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❝ LONG SHOT ! ❞ ; 001

❝ PROFESSIONAL BASKETBALL PLAYER!GOJO SATORU X PHYSICAL THERAPIST!READER. ❞

SYNOPSIS: After an unexpected encounter with the infamous Gojo Satoru at a local convenience store at 3 A.M. You're given the opportunity to worm your way into his life, but not without a personal invitation from Gojo himself. One thing leads to another, and you're the first person they call when he gets a career-threatening injury, forcing both of you to spend day and night together, but not without some obstacles of course: your cousin.

WORD COUNT : 8K SERIES MASTERLIST : ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . NAVIGATION : ꩜

PT. 1 : PT. 2

Your days start off simple. Wake up at 5 am. Shower at 5:05. Get ready at 5:30. Breakfast at 6:30am. Leave your cozy city apartment at 7:00 am –sharp– to make it to work. 

“Good morning Miwa,” you greet politely, walking past her desk and she scrambles to gather her clipboard. Hot on your tail, she frantically looks over her notes. “What do you have for me today?” You ask.

“Doctor, your first consultation of the day is waiting for you in your office! And your regular patient called to let you know that those exercises you suggested are working wonders!” You nod and hum occasionally to inform her that you’re listening as you maneuver through the rest of the doctors, stopping momentarily to encourage a patient lifting weights. She speaks quickly. “And Doctor Shoko called to ask if you’ll be going to…” she pauses and you figure she’s looking at her notes again. “The basketball game,” and she's quick to add “ —the Jujutsu Sorcerers are playing tomorrow night.” 

You stop abruptly outside of your office door, feeling Miwa lightly bump into your back before she mutters a swift apology. You turn around, raising a questioning eyebrow. “She called about that? Tell her I’m bus-”. Miwa’s quick to intercept. “She insists! Plus, I thought you loved the Jujutsu Sorcerers?”

You think it over.

You did like them. No. They were your absolute favorite basketball team. Besides, you could never turn down a basketball game. 

“Fine. I’ll see her tomorrow night. Thank you Miwa.”

“We have just minutes to go here in the fourth quarter of the season opener at the Sorcerer Stadium. The Jujutsu Sorcerers are up by ten over the Special Grades, thanks much to the tremendous effort of the star point guard, Gojo Satoru.” 

Inside the stadium is loud, as fans cheer on their favorite teams. It’s a full game tonight. A completely sold out stadium with all the people that showed up to praise their favorite players. The energy is loud, and fun. As people stand, and others sit in their seats in a stressful manner—mostly the losing team. 

The two kids behind you wear matching Jujutsu Sorcerers jerseys. One boy is sporting a 01 while the other sports a 02. One for the infamous Gojo Satoru and the other for Geto Suguru. You’re happy to admit that you too are sporting a number 01 jersey.

“Gojo Satoru, one of the best point guards in the league. Living up to his reputation and title of the ‘Chosen One’, tonight.” You listen, and watch intently as the announcers speak of Gojo. As he dribbles left, dodging every player in his way, bypassing their attempts to stop him. He’s unstoppable. 

“He looks inside. And he’s got nothing there.” The announcer anticipates. The crowd stands up from their seats eager to watch his next move. Their anticipation is intense as everyone in the stadium witnesses the Gojo Satoru work up close.

“He’s gonna take it himself!” The announcer exclaimed in disbelief, he himself could not believe this. “Behind the back! He puts it up, and it's good” The entire stadium puts their hands up to cheer, and scream. You see a mix of colors in the crowd, mostly a light blue in support of the Jujutsu Sorcerers. 

You tune out the announcers as Gojo Satoru is celebrating his team's score. He’s sweating so much his jersey sticks to his chest and stomach. You can faintly make out the outline of his abs. His muscles flex as he lifts his shirt up to wipe the sweat off his forehead, his abs on full display. You grin at how hot he is. Anyone with eyes can see it. You swear you hear the girls cheer louder at the display of skin. Even if you were still here for the game, you were still a woman after all. 

“You’re drooling.” Shoko points out beside you, and you almost reach your hand towards your mouth to check before you playfully narrow your eyes at her. “Please,” you say dismissively, “What’s the correct way to react to a court full of sweaty hot guys? Watch the game?”. 

Her eyes roll dramatically before sporting a playful grin, and you bump your shoulder against hers to bring out a full smile from her. You succeed. 

Shoko continues to cheer on the team. This is the most excited you’ve seen her since she found a remaining cigarette in her car after she’d just ran out. You were so distracted by the cigarette addict beside you that you almost missed the foul they gave the other team as Gojo Satoru stands on the free throw line. 

“Gojo Satoru shot 95% from the freethrow line last season, but he’s been 100% tonight.” The announcers go back to bickering about the game, praising Gojo’s in-game scores. “Let’s see if he stays on his hot streak tonight, and for the rest of the season–”. 

Gojo dribbles the ball, and the stadium remains silent. The tension thick in the air as they hold their breath–even you, who leans forward in anticipation. He locks his knees, and shoots straight into the basketball hoop. The ball never even touches the rim. He makes both shots. Gojo smirks cockily as he slaps Geto’s hand twice in celebration. 

“-And he’s done it! It’s 12 in a row, for Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru–number two–has 10 tonight. Quite a duo on the court. I would say.” 

Shoko and you cheer on the team as they celebrate the win themselves. The kids behind you scream so loud your eardrums almost pop, but you can’t find it in yourself to mind.

The energy in the stadium tonight reminds you of why you loved going to basketball games in the first place. The excitement in the court, and in the entire stadium is something no one can miss. 

The kids behind you are so excited that it spreads to you, and you jump up to celebrate with them. Their toothy smiles are so big and bright. They warm your heart. The moment is quickly ruined by the woman sitting on the other side of you, opposite Shoko. 

“Look at that!” Your cousin harshly tugs your arm, pulling you down to reach her seat. “The player’s wives section. Full of snobby bitches.” Her fingers frantically shake to dramatize how much she wants you to see. “I’m looking.” You reply exasperated before rolling your eyes. “She has a custom Birkin! Do you have any idea how expensive that is?” She asks, and you reply with a muttered response “A house mortgage loan, I assume.”

Your cousin was—to put it shortly–spoiled, but you respected her views on someday marrying a rich man. The only problem with that is that she even uses the good ones.

She was a model. Not a well known one, but a model nonetheless. She was gorgeous, and everyone knew it. Even the men you dated. Most of them had gone as far to tell you. But you never let it deter your self-esteem. Men are a defective species and that has nothing to do with you. You choose to push that thought aside before it can develop into a mental breakdown in the middle of a basketball game. 

The children screaming behind you interrupt it before it can. “Look, look!” The kids behind you frantically poke at you to look. 

“He just made a three-pointer,” the boy lisps a little, and you swear you feel the saliva hit your face.

More than half of the game is just Gojo Satoru stealing the ball, and making countless scores. 

You look up at the clock and see the time as it read ten seconds on the board. 

“Gojo Satoru again with the ball!” You watch as he steals the ball and dribbles all the way across the court. Five seconds on the clock. He jumps up, and slams the ball directly into the basketball net with both hands still hanging onto the rim. “Anddd Number 1… brings the game home!” And the final buzzer rings across the court, calling the game. Zero seconds on the board. 

The announcer makes one last comment, “Unbelievable performance by Gojo Satoru.” 

Gojo is instantly swarmed with reporters in hopes of getting a word with him. But he’s fine with this. He loves the attention. He loves it when all eyes are on him. He thinks it’s how it should always be. A cocky man at heart. 

“Tremendous game tonight Gojo Satoru.” The reporter speaks, and she’s too close for any regular reporter, and Gojo catches onto it quickly. “Thank you, thank you.” He responds in an airy flirty tone. 

He scans the stands, and his eyes catch onto a woman helping two kids from their seats—they wear the number of his jersey, and Getos. His eyebrows furrow, and he tunes out the reporter subconsciously. The mysterious woman laughs at something her friend says—and his eyebrows lift up in surprise at the recognition of his friend, Shoko.

“Almost a decade with the Jujutsu Sorcerers, the only franchise you’ve ever played for…” a male reporter takes a lead on his attention as Gojo turns his head over to talk to the male reporter. He smiles into the camera, a radiant smile. 

A player from the opposing team passes Gojo before patting his back, and cheers at him for the good game. 

“...But you’re a free agent at the end of the season. The question everyone wants to know… will Gojo Satoru re-sign with the Jujutsu Sorcerers?” he asks as he shifts the microphone from side to side at the question, urging Gojo to answer. The reporters surrounding him, too, lean closer into him. 

Gojo licks his lips before responding. His chest breathing erratically from the previous game, “I prove myself night in and night out on that court. I’m the best in the league right now. Of course they’ll sign me. I’m the best.”

He winks at the female reporter after his proud admission as her face turns bright red at the display of flirtation. She lowers the microphone to say something to him personally before his manager comes disrupting the flirty exchange and drags him away from the reporters as their distant shouts begin to fade, entering the locker room.  

You’re exiting the stadium before one of your cousin’s friends invites herself into the conversations. Completely interrupting your rant about how horrible the injury a recent basketball player received. 

“Girl, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.” You turn around at the sound of the high-pitched voice, and see a woman dressed in all black, some large classy sunglasses, and a dark cherry red lipstick. Her aura emitted elegance, and high-class. 

“Hey,” she greets you in a monotone voice before turning over to your cousin again and her excitement seems to be shot back into her system as she begins to ramble to your cousin. Your head tilts at her attitude. Disbelief is clear on your face.“It is so packed in here, it is so gross.” She comments with an undeniable hint of disgust in her voice as she clutches her mini purse closer to her. 

“But anyway!” she dismisses, “Gojo Satoru… is having a birthday party Saturday night at his house, but we don’t have the tickets yet, sooooo we’re going to an after party tonight, and see if we can worm ourselves into getting some tickets.” She picks at her nails before grabbing your cousin's hands to shake them in an urging manner. She takes her glasses off to show her a pleading look. 

Your cousin lifts her eyebrow in question, “Where’s the after party?”

“The Shibuya Hotel.” Your cousin thinks it over before nodding, turning over to you. “You don’t mind do you?” 

