Four. Yes, but I promise I mean you no harm.”

Mara laughs incredulously,”You’re trying to make us jump 7 stories, what do you by mean ‘you no harm’?! How do I know that your clan isn’t the one behind this attack?!”

“They may be infuriating but my siblings would never kill me off like this, trust me, we pinky swore as kids. Now, I know this is weird but it’s either jumping or getting crushed to death.” You intercede before she can interrupt,”And I don’t think either of our soulmates would like that very much.”

Gulping down several deep breaths Mara looks past you to the rubble blocking the wall.

”..You can’t just clear the rest of the stairs..?”

“I’m fast but not that fast” The rumbling grows deafening. Even from here, the sounds of screaming can be heard from upstairs. But it too is silenced by the destruction.

You growl,”Choose now Mara!”

“Okay!” Mara whimpers,”Okay! Please, get us out of here.”

Pivoting on your heel, you strike the rubble with gauntlets glowing like a steel forge. Instantly, the cement gives way, turning to dust and leaving only beams that are easily pushed away. Making a clear path to the opening in the wall, you break the edges of the wall to widen the hole further.

As expected, wind whips your face as you loom over the opening. Squinting against the biting breeze, you spot the cause of the explosion at the base of the building.

The robots from before are lugging out bag after bag of artifacts and large containment tubes of delicate articles and manuscripts. Smaller bots stand at the ground level of your current building with armfuls of explosives.

For a moment, you question why they would target your building when it holds nothing of importance. But then you remember the security office on the first floor that has direct phone access to the League of Heroes.

And the other building..

“They were after the restoration sector.” You mutter under your breath,”All this destruction for some silly papers..” Backing up from the opening, you summon the rest of your signature armor to shield your body. Your clan would definitely scold you for revealing herself to a civilian, but you would get even worse if you revealed yourself to the whole school.

“I’m going to jump. Whatever you do, don’t squirm, okay?” Lifting Mara into your arms, you brace yourself to jump.

You weren’t afraid of heights after your training with your siblings, but that didn’t make you fond of the idea of falling.

Mara covers her face with one hand while latching the other around your neck,”Please don’t drop me.”

You walk up the hole,”I don’t know, that sounds pretty tempting.”

“You better not-“ Mara is cut off as you both go plummeting down, her words die in her throat as she screams in terror at the sudden free fall.

On the other hand, you take this moment to look for any sign of the lead villain. Usually when robots are involved, the brains behind the operation is nearby to ensure their plan goes smoothly. But all you could see was a flash of green scaling the second building and what must’ve been a science major panicking below it as you fell.

Poor guy looked like he was losing his shit. You chuckle under your helmet.

Nearing impact, you adjust your grip on Mara to aim your right fist at the ground.

War was the brawler in the family, but that didn’t mean you didn’t pack a punch.

Releasing a wave of violet energy, the force exerted slows the fall just enough to allow you to land with minor injuries. Left with a light sprain and a crick in the neck from Maras grip, you hide behind a bush near the back of the art department.

Mara reluctantly opens her eyes, sighing with relief at the sight of safe and sturdy ground. Looking up at you, she smiles sheepishly,”Thank you ..for helping me.”

You smile under the helmet, the slits for eyes emitting a soft lavender glow.

“You’re welcome. But know that if you tell anyone my secret I will have to kill you.”

“Duly noted.” Mara laughs with a twinge of nerves.

Setting her down gently, you wait for her to regain her balance before pointing to the robots,”I’ll handle them, you get out of here and make sure the school contacts the LoH.”

Mara nods, running to the main campus.

Left alone, you crack your knuckles as you approach the restoration building.

‘I don’t want to set the world on fire’ plays on in your head, a silent requiem for the collapsing building behind you.

Debris passes by you as the floors finally cave in.

Your soulmate gave you numerous injuries.

They could handle yours.

———————

Flug had many fears, mostly two-

“WEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! LOOK AT ME NERD!”

Three. Three fears.

The first being Black Hat, who just recently took Flug on as his chief scientist. He would have been overjoyed were it not for his new masters record with past employees.

Dead, dead, double dead, mutilated horribly, missing, eaten, exsanguinated, excravated, eviscerated, and so on.

No one ever just “quit”. Unless they “quit life” but that decision seemed to be Black Hat’s instead of theirs.

His second fear was still Black Hat, but it mostly was towards the idea of failing him and turning out like the people before him. Flug was durable due to experiments he tested on himself and maybe even some of his heritage.. but he was surely not durable enough to face the incarnation of evil himself and get away unscathed.

His third fear was the woman above him currently frightening the people stuck inside the building she was climbing.

She was his creation, in a way, mixing lizard DNA with a normal human to test hybridization and its affects on the human psyche. While it did give the subject an immunity to most poisons, heightened strength and the ability to climb walls-among other things- her mindset was changed drastically.

He’d have to remember to ask Black Hat just what lizard he gave him for the experiment.

“Hey doc, what are we gonna do with these guys!” Dememcia waves excitedly to the people inside, grinning at the fear in their eyes.

Flug adjusts his goggles,”Leave them I guess? We just need a few more documents and we’ll be done here.” Why a lower class villain would want these papers were beyond him. Based on his research and examinations of security footage, they weren’t very important at all. Maybe this villain just had an odd hobby.

Unlatching herself from the building, Demencia rolls to the ground, landing perfectly on her feet.. Stretching her arms over her head, she counts the hatbots retreating from the structure.

“1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7- hey!” A blast singes the top of her head, burning her hoodie.

Flug turns around and cocks the blaster in his hand,”Who’s there!”

You approach them silently with your gauntlet pointed to Demencia. Activating your vocal distortion box you hiss,”So many bots for a simple college run, eh?”

Demencia smiles menacingly,”Look Flug, a new bug to squish!”

Flug’s squints, doing a quick evaluation of the villain who-! His eyes widen in fear.

”Demencia wait!”

Demencia launches herself with full force, effectively slamming you into the ground with a heavy thud.

Digging your fingers into the hybrids hair, you headbutt her, letting go after hearing a wet crunch of bone.

Demencia jumps away, wiping a trail of blood running from her nose,”Ohhh, I like you~” Her eyes shine with excitement.

“Can’t say the same” You stand and wince at the throbbing pain forming behind your eyes. Unlike your siblings who had a natural buffer to keep them from feeling the affects of their abilities, you inherited drawbacks from your mothers side. The more you fought, the more your body suffered.

Power came at a price.

A sudden blow to your diaphragm knocks the air out of your lungs, causing you to skid back several feet

You allow yourself only a moment to catch your breath.

‘Pitiful’ you think to yourself,’I’ve let myself become soft.’ You look to the girl in front of you, her fist bloody but her grin still plastered on her face.

You weren’t Conquest, or War, or Pestilence, or even Death.

But you weren’t weak.

Your gauntlets begin to glow as your armor shifts. Slamming them together, they morph to form spikes along the knuckles.

Flug calls out again to Demencia who dances in place, unaware of the enemy in front of her drawing closer,”Don’t let her hit you!”

“Aww come on doc, she’s just a poser! Look-“

Demencia is knocked to her knees.

Blast after blast, spikes of energy pierce her body, sending her further into the ground.

Fumbling with his blaster, Flug retrieves a remote from his coat, pressing a bright red button.

“H-Hatbots, attack!”

[starmakerdotcom]

summary : sooyoung can’t sleep, and hyunmi tries to get her to spill what’s on her mind.

characters : lee suyeong, park hyeonmi, mentions of aki of venus and hana of b2u

genre : tried to be angst at the beginning, doesn’t really work, mostly fluff near the end

warnings : mentions of past issues i guess?? mentions of eunji’s anorexia recovery?? probably some mental issues, anxiety, worrying, all that jazz!! bad spelling also. i probably missed a few things so lmk

words : 1.6k

[ june 2019, 1:28 am, fruit basket’s dorm living room ]

suyeong couldn’t sleep.

she had no clue why, she just assumed it was because she had so much going on, it was taking a toll on her already horrid sleeping schedule. suyeong had remembered having sleeping problems as a young child, but as she grew into a teen, she overcame it. it was just when she became an idol that she noticed it starting to come back.

she had a love-hate relationship with sleep, on one hand it made her feel refreshed and rested, but sometimes that didn’t work, and she’s wake up feeling more tired and groggy then she had the previous night.

sighing, suyeong turned the tv on, flipping through channels mindlessly. she knew she wasn’t sleeping at that point, so she might as well turn something on to occupy her mind until she hopefully crashed, finally succumbing to the sleep that she so desperately needed but didn’t want.

from her bedroom down the hall, hyeonmi heard the tv and decided to leave her room and investigate. suyeong heard her footsteps while she was trying her best to sneak down the hall, and looked back to face her.

“what are you doing up?” suyeong asked.

“i could say the same to you. did you see what time it is?” hyeonmi replied dryly, sitting down on the couch next to suyeong. “what’s up? can’t sleep?”

“nope.” suyeong sighed, still flipping through channels trying to find a decent one, not like she was gonna watch it anyways, it was just background noise so she didn’t feel so alone.

hyeonmi tilted her head thoughtfully, “something on your mind?”

“you could say that.”

“alright, spill it. what’s on your mind? you can talk to me, you know that. i’ll listen.”

suyeong shook her head, “it’s nothing important. i’m just thinking about things.”

“like what?”

“life, i guess.”

“what do you mean?”

“life. how else do i word it?”

“well you could be more specific.”

suyeong slumped, “i don’t know. like... the future, i guess? like, what’s in store for us?”

“oh, i see.” hyeonmi said, “i think about that sometimes too. it’s a bit sad but like, i think about what would happen if we disbanded. would we stay friends? maybe debut somewhere else? or would we part ways? it makes me spiral but i guess it’s something that will inevitably happen.”

suyeong nodded, “yeah, but i’m more worried about our individual futures, not just the whole group. i’m worried about the maknaes, unnie.”

hyeonmi looked at her. “how so?”

“when eunji wasn’t doing well a few years ago, i was so worried. i was scared about what would happen if she were to relapse. i know she’s doing better, but there’s always that possibility.”

“i get it. i get worried for her too sometimes, but she’s doing so much better now! there’s nothing to worry about, she’s got us by her side!”

“i’m worried about ahreum too. i feel like if one of us was to break off and do their own thing, it would be her.”

“really?” hyeonmi said, “what do you mean?”

“you’ve definitely noticed, it’s hard not to. i feel like she’s been spending more time with her boyfriend then she has with us, and her and eunji have been arguing about it. you’ve heard them, haven’t you? i mean i get it, i know what it’s like to be young and in love, but i feel like jaebeom is going to make her less interested in us. i’ve been thinking about other things too, like, what if they take their relationship further? what if he gets her pregnant? she’s too young for a kid, unnie!”

“suyeong, calm down.” hyeonmi set a hand gently on her shoulder, “i can talk to ahreum, i’ll be sure to tell her everything she needs to know.”

“you certainly have more relationship experience than the rest of us do.” suyeong said.

“that’s part of it, yeah,” hyeonmi continued, “but also because she trusts me. i’m not saying she doesn’t trust you, but she treats me like her older sister, she always comes to me for advice. i’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything she’ll regret.”

“you’ve noticed she’s not been hanging out with us as much lately though? you’ve noticed her and eunji arguing about it, right? you’ve had to have notice that.”

“she’s in that point in her relationship where her and jaebeom are inseparable. it’s always like that with the first few months, they’re completely obsessed with each other at this point in time, but soon enough they’ll be more comfortable with each other and feel like they won’t have to spend every waking moment with each other.”

“i feel like this is making it seem like i don’t like jaebeom,” suyeong laughed, “it’s not that, i think he’s a really good guy and is perfect for ahreum. not to mention he’s actually adorable.”

“i know, he’s literally the cutest. have you seen all the nice things he buys her? he’s gonna drain his bank account because of how much he loves ari. she doesn’t even ask for anything!”

“i think he’s great for her. i just wonder how long they’ll last.”

“i wonder that too. i hope it’s a while.”

“me too.”

hyeonmi adjusted her sitting position, because her leg was beginning to fall asleep. “speaking of relationships, have you got your eye on anyone?”

suyeong laughed, “wouldn’t you like to know.”

“i would actually. you think someone new is cute every week, who’s the lucky one this week?”

suyeong lightly shoved her arm, “that’s not true!”

hyeonmi smirked slightly, “you’re blushing. who is it? i won’t embarrass you, i promise.”

“yeah, like i believe that.”

“i won’t tell a soul.”

“are you sure?”

“i’m sure.”

“don’t go trying to set us up together! all the people i think are cute are way out of my league!”

“come on! just tell me!”

“well...” suyeong’s cheeks flared bright red, “there’s two.”

“who’s the first?”

“i think aki from venus is really cute. she seems like the type of person that’s always in a relationship though, i don’t think i have a chance with her. don’t try anything.”

hyeonmi laughed, “i won’t! now who’s the other one?”

suyeong fidgeted with her hands, “hana from b2u. she’s out of my league too, don’t you dare try anything with her either.”

hyeonmi laughed again, “your secrets are safe with me.”

“now,” suyeong began, “since i spilled my crushes, it’s only fair if you do too.”

“oh, wow.” hyeonmi leaned back, “you may find this hard to believe, but i actually don’t have my eye on anyone right now. i’m too busy for relationships.”

“yeah right,” suyeong scoffed, “if you don’t want to tell me, fine. you’re paying for our coffee tomorrow morning.”

“if that’s what it takes to let you know i’m telling the truth, that’s fine with me.” hyeonmi replied.

“anyways, thanks for staying up and letting me spill some of my problems,” suyeong yawned, “i think i might actually get some sleep tonight, i feel slightly more relieved then i did 30 minutes ago.

“glad i could help.” hyeonmi replied.

“i’ll get a glass of water and then i’m gonna head to bed. you can go if you want. or stay, i wouldn’t mind that either.”

“let me guess, you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

“yeah.”

hyeonmi laughed, “that’s fine, get your water and i’ll be in bed.”

and then they parted ways- for five minutes at most but still. suyeong went into the kitchen, and grabbed a glass, pouring herself a small glass of water before heading down the hall into hyeonmi’s room.

suyeong always went to sleep in hyeonmi’s room when she was feeling down. or if she couldn’t sleep, or if she had a nightmare, or literally anything else. if there was an excuse to sleep in hyeonmi’s room, suyeong took it.

“you got your water?” hyunmi said, looking over from under her covers as suyeong walked in.

suyeong nodded, “you sure got into bed fast.”

“i was tired.”

suyeong scoffed, “weakling.”

“yah! having a bad sleep schedule isn’t a god thing!”

climbing into bed, suyeong chuckled under her breath.

at that moment she felt invincible, like hyeonmi was the shield that would protect suyeong from whatever life threw at her. suyeong was small, vulnerable, easily manipulated. hyeonmi was tall, strong, and defended suyeong with her life. she was like a mother, older sister, and best friend all at the same time. suyeong believed they were soulmates, but never told anyone that, although she was sure hyeonmi felt the same.

suyeong couldn’t quite explain it, but when hyeonmi was by her side, she felt like she could conquer the world. meeting hyeonmi was one of the best things that ever happened to her.

“you know...” suyeong mumbled, “when we were trainees, i had a crush on you.”

“it was pretty obvious.” hyeonmi replied, “i just never said anything about it. you know before you came out to us i already suspected it right?”

suyeong sighed, “that’s what i thought. thanks for not bringing it up before, i wouldn’t have been on the right state of mind for that.”

suyeong sighed, bringing the covers up to her chin. she stayed silent for a few seconds, just staring at the ceiling, taking note of all the uneven paint patches and cracks, there were probably more, but it was dark and she couldn’t see them all.

“you know,” suyeong continued after a few seconds, “we should go out for breakfast tomorrow, all four of us. we have no plans i don’t think, and it’d be nice for just the four of us to go out together. does that sound...”

she trailed off when she heard soft snoring from hyeonmi’s side of the bed.

“how dare you sleep before i finished talking.” suyeong laughed, “i guess that means i should go to sleep too.”

and that was the best sleep suyeong had gotten in quite a while.

[neshabeingchildish]

Charlie Danger: Family Danger Conclusion

Every hero has their own way of dealing with the harsh realities of the job. Some of us find solace in the arms of someone special, sometimes in the arms of someone convenient. Some of us paint our wives and kids, some of us garden, some of us listen to a computer system schooling us on the properties of crystals and usages of essential oils until we fall to sleep, and sometimes, we just look at the good work that we’ve done, and it feels good. I’ve been keeping a video journal since my first day as a secret sidekick. If anyone ever wants to tell my story, they would have to dig it up, but it would all be right there, and whenever I’m gone, I get to know that my legacy is carried on by two perfect people, that I couldn’t love more…

“Suck toes, Nerd Brain!”

“I’m not even going to dignify that with a response..”

“That WAS the response, genius!” 

“And so it was. Alas, this is the final.” Hank pressed a button and Charlie’s supersuit vanished from her body and she was left in the clothes that she had come to training in. He looked at Henry and smiled, “I love being able to remotely transform and currently having to only code to that function.”

“I thought you said you weren’t gonna say anything else!” Charlie fussed. Hank didn’t respond, because he’d been talking to Henry and to say something now, she’d catch him slipping again. Nope. He simply pulled up some holographic articles and continued talking to Henry, “As I was saying, to you, Dad, before a pestilence was upon us…” She squealed. He ignored it. “Your efficiency, likability, and public safety in general has decreased since taking on a sidekick. That’s not to say that your sidekick isn’t any good, but you’re really going to have to train and focus better if you expect for people to trust you with missions.”

Henry looked over the articles and nodded, “Whenever I began working for Captain Man, there was a period like this as well. Jasper thought that it was Kid Danger’s fault and suggested that he’d make a better one.” 

Hank let out a hearty laugh, to the skies. Charlie couldn’t help but to laugh too. They looked at each other, stopped laughing, glared, then smiled, in spite of themselves. They had been driving each other crazy while Henry tried to get them on the same page as hero and backup, because “Someday, I won’t be here. Someday, Charlotte won’t be here. Maybe you’ll have other heroes to work with, other techies, other family… But, I don’t want to leave this world not knowing that you two will have each other.”

“We’ll always be there for each other!” Charlie had said.

Hank had asked, “Do you think I’d entrust her to just anyone?”

Henry had smiled and said, “We’ll see how much conviction you have when you’re out in the field and somebody who’s never punched a soul is stressfully criticising you for not knocking out the culprit at the first swing. Or you - how much entrusting you’ll feel like doing when you think out an ingenious plan and she gets to the scene and decides to just jazz fight or something. In order for this to really work, you two have to be like two halves of the same coin, like your mom and I… and trust me, it took us YEARS to be that way.”

“We’ll be fine,” they had said in unison.

Presently, Charlie was mad that Hank’s progress report sounded like she was making her dad look bad when they went out on assignment. That was absolutely what Hank was saying, but he didn’t understand why she felt like she could be mad whenever he was being honest and she needed this truth to step it up. But, laughing at the ridiculous thought of Uncle Jasper being a better hero than their dad? Classic Uncle Jasper Foolery. Hank pulled her in for a side hug and kissed her on her hair. She smiled and hugged him back. Henry just smirked to himself. 

Whenever Charlie and I are done with a mission, she always draws out a storyboard of what went down. She wants to make comic books about our missions (omitting the secret parts, of course) and she’s fine with THAT being her real world revenue, although she already has SoulDates as an inheritance and Hank and Charlotte made Charlie’s Charms for her, as well. She wasn’t as interested in business and at 13, not as willing to pretend to be as she had been when she was younger. 

“Starlette got her cape,” She said, frustrated. “She’s 15 and she got her cape from the Hero League.”

“Capes are symbolic, but you don’t need one to prove anything,” Henry said.

“Did you ever get a cape?”

“No. And I didn’t want one.”