You smile at her, “No, not at all. Do your thing.” 

“K-K, bye!” Her long slender fingers moving back and forth in a quick and dismissive goodbye. 

The bells above the door jingle to announce the presence of someone entering the convenience store. The sudden sound of them has you looking up. 

After the game ended you went home and locked yourself up to finish some remaining paperwork, before checking the time and deciding to grab a snack at your favorite corner store. 

You glance up at the clock in wonder. It’s currently 3 a.m, and the convenience store tucked into the sketchy corner of the city is always empty. It’s quite a walk from here to your apartment, but a welcomed one. Especially at this time. You always found yourself making late night trips to the store for a midnight snack. They were just something you found quite peaceful. A walk in the dark as you play your favorite playlist, finding a chance to lose yourself in your own head. 

You were close to the owner, an old sweet man that conjured a liking to you because of how much you resembled his daughter that was currently deployed overseas. 

You spare a glance at the hooded figure that steps into the store, their back turned to you, but you note how tall they are. A shiver runs down your spine as the opened door allows cold air to rush into the tight space.

You’re not sure if the shiver was a cause of the gust of wind that slithered its way inside or the new presence of the looming figure. You don't like to ponder on the possibility that it might be the latter.

You continue to browse through the mochi flavors, looking for your beloved one. It’s unusual for them to be unstocked around this time, considering how cold the weather is. And how empty this side of town finds itself to be. You sigh as you bend down to get a better look. 

You feel a presence behind you, and you stiffen at their closeness. A masculine, slender hand, comes into view, as it reaches for the exact flavor of mochi you so happened to be reaching for as well. You both freeze at the sudden, and unexpected contact before both releasing a nervous laugh. 

But neither of you find it in yourselves to retract your hands. You clear your throat before speaking. 

“Listen…It’s been a rough night,” You start, and turn to face him, but pause mid sentence at the look of what he’s wearing. A black face mask, a black hoodie with the hood of it over his head, and some sunglasses?…At night…and indoors? Not only that, but the man in question was insanely tall. Taller than any regular man you’ve encountered. He had the height of a basketball player. 

“Never mind,” You suddenly find yourself not in the mood to argue with a suspicious stranger at 3 a.m. in a sketchy part of town.

Your mother always taught you that as a woman being careful with who you piss off, especially a man that could bring you harm, was important. You wish you had the confidence to defend yourself physically, but you’d rather never have to take those chances. That was the reality of it. 

“You can keep it.” You mutter before gathering your things, and speeding over to the cash register. You watch him scan your items, but you can’t shake off the feeling of two eyes burning holes in your back throughout the whole ordeal.

You pull your scarf tighter against your neck as you speed walk in the direction of your apartment. The cold of the fall and lack of sun always make your entire body quiver. You thank your past self for wearing thick layers of clothing, knowing you wouldn’t be able to handle the freezing weather. 

You never could handle the cold.

Your senses heightened when you heard steps approaching behind you, quickly at that. 

You clench your first in your coat jacket, readying yourself for anything. The steps get closer, and you wait until you feel their presence closely behind you before swinging around, surprising him with a amateaur punch. “Ow!” the stranger winces. “What the fuck!” He chokes out in surprise, holding his face in shock.

You bring your hands up to your mouth in a gasp. “Oh- My-God!” A frantic apology is quick to escape your lips. “Why would you do that?!” You question the stranger exasperatedly. “Don’t–sneak up on a woman like that!” Your hands move around to signal the obvious, it’s dark. 

“Well, fuck!” He responds, “I was just trying to give you the mochi,” His hand extends to reveal the truth. A mochi sits in his grasp—not just any mochi—the one you abandoned back in the store for the sake of it. He chased after you to give it to you. 

Your body deflates at the realization, and it makes you feel a tiny bit sorry. Not for long when you realize he's most certainly at fault. He should’ve known not to approach a girl in the dead of night.

A few feet of distance separates you both, but you can’t help but release a tiny embarrassed laugh at the comedic situation. Your contagious laugh seems to transfer to him because he releases a small huff of amusement under his breath.

You’re both standing under a streetlamp a few feet away from the convenience store, in a defense mode. The stranger in front of you still holds onto his face in an attempt to relieve the pain. 

The physical therapist in you kicks in, and you step closer towards him to inspect the damage. He’s reluctant to let you approach him, tensing is evident in the way his shoulders square up. But you reassure him. “It’s okay,” you softly comfort, “I’m a physical therapist, I just want to see that it won’t bruise or anything.” 

Your words seem to help because his guarded shoulders deflate a little.

“Let me see,” you murmur into the dark, reaching over to remove his hand. He watches you intently through his glasses, and you realize he’s wearing a lot to protect his face. You take the time to study his remote way of dressing. His attempt to hide himself, you reason within yourself. His hair is covered by a black hood, paired with a black beanie, a black face mask that covers his lips and nose, a light blue sweatshirt that brings some color, some gray sweats that cover the entirety of his long legs, and a black puffer jacket to help keep the cold out. He looks warm, yet cold at the same time. 

You wonder why he’s deliberately trying to hide who–or what—he is. 

You find out soon enough because when you peel off his hand, and later his face mask to get a better look at his cheek you blurt out the first thing that crosses your mouth. 

“You’re Gojo Satoru.” It’s spoken in a whisper, he almost doesn’t hear the acknowledgement with how soft your voice travels. Your eyes are wide with surprise, and a bit of elation. It felt like a caress, he notes.

A choked gasp almost leaves your lips when you take off his sunglasses and find the most unreal set of blue eyes stare back at you.

“The one, and only.” His response doesn’t come out as confident as he planned. Instead it came off shaky, and unsure. Breathless even. He blames it on the look on your face, and the way you stare intently into his eyes, seeing straight through him. His lips crack into a smile, and the amused look in your eye caused by his cheesy line.

“You sound more confident on TV.” You retaliate. He’s quick with a witty response, “Maybe you just make me nervous.” He wets his lips with a swipe of his tongue, taking you in. You’re illuminated by the streetlamp.

You laugh at his stupid attempt to flirt with you, playfully dismissing his advances. 

Bringing your focus back to his cheek you inspect it before speaking, “It won’t bruise,” He looks like he’s ready to speak up but you interrupt him by finishing your sentence, “But—you’ll still need to ice it. At least for tonight.”

Of course it wouldn’t bruise, you’ve never taken any lessons on how to properly hit—let alone land a punch. You punched him in hopes of catching him off guard before he could surprise you, giving you the chance to run for the hills, not because you knew you’d be able to take a stranger in a fight. 

When your fight or flight response kicked in, you didn’t even ponder the possibility of punching a professional athlete, let alone a professional basketball player. One that played for your favorite team. Quite frankly you were starstruck, and the fangirl in you was having an entire party. The Gojo Satoru was here. Right in front of you. He was even more gorgeous up close—taller too.

The cameras did indeed do him justice, but nothing ever compares to the real thing. His bright blue eyes, and snow-white lashes were straight out of a magical fairytale. As much as you’d like to jump up and down, and then hug him, you knew you had to contain yourself. Otherwise you would scare him away. Or he would feel too uncomfortable to engage in casual conversation with a crazy fan.

But you were more of a basketball fan than solely a Gojo Satoru fan, and that fact alone was keeping you at bay. Your early childhood years of having a basketball coach father always kept you engaged in basketball in general. 

After going back inside the convenience store to grab some ice from the ice machine—with Gojo trailing closely behind you—you both now sat on the edge of the sidewalk right in front of the convenience store, talking amongst one another about nothing in particular. The only source of lighting being the lit up convenience store, and the streetlamp hovering over your seater figures. 

Gojo sits beside you with a hand holding the ice pack to his face, while another is used to reach into the bag of mochi to grab some more. But your mind can’t seem to ignore how close you two sit against one another, your thighs are almost touching from your close proximity. 

“Thank you.” Gojo’s hushed voice cuts through the silly conversational atmosphere, and turns into a semi-serious one.

A tiny toothless smile spreads across your face, “You can thank me, by winning the championships.” Your knee knocks into his in an attempt to bring back the playful mood, and he takes it gratefully. He responds eagerly by knocking his knee against yours in response. His touch shoots a tingle up your spine.

Your smile must be contagious because the cutest lopsided smile makes an appearance on Gojo’s face, “Oh, so you’re really a die-hard fan?” He teases.

“Ever since I was a little girl.”

“How so?” He asks, his eyes never leaving your face as his hands reach into the bag of mochi to munch on.

“Well,” You think about your next words as you gesture for Gojo to move the bag of mochi closer so that you can grab a piece, “My dad was a college basketball coach—still is—and all through elementary to middle school I would often sit on the side of practices and watch them play. So I kind of developed an interest in watching the sport. I find it nostalgic���in a way. My dad and I just bond over it.”

You mention how you were looking to become a professional NBA physical therapist. It had been your dream ever since you were a little girl. And it still is. Though you’re a current sports physical therapist— the best in your field—you want more.

He’s silent as he reflects on your response. You take this as your chance to bite into your mochi, humming contently at the yummy taste. The chewy texture is satisfying against your tongue, its sweetness seeping into your mood. 

“That’s cool,” he replies after a moment of silence. “I grew up watching—and playing—basketball too.” He pauses, and you patiently wait as he collects his thoughts.

“But mostly because our family has been professional basketball players for generations, and I just kind of fell into that.” 

You nod your head in understanding. You wonder if he’s playing because he genuinely likes the game or because it’s expected of him to continue the tradition. The legacy.

You knew about the Gojo family being generational professional basketball players. Every single one of them have played for the Jujutsu Sorcerers, and because of them they’ve always been an outstanding basketball team. Some consider them to be reincarnations of each other, but that’s just silly internet theories. 

There’s numerous articles about the Gojo family, a lot of them highlighting the way they dominate almost every industry. Their wealth, and worldwide superiority is insanely known. It went beyond just Gojo’s direct family playing professional basketball, their entire family tree is gifted with various qualities. 

You can’t imagine the burden he must carry. 

One thing is certain and it’s that you’re genuinely delighted in his presence. You realize he’s silent before looking over at him, and you frown at the unreadable look on his face. “What’s wrong?” You probe.