“I want one,” she said. “I want a purple one, one to match the violets in my hair.” She wore a violet in her hair everyday and she had violets on a lot of her stuff, from her violet garden that Henry made for her when she was a little younger. It was her birth flower and her favorite color, so she liked to always have some, especially with her daddy being a “flower man.” It was like carrying proof of his love for her around with her all the time. She had her now deactivated bracelet from Hank, flowers in her hair from Henry and… Well… She felt like maybe she and her mom just would never get THERE. She loved her, so, so much. She was the queen of her heart, as far as who sang to her when she was small and always picked her up and held her whenever she made a mistake that she didn’t realize was dangerous, and made sure she was clean, safe, fed, sheltered… you know, stuff that parents need to do. She even TRIED to connect with her by showing her the work that she did and asking her how she felt about things and scheduling numerous Mommy-Daughter days with her. But, Charlie just didn’t know how to feel the same way about her that she felt about her father. They told her that was fine, but she knew for a fact that at least a couple of times, her mom cried about it. That really hurt her. Her mom was the strongest woman that she knew, which translates as the strongest woman alive. Having the power to make her cry wasn’t one that Charlie desired.

Charlie took to bringing Charlotte keepsakes from battles, much like Charlotte would do whenever she came home from a business trip that she couldn’t take the kids along with her or the way that she would make a prototype of something in a design or form that she thought that her family might like. Charlie had brought Charlotte hand picked flowers, pretty rocks, nicely done business cards, and other souvenirs that the woman would label for the assignment that it was and put away in a safe place. “I do love you, you know that, right Mom?” She’d sometimes feel like she was asking too frequently.

Charlotte would always give her the biggest smile and tell her, “If anybody knows a thing or two about their love not looking like what other people think it needs to look like, it’s me. I do know that and I’m so happy about it.” She’d kiss her on the forehead, adjust something on her (her glasses or clothing or something), and strum her finger tips down her face before disengaging. 

With some of the ginormous problems that presidents had in the past, Charlotte wasn’t worried that any of her potential scandals would ever be an issue that she couldn’t live with. So, despite the fact that she was the leader of the free world, if Hank alerted her with a, “Mom, I need your genius,” she was putting that “free world” on hold. Hell, at least she wasn’t golfing! Hank did his best not to trouble her, but he knew whenever he was at even the slightest bit of a loss for an idea that meant that Charlie and Henry were possibly in danger and he couldn’t let it be on his conscious or pride if something didn’t go right. He’d check in quickly with his mom (who would usually just calmly ask him what he was thinking, then affirm that idea was better than any that she could come up with. It was done enough to the point where he got confident enough to KNOW that he knew his stuff and didn’t think to even call her. 

The Danger Force Family Jet was his baby. He had bought it off of profits of his medical technology company, for his father and it was the most expensive thing that he had ever gotten for either of his parents! That excited him. He basically synched the systems of their home, his Washington DC lab, the Lady Lair, and associated hero allies, apps, and systems that Mr. Danger and his sidekick would need. Or rather, what he would need to back them up. 

Charlotte still had the ability to insert herself into things from the White House, and while they always said that Henry was in charge, he looked to Charlotte enough that the kids felt like she was in charge… until she was President. It was harder to look to her. It was more difficult to get her to come up with things. Instead, she gave them a lot of trust and affirmation. (The same that she felt that she always gave them, but not accompanied by any ideas of her own). She was impressed by the height of independence it gave them. Whenever she read stories about Mr. Danger’s successes while she was in office, she was her proudest. Whenever they were in town and able to be with her was when she was her happiest. Whenever she got to hear firsthand about the missions that she hadn’t been able to be a part of was when she was at her most bittersweet.

“Then, I lifted the building on my shoulders and Dad dashed out. I mean, it almost CRUSHED him, I was so scared, but I was like wedged and couldn’t get out.”

“She could get out, but she was scared that she might not make it before the building crashed again.”

“So, then Dad was like, “Take my hand, and let go of the building. You know that I’ve got you!” And like, in my mind, I was like - yes, Daddy definitely wouldn’t just let you die, but what if he’s not able to save you from this mess you got yourself into? What if he can’t do it? Then, I felt like a blasphemer, right? Right word? Because, how could I doubt that Daddy was fast enough to save me, even from my own mess? So, he looked me right in the eyes and said, “If knowing how much I love you doesn’t make you confident enough, think about this - I promised your mom that I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.” So, I was like, well, why didn’t you say THAT the first time. I took his hand and the building crashed so loud that my eardrums busted! But, I looked over and we weren’t under the building. It had collapsed a little bit, but hadn’t fallen like it would’ve if I hadn’t caught it, and me and Daddy were both safe.” 

She told this story at the site of the building that she had accidentally thrown a villainous robot into, while Charlotte was still shivering in fear and holding her close to herself, because she had gotten on the jet and headed that way AS SOON AS she found out about the possible danger. “Are… you gonna make me stop?” Charlie wondered. Charlotte just shushed her and continued to hug her. She was kind of in shock and ready to quit her job and get back on the team, but she knew that could cause political chaos and also make them feel like she didn’t believe that they were capable. She believed that they were capable more than THEY believed it. What she wanted was to be closer, in case the worse happened. The thought of Henry being crushed accidentally by a building triggered her memories of him being crushed by Max, and she couldn’t believe that was still possible, but Piper had spoken to her several times about her PTSD of that event and even though she understood it and knew that it could come back that way, she hated that unsettling feeling of reliving it and she hated the new fear that Charlie was now in this type of potential danger. “Mom… are you okay?” Charlie asked, wanting to get out of this hug, but being genuinely worried about her mother. She just shushed her again.

Eventually, she let go, when Henry said it was his turn now and freed their daughter to take his wife into his own embrace. “I’m sorry, Char. I know this is hard for you and I hope that it passes soon. We’re gonna get on the jet, and we’ll soak in the scolecite tub and let the Interface hone in on your needs and set the entire thing to your vibrations, okay?” He knew the signs. He knew when she had been taken back to that place and he was the only one who really got it. Well, not in the way that she did. He’d always known that it wasn’t the same difficulty for him having been the injured one as it must’ve been for her to watch helplessly and she was plagued in recent years by the fact that she’d had super strength all along and didn’t know it in time to protect him and honestly, whenever these triggers were fired, ashe could be quite inconsolable for a bit. She never wanted the kids to see it, but they couldn’t hide it forever.

Hank added on, “Oh, I’ll bet that Interface blends lavender, jasmine, ylang ylang and… hmmm…” he studied his mother’s mannerisms for a moment, “Maybe a slight hint of patchouli and/or cedarwood. Calling it now.” He pulled out a spare handkerchief in a handkerchief holder that he carried around, because it seemed sophisticated and fancy and he liked the aesthetic of it, and he handed it to her. She smiled softly and accepted it to wipe her face. The couldn’t hear the swarms of Madame President, are you alright? Or President Page, what are your thoughts about this event tonight? Or even Mr. Danger’s Dude, back up. President Page does press conferences. You don’t get to mob her at a crime scene. Or Let me tell you like this, Man. I’m not the President, I’ll bust your ass. Back up. All she heard was her heartbeat in her ears, too fast, the world moving around her too much and wherever her beacon was to get back to her balance, she couldn’t find it. 

“Oh! I got this for you, this battle,” Charlie cheered, cuffing her mother protectively, now that she noticed what her father had - that she was going through something right now and this crowd wasn’t helping. Charlotte smiled softly and accepted the gift. “I got it from the robot when I jumped on top of it and pulled stuff out of it’s center. Since it was like flashy and cool looking, I decided you might like it.”

Charlotte spoke for the first time saying, “This is the AI chip. It’s basically the part of the robot that helped it to think.”

“I ripped out a robot’s brain and gave it to my mom! I am SUCH a freakin’ warrior!” Charlie cheered and flexed her nonexistent muscles. 

Charlotte laughed and pulled her close. “Yeah, you are. You’re a natural, Charlie. You were born to do this.” And, the beacon came into view. Charlie smiled brightly at her mom and squeezed her tightly and the four of them got into the Danger jet to head back to Washington DC.

Usually, Charlotte had been the beacon. She had been the glue. She had been the law. She had been the brains. Henry was excellent backup, but she definitely had been the family crisis “go to,” just as she had been growing up in the Man Cave. Henry always took care of her when she had her moments of just not being able to do it, but that night, she had her entire tribe to do this. She wasn’t expecting it and kept trying to get out of it, because it simply didn’t feel right to let her family pamper her, especially since, “You guys have been fighting crime tonight. All I was doing was looking over paperwork!”

“Paperwork that in some way will definitely affect the entire country and knowing this country, possibly the entire world. Now, sit down, woman and let me rub those feet while Charlie grabs you a unicorn dust brownie sundae!” Henry fussed, after the bath and he’d put her hair up for her. Hank was selecting something to watch that would cheer her up, but not excite her so much that she wouldn’t be able to sleep. Unicorn Dust Brownie sundaes were more of Charlie’s thing… but she would write down the alterations of how Charlotte might enjoy hers - for instance a blondie instead of a brownie, white chocolate instead of fudge, fat free soft serve instead of extra sweet, toffee flakes instead of nuts - and order from the auto snacker and set it up on a nicely decorated tray, with the crystals that Interface had given Hank, the flowers the auto florist had given Henry, and the Fun Notepad that they sometimes had to replace her work one with (Hank altered so that it blocked any of the work related content), so that she could just read something she enjoyed for a change, every now and then. It was this moment that let her know that when her term was over, she was going to focus her energy on her family, only. 

.

There was an ongoing debate of what Charlie’s sidekick name should be. Currently, they were calling her Daughter of Danger, in the media, and whenever Mr. Danger spoke publicly, he always referred to her as “My sidekick.” She wanted her own name! “I get that you want your own name, but I also know the great responsibility and great stress that comes along with being a child hero with their own name to build and reputation to establish and hold. You are not going to be your own entity until you are AT LEAST 16, because that’s when I feel like I finally found my groove and so I think that’s an acceptable time for you to become officially established as your own.”

“That’s not FAIR! I’m BETTER than you were!” She squealed.

“Yeah, you are? You know why? Because of responsible parenting and properly administered life experience and workload,” he said.

She threw a fit! She wasn’t used to him making rigid rules and she knew that it was him and not her mother, because it had actually been a while since they checked in with her for guidance. They still gave her very detailed progress and incident reports, composed and submitted by Hank, but Henry was in charge of their business decisions on this team. She took the flower out of her head and threw it on the ground and Henry picked her up, kicking and swinging and placed her in the temper tube, able to withstand her attacks, so she wouldn’t accidentally wreck the jet.

Whenever he returned to the main area, even though he hadn’t said anything, Hank had picked up the discarded flower and put it in his own hair. Henry smiled at that and gave him a hug from behind. “Now, we’re doing too much,” Hank advised him.  Henry grunted and let go. Hank fought a smile. “Are you okay? Your princess was flopping around pretty aggressively.”Much like Charlotte, Hank would ask a question, but still run a diagnostic, because Henry was bad at knowing what “being okay” was, a lot of the time. “You seem like you’ve got minimal bruising. She probably subconsciously reigned it in whenever you picked her up. But, mentally, you okay, Dad?”

“Yeah. She’s a teenager. You had your moments when you were young, too.”

“I don’t recall anything like that.”

“No, your outbursts were different. You didn’t really respond angrily, more like you responded with anxiety. You freaked out whenever you got upset. It’s normal to have tantrums when you’re a kid, and they look different for everybody. Yours look more like your mom’s used to and Charlie’s look like Aunt Piper’s used to.”

“What did yours look like?” Hank wondered, not even gonna dignify the fact that he had been emotionally compared to Aunt Piper with a response.

“I didn’t really have them when I was little. I didn’t have the room or the chance to.” He laughed a little. “I had a few as an older teenager, whenever I was around Ray and Jasper, but I wasn’t so much a tantrum kid. I did have some freakouts, kinda like yours whenever I got scared, but I was more of a silently depressed kid.” Henry tilted his head, just now actually saying this out loud and realizing it as he did.

Hank assessed, “So, I’m actually more like you and not Aunt Piper.” Henry wanted to comment on how THAT was what he focused on, but the fact that Hank had said that they were alike in some way was so touching that he was speechless, even if it was something like this. He hugged him again. “Dad-”

“Nope. This is happening.”

“I don’t like hugs.”

“A small sacrifice that I’m willing to make.”

“This is my body!” Hank said. Henry let go and patted him on the shoulder. Hank was slightly amused, but couldn’t break his facade of displeasure, on pride alone. He cleared his throat, adjusted the violet in his hair and continued working.

My kids are special people. Not because my son is a genius, or because my daughter was born a super, but because they just fundamentally are good people. Hank hates to show emotion, but he has a lot of them and most of them are pretty pleasant and positive. He is extremely judgemental, but he has known since he was a baby, practically that he was literally just smarter than everybody that he met. So, I’ve never faulted him for living in that in the best way that he could figure out how. If anything ever happens, Hank is always the first one to check to make sure that everyone is okay. Honestly, I don’t think that he can even move forward unless he knows that everyone is alright. He’s like his mother, that way, and apparently like me in how he processes his feelings. It took this Dude 18 years to admit to me that we had something in common! I’m filled with pride about that, but I also always knew that he was just as soft as me. Showing it though, makes him uncomfortable. When he was young, I worried that kids at the academy might have caused him some kind of harm or trauma that made him that way, but his mom was never very affectionate either, until after my attack. I don’t even want him to have to live through anything like that, on either side of it. So, if what I’ve got is a snooty mini-me who insults everyone with a simple motion of his eyebrows and rarely blesses them with his personal space and bodily contact - I’ll take it. He’s a Nobel Peace Prize winner. He doesn’t have to hug anybody if he doesn’t want to… Not that he would’ve had to before that title! I’m just tryin’ to brag on this Dude that I helped to make.

Charlotte read about the report of Charlie’s tantrum and linked in to the temper tube. Charlie was thwacking it with the heel of her hand until Charlotte’s voice said, “Hey, you’re gonna fracture your wrist on that impenetrable glass and be out of service for at least 8 weeks. Having super strength doesn’t make us invincible, remember?” Charlie stopped hitting, folded her arms and screamed. “Do you want me to keep you company while you let it all out?”

“I WANT for everybody to stop treating me like a baby!”

“Okay. But, I don’t think anybody is trying to make you feel that way. We are using professional opinions and studies, and our very own life experience to make sure that not only do you and your brother have a better chance than we did, but also so you can be the best you that you can be, from a place of love. That’s a hard line to walk and sometimes, it’ll seem unfair. But, my parents didn’t even let me date until I graduated. I had to check in with them so many times a day and I had to lie to them because superpowers were hush hush stuff and superheroes didn’t used to unmask. You’ve got kind of a sweet deal in comparison and I wish that you could see that and allow yourself to enjoy your privilege and your good fortune. If you focus on everything that you can’t have, which, I believe isn’t even very much, you’ll not be able to see the good things that you do have.” Charlie took a deep breath. “Are you calm enough to be released?”

“Yes, Mom.”

“Good. I’ll send your dad in. I love you.”

“Love you too..”

.

Charlie looked at her growing stack of comic book journals and wondered where in the world she might store this stuff as time went on. It had been less than a year and she had really high stacks. “Daddy, how in the world did you keep records of your adventures? Or, did you just not?” She wondered, sitting on the bench in her violet garden (Underneath which was an opening to the tubes beneath their home). 

“I have video journals that are saved to microchips,” he said, working diligently on a flower crown.

“Hwat? Video Journals… Like, you RECORD yourself telling your secrets? What if someone found them before supers were out?”

“Well, I hid them well. Do… You want me to show you?” He wondered, looking up from what he was doing, momentarily. “Your mom made me an entire video journaling booth a few years ago whenever we were constructing the Danger Fortress underground. I could have Hank get you your own drive to upload yours to, maybe even your own booth, at some point.”

“I’m more curious in seeing what you had to say in your video journals… But, I know that’s private.”

He thought for a moment, tilting his head from one side to the other, and shrugged his shoulders, “I think that we’ve been pretty open with you and your brother about things that happened in our lives. It shoul;d be fine. There’s one bit that I’d love to keep you away from, but I’ll just restrict the access to those.”

“Can… we do that now. I know that’s a super important floral crown, but…”

He smiled and said, “All done,” and placed it on her head. “Hot damn, that’s one of my best ones. Yeah, we can go now.” 

He sat her in the booth, showed her the different controls and started it out for her, from the beginning, and she was engaged from the moment she heard and saw this child that she knew was her dad in smol form say, “It all just kinda happened. I wanted an afterschool job…”

Henry came into the house, where Charlotte was in the kitchen with Hank while the Super Secret Service was on the grounds. She smiled at him and said, “I’m making some tea, if you want… where is my daughter?”

“She’s in the booth watching my old Kid Danger journals.”

“Oh my God, those!” Hank said, laughing and stirring the tea in his little teacup. This kid, well adult man, often tickled Henry. He was a unique dude. This tea set was actually his, that he had bought because he just wanted to have a nice tea set. He bought things like… Well, he had a collection of several feather quills, and fancy ink to dip them in. He had a wax seal for letters. He liked actually WRITING letters. Mostly to his mom, for special occasions like birthdays and anniversaries and stuff, but he also wrote encouraging postcards to Charlie for missions. He didn’t really write to Henry much, but that was because he knew Henry didn’t like reading with his dyslexia and he didn’t want to make him feel compelled to read stuff. 

But, Hank also had a pocket watch with a chain, which he turned into a Whiz Watch and also his music listening device. He also collected figurines of heroes that he knew personally and had a copy of EVERY form of Kid Danger, Mr. Danger, Lady Danger and Daughter of Danger that there was. 

He ran the Danger Force Family Official Website and had a section where any fan art could be submitted, as long as it didn't violate the content guidelines. Like… online he saw hella "Mr. and Lady Danger shipping and he reported it EVERY time. Yeah, that might have been petty, but that was gross and he didn't want to see it on Blue Ivy's Internet. Another fixation of his - Blue Ivy. He had everything that she ever done and had gone to see her multiple times. "Sit down. Have tea with Mom," he said. "I'm gonna stay here tonight, but I'll be in the Fortress finishing some things for the office." 

Henry said, “Well, are you gonna deal with that cape situation?”

“I am not,” Hank said as he left the room.

Charlotte laughed and shook her head, “What did I miss?”

“Hank tormenting his sister about her not being eligible for a Hero League cape by flaunting his fashion cape collection at work.”

“But, they’re not even the same type or style of capes,” Charlotte pointed out.

“I swear, you cloned your brain and put it in our child. That doesn’t matter to Charlie! She wants a cape and Hank has capes in almost every color.”

“And many materials. His cape collection is very impressive and screams bougie old queen.”

“Well, now she wants a cape now more than ever and he doesn’t want to make her one because he says she can’t be her best self and be copying his “steelo.”

“Technically, she’s been wanting a cape since Starlette got hers, so really it's HER steelo she’s copying.”

“She’s not copying ANYBODY’S steelo and I wanna also retire the word steelo from this conversation. She told me that she wanted a purple cape to match her flowers in her hair. As long as her cape is unique to her, she needs to have one, because why not? She’s a kid and she wants it.”

“Huh. Yeah. I agree. We’ll get her a cape,” Charlotte said and opened her notebook.

“What’re you doing?”

“Making my daughter a cape.”

“Is it gonna be some kind of super cool, super cape or something?”

“Yep. And super dope Charlie swagger.” She showed him what she was planning. “I’m gonna make it violet on the inside and black on the outside with actual violets as the pattern.”

“Fresh to death,” Henry commented.

“Totally her style, but still matching your black, silver and gray color scheme. The features of the cape will include flame resistance, cloaking technology, and shielding support.”

“Hotness on hotness,” Henry said.

“She’ll finally have something in her uniform that I made, and even though she might not wear it everyday, she’ll at least be taking me into battle with her.”

“Awww.” He gave her a fist bump and proceeded to steeple himself some tea.

.