His gorgeous bright blue eyes look all over your face in an analytical kind of way, before a ghost smile grazes his features. “Nothing,” he says softly, his eyes staring softly at you, “Nothing at all.” He turns back to bite into his mochi, chewing on it before contently humming to himself. 

A familiar tune, you realize, and you gasp before hitting his arm, “Is that the Digimon tune?” His eyes twinkle in surprise, and something like eagerness—before he takes off into another excited rant. Telling you about his favorite digital pet model toy he used to own as a kid, and how he still has a collection of them at home. He tells you about how he wishes to find a rare one. His descriptions are so animated, and you can’t help but stare fondly at his features. 

Though you weren’t a huge digimon fan, you don’t bother telling him in fear of breaking through his elation.

How the corner of his lips turns up in excitement or how his hands are used to animatedly demonstrate what he is trying to portray. Often used to wave them around. Your favorite feature would have to be his eyes, and the way they sparkle when he talks about something he's passionate about. Even in the darkness his ice cold blue eyes find a way to look so warm.

You like the bubble you’ve both created for yourselves. Time feels unimportant, and worries feel so far away. 

After his rant you fall back into a comfortable silence. The ambience around you does a good job at filling the silence. The crickets hidden in the grass sing as the wind blows, swaying the trees. The moon lightens up the world to the best of her ability. But the city is alive, it always is. New York never sleeps, even at night. It’s probably the time it’s most awake.

Gojo breaks the comfortable silence,“What are you doing Saturday night?” 

You make it back at 7 a.m., (with the help of Gojo driving you home), and thank the gods that you didn’t have work today. Shoko would’ve pestered you about your late-night whereabouts. 

You’re welcomed by the sight of your cousin sitting on the floor by the coffee table surrounded by numerous magazines scattered around the living room. Her concentration prompts you to raise a skeptical eyebrow. 

Cautiously walking into her space to not cause a disturbance, you ask her why she has a mess in your living room. 

“I’m researching.” What could she possibly be researching in a magazine?

She notices your confused silence, and heavily sighs before putting her pen down. “I’m trying to figure out how to marry a professional athlete so that I can leech off him, and live a happy–rich–life. A girl doesn’t just become the wife of a NBA franchise player by accident.” She takes a moment to apply lip gloss before continuing. 

“It takes strategy, good intel, and vision.” She finishes off before grabbing the poster board sitting next to her, showing you a pin board with various different basketball players. Thankfully, a certain bright blue eyed player is absent. 

Next to each of their pictures is their name, age, birthday, interests, basketball team, and other miscellaneous facts. Her entire pin-board looks like an FBI investigation wall.

“Modeling only pays so much. Especially as a model who isn’t a Super-model.” An exasperated breath leaves her lips as if she was exhausted from just explaining the obvious to you.

“I mean look at this!” She says, frantically showing you the magazine. You lean over to get a better look as you read the title. 

‘PROFESSIONAL ATHLETE, NANAMI KENTO’S WIFE STARTS BRAND NEW BAKING TELEVISION SHOW.’

 “These women get fragrance deals, shoe lines, clothing lines, like; Oh.My.God! Even shows!” Each admission becomes more passionate than the last. As she continues to rant to you. “I’m almost 30. I need to start thinking for myself, and my future. Like, now. I’ll find a man, and use him.” 

You laugh at her crazy talk, you start putting fingers down as you list her current struggles, “You’re crashing in my guestroom.” One finger down. “Your BMW got repossessed because you stopped making payments.” Two fingers down. “You haven’t been able to hold a steady job.” Three fingers down. “And you don’t even help clean the house.” Four fingers down.

You wave them in front of her face to try and get your point across. “Look, I’m all for you finding a rich man in the future, and living off of him—that’s fine. But for now, at least help around the house when you can. I work lots of shifts at the clinic, the least you could do is help at home—” 

“Especially since you don’t help me pay any bills.” She’s ready to protest, and cut you off. You make sure you get the last word in. “I don’t care because I get paid enough to cover this nice apartment in the middle of the city. Just, take some stress off my shoulders.” You smile kindly at her.

She lets out a huff of annoyance before turning back to her magazines, and ignoring you. A tired sigh escapes your lips. Her gloomy mood makes you feel pitiful, but thankfully you remember what Gojo said to you that night. 

“Besides, how are you gonna get an NBA husband, if you…” You grab your phone, and tap on the screen before showing her the details for Gojo Satoru’s Saturday birthday party, “Don’t go to the gatherings?” 

Her eyes grow wide with excitement, and she jumps up to hug you. “How did you do that?” She questions in disbelief, as she grabs your phone to see the tickets. “Well, I bumped into him in the street, and one thing led to another so he invited me.” 

She squeals before hugging you again. “I need to figure out what I need to wear. No—I need to figure out what I need to buy to wear.” She runs to your guest room in excitement, muttering to herself as she begins to move further and further away from you. The door slammed shut as an indication that you’re now alone in the living room.

You choose to keep the details hidden of how exactly you met Gojo because of how personal they felt. It felt like something sacred that should be kept between Gojo and you. You didn’t want to let anyone inside your little bubble. As selfish as that sounded. 

What happened earlier this morning felt so refreshing. You softly smile to yourself before walking to your room to rest your eyes before the party. 

Your mom has always believed in destiny. That the universe worked in mysterious ways. She liked the idea that everything was meant to be. People were at a certain place, and time for a reason. Even if you lose something—whatever it may be— the first time, it’ll always come back someway, somehow. 

You believe it now as she enters your old adolescent room before you, holding a box in her hands. You had decided to get ready at your parents house because of how convenient it would be, considering how Gojo’s house is closer to your parent’s house compared to yours. 

“You are going to find a husband tonight.” Your mother laughs. You playfully roll your eyes at her admission. “Mom… don’t start.” You half-heartedly warn before she goes off her lovesick rant, placing the box on the table next to you. 

“Honey, I married your father, and he still can’t believe his luck. I mean I understand, I am beautiful, and so is my gorgeous daughter—”

“—and niece!” Your cousin adds before going back to the mirror, touching up her eyelashes. 

Your mother and you sweetly laugh before continuing, “I mean, when I first met him, it was like love at first sight.” You can’t help the frown that overtakes your features at her admission, a certain white-haired blue eyed man coming to mind.

“Anyway,” Your mother says before waving dismissively, “I have a surprise.” She smiles, before opening the box she had brought with her. You gasp as she pulls out the most gorgeous set of earrings you’ve ever laid eyes on. “Are those…?” You trail off in question. 

“Your grandmother’s diamond earrings.” Your mother confirms before gazing softly at them. “She wore them the night she met your grandfather, and I wore them the night I met your father. And now I want you to wear them.” She tells you. 

“They’re beautiful!” Your cousin compliments, quickly picking herself up from her seat and making her way over. “They are more than beautiful,” Your mother responds in agreement.

“I don’t think those will suit her Auntie, but they will suit me!” You glare at your cousin. Your mom smiles at your cousin before handing them to her. A look of betrayal paints your face. “Then I think you should wear them.” 

Your heart drops at the admission, and before you could protest. The earrings are already on her before you could blink. “What do you think?” She asks you. Ugly. You think. 

“I think I need a shot.” You mutter. 

“Oh my god.” Your cousin says in amazement. “This is beautiful.”

You can’t help but silently agree with her. Gojo’s house was beyond gorgeous. The house was elegant, simplistic, yet lived in. It was decorated enough to uplift the house, rather than outshine it. 

You walk through the main entrance, and see a lot of faces you’d usually see on TV, magazines, and billboard signs. Lots of Gojo’s teammates scatter among the crowd. They’re easy to spot considering their height. 

The music is played to a low volume. The atmosphere emits one of class, tranquility yet fun, and livelihood. People chatter away, immersed in their own worlds, without a care in the world. You suppose that people who have the privilege to attend a Gojo gathering can afford to live without a care in the world. 

As you enter the main living room, you hear a voice command the room. Perfecting timing. 

“I’d like to make a special toast, for a special birthday boy.” Geto grins, lifting his drink to cheer, before grabbing Gojo by the neck and continuing with what you suspect is a birthday speech. As if on queue the people begin to gather around Geto and Gojo.

“I’m sure you’ve all heard this before,” Geto pauses before continuing, “that when some people become rich and famous they turn into pricks…” He looks back at Gojo, “But Satoru’s always been a rich and famous asshole, so it doesn’t apply to him.” He laughs before receiving a shove from Gojo as they share a hearty laugh together. 

“Point is, he’s still the same guy from high school…minus the stickman legs, and high-pitched voice.” The crowd joins in on Geto’s laughter, “To my one and only best friend, happy birthday.” The crowd cheers, and a chorus of ‘Happy Birthday!' ring throughout the room. “Thank you Suguru.” You watch as Gojo and Geto prepare themselves to do a load of shots. As the music begins to pick up again, and the crowd disperses. 

Your cousin taps your shoulder, and you look over at her, “I’m gonna go explore okay?” 

“Oh! O–” You turn around to find her already gone, “--Kay.”

You find your way to the bar, as you sweetly greet the bartender. “Can I have a glass of champagne?”

You’re waiting patiently against the bar when you feel a tap on your shoulder, and a look of surprise crosses your features at the sight of Gojo’s beaming smile. “You made it.” He says happily, eyeing you with a dopey smile. 

“Happy birthday!” You tell him, and his hand rests beside your waist against the bar, slightly caging you in. “I got you a card!” You say, reaching into your handbag for the Digimon themed birthday card, and a breathy chuckle leaves Gojo’s lips at the sight of it. 

His eyes twinkle when he looks back up at you, “Aw, come on,” He says before continuing with a fake pout, “No surprise punch?” 

You laugh at his lame teasing, but play along with him anyway. “Maybe next time, if you decide to run up behind me in the middle of the night, I’ll give you two.” His lips set on a teasing yet flirty smile, raising a questioning eyebrow, “Next time? With the way you look tonight, there will definitely be a next time—”

“Oh god!” A frantic voice interrupts you both, and you’re not surprised to find out the culprit is your cousin. Although you’re happy that she found you again, currently her presence is an unwelcome one. Her hand rests on your shoulder as she looks into your eyes. Your annoyance is quickly replaced with worry as it immediately overtakes your features. “There you are! I am so sorry, but I need to leave.” Your cousin says. 

“What? Why? Is everything okay?” You ask, quickly scanning her for any physical injuries. “Everything is okay! It’s just that I got a call from the non-profit I was working with, and they need me to come in immediately.”

Non-profit? Working with?

“What? You don’t–”, She gives you a look that causes a realization to wash over you. She’s lying to make a good impression. With a roll of your eyes, you clear your throat to look back at Gojo but find that he is already fixated on something. Or more like someone. 

Your cousin. The look on his face causes a sinking feeling to settle in your stomach. “Hey.” He says. 

“Gojo, this is my cousin.” You tell him her name before continuing, “We grew up together.” 

Your cousin barely glances at Gojo before realization dawns on her about who he is, and a flirty smile graces her features. “Oh, hi. Nice to meet you.” She says, before slipping back into a false indifference. Gojo’s eyes never leave her figure, but your cousin has a game to play, and it’s her favorite one. Unfortunately for Gojo, he’s playing right into it. 

“One of the volunteers at the homeless shelter I help out at, just called in sick. So I need to go.” She begins to walk away, but Gojo stops her before she can. “You know, I volunteer too.”

“That’s cool," she says before turning to you and perking up again, “I have to stop by the store to buy some games for the kids, okay?” You couldn’t believe her. Her head tilted to one side while listening to him, a hidden sheen of interest coated her eyes. 

You think you might have to kill yourself after this.

Gojo’s eyebrows raise once again in a curious manner, “You two…live together?” 

“If by living together, you mean she free-loads, then yeah! We live together.” That earns you a gentle elbow in the stomach. “How can I get in touch with you?” He persists with an unrelenting stare.

“Oh…Gojo…It’s Gojo, right?” You feel your eyes roll involuntarily,” I’m sorry I’ve tried the whole ‘dating an athlete thing, and…it’s not my thing. But it was really nice talking to you.” She turns to you once again, and you swear you see a menacing glint in her eye. “Are you ready?”

To jump off a cliff? Absolutely. 

Your cousin walks away, and anger overtakes your entire body. You turn to look at Gojo, and deflate at how his attention is solely on her, and the way she confidently walks away, catching the eyes of many men. Unaware of the attention you hinder as well.

You feel sick to your stomach. You should’ve asked the bartender for a round of shots.

Gojo’s friends watch as you walk away with interest in their eyes. “You know, the objective is not to make them leave.” Geto speaks up. Entranced by you. 

But Gojo’s eyes stay focused elsewhere, before looking at Geto, “I think this worked out just great.” He trails off.

“What the hell was that back there?” You interrogate in a tight voice as soon as you shut the car door. “Oh. Come on.” The tone of her voice has you reeling back. You watch in disbelief as your cousin reapplies her lipstick through your car vanity mirror. She pops her lips before continuing, “Was he looking at me when I walked away?” Her eyes shine with a gleam of deviltry.

A scoff leaves your lips, and you look away from her. “Yes, he was.” Sadly. “You do realize, you don’t work—let alone volunteer—for a homeless shelter, right?” 

“Obviously,” she counters, “But he seemed like the kind to fall for that kind of stuff. So I gave it to him, and it worked. I won’t even need to work a job anymore when I get to live in this big house.” Her hands gesture back to the direction of Gojo’s house before continuing to fix her makeup. 

“You don’t even work a job now.” You emphasize with raised eyebrows, and a tilt in your head. “Besides, you rejected him.”

“Yeah,” your cousin responds in a ‘duh’ tone, “That’s probably the first time that’s ever happened since…forever. Trust me…” She trails off while fixing her hair, “I’ll be hearing from him.”

And she did. 

The next morning you’re almost leaving your apartment for work when you hear a knock, and find a well dressed Gojo before your eyes. You raise a questioning eyebrow at the sight of his presence. 

He eyes you for a little before clearing his throat. “Is your cousin here?” A hesitant tone overtakes his features, studying you for a reaction. 

Your heart threatens to drop, but you clear your head before it can. “Yeah.” You respond somberly before continuing, “She’s in her room. I’ll go get her.” You turn around to fetch your cousin but pause mid-turn as a sudden question sweeps into your head. You turn to face him once again in clear confusion.

“How did you know I lived here?” You ask skeptically. Gojo grins confidently, a lazy smile gracing his features, “I know people.” 

“That’s reassuring.” You drift away from him after curtly inviting him inside your home, and you watch as he studies your cozy apartment. Zero-ing in on the personal pictures of you you’ve hung up on your bookshelf. A faint hum comes out of him as he studies your pictures intently, memorizing them. 

“Aren’t you nosy.” You quip at him teasingly. He turns to look at you with a playful expression. “Well, I find you interesting.”

“Well not interesting enough,” you say, muttering to yourself. “What was that?”

“Nothing.” You say walking away from him to get your cousin. 

Everything took off from there. One dinner turned into two, then three, and then more than you could count on two hands. It’s like their love came easy for them, and you could tell by the countless tabloids covering their every move. 

From Gojo’s ravenous yacht dates with your cousin, to endless shopping sprees. Everyday a new magazine feature was released to keep the public updated on their love story. But you didn’t need to read them to know how good they were to one another. You could tell by the way they’d gaze at each other, more on Gojo’s part. 

She’d come home countless times, with something new to share. Whether it was a new expensive necklace Gojo had bought her, or he took her overseas on a spontaneous trip. You sat there and took it. You were helpless, and all you could do was blindly support her. Encourage their relationship. 

And Gojo? He became unstoppable. It was impossible to believe how much better his life got—considering how great it already was. He was amazing on the court, and off the court (so you’ve heard). Your cousin got her wish granted. She could finally sit in the basketball wives section, sporting a new exclusive purse every game. She got the brand deals she always wanted, and a feature on a well known magazine. The paparazzi were so obsessed with them. Oftentimes photographing them on outings, whether it was an exclusive club, or a sweet night out together. 

Headlines often portrayed their relationship as anything short of wonderful. 

“PACKING IT IN: Gojo Satoru ushers his precious girlfriend into his Mercedes after spending an exhaustive day buying up boutique Manhattan.”

“LOOK OUT!: Gojo Satoru and girlfriend share a sweet kiss at a beach in Bora Bora.”

She got everything she ever wanted, and Gojo wasn’t an exception.

At first it felt like you were drowning. Like you couldn’t escape them, but then acceptance began to settle in.

You were aware of your brief interaction with Gojo. Though it felt like more than that, you realize maybe you’d jump the gun too fast. The way you both clicked that night, maybe you’d imagined his interest in you. Maybe you’d wish so badly for it that it twisted your reality of things. You’d wished to have swept him away the way your cousin did. It hurt to see the man you’d ever truly had a faint interest in slowly fall in love with your cousin. They were just so in love. At least, he thought he was.

But it didn’t matter anyway, it’s not like you knew the guy–beyond just a conversation that lasted hours. Vulnerability leaving you both bare to one another. Gojo wasn’t yours. And now he’ll never be. 

You weren’t bitter. No. On the contrary, at first you were upset—granted—, but then you were happy for her. How could you be bitter? You had your own thing going on. It was going to take far more than this to hurt you. Besides, you could just avoid Gojo Satoru, right?

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[woodland-gremlin]

Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 1

Please check out Time Zone AU Summary and Fruitloops for context.

Red Robin knows John Constintene for many things. As a lead consultant for the occult. A member of the Justice League: Dark.The Laughing Magician. Hellblazer. A con man, sad trench coat man, and, as Danny likes to call him, a soul whore. He never thought he would have to add idiot to that list. Though with how many demons he pisses off on a daily basis maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised.

“Pariah Dark?” asked Superdouche.

Constantine nodded grimly.

“He is our only bet at this point. As the High King of the Infinite Realms he holds jurisdiction over Trigon and even if Trigon doesn’t listen Pariah is strong enough to defeat him. The problem with that though is that we would just be trading one bastard for another,” the occult magician explained.

“Explain,” Batman growled out.

“He was a tyrant,” Supernova, previously known as Superboy, piped in.

Before the Dark Knight could demand further explanation or Supernova's template could say something demeaning, Constantine cut in.

“What do you mean ‘was’? I highly doubt that the all powerful tyrant suddenly decided to turn over a new leaf and stop conquering worlds and eating souls.”

Red Robin’s handsome, yet oblivious, boyfriend did not sense the danger of the question and answered, “He didn’t, he just isn’t the King anymore.”

The con man opened his mouth, looking like he was losing his mind, before just shutting his mouth and contemplated how his life got to this point. He was just fine conning demons, detective work for the occult, and doing the occasional good deed, but no,  he just had to get involved with the League of Goody-Two-Shoes who have no idea how to handle the supernatural. He was getting flashbacks to the time he realized that the Bats had no idea that they had a city spirit watching over them (he refuses to be the one to explain that to them). Or having to deal with the Flashes saying that magic wasn’t real. He wasn’t paid enough for the shit the League puts him through.

To be continued . . .

Next

[what-shitfuckery-is-this-ew]

BOYCOTTING FOR PALESTINE

The Official BDS Boycott Targets

Campaigns

Block the boat: End maritime arms transfer to Israel

Ban Apartheid Israel from Sports (FIFA, Olympics)

CAF get off Israel's train: Boycott CAF

Greenwashing Apartheid

Israeli Spyware

Military Embargo

Farming Injustice

Consumer Boycotts - a complete boycott of these brands

Cisco

Axa

Puma

Carrefour

HP

Siemens

Chevron

Intel

Caltex

Israeli produce

Re/max

Ahava

Texaco

Sodastream

Intel

Organic Boycott Targets - boycotts not initiated by BDS but still complete boycott of these brands

Disney

Macdonald's

Dominos

Papa Johns

Burger King

Pizza Hut

Wix

Divestments and exclusion - pressure governments, institutions, investment funds, city councils, etc. to exclude from procurement contracts and investments and to divest from these

Elbit Systems

CAF

Volvo

CAT

Barclays

JCB

HD Hyundai

TKH Security

HikVision

Pressure - boycotts when reasonable alternatives exist, as well as lobbying, peaceful disruptions, and social media pressure.