There weren’t a lot of different things that someone with Charlie’s heritage could do. Everyone in her family was a living legend, and her mom’s side even had non-pow star power. In order to be worthy of the Page name, her mother’s reputation, her father’s legacy, her brother’s support… She felt like she needed to go above and beyond. She pushed herself harder than they all wanted her to. She practiced when she was alone, to hone things that her father didn’t feel like she was ready for, and she was a little more focused on where she wanted to go after watching over his journal entries from his youth. She also understood her parents’ protectiveness and cooperated with them more when they’re desires were conflicting. 

She made a framed storyboard of her Cape Presentation Ceremony, which honestly was just a family gathering + house party at which she was given her cape, and her mother explained the functions and why she was so compelled to do this for her only daughter. Charlie was crying and filled with joy and excited and never wanted to take her cape off! She also wished that her mom was around more and told her that. “Well, after my term ends, I’m all yours. I’m gonna be focused on my family, and by that time, you’ll be a proper hero, like you were born to do.” She fixed wild strands of her hair, strummed her fingers down her cheek and kissed her on the forehead. 

“Born to do,” Charlie whispered to herself.

.

Charlie’s 16th birthday was a little less than a month after Charlotte officially was no longer a US President. They had been planning it for a long time. She had a Princess-Warrior Sweet Sixteen at the Page Estate. The dress attire was costume (limited to warriors or royalty) or fancy dress. There were purple flowers of all shades everywhere, and the favors were swag bags with purple holistic beauty products, gems, jewelry, perfumes, and stationary. Charlie had given the cakemaker her order and revealed only to them what she wanted her sidekick name to be (so that they could put it on there). 

Charlotte had made several party edition gumball tubes attire changes. There was a feast. It was a lot, but everyone had a great time and Charlie was super stoked about it, although when it was battle time, just the press of a button got her and her father into their fight outfits these days. Whenever they revealed the cake and sang her Happy Birthday song, Hank curiously looked to see what she had spent years to decide on.

“Calvary Danger?” He asked and pushed up his purple rimmed sunglasses with his pinky. 

“Uh, yeah. Because, I’m a sidekick, I’m backup. I’m not the one that people call upon immediately necessarily, but when I do show up, there will be salvation!” She said and clenched her fists. 

He smiled and wondered, “Did you practice that?”

“I did.” He laughed. “Let me live!” People started chanting “Speech! Speech! Speech!” “At… At my birthday party?”

Charlotte took the floor and there were cheers, “Okay, okay. So, we’re very thankful that everyone made it for this important celebration of our daughter, Charlotte II, true royalty in our eyes. She’s always been our little princess warrior and now that she’s old enough and trained enough, she’s vowed to dedicate herself to being the same for others. It was tough to let her, but it would have broken our hearts to try to hold her back, as well. I present to everybody, the birthday girl, Mr. Danger’s legacy, the newest superhero in the Hero League database, complete with an official cape, though she’s got an upgrade in her abundance of gifts,” She winked at her and Charlie squeed at the mention of a cape upgrade. Hank flipped his fashion cape and Charlie swatted it away, so it wouldn’t hit her. “Daughter of President Charlotte Page and Henry Page, aka Mr. Danger, a hero who always knew what she wanted to be… Calvary Danger!” 

Charlie smiled and came forward, kissed and hugged her mom then watched her return to her seat and kiss and hug Henry. “Wow. I didn’t know that you have to do birthday speeches and I don’t like speeches, but I like talking, so I can tell you all some things. When I was little, I thought that every girl wanted to be a superhero when she grew up. I looked up to my dad and it was the most natural thing for me to want to follow in his footsteps that I simply presumed that’s what all girls did. I didn’t even really know that everybody’s dad wasn’t a super, because, hello - Metroburg?” They laughed a little bit, “But, what I didn’t realize at the time was that my mom was a hero too, in her own right. She didn’t like to get in the field, but PageMaster changed the world on many occasions that I didn’t grasp until I was older. I wish I had admired her more, in my youth, but I’m really proud that I was made from these people, that my destiny was to be this person that I am. I thought that I had my dad to thank, and I do and I’m grateful, because I never would have been me without him, but I’m thankful for you too, Mom. You were such a wonderful mom, and doing that while being what you were everywhere else? You’re Supermom.

Hank told me years ago that when you’re gone, both of you that he wanted to remember the love that made us. Well, I never want to think about you two being gone, but I am filled with the love that made us and I’ve never been prouder of who I am than when I look at the two of you and get reminded of who I come from. Thank you. You’ve always told me that I was a gift to you, but truly, you two were a gift to me, and to Hank.” Again, she whispered, “Thank you,” you know… provoking people to tears and stuff. The next time a lot of these people would see her, it’d be in the news, after a heroic mission.

She was a sidekick, but someday, SHE’d be the Fortress commander! She could envision it every since she was little. Her mom was now back into the fold, being the “Schwoz.” Her brother was the “Charlotte,” and she was gonna be even better than her number one hero was, someday. It was her birthright. She hugged and kissed her parents and Hank started the music for everybody to get up and dance.

It didn't all just sort of happen. I was born to do this. My dad once thought that a chance interview gave him the opportunity to become a sidekick. But the gag is, I'm sure that was all on the universe's plan. You see, I am the hero that I was always meant to be. And the reason I'm able to be that hero is because my dad, Mr. Danger was brought up as one to pave the way for me… not just his sidekick, but his legacy. The future of our family name. Blowing bubbles and fighting crime was cute and all, but I don't just fight crime. I eliminate it. I. Am. Calvary Danger.

[kusunogatari]

[ ObiRyū October | Day Thirty: Musical Soulmates ] [ @abyssaldespair ] [ Uchiha Obito, Suigin Ryū, Hatake Kakashi ] [ Verse: The World’s a Stage ] [ Previous || Next ]

It takes him a while to notice that something isn’t quite...right. And not just because he hears music at odd hours in his head. Everyone does that…it’s part of how people claiming to be soulmates find one another, after all. Whenever music gets stuck in your head out of nowhere? Your ‘other half’ is listening to it. And the same goes in reverse.

He’s always wondered if his supposed match has any interest in his favorite genres. Blues and metal isn’t the most...typical combination. But he considers it fair game given that his head tends to fill with any manner of music. Orchestral, pop, jazz, swing, rock...it’s like they can’t stop flipping through stations, it drives him nuts!

And yet, in a way...he finds it comforting.

...not everyone hears music in the quiet.

So, he endures. Some people actually join message boards telling what they’re listening to, hoping to find a match and figure out who’s on the other end of their musical experience the easy way. But Obito puts off such a method for a while. In truth? The notion scares him. Is he really supposed to be bound to one person for life? That just sounds so...forced. Besides...people change. Sometimes the music you hear switches. And at times, he wonders if his own mental music being so sporadic is the result of his heart not being able to make up its mind.

Sometimes he looks up the music he hears that has lyrics, but he avoids the forums. There’s just something...holding him back. All through high school he dodges the opportunity, still uncertain.

...but then something...odd starts happening. He hears music in pieces. Bits at a time, and it...changes. He scours the net for the lyrics, but comes up empty handed. Several songs in a row - his other half bouncing between them a few days at a time, but otherwise hyper fixating. And either this stuff is way indie, or...it just doesn’t exist. He can’t find it anywhere.

So, he finally takes the plunge...and starts asking on one of the bigger musical match sites. He posts inquiries about the lyrics, but...no one else has heard of them either. A few people pitch in to try and find the obscure references, but...nothing. Eventually they all get bored and leave him with his mystery music.

Sitting in a quiet diner one night, Obito absentmindedly rolls a quarter under a finger, back and forth, back and forth. There’s only one other occupied table: one full of teenagers that his early twenties mind finds obnoxious. He doesn’t have much for a tip tonight, but he’s managed to dig out the change from the bottom of his coat pocket, idling it while he waits for a coffee refill.

And then...he hears it.

Staring forlornly at the coin, it comes to a halt, eyes widening as the speakers in the diner suddenly switch to a tune he knows. One he’s never actually heard before - not with his ears. Only in his mind…!

Turning to stare at one in shock, he listens, hearing the familiar tune. But...he’s looked for months...and nothing! Now it’s on the radio?

...is he losing his mind?

The song plays through, the radio DJ taking over as it fades out.

“And there you have it: the titular track from up-and-coming artist Marshmallow’s first ever record! New to the scene and soon to be climbing the charts, we’ll be playing her new tracks hot and heavy, so prepare your ears! Now, on to the chart topper -”

Focus shifting, Obito pulls out his phone, quickly searching the name. Scrolling past pages about literal marshmallows, he finds what he’s looking for. A new pop artist, huh…? Then...that explains it. He was hearing something no one else had heard...because she was making the music as he heard it…!

...holy shit.

Surely a few other people have had this happen - after all, musical artists are people too, and people have matches. Well...most of them do. Why didn’t he think of that…?

But...that presents him with quite the dilemma. How is he ever supposed to contact her? Surely her social media will be flooded with fans - he’ll be drowned out! And there’s no way he’d ever get into some kind of private message, or a phone call. Is he just...doomed to be unnoticed forever?

...and then he gets an idea. A rather...interesting idea.

If he can hear her make music, then...maybe he’ll just have to make her a song…! He’ll just...put an explanation in the lyrics, and where to find him, and...there! She’ll hear it!

...won’t she?

...he has to try…!

Jogging home, he keeps his phone to his ear, hearing it ring. “Come on, pick up…!”

“Hello?”

“Kakashi! Kakashi, I need your help -”

“Whoa, slow down - you okay?”

“You still know how to play guitar?”

“...uh...yeah? I mean, it’s been a few years, but -”

“Great! Listen, I need you to help me write a song.”

“...didn’t know you were into making music.”

“I’m not...but someone important is! I’m coming over - I’ll explain when I get there!”

“Obito, dude, it’s almost eleven o’clock, I’ve got work in the -”

“It’ll just take a minute!” He cuts off any refusal with a hang up, grinning widely. This is genius…!

Obito doesn’t stop until he reaches Kakashi’s building, making his way up and knocking almost frantically.