Google

Amazon

AirBnb

Booking.Com

Expedia

Teva

Here are some companies that strongly support Israel (but are not Boycott targets). There is no ethical consumption under capitalism and boycotting is a political strategy - not a moral one. If you did try to boycott every supporter of Israel you would struggle to survive because every major company supports Israel (as a result of attempting to keep the US economy afloat), that being said, the ones that are being boycotted by masses and not already on the organic boycott list are coloured red.

5 Star Chocolate

7Days

7Up

Apple

Arsenal FC

ALDO

Arket

Axe

Accenture

Ariel

Adidas

ActionIQ

Aquafina

Amika

AccuWeather

Activia

Adobe

Aesop

Azrieli Group

American Eagle

Amway Corp

Axel Springer

American Airlines

American Express

Atlassian

AdeS

Aquarius

Ayataka

Audi

Barqs

Bain & Company

Bayer

Bank Leumi

Bank Hapoalim

BCG (Boston Consulting Group)

Biotherm

Bershka

Bloomberg

BMW

Boeing

Booz Allen Hamilton

Burberry

Bath & Body Works

Bosch

Bristol Myers Squibb

Capri Holdings

Costa

Carita Paris

CareTrust REIT

Caterpillar

Coach

Cappy

Caudalie

CeraVe

Check Point Software Technologies

Cerelac

Chanel

Chapman and Cutler

Channel

Cheerios

Cheetos

Chevron

Chips Ahoy!

Christina Aguilera

Citi Bank

Codral

Cosco

Canada Dry

Citi

Clal Insurance Enterprises

Clean & Clear

Clearblue

Clinique

Champion

Club Social

Coca Cola

Coffee Mate

Colgate

Comcast

Compass

Caesars

Conde Nast

Cooley LLP

Costco

Côte d’Or

Crest

CV Starr

CyberArk Software

Cytokinetics

Crayola

Cra Z Art

Daimler

Dr Pepper

Del Valle

Daim

Doctor Pepper

Dasani

Doritos

Daz

Dior

Dell

Deloitte

Delta Air Lines

Deutsche Bank

Deutsche Telekom

DHL Group

David Off

Disney

DLA Piper

Domestos

Domino’s

Douglas Elliman

Downy

Duane Morris LLP

Dreft Baby Detergent & Laundry Products

Dreyer’s Grand Ice Cream

eBay

Edelman

Eli Lilly

Evian

Empyrean

Ericsson

Endeavor

EPAM Systems

Estee Lauder

Elbit Systems

EY

Forbes

Facebook

Fairlife

Fanta

First International Bank of Israel

Fiverr

Funyuns

Fuze

Fox News

Fritos

Fox Corp

Gatorade

Gamida Cell

GE

Glamglow

General Catalyst

General Motors

Georgia

Gold Peak

Genesys

Goldman Sachs

Grandma’s Cookies

Garnier

Guess

Greenberg Traurig

Guerlain

Givenchy

H&M

Hadiklaim

Huggies

Hanes

HSBC

Head & Shoulders

Hersheys

Herbert Smith Freehills

Hewlett Packard

Hasbro

Hyundai

Henkel

Harel Insurance Investment & Financial Services

Hewlett Packard Enterprise

HubSpot

Huntsman Corp

IBM

Innocent

Insight Partners

Inditex Group

IT Cosmetics

Instacart

Intermedia

Interpublic Group

Instagram

ICL Group

Intuit

Jazwares

Jefferies

John Lewis

JP Morgan Chase

Jaguar

Johnson & Johnson

JPMorgan

Kenon Holdings

Kate Spade

Kirks’

Kinley Water

KKR

KFC

KKW Cosmetics

Kurkure

Keebler

Kolynos

Kaufland

Kevita

Knorr

KPMG

Lemonade

Lidl

Loblaws

Levi Strauss

Louis Vuitton

Life Water

Levi’s

Levi’s Strauss

LinkedIn

Land Rover

L’Oréal

Lego

Levissima

Live Nation Entertainment

Lufthansa

La Roche-Posay

Lipton

Major League Baseball

Manpower Group

Marriott

Marsh McLennan

Maison Francis Kurkdjian

Mastercard

Mattel

Minute Maid

Monster

Monki

Mainz FC

Mellow Yellow

Mountain Dew

Migdal Insurance

Marks & Spencer

Mirinda

McDermott Will & Emery

Motorola

McKinsey

Merck

Michael Kors

Mizrahi Tefahot Bank

Merck KGaA

Micheal Kors

Milkybar

Maybelline

Mount Franklin

Meta

MeUndies

Mattle

Microsoft

Munchies

Miranda

Morgan Lewis

Moroccanoil

Morgan Stanley

MRC

Nasdaq

Naughty Dog

Nivea

Next

NOS

Nabisco

Nutter Butter

No Frills

National Basketball Association

National Geographic

Nintendo

New Balance

Nutella

Newtons

NVIDIA

Netflix

Nescafe

Nestle

Nesquick

Nike

Nussbeisser

Oreo

Oral B

Old spice

Oysho

Omeprazole

Oceanspray

Opodo

P&G (Procter and Gamble)

Pampers

Pull & Bear

Pepsi

Pfizer

Popeyes

Parker Pens

Philadelphia Cream Cheese

Pizza Hut

Powerade

Purina

Phoenix Holdings

Propel

Ponds

Pure Leaf Green Tea

Power Action Wipes

PwC

Prada

Perry Ellis

Prada Eyewear

Pringles

Payoneer

Procter & Gamble

Purelife

Pureology

Quaker Oats

Reddit

Royal Bank of Canada

Ruffles

Revlon

Ralph Lauren

Ritz

Rolls Royce

Royal

S.Pellegrino

Sabra Hummus

Sabre

Sony

SAP

Simply

Smart Water

Sprite

Schwabe

Shell

Soda Stream

Siemens

StreamElements

Schweppes

Sunsilk

Signal

Skittles

Smart Food

Sobe

Smarties

Sephora

Sam’s Club

Superbus

Samsung

Sodastream

Sunkist

Scotiabank

Sour Patch Kids

Starbucks

Sadaf

Stride

Subway

Tang

Tate’s Bake Shop

The Body Shop

Tesco

Twitch

The Ordinary

Tim Hortons

Tostitos

Timberland

Topo Chico

Tapestry

Tropicana

Tommy Hilfiger

Tommy Hilfiger Toiletries

Turbos

Tom Ford

Taco Bell

Triscuit

TUC

Twix

Tottenham Hotspurs

Twisties

Tripadvisor

Uber

Uber Eats

Urban Decay

Upfield

Unilever

Vicks

Victoria’s Secret

V8

Vaseline

Vitaminwater

Volkswagen

Volvo

Walmart

Wegmans

WhatsApp

Waitrose

Woolworths

Wheat Thins

Walkers

Warner Brothers

Warner Chilcot

Warner Music

Wells Fargo

Winston & Strawn

WingStreet

Wissotzky Tea

WWE

Wheel Washing Powder

Wrigley Company

YouTube

Yvel

Yum Brands

Ziyad

Zara

Zim Shipping

Ziff Davis

[bet-on-me-13]

Lady Gotham raises Bruce Wayne

After the tragedy that happened on that fateful night in Park Row, the Spirit of Gotham understood something.

Bruce Wayne was destined to become the Dark Knight of her City, the Protector of Gotham and all of her peoples, as well as one of the Greatest Heroes to ever exist. And to fulfill that Destiny his life would be filled with hardships and pain beyond what most Mortal men would be able to Handle.

So, she decided, "Nope. My child, my rules."

She may not be as caring or compassionate as her Sister, Metropolis, but she can still feel enough compassion to know that she doesn't want this little boy to suffer all that alone.

So she takes on a Mortal Form and crafts herself an Identity, and then gets herself Hired as the new Maid, as a partner to Alfred.

She take up a Maternal Role in Bruce's life, similar to Alfred's Paternal Role. But while Alfred starts teaching Bruce about all of his old MI6 Training, Lady Gotham starts training Bruce is more Mystical stuff.

She basically teaches him everything there is to know about Magic, everything he could possibly ever need.

She teaches him about the different monsters of the world, how they can be beaten and how they can be befriended.

She teaches him about all the different types of Magic she knows of, just so he knows what he is getting into if he ever decides to learn how to use it. Or how to counter it.

She teaches him about all the different dimensions she can think of, from the Fae Wilds to the Ghost Zone. In fact, she teaches him mostly about her own original home, the Infinite Realms.

She tells him about the history of the Realms, how they came to be and all about the beings thay reside there.

She tells him the story of Pariah Dark, the good king who fell to his own Hubris and became a tyrant.

She tells him about Clockwork, the Ghost of an Ancient Tita who now lives in search of redemption by keeping the world safe.

She tells him about the Ancients, who banded together to Seal away the Tyrant Pariah, and then split up to rule over their own Kingdoms.

And this information comes in handy when he eventually becomes the Batman. While he never did learn how to use Magic, he is still one of the most accomplished Magical Consultants in the World (Something that really ticks off a certain sad trenchcoat man). Whenever the League has an Issue with a Magical Threat, they always turn to Batman.

So Lady Gotham thinks she did her job pretty well.

And then he adopts kid...and she absolutely ADORES THEM!

Dick is so Carefree and fun! Jason was such a bookworm, even after his death and resurrection! Tim was such a smart kid, she was honestly hoping he would be chosen as the next Robin. Stephanie added a much needed air of joy to the house, for her short time with them. And Damian was such a petulant but creative child!

She absolutely loves them!

So when some crooks manage to kidnap HER Grandbabies while they are on a civilian family bonding trip to the Park, there will be Hell to Pay.

She may not be as compassionate as her sister, but she can be twice as Vengeful.

[write-or-run]

Jack and Maddy as Justice League consultants

As the world's foremost experts on ectobiology the Fentons are an invaluable resource, and their activities probably count as vigilantism, but The JL never invited the couple as official JL members. 

Officially this is due to the Fentons being so specialized in ghosts and ectobiology. The Fentons are brilliant scientists, that much is indisputable. With their skills in biology, radiology, and engineering they managed to quantify a form of magic and pioneer a whole new field of study. 

It's just that they can get a little… absentminded. 