A very irritated Kakashi opens the door. “...I’m gonna kill you.”

“Just let me explain -!”

“You’ve got five minutes. And then I’m going to bed. Because some of us have work in the morning, Obito.”

Ignoring his friend’s complaints, Obito makes his way in, trying to catch his breath. “Okay, so: music soulmate thing.”

“...uh huh.”

“I found mine!”

“...that’s great.”

“She’s a songwriter! A new one!”

“...and?”

“And...I don’t think I’ll be able to talk to her because she’s, well...y’know…”

“Cooler than you?” Kakashi offers, folding his arms with a smirk as Obito scowls.

“...you’re an asshole.”

“And you aren’t letting me go to bed on time. So we’re even. Keep going.”

“...I thought maybe, since I could hear her writing a song...if I wrote one, and put all my info in it, she’d know where to find me, and I wouldn’t get lost in the crowds!”

“...that’s a good point. Good luck DMing someone that far out of your league.”

“Hey, she’s my soulmate!”

“...yeah. She’s yours. But soulmates don’t always line up...remember?”

The reminder sobers Obito slightly. “...well yeah, but…”

“...I’ll help you try. Just...don’t get too bummed out if she doesn’t hear it, okay?”

“...she will. I know it…!”

“Whatever you say, buddy. I’ll make you a five minute ditty, just...let me blow the dust off the ol’ six string, okay? Like I said, I haven’t done this for a while.”

Obito, in the meantime, scribbles down what he wants to say. Which Kakashi quickly scraps.

“If you’re gonna make me do this, at least make it rhyme.”

“Rhyme? There’s no time!”

“You literally just did. C’mon. It’s not that hard.”

“Ugh, all right! Uh…” Sitting and thinking for a while, he scribbles something else.

Kakashi picks it up.

“Hello, my name is Obito.

You’re someone that I’d like to know.

I hear your music in my mind.

You’re someone that I’d like to find.

Before your songs were on the air,

I’d hear them daily, everywhere.

Long before the others knew,

I heard the music made by you.

Maybe that means we’re destiny

Us together, you and me.

If you hear this song of mine,

Could you please text me sometime?”

After come his phone digits, and Kakashi looks up to his friend, seeing the anxious look on his face.

“...this sounds like a fourth grader wrote it.”

“I’m in a hurry! And I never said I was good at poetry, okay? I’m desperate…”

“Yeah, well...that much is obvious.” Sighing, Kakashi drag his empty hand down his face. “...tell you what. I’ll work on this when I get home from work tomorrow -”

“But Kakashi -!”

“And that way...I can try to make this dumpster fire sound decent. Right now I’m tired and I’ve got an early morning ahead of me. You can wait another twenty-four hours, Obito.”

The Uchiha huffs a curt sigh. “...fine!”

“And you owe me for this.”

“Owe you?”

“I’m helping you get your soulmate, and it’s not out of the goodness of my heart.”

“And here I thought we were friends…”

“Buy me a beer next time we’re out, and I’ll call it even.”

“All right, fine. Sorry for...barging in…”

“...it’s fine. Now scram. I need to get to bed.”

Leaving the apartment, Obito scuffs his shoe against the carpet dejectedly. Maybe Kakashi is right...maybe this is a stupid idea. But...he has to try…! At least if he tries...he’ll know one way or the other. Heading home, he puts on his favorite blues album and eventually falls asleep.

Being as he’s between jobs, he doesn’t wake to an alarm, staring at his ceiling before throwing an arm over his eyes. He’ll have to wait until Kakashi gets home...and even then, Kakashi has to write the song. And then...all he has to do is hear it. Maybe a few times, just to make sure she hears it. Then maybe…

Not wanting to dwell on it, he gets up and goes through his morning routine: a quick workout, a run, and then breakfast.

...by then it’s ten o’clock, and the hours left are going to kill him.

He tries watching TV. Tries surfing the web. But nothing is enough to fully distract him, and he spends most of the day moping before getting a text from Kakashi that evening.

Think I’ve got it. Get over here so I never have to do this again.

In a flash, he’s out the door. Never has he made it to Kakashi’s so quickly.

“All right, it’s...nothing fancy. And I can’t sing very well, so...brace yourself.” Adjusting his guitar, Kakashi strums a few chords, and then gives Obito’s lyrics a go.

Sitting with rapt attention, Obito nods along, gesturing for a repeat once Kakashi finishes. She needs a chance to write his number down, after all! In his hand, he clutches his mobile, pleading for it to buzz.

Kakashi goes around and around for ten minutes before stopping.

...nothing.

“...maybe she’s asleep,” he offers. “Uh...I can record it real quick, if you want. Put it on your phone so you can listen to it later?”

“...sure.”

Hearing the dejection in his friend’s voice, Kakashi does as promised, moving the file to Obito’s phone. “Give it a try a few times tomorrow. See what happens.”

“Yeah...thanks, Kakashi.”

“...no problem. And hey...good luck.”

Obito manages a flicker of a smile before making his way back home, pace sluggish. Flopping into bed later, he puts in earbuds and listens to the track a few more times...just in case, before doing his best to sleep.

Come morning, he stutters awake as his phone vibrates, nearly falling out of bed as he checks his message.

...it’s Kakashi, asking if he’s heard anything yet.

No, not yet. I’ll text you.

Sighing, Obito reattaches his earbuds, going through his routine while listening. Then a short break...and he listens again.

By mid afternoon, he’s getting awfully sick of Kakashi’s voice. And still...nothing.

Sitting at his table with his head in his hands, his vision blurs before a few tears impact against the surface. He’s running out of ideas for excuses about why he hasn’t heard from her yet. She’s travelling. She’s ill. She’s...busy. Something. It’s not that she can’t hear him...it’s not...it can’t be…

Folding his arms, he burrows his brow against them, sulking self indulgently. He’s always been afraid of this...afraid of being unheard. Of being...alone.

Nearby, his phone vibrates, but he writes it off as Kakashi again. But then, it...keeps vibrating. Someone’s calling…? Maybe he’s finally gotten an interview. Picking the mobile up, he doesn’t recognize the number, swiping and holding it to his ear. “...hello?”

“Hi! Um...is this...Obito?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, um...h-hello. My name is Ryū! I’m...well, you might know me better as...Marshmallow…?”

Stiffening, Obito’s eyes fly wide, unable to answer.

“I’m so sorry I’m getting to you so late...I literally just finished a tour yesterday and I was exhausted and on a plane, and couldn’t call! But as soon as I landed I tried your number! I...I heard your song. But...the voice is different…?”

“T-that, uh...that was my friend! Kakashi. He...plays guitar. I...well, I don’t, heh…”

“Oh! Well that was such a good idea! I never even thought about that...and to think, you’ve been hearing my silly music for months, even before it was ready! I’m so embarrassed…”

“No, no! It’s not silly at all!” Grinning against the phone as it sinks in, Obito replies, “I mean, I can’t write or make music, so...I was impressed! You heard my pitiful attempt, heh…”

“Oh, no! It was good! Perfect - I knew just what was going on, and who you were! Really, it was a genius idea.”

His chest warms, smiling so wide his scars ache.

“But, listen...I’d really like to meet you, if...if that would be okay? I understand if that’s too forward -”

“I’d love to!” Obito blurts, going red as he realizes his manners.

Ryū, however, only laughs...and man, he already loves her laugh… “O-okay! Well...um, do you have an email? It’d be easier to get all the information back and forth that way, right?”

“Yeah, yeah - uh, one sec…” He relays the address, waiting as she jots it down.

“Okay...perfect. I’ll get something figured out! You...do you need some time to arrange your schedule, or…?”

“I’m, uh...I’m actually wide open right now,” he admits a bit sheepishly, itching his neck.

“That’s great! I’ll see if I can get something in the next few days - will that be okay?”

“Yeah, no problem.”

“Okay…” There’s a small pause, and then she admits softly, “...I already can’t wait to meet you...I’m so excited…!”

“Yeah...me too…”

“I was so scared I’d be someone matchless, you know? I mean...well, I won’t ramble, but...it’s a frightening thought. I’m so relieved…!”

“I know what you mean.”

“...well...is it okay if...if I text you between now and then?”

“I’d...love that, honestly.”

“Okay! If I’m ever annoying, just...tell me to can it,” she laughs.

“I doubt that’ll ever happen.” He doesn’t admit to how lonely he’s been - about how he’d be happy if she just sent him random emojis. Something, anything.

Ryū laughs. “Well...I’ll go work on getting you here. We’ll have to arrange all the details based on where you’re at, but...yeah! Just let me know all the info, and we’ll make it happen.”

“Okay.”

“I guess I’ll...talk to you later?”

“Yeah, for sure.”

“All right...bye…!”

“Bye…” Hearing the line click, he lets his arm go slack to his side, suddenly a bit dazed.

...he’s got to text Kakashi.

     ...okay I actually really like this, it's so cute xD This is based on a prompt (one of many lmao) that Meg generated off a site I...can't remember the name of. I've always loved soulmate AUs, and this is my first attempt at one, so...hopefully it's okay! Very cliche, and both Obito and I were rushed coming up with his lyrics, but...at least it worked! It was very clever of him x3      Anywayyy...only one prompt left...I'm kinda sad...but then I remember all my WIPs and I feel better xD But that's it for today's - thanks for reading!