This ends up a moot point when Fentons (believing that the JL was about to invite them to join) state that they intend to focus on studying ghosts. But don't worry they would be happy to help out with any ghost problems!

…

edit: got rid of the duplicated paragraphs, Super embarrassing!!!

The League first became entangled with the Fentons when a young sorcerer named Nicolas Edgar Nolan, more commonly known as Nick Necro, launched an attack on the members of the Justice League. He sought revenge on Giovanni Zatara for rejecting him as a student when the stage magician discovered that Nick had become involved with a dark cult. 

Nick had managed to get his hands on a gauntlet that allowed him to create gremlin-like servants by sacrificing the lifeforce of other creatures. (Unbeknownst to him, the artifact's original owner, known only as the Overlord, was locked away within the gauntlet. With each additional minion the Overlord gains more influence over the user) The dark sorcerer had sent these creatures to attack the Justice League, thereby leaving Zatara without his allies. 

The artifact is eventually identified by Zatara as the Gauntlet of Tyranny, one of many curios that could be found in the Infinity Realm. Due to the gauntlet’s nature, its creations had the same properties as those of the Infinity Realm’s denizens, making them very hard to defeat. 

At least they were, until a couple of crackpot graduates from the University of Wisconsin-Madison came blasting onto the scene. 

Like everyone else in the world, the recently married Fentons were paying close attention to broadcasts about the latest alien invasion. Of course the couple were able to recognize the ghostly origin of the minion’s powers, and the pair immediately packed up their home-made ghostbusting equipment and set out on the most important cross-country trip of their life! (Unfortunately there was no way for them to fly out as the airport security refused to let them bring their blasters onboard)

Since Zatara’s main place of residence was in Gotham, that's where Nick Necro focused his attacks. It's also the direction that Jack and Maddy’s prototype Fenton Finder points them towards.

The Fentons make their way to Gotham with a trail of defeated minions and property damage behind them. Along the way they encounter Flash, Hawkwoman, and Captain Atom. The Fentons supply the heroes with their prototype ecto-based weaponry. Unfortunately the scientists don't wait to explain anything so the heroes are left to figure out who that couple was and how the gadgets work.

Flash is given a glowing baton that pops the minions on contact. Unfortunately it’s battery cant hold a charge and Flash has to keep repowering it with his lightning. 

Hawkwoman is frustrated when the hard light ecto-blade keeps fritzing out, but discovers the nth-metal of her mace stabilizes it. 

Captain Atom gets a giant tuning fork to his confusion. Eventually he figures out that by channeling his power through it the nearby minions are forcibly gathered at the fork’s end, and he can take them all out with one blast.

Upon arriving at Gotham the Fentons make their way to the city’s last operating clinic, arriving just in time to save doctor Leslie Thompkins. Together they fortify the clinic and set up a shield that keeps out all ghostly beings. 

Poor Batman hasn't gotten a break all week. A mystery enemy had been ambushing members of the League. By the time they identified the culprit as Nick Necro the man had been able to gather enough forces to launch a siege against America's largest cities, with a special focus on Gotham due to it being the home of Nick’s target, Giovanni Zatara. Now some unknown vigilanties were setting up base in his godmother's clinic. Sure the couple claim to want to help, but Batman didn't get this far by trusting people at face value. He interrogates them about everything,  why are you here, how do you know so much about the attackers, what are your devices, etc…

The Fentons are thrilled that this bat-themed fellow is so interested in their work and are happy to gush about it in between shooting minions. Batman is immediately given full access to their makeshift lab and equipment without so much as a thought to security or safety.

Baman begrudgingly teams up with the Fentons but will definitely do a more thorough (re: invasive) investigation on the Fentons later. But for now they cooperate to make a device that neutralizes the Gauntlet of Tyranny.

…

And that’s how it all started.

On one hand Jack and Maddie now have a support system of fellow scientists and vigilantes. On the other hand they are now heroes in the DCU.

Occasionally Jack and Maddie end up on comic book flavored adventures (I'm watching clips of Batman the Brave and the Bold while coming up with this). When they're gone the Fenton kids are usually looked after by their parents' work friends. Mr Terrific, Atom, Swamp Thing, Barry Allen, etc. At some point 12 yr old Dick ends up babysitting 6 yr old Jazz and 4 yr old Danny.

[clockwayswrites]

A Broken Sort of Normal Part 12

WC:1376, Masterpost

“Danny, come on,” Wally said, laughter clear in his voice. “There will be time to stare at the stars after.”

“But Flash, space,” Danny said with what he would readily admit as a whine as he motioned to the expansive view of space with earth floating in the bottom of the window. Danny didn’t know if the Zeta tube had been exactly worth the trip (he had nearly had a panic attack), but the view made a pretty compelling argument. The urge to go intangible and phase through the acrylic to be in space was so strong that Danny didn't even dare touch the window.

“But your meeting, Danny. Flash is going to be waiting for you, and you how how us Flashes get.”

Danny sighed but turned away from the window with one lingering look.

“Go and be great. After we can stare at space some and, maybe… if you’re up to it, meet some of my friends?”

“Like the infamous Nightwing?”

“Shush,” Wally said, placing a finger to his lips. “He’s like Beetlejuice, you might summon him just by saying his name.”

“Pretty sure you need to do that three times,” Danny pointed out, following Wally to the door.

“Oh yeah? You up on ghost lore?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m an expert,” Danny said dryly. If only Wally knew.

(Well, then Danny would be dead.)

“We can watch it next date night. Right now, you go be awesome, hero.”

“Flash, you really cannot call me a hero when we’re in the Justice League base.”

“Can and will, now go, hero,” Wally said, shooing Danny down the hall to where Barry was waiting.

“Gonna give me any hints about what’s going on?” Danny asked the older Flash once they had started walking.

“Just to be yourself,” Barry said. “You’re a good person and you know what you’re doing out there in the field. I wouldn’t’ve recommended you for this otherwise. And I meant what I said, your ability to take no crap is part of why I did. You don’t have to take any crap from anyone in there either, no matter who they are.”

Who they were turned out to be many of the founding members: Batman, Wonder Woman, Superman, and of course Flash… Flash who really thought too highly of him. (What was with the Flashes doing that?)

There were also three other people not dressed in supersuits, who Danny figured were there for the same reason he was. Whatever that was.

“Flash,” Superman said with a nod to the hero and then a smile to Danny. “And you must be Mr. Fenton.”

“Just Danny is fine, thank you for the invitation,” Danny said, shaking Superman’s hand, continually reminding himself not to use any of his strength all the while.

“Of course, have a seat. We’re just waiting on… well, never mind,” Superman said cheerfully as the Martian Manhunter swept into the room. (Danny help back the excite squeak he wanted to make.) “J’onn.”

“Superman. Am I late?”

“Just on time. We can go ahead and get started.”

Everyone settled around the table, the normal people waiting for the heroes to take their preferred seats before settling together on the other side over the oval table.

“Thank you all for coming here today,” Wonder Woman said with a warm smile. “As you know, we’ve asked you here today based on your capabilities. Specifically, to help us build an emergency response team that can act in aid of crises the Justice League responds to.”

“We’ve already been doing this in some places at the city level,” Barry said, leaning forward. His hands were clasped on the table. Danny knew from experience that it was just so that he didn’t fidget from having to sit still. “Central City has been operating with our own set up for two years now and we’ve seen huge success in both lives saved, but also a bigger level of overall personal safety during attacks. People are getting out of the way faster, safer, and more often than before.”

“So we’re looking to do the same thing on a bigger level and we’d like your advice,” Superman said. “Right now, you’re here as consultants and will be paid for your time. Assuming we all work well together, you’ll have a chance to sign on once things are officially underway.”

Danny raised his hand.

“You can just talk, Danny, this isn’t school,” Flash said.

Danny felt a blush crawl up his cheeks and sat up straighter, stylus tapping nervously against his tablet. “I know this is putting the cart before the horse, but you can’t need us all the time. If we choose to sign up, will we still be able to work our current jobs? I don’t want to abandon Central. I mean, not that they can’t do without me, I have great coworkers, but it’s… you know, home.”

“A noble want,” Wonder Woman said. “The reality of it would depend on the level of administration work you are in charge of, but no. You should be able to continue working in Central and be on call for other emergencies, or that is our assumption. You all are the experts, though, which is why you are here. Perhaps introductions are in order?”

“Brent Green,” the one furthest from Danny cut in without hesitation. He was the most formally dressed of all of them, suit jacket and all, and had that air of superiority that made Danny want to bristle. “Director of Star City’s emergency response team.”

“Debra Day,” the woman next to Danny said next. There was a southern twang to her words. “Thirty years of search and rescue experience, ex Coast Guard, currently focused on instruction.”

“Leo Klein, they/them,” the last said. “Emergency management and prevention training.”

“Danny Fenton.” He felt out of place compared to all the other skill sets. “Team lead and field medic in Central City.”

“And I’m sure you know us,” Superman said with a chuckle. “Now, what are your thoughts.”

“First we have to establish a system of hierarchy and devision of labor,” Brent said, once again jumping in before anyone else. “It is important to know who has right away in the field.”

Danny resisted the urge to raise his hand again and took the chance of Brent pausing to speak. “Those are all good thoughts, but you’re getting ahead of things. Cities and countries will already have established teams, even if it’s just police and fire fighters. Are you all wanting us to come in and work with them? Ahead of them? Under their leadership? When we started in Central there were a lot of accidental hurts because the two sides didn’t sit down and talk enough at first, and this is on an even bigger scale.”

“He’s right,” Debra said. “The National Guard could be a good model both for the US, but also for any other nations you might want to explore into to see how things are handled there.”

“And you’ll need to get started on PR right away no matter the choice,” Leo said, leaning forward ad engaging now. “Like Danny said, it’s easy to step on toes and we don’t want to do any of that.”

Brent was frowning, slightly, then sighed and nodded. His shoulders relaxed a little. “No, good points. PR for the citizens too, to know to look out for us. We could get feed back on what worked in the cities with teams set up.”

“And places that have seen attacks outside of there. It’s easy to focus on big cities, but smaller towns and rural areas still can see attacks and have different needs,” Danny added to considering nods.

Now that they were all working together, Danny felt himself relaxing too. There were a lot of nerves for most people to get over working with heroes, Danny guess. Even he wasn’t immune to caliber of people that they were in the room with and he ate dinner with the one at least once a month.

Also Batman seemed to be watching him.

Well, whatever, talk was flowing easily now. They’d get their feet under them. They’d have to if they wanted this to work.

-----

AN: And some food for all of you here too! Danny learns why he's at the Watchtower! And manages to not be too distracted by space- a true accomplishment.

Sorry if there are more issues than normal, my letter swapping/word salad has been a bit bad lately. And I've really messed up my one finger ;-;

But anyways! Slower part but next chapter.... nightwing. Dundundun Stay delightful, darlings!

I no longer tag, but you can subscribe to the master post!

[sparkoflena]

I think that DC should dig into the All Of The Bats Are Geniuses thing outside of cases.

- I think Inventor Who Skipped Multiple Grades Tim Drake should consult with Was A Mathlete In School Dick Grayson on his side projects while somebody is just like "did they just invent a machine to cure cancer" or something wild like that

- I think that League Of Assassins Artistic Detail Damian Wayne should start stealing Tim's photography pieces and drawing/making them art to prove himself better until the both of them have an entire exhibit of Sibling Competition Art/Photos

- I think that Strategist Who Built A Criminal Empire To Protect His Part Of His City Jason should just start bouncing facts off of Day Shift Gotham Protector And Riddler Stumper Duke Thomas in like a library or coffee shop and freaking out the background characters with all of this hyperspecific military strategy talk

- I think that The Only Bat With Emotional Competence Cassandra Cain should just start pointing out Bruce's details

- I think that Tech Genius Oracle Barbara Gordon should start telling the GCPD about different ways to fix their digital security just so that it gets more entertaining every time she hacks it. And also I desperately want to watch her hack the Pentagon.

- I think Charismatic Dick and People Understanding Cass should just start going to galas together to force secrets out of WE competitors.

- I think that Duke and Tim should team up to make the Riddler cry. As a treat. Bonus Points if they are both in civvies.

- I think that all of the Batkids should be submitted to an invention/hacking competition, just for Bruce/Alfred to pull them out last second because "you would obviously win and that's too much of a risk to our identities" despite the fact that Gotham is already pretty sure the Wayne Kids are secretly a million times smarter than they let on

[elizabethemerald]

Son of the Red Hood: Part 2

Timely Conversations and New Fathers

Diana Prince strolled through the gardens of Themyscira enjoying the moment of peace in between missions for the Justice League. Flowers of all manner were blooming and flourishing in the gardens, small birds and butterflies flying lazily from flower to flower. She smiled to herself as she rubbed her fingers against one of the blooms, releasing more of the heady scent. 

“Diana!” A voice she recognized called to her from behind. 

She turned and midway through the turn realized something was wrong and pulled her blade as she completed the turn. Sophia, her dear friend stood a few yards away, her arm upraised in greeting, though frozen in place. The butterflies were similarly frozen in place, some mid flap of their wings. 

Diana turned again, keen eyes trying to pick out any threat. When she once again faced the same direction she had been walking in she saw a grandfatherly being with teal skin and a purple robe. She may not recognize the being’s face, but she could feel the energy coming off him well enough. She slid one foot back as she settled into a fighting crouch. 

“Lord Kronos.” 

“Peace God-Killer.” The being said. “I have no wish to cause harm to you, your home or this world. Besides, your work is already completed in my regard.” 

She stayed tense, ready for any attack but when none came she strode forward and thrust her sword into the being’s chest. Kronos looked down at the blade with a grimace but didn’t otherwise react. 

“You are a spirit.” Diana said simply before withdrawing her blade. 

“Yes I am. Among my kind I am known as Clockwork now.” 

Diana stepped back, but stayed wary of any trick. Spirits were just as known for trickery as Titans were known for aggression. She did not know what to make of the spirit of a former Titan. 

“Very well, Lord Clockwork. Why have you come? And what have you done to the inhabitants of Themyscira?” 

“I have simply frozen you and I in a single moment. When I depart things will resume as they were before. As for why I have come…”

Clockwork hesitated, and before her eyes aged backwards until there was a young man standing before her. His hand went to his chin as he considered the problem before him. 

“I have come to ask for your help in training the next king of my kind.” He finally said. 

Diana paused in confusion. Of the great many things she had expected to be asked, assisting in training was not one. 

“The next king of the Titans?”

“No. The next king of Ghosts. The last king, a tyrant by the name of Pariah Dark was dethroned in combat by a mere boy. A child, half of this world, half of the next. He has much he needs to learn before he takes up the crown and while I have given him as much time as I can he is still largely untrained.” 

There was a lot of information there. Diana felt for a moment that she was sitting in one of Batman’s debriefs. She settled back from her watchful stance to consider the issue. 

“If the boy-king needs training, why not train him yourself? Or have another of your kind do the deed?”

Clockwork sighed, Diana watched as he deaged again until he looked like a child himself. 

“While the boy is powerful, wise and just beyond his years, in my efforts to buy him the time needed to be the best king the Infinite Realms has had, I have made him vulnerable. If the ghosts who wanted the throne knew of his vulnerability they would take advantage. I am restrained in how much I can interfere. Besides all that he is of the world of men. He needs as much training in this world as he will in the next.” 

Diana considered his words carefully. Finally she nodded. 

“I will train this little king. Where may I find him?” 

“You may take your time to search your histories and consult with your sages, I don’t expect you to take me at my word. But you will find the boy-king in a city shrouded by darkness and cloaked in death, guarded by one to whom the shadows cling. When the time comes, follow the one who calls to you.” 

Diana blinked at the riddle and by the time her eyes were fully open again, Clockwork had disappeared and she could once again hear the sound of bird calls. 

“Di-Oh! Diana! Have you been training with those speedsters of the world of men? I’ve never seen you move that fast.”

She turned to address Sophia who seemed to be unharmed from her brief moment being frozen. 

“Sophia, were you calling for a specific reason?” Diana asked as she turned to her friend. 

“No reason, I just was wondering if you would be joining us for a celebratory dinner tonight.” 

Diana nodded. 

“I may be a little late. I need to spend some time in the archives. I have much to consider.” 

Sophia looked a little confused, but ultimately didn’t bother her, she knew Diana had many responsibilities from her work with the Justice League. 

“Very well, Diana. I will be sure to save you a plate.”

Diana smiled at her friend and strode quickly towards the Library of Themyscira.

.

 Jason swung through the city of Gotham from one grapple point to the next. Normally when he went through the city he took his bike. The grapples he stole from the bats just weren’t made to carry the amount of armor and weapons that he normally carried on his person as Red Hood, but sometimes, he just needed to remember what it was like to fly. 

Now he needed to fly because he was following a strange pull on the Pit. Anything that made the Pit sit up and pay attention was something to be concerned about, especially when whatever it was pulled him to a building just outside his turf. That seemed deliberate. Like someone was purposefully trying to draw him out of where he controlled. 

Jason hated the Pit. It was rage and hatred and vengeance, and he thought he had wanted that, but it was also blood and death and threatening his family, and fear in their eyes and their blood on his-

Now that feeling in his chest that burned and turned his vision green called like a siren’s song. He needed to find whatever was calling him. If it was a threat he would remove the threat with extreme prejudice. If not… then at the very least he would remove it from anywhere it could threaten the rest of the bats. No need for anything Pit related to be outside Hood’s territory. 

He landed in a crouch on the rooftop that had been calling him and stood cautiously looking around for any threat, or the source of the call. He didn’t have to look very hard. There was a child laid out in the center of the roof. 

A child. Alone. On a rooftop in Gotham. If Jason wasn’t seeing green before he certainly was now. He dashed forward, keeping a weather eye out, just in case one of his enemies decided to use a kid as bait. If they were he was going to tear their bodies apart. Their corpse would be unrecognizable as human. 

Jason fell to his knees alongside who couldn’t be older than five, a small collection of personal items next to the kid like they had been dumped here alongside the kid. Worst of all was the green glowing puddle next to the kid. It didn’t have the consistency of Lazarus Water and was closer to the thickness of blood. Jason’s hands hovered over the unconscious form of the child, their chest shallowly rising and falling with each breath. 

A crunch of gravel at the other edge of the rooftop made Jason whirl around bringing his guns up, his eyes blazing green. When his brain caught up to the fact that the person was Dick it took all of his self restraint not to squeeze the trigger anyways. 

“Dammit Dickiebird! You should know better than to try and surprise me!” Jason snapped, his voice harsh. 

“Oracle noticed you were out of your usual turf and I wanted to make sure-” Dick froze as he looked past Jason. “Is that a kid?”

“Yes, it's a kid! It’s a kid and he’s hurt and he’s barely breathing and for some reason I can feel him through the Pits!” Jason’s voice was hoarse as he whispered, he holstered his gun, trying to ignore the way his hands shook. 

Dick was immediately at his side, kneeling next to the kid. He looked over the other things, the hat, the gloves, a teddy bear dressed as an astronaut. That last one was actually kind of adorable. 

“Who just leaves a kid on a rooftop? In Gotham of all places?” Dick said. He picked up the teddy and looked at it closely as Jason returned his attention to the kid. 

“Someone who wants them found by a Bat I’ll bet.” Jason said softly. 

Dick examined the bear for a moment longer before he squeezed the bear’s paw. Both of them were surprised when they heard the voice of a young woman come from the space themed bear. 

“I love you so much Danny, no matter what.” The voice said. They were both just as surprised when the kid, Danny maybe? stirred and looked around. 

“Jazz?” The kid said as he sat up. 

Jason immediately put a hand on the kid’s back to keep him as steady as he could. 

Dick pressed the bear’s paw again and that same voice called out. 

“I love you so much Danny, no matter what.” 

Danny reached for the bear and Dick willingly handed it over. The boy looked confused at the beat before pressing his face to the bear’s fur. 

“Hey kiddo. Are you Danny?” Dick asked. 

The kid nodded his head. 

“Is your mom named Jazz?” Jason asked. It wasn’t the weirdest idea that the kid would call his mom by her first name, but Danny immediately shook his head. 