[fromfantofan]

TORONTO RAPTORS DRAFT SCENARIO

AND WITH THE 4TH PICK IN THE @NBA DRAFT, THE RAPTORS SELECT JALEN SUGGS!!(@jalensuggs) (Detriot-1. Cade Cunnignham, PG of the future)(Houston-2. Evan Mobley, Trust Kevin Porter as the PG of the Future, grab is partner in crime)(Clevland-3. Jalen Green, committed to Darius Garland as PG of future but not Sexton at Shooting Guard)(Toronto- 4. Jalen Suggs) The Toronto Raptors currently have 3 Starting positions that seem locked by current players; MY ASSUMPTION IS THAT WE DO NOT HAVE KYLE LOWRY(nor did I assume we got a player in trade) **Our PG Fred Vanvleet.**Our Forwards(SF/PF) are Pascal Siakam and OG Anunoby. Jalen Suggs is the second best Guard to play in the NCAA this year. You're talking about a really good scoring guard that ran the point for his team this year, amazing mentality and great off court traits as well. All these things translated to Suggs leading his team to the NCAA FINALS as they finished the season being the tournament runner-ups. He's a Combo guard that is versatile enough to slide up to SF in small ball lineups due to his size and defensive movement(much like Raptors' very own Gary Trent Jr.). Oh, did say he is a Combo Guard? This guy can score from 3 with the step back. He will get into the paint and do Mid-air adjustments to get his shot off. He's a SNEAKY athlete too, has a great stop-and-go game where he explodes to an open spot, reads the defense, then react with either a pass or a score. (playing PG held him back, forcing him to be pass first when his strength is score first). He has ALOT of @Canadian NBA player Jamal Murray in his game, and his offensive impact could be very similar as well. The Raptors have an amazing system and our staff can REALLY do something with a player like this. On offense he looks like Gary Trent Jr with the point guard IQ and mentality of a Jamal Murray. He does not have the go too moves like Jamal, but he easily gets to his spots much like Gary Trent Jr does. The Raptors pairing Jalen Suggs with Fred Vanvleet in the backcourt is a match made in HEAVEN. Both are amazing defenders. Both players play Shooting guard And Point guard. Both players are able to get their own shots off AND make high IQ passes to teammates. Does he help us win RIGHT away? I am not sure. But he is most DEFINETELY an upgrade from GTJ. (not to knock Gary Trent Jr). It's just that Suggs is the same size, Both have the same defensive potential, and shooting potential. But Suggs is a LEADER, and has such a high basketball IQ at this stage that I just cannot deny his ceiling is way higher than GTJ's AT THIS POINT. Masai Ujuri is the guy that will let us know how good Gary Trent Jr is. If Trent Jr gets a MAX extension, then I do trust that he will play up to his contract and be the starter giving us 20+PPG(Gary can ball). But anything LESS than a MAX extension lets me know that Jalen Suggs is gonna be that guy for us. The Raptors have such an amazing development staff,  I just do not see how Suggs does not develop into one of the Leagues next great Combo guards. (much like a Jrue Holiday or a young Bradley Beal). But Suggs also has a ceiling of becoming Devin Booker with his mix of getting to his spots, hitting shots, and still being able to play Point guard.   Predictions: ***If Gary Trent JR signs a MAX extension**Suggs is our 6th man off the bench and that is his role for his first year. He works on his game in the shadows of our starters, and puts out one of the most efficient campaigns of ANY rookie because he gets to play without responsibilities. For a high IQ player like Suggs, knowing that he just has to MAKE the right plays instead of CREATE or FORCE the right play is gonna do great for his game. 12PPG, 5APG to 1.5 Turnovers per game is good in a 6th man role for a rookie.****If Gary Trent Jr does not get MAX extension**Suggs is an INSTANT starter for the Raptors and Complements Fred Vanvleet and the other starters well. As a Starter he would NEED to create or force the right plays, and would be the Raptors 3rd play maker on offense right away. 16PPG, 4.5APG, to 2.5 turnovers per game on 43% from the field is a good guesstimate for a rookie in this role and scenario. Ceiling: Prime Utah Jazz Deron Williams if he completely hones his point guard skills. IF he ends up being a combo guard? You guys know who Brandon Roy is ??? Suggs is Prime Brandon Roy 2.0.Floor: Bogdan Bogdonovic (Hawks). What you guys think ?? IS Suggs the guy for us ?

[chromium-siren]

Prompt- Modern AU where Hux is a struggling Jazz musician and Phasma's like this famous singer and she's trying to find some peace in a low-key bar where Hux is playing and she sees his talent. Phasma talks to him and he kinda freaks out cause oh my god this is the Phasma and she wants to perform with him and they just fall in love as Phasma helps Hux rise to fame. Bonus- Rey and Kylo play with Hux and bet with each other how long until these two realize that they're madly in love.

Hux figured he was nothing special- anyone who wanted to be in the jazz scene could pick up a saxophone, play a couple of standards, and get a gig at a bar or two (ironically, that was what he did). But he always had this dream of making it to the big leagues, to play at Montreux, to have a band of his own and lead it, heck, maybe he could sing with Phasma, a supremely beautiful jazz singer who was world renowned... but for now, that would be put on hold. His current band, the First Order Quartet was playing a puny bar known as the Finalizer. The gigs he wanted to play, big clubs like The Fulminatrix Ballroom, The Dreadnought, and the Holy Grail- Starkiller Lounge, were only small wisps in his mind, as he stepped onstage, ready to perform. Phasma hurried through the streets of New York, exhausted from her performance at Carnegie Hall. All she wanted was to unwind and not to have people chasing after her, begging for autographs and selfies. Quickly, she ducked into a tiny bar with a neon sign that blared out "The Finalizer- Live Jazz," still keeping her scarf and sunglasses on as she sat at the bar. Meanwhile, onstage, Hux nodded at Rey, the band's drummer, to start the beat. She played the rhythm for "Take Five," then Mitaka, the band's pianist followed. Kylo chimed in on his bass, and finally, Hux played. His alto sax sounded clear across the bar, captivating the patrons- especially the mysterious woman who sat at the bar, who wore a scarf and sunglasses like a Hollywood diva. Phasma always liked listening to live jazz, especially when it came from other musicians or singers- she could hear other people's takes on songs she might have or might not have done. She also used this as an opportunity to find some new talent, someone to bring into the big leagues- so far, no one impressed her. Until she heard Hux play, that is. He was slender, looking dapper in a simple black blazer over a striped shirt, red hair touseled just so, full lips cradling the mouthpiece of the saxophone, eyes closed serenely as he played... he was handsome, obviously, but the way he played was simply sublime. It was as if the audience was under his spell with every note he played, hypnotized in a sort of trance. Phasma was freed from the trance by the sounds of snaps and applause from the audience. Hux took a triumphant bow, and picked up a tenor saxophone, clipping the horn to a neck strap. "I composed this piece myself, I call it 'Chanson du sirène,' and I hope you enjoy," he said, to applause. Kylo opened with his bass, Rey used the brushes rather than the usual sticks, and Mitaka's piano was soulful and longing. Then at last, came the tenor saxophone, soft and whispery, but becoming powerful as the song progressed- like Phasma's voice. More songs were played, and Hux took a break for a while, stopping over at the bar for a drink. "You play beautifully," she said, a hand going up to her scarf. "Why thank you," he replied, taking a sip from his whiskey. "I've been playing saxophone since I was nine- was a bit of a musical prodigy," he added with a sheepish blush. "But I'm pretty sure that I won't make it to Montreux. I'd be like everyone else." "You know, if you played for me, you would be able to go there, and several other places. Oh, but first, let me introduce myself," she said, finally lowering the scarf and glasses. Hux gasped- as did the bartender. He was speaking to Phasma- possibly one of the most famous jazz singers he's heard of! "Miss Phasma, I'm so sorry.""Don't be sorry. I heard your compositions this evening, and I think you have a lot of talent. I'm a lyricist, and we could maybe write a song together?" she asked. Hux's mind was racing- Phasma had spoken to HIM. She wanted to WRITE A SONG with him. Obviously, he had to say yes! "I'd love to!" he said, a broad smile spreading on his face. She digged a notepad out of her purse and wrote her number on it, handing it to him. "Fabulous! You can get in touch with me whenever you want to," she said, as Mitaka called Hux over to the stage. "I have to get back onstage," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "But I can't wait to work together." "Likewise," she replied with a smile. "Enjoy playing." Rey sat at the drums and looked over at Kylo with a smirk. "She was totally flirting with him," she said, with a satisfied grin. "How much do you wanna bet it's a year until they realize they're in love?" "A year? Please, I'd give it four months tops." "You're really rushing it, are you? Then I'll say eight months- just in time for Montreux." "Winner gets to take the other out for lunch," Kylo said, picking up the bass. "Deal." In the end, Rey was right- eight months passed, and Hux was already a member of Phasma's band (Rey was drumming in pit orchestras on Broadway, Kylo and Mitaka were studio musicians), waiting to make his debut at Montreux. "So, Phasma, what was it that attracted you to me?" Hux asked, adjusting the neck strap to his tenor as Phasma put on a necklace and smoothed out her dress. "Well, I could say the obvious- your looks, but it was mainly because of your talent, Hux. I've heard tons of boys play the saxophone. They either do too much or put in little effort. You, on the other hand, have heart and soul, and make it sound good. I mean, it certainly doesn't hurt that you're handsome and sweet," she said, putting on some lipstick. "Really? Then, Phasma... thank you for taking a chance on me out of all the other guys who could've been in my place," he said, going up to her. "I- I love you," he mumbled, looking at the floor awkwardly. "Come again?" "I love you," he said, walking forward slightly. Phasma gasped, but then leaned forward a bit, close to Hux's lips. Slowly but surely, their lips came together, and they kissed sweetly. There was a certain stillness in the air, an ethereal beauty almost, that lingered even as the voice of the emcee welcomed them to the stage, and in every note for every song, giving the music a beautiful sound, a perfect harmony.

[junker-town]

The Donovan Mitchell superstar blueprint

Donovan Mitchell has to raise his game to another level for the Jazz to be a true title contender.

For the Jazz to be the best in the West, Mitchell needs to take his game to another level. Can he do it?

Donovan Mitchell’s team needed a rebound, and he was ready to do anything necessary to get it. Before Turkey’s Cedi Osman could react, Mitchell’s chest was above his head. By the time he jumped, Mitchell’s fully extended right arm was batting the ball out of the sky. Before he could process losing one of the most important rebounds in Turkey basketball’s history to a guy seven inches shorter, Osman watched that same player step through a trap and find Jayson Tatum standing well beyond the three-point line.

This is the ruthlessness Jazz fans have come to adore out of Mitchell. “Enter, Spida-Man Mitchell,” read the recap from SB Nation’s Jazz site SLC Dunk, referencing his ubiquitous nickname while evoking images of Peter Parker swooping in to snatch an innocent child from a collapsing building. That the rebound came in the game’s most important moment is exactly the point. Few players period, much less ones Mitchell’s age, are better at erasing 39 minutes and 50 seconds of spotty play with one Holy Shit! sequence.

The thing is, those 39 minutes and 50 seconds of spotty play count, too. In that time, Mitchell shot 3-12 from the field, struggled on defense, and committed a back-breaking turnover on the previous possession. Gregg Popovich benched him for most of the ensuing overtime, despite his pre-tournament status as the co-star of the team along with Kemba Walker. Did that clutch rebound save a poor performance, or merely obscure it?

This is the challenge of properly rating Mitchell. He has all the bona fides of a cornerstone player. He can score at all three levels. He’s willing to pass and possesses excellent vision. He takes over when he feels he must, but also functions in a team setting. He galvanizes the fanbase with signature moments, both glamorous and blue collar. He has elements of prior stars’ signature style, aggregated to create his own. He’s high-flying, but also smart enough to adjust to the flow of games. All that means he implants many unstoppable moments and games into our memory, such as his 27-points-in-three-quarters scorcher in the quarterfinal loss to France three games later.

Now is the time when the Donovan Mitchell star equation needs to add up

Yet so far, those elements have added up to something less than the sum of their parts. Mitchell’s pejorative reputation as a volume scorer is more than fair. Of the 38 players that ended more than 25 percent of his team’s possessions while on the floor last season, Mitchell ranked 31st in true shooting percentage, 29th in effective field goal percentage, 34th in two-point percentage, 28th in player efficiency rating, 29th in win shares per 48 minutes, and 24th in free-throw rate.

Now is the time when the Donovan Mitchell star equation needs to add up. The Jazz took off the kid gloves this summer, trading significant future assets for 32-year-old Mike Conley, then handing 30-year-old Bojan Bogdanovic a four-year, $73 million contract. Mitchell and the Jazz are suddenly overflowing with elite spot-up shooting, a wide open floor, and secondary playmaking after having significant deficiencies in all three during his career. With the NBA landscape resetting after a wild free agency period, the Jazz have picked the perfect time to level up.

But for Utah to be a serious title contender instead of merely a paper tiger, Mitchell has to actually play like the star guard he occasionally mirrors. For that to happen, Mitchell must follow the path another electric young guard walked.

Nine years ago, third-year point guard Derrick Rose fielded a question about his ambition during the Bulls’ preseason media day.

”The way I look at it, why can’t I be the MVP in the league?” Rose said. “Why can’t I be the best player in the league? I don’t see why not.”

The claim was outlandish at the time. On Oct. 26, 2010 — a month after he put the thought of winning MVP in the public’s head — Rose was listed with 18/1 odds to win the award, behind a list of 11 players that included Brandon Roy (15/1), Amar’e Stoudemire (15/1), Steve Nash (12/1), and Carmelo Anthony (6/1). After Rose defied the odds to become the youngest MVP in league history, that bold preseason quote became iconic.

Rose’s production improved that season in two significant ways. One was by replacing many of his long two-point jumpers with threes. The other was by making the same change in technique and mentality that Mitchell must now make. Rose was more ruthless all the time, and not just in brief moments.

It may sound odd now, but Rose was an inefficient scorer around the hoop, the very area his skill set would suggest he dominate. He was such a gifted athlete that he jumped to avoid contact rather than seek it.

In practice, that meant he took a lot of floaters and off-balanced layups instead of on-point layups and free-throws. In 2009-10, Rose took twice as high a percentage of his shots (64 percent) from short and mid-range areas as he did at the rim (32 percent), according to Cleaning the Glass. Meanwhile, he scored only 4.66 points per 100 possessions at the free-throw line and shot less than 54 percent on shots classified as layups. He was just good enough playing this way to think he was maximizing his best self, but he wasn’t.

Rose spent the summer of 2010 improving his technique to address that shortcoming. In an interview with Chicago Magazine, Rose said that after watching film over the summer, he discovered that he was “picking up the ball too early.” The new Bulls’ coaching staff noticed he often drove without a plan, so Tom Thibodeau urged Rose to attack, in Rose’s words, “north-south,” and “not as much east-west.”

The difference year-to-year was staggering. In his MVP season, Rose took nearly as high a percentage of his shots around the basket (39 percent) as he did in the two mid-range areas combined (41 percent). His shooting percentage on layups rose to 58 percent, and he jumped up to 8.33 free-throw points generated per 100 possessions.

Rose was no more powerful or athletic in 2010-11 as he was in his first two years. He just applied those traits more consistently by cutting out the cute stuff. Rather than use his power to produce fancy moments, he channeled that energy into consistent, punishing pressure on the basket. That in turn made him a more efficient player, one whose collection of offensive skill and athleticism actually added up to the sum of its parts.

Those technical improvements stemmed from a change in mindset. As he told Sports Illustrated: “The best players are killers all the time.” (He didn’t say “on the basketball court,” but let’s assume it was implied).

Is Donovan Mitchell a killer all the time? He certainly is a killer some of the time, often when his team needs a hoop. But these are not the finishes of a killer. Instead, they’re the finishes of a player operating as if he gets bonus points for degree of difficulty.

These were shots Mitchell took in crunch time, but his tendency to make the simple play complicated was even more pronounced during the flow of the game.

These were the shots Mitchell fell in love with, so it’s no wonder his overall scoring efficiency plateaued. Twenty-nine percent of his shot attempts were classified as “short mid-range” (between four and 14 feet) last year, according to Cleaning the Glass. That put him in the 93rd percentile for players at his position and was more than 10 percentage points higher than his portion of shots from that range as a rookie.

That section of the overall pie was gobbled up from a combination of all other zones on the court. Mitchell ended up taking proportionally fewer shots from every other spot on the court, all so he could take more floater-range shots. How’d he shoot on said attempts? Thirty-six percent, a conversion rate lower than from any other zone.

Thirty-six percent on short mid-rangers isn’t horrible — it puts Mitchell in the 37th percentile at his position on such shots, according to Cleaning the Glass — but it’s not great. Mitchell has the capability of getting better looks for himself than this, even if he sometimes makes them.

This leads to an obvious question: why didn’t he generate more efficient shots last year?

One popular reason is that he was victimized by Utah’s cramped spacing. He had to take these shots, the theory goes, because he had no driving lanes to create anything better. This is a modified version of the who else gonna shoot line of thinking that has been used for years to explain away the low efficiency of high-usage stars.

There’s some truth to this claim — otherwise why replace the bad shooters with great ones this summer? — but the effect is overstated. If Mitchell really was a victim of his team’s cramped spacing, you’d think he’d generate better shots when the Jazz ran out lineups with more shooting in them.

However, lineup data suggests otherwise. In both seasons, Mitchell has been more efficient and taken fewer short mid-range shots with notorious non-shooter Ricky Rubio in the game than with him on the bench. Even more significantly, Mitchell was actually more efficient and took fewer floater-range attempts with both Derrick Favors and Rudy Gobert on the floor, as opposed to just one of them.

(It should be noted that the opposite was true when Mitchell was a rookie. Still, the data clearly doesn’t show a consistent trend of Mitchell performing better without those two bigs clogging up the paint).

The reasons for Mitchell’s inefficiency have more to do with Mitchell himself than his surroundings. In particular, his technique is surprisingly poor for someone with his level of athleticism. Like pre-2010 Rose, Mitchell picks up his dribble far too early, though for a slightly different reason. Whereas Rose often looked to pass too early, Mitchell starts his shooting motion too soon. He thinks that he can cover all this ground with two steps and a gather and finish on balance, but he simply can’t. He’s a 6’3 guard, not Giannis Antetokounmpo or LeBron James.

The whole point of taking two long steps after the gather dribble is to set up the defender with the first step, then tap-dance around or bulldoze through them with the second. That’s why the Eurostep is such a devastating move: it pulls the defender one way, then goes back the other. But by picking up his dribble so soon, Mitchell removes the setup effect of that first step.

That makes his drives a lot easier to defend than they should be. Canny defenders can hang back knowing that no matter how large that first step is, it’s not going to cover enough ground to force them to react. Without that reaction, the second step that’s supposed to go around or through them is functionally useless. That’s why Mitchell second step is often sideways rather than forward, and it’s why he throws up so much junk like this.

Mitchell’s balance at the point of attack also hurts him in these situations. He has a tendency to veer outward before advancing to the cup, rather than moving in a straight line. That’s a bad habit because it allows his primary defender to slide back into position and angle him off. It’s common to see Mitchell appear to get a step on his man, only for them to recover and force an ineffective sideways Eurostep that turns into more junk.

Even when Mitchell does get closer to the hoop, he attempts too many wrong-footed layups that lack the necessary power for strong finishes and/or drawn fouls. Mitchell’s leaping ability is second to almost none in the NBA, but that doesn’t mean he’s strong enough to negate bigs from this position.

Wrong-footed layups are an essential part of any player’s diet these days, but they’re best used for quick finishes when the offensive player already already has an angle on a rim protector. They’re much less effective when that driver is coming straight at them.

Just like Rose, Mitchell’s improved technique must also come with a change in mentality. Too often, Mitchell plays like a magician eager to show off all his tricks in a single act. Opponents don’t fear Mitchell’s diverse palette of moves. They fear his theoretical ability to put pressure on the basket with powerful, high-flying drives.

Similarly, Mitchell’s playmaking should service his hard drives, not the other way around. Subtlety is nice, but too much subtlety is counterproductive. On plays like these, Mitchell should be attacking decisively to dunk on the entire state of Texas, not trying to impress them with a side-to-side tap-dance floater.

There’s a place for careful surveillance of the court, but Mitchell is too athletic to be playing so indecisively. Hit the damn hole!

Put another way, Mitchell needs to be more ruthless. We know he has it in him, because he’s already shown an edge in so many high-pressure situations.

But to be the player the Jazz need to be taken seriously as a title contender, he needs to heed Rose’s words. Killers are killers all the time, not just some of the time.