“No! Jazz is my sister!” Danny had the pouty voice of a toddler who thought the other person was being stupid. “She’s the best!”

Dick grimaced, but carefully hid his face before Danny could see it. A child abandoned on a rooftop and a sister missing in the wind. None of this seemed good to them. Danny made to stand on wobbly legs, but winced and held his stomach, falling back onto his backside. 

“My tummy hurts!” 

Dick and Jason immediately crouched at his side again, concern clear in their movements. 

“Hey buddy, tell us where it hurts.” Jason said, trying to keep his words soft past the voice modulator in his helmet. 

Danny grabbed his side, just below his ribs. Jason reached towards the buttons of Danny’s star themed footie pajamas with shaking hands. 

“Do you mind if we take a look? If you’re hurt we can take care of you.” 

The kid thought for a second before nodding. Jason helped him undo his buttons one by one. He could feel a burning rise in his gut as the top of a scar revealed itself. A few more buttons and he could see where the two up branches of the scar joined in the center of his chest and continued further down. Someone had vivisected this kid. 

Someone had VIVIsected this KID. 

sOMEone HaD cUT OpEN thIS KID

Someone had Cut open this KID

Green filled Jason’s vision and with the last of his self control he turned away and marched over to the edge of the rooftop. He was going to kill- he was going to tear them- Blood he needed blood- All he could feel was rage-

He felt a small hand take his own. 

His head snapped down to look at the hand with unnatural speed. Through the haze of green in his eyes he could see the little boy, pajamas still unbuttoned, had grabbed his hand. Danny was desperately tugging on Jason’s hand, trying to pull him down all the while waving his other hand in the air as if he was trying to waft away smoke or bugs. 

Jason crouched down next to Danny. Distantly he could tell that Dick was watching him closely, hands anxiously outstretched in case he hurt the kid, but Jason could no more hurt this boy than he could cut off his own hand. As soon as he was on the kid’s level Danny used both hands to wave around Jason’s head with an annoyed look on his face. 

“Go away! Leave him alone, green monsters!” Danny shouted, still waving his hands around in the air. He scowled almost as well as Damian at whatever he could see around Jason’s head. 

The green that filled his vision slowly faded. He could still see the vivisection scar on Danny’s chest and it filled him with rage, but the rage was his own and there were no murderous impulses. Jason took a deep breath and slowly released it, letting the tension and fury drain from his body. Eventually he would deal with whoever did this to a kid, but until that time he had different priorities. 

“Thanks kid.” Jason said. He could see Dick relaxing in the corner of his vision, but he stayed focused on Danny. 

“Of course! It’s why I’m here! To protect you from the green monsters.” Danny said proudly, jutting his little chest out. Then he sagged against Jason, wrapping his arms around his neck. “Now I’m tired.” 

“Go ahead and take a nap kiddo. We’ll get you somewhere safe.” Jason said. 

It only seemed to take a moment before Danny was fast asleep, his arms still wrapped around Jason’s neck. He picked up the kid easily and settled him on his hip before he turned to look at his brother. 

“Dickolas. This kid just ended the Pit Rage by asking nicely. I don’t know what happened to him before, but if anyone tries to hurt him I’m going to end their entire bloodline.” He sighed out. “Until we find his parents or his sister, Jazz, I’m going to keep him safe.” 

“Understandable, though he might be safer at the Manor-”

“If you tell B about him I’m going to blow your brains out.” Jason interrupted. He wasn’t going to let B get another kid killed. Dick put up his hands in surrender. 

“I’m just saying, how many guns do you think are currently on your coffee table at your place?” 

Jason wanted to growl in annoyance, but he couldn’t really deny that. 

“Could you come with me?” Dick could have only looked more surprised if Jason had asked to have a family dinner with Bruce. “Just come, keep an eye on the kid while I baby proof my apartment.” Jason grit his teeth for a moment. “Please.” 

He could see Dick’s eyebrow raise even with his domino, but he nodded all the same. 

“Yeah, of course. What are brothers for if not for babysitting strange children with mysterious powers over the Rage of the Lazarus Pit.” 

Jason scowled but the two of them still descended the building together and made their way into Crime Alley towards Jason’s apartment. He kept a firm hold on the sleeping Danny the whole way there.

[maniacwatchestheworld]

When there's something strange in the neighborhood, who you gonna call? Probably not John Constantine...?

I'm still pretty new to these DPxDC spaces, but as I've been exploring it from the perspective of someone currently deep in the throes of DC hyperfixation (and Danny Phantom being a past hyperfixation that I sometimes relapse into) one trend that I find kinda odd (but not necessarily unexpected) is just how prevalent Constantine is in these spaces that are largely dominated by BatFamily AUs and headcanons. Like, I do get it (kind of). Constantine does occasionally show up in Batman stories where Bruce encounters something supernatural and needs consulting on the case, and Constantine definitely appeals to the fandom audience in some pretty clear ways. Yeah, he's a handsome, charming bastard with a secret heart of gold. He's British, witty, cool, and an asshole. He may be one hell of a messy bisexual disaster, but he's OUR messy bisexual disaster, dammit! So we forgive him for being a cynical jerkass sometimes. I haven't consumed much media with him in it, but like... I get it and why out of all the mystical characters that DC has in their roster, why you might choose to include him over other characters. However I do find it kinda odd because like... Constantine is NOT the kind of person that I would see Batman nor anyone in his family particularly going for when they need help when something supernatural comes up... In fact the biggest reason that I haven't seen much from Constantine is that... He just does not appear in a lot of media that Batman is in! So I haven't seen much of him! (In terms of media that I've consumed for the sake of Batman being in it, he's only appeared in Justice League Action. No other animated series for Batman. And he hasn't really been in any recent comics that cross over with Batman that have caught my eye! He didn't even have a story in Knight Terrors!)

Of course there's no shame in using Constantine for your stories. He's popular for a reason, and if he happened to be in the area, then sure, the Bats might grab him to help them with their latest case. But for magic-users that the BatFamily might go to for assistance, he isn't always going to be the best choice. So for anyone who needs a magic-user in their BatPhanfiction, here are a few alternate suggestions.

(Suggestions under the cut for length)

Jason Blood

For people with magical expertise, I would expect the Bat Family to call Jason Blood before anyone else. Jason is old. How old? Old as balls. He's actually been around since the time of Arthurian legend. Apparently he was a scribe for Merlin before being bound to the immortal demon Etrigan which made him immortal too. Having worked for Merlin himself, having some level of innate magic from being bound and therefore sharing a body with a demon, and having been around for hundreds of years, this means that Jason has had plenty of ability and time to learn and practice magic and to perfect his craft. He knows his stuff and has a level of experience that is practically unparalleled on Earth. He's not a man to be trifled with and Batman has worked with him on many an occasion! The biggest reason that the BatFamily would call on him before anyone else? Location, location, location. Jason actually lives in Gotham City, so not only does he have the requisite experience and knowledge, but he's also easy for the BatFamily to get ahold of too! And as a bonus, with a simple rhyme, he can turn into the demon Etrigan who can kick ass on his behalf! Jason may seem to be a bit grumpy and stern on the outside, but he's a reliable ally to have and desires to protect others just as much as Bruce does.

Zatanna Zatara

Zatanna is a stage magician by trade, a master of tricks, illusion, and slight of hand... But she also happens to be among the most powerful actual magic-users in the known DC universe! Honestly, if you know of her and still choose to use Constantine over her in a story when either will do? You're doing yourself a bit of a disservice. Just look at her! She's gorgeous, radiant, optimistic, always has a fun trick up her sleeve, knows how to have a good time, and unlike Constantine, doesn't have the kinds nor number of enemies that he does! And best of all? She's actually buddies with Bruce Wayne! They're good friends! In fact, Bruce trained under her father for a time to learn escape artistry! Honestly it's a bit of a shame that people forget how good of friends they are... They might have dated in the past? But ever since Bruce mastered escape artistry, they've kept in touch! The two honestly would have an unspoken trust with each other and ability to rely on each other that few other characters could have with Bruce. Zatanna is usually on the road performing, but if she's available, she'd likely be more than happy to pop on over to Gotham to help Brucie out with a case! Superman may be Batman's best friend, and Harvey Dent may be Bruce Wayne's best friend... But honestly Zatanna Zatara is a close second place on both accounts! She's GREAT! I crave for her to be included in more stories! WHERE ARE MY AUNTIE ZATANNA AUs!???

Xanthe Zhou

[Image from this post.]

Honestly this is a personal suggestion that I want to see because it's just a damn shame that it doesn't already!

Are you hesitant to use a comic character with a huge backlog of stories that you couldn't possibly hope to get through for fear of messing them up? Do you want to use a canonically LGBT character? Do you want to use a character that's a person of color? What about a character that specializes in interacting with the spirits of the dead for your Danny Phantom crossover fics? Because boy howdy do I have you covered! Say hello to Xanthe Zhou! A nonbinary Chinese-American spirit envoy within the DC universe who first debuted in March of last year (2023)! So guess what! There is no long, confusing continuity to follow! If you want to catch up on all you need to know about them, go ahead and read their 6 issue miniseries Spirit World and you should be covered! And heeeey~ Guess who else is in Spirit World~~~?? One Cassandra Cain and one John Constantine! Plus the art is drop-dead gorgeous!

[Image from this post.]

So please! I beseech you! Check out Spirit World and get to know Xanthe! They are literally everything you are looking for in a character to add to your Danny Phantom and Batman crossover story and are brand-spanking new and it is just a DAMN shame that they aren't already in any DPxDC stories!!! And guess what! They live in Gotham City to boot! (Gotham's Chinatown to be specific.) So please! Do yourself a favor and check out Spirit World and add Xanthe to your stories! If nothing else, I'll certainly read them!

In any case, that's the list and all I can come up with for now! If you have any further suggestions, please don't be afraid to add them on in a reblog! My comics knowledge is very limited and am always happy to hear about other ideas and characters that I've missed! I've actually seen some usage of Klarion the Witch Boy in this phandom which was a pleasant surprise! But sadly, I don't know nearly enough about him to actually say anything about him. But please! Go ahead and tell me about other magic using characters that you think would be suited to the DPxDC universe! And if you make anything of this sort with Xanthe in it... Please send it to me! I want that shit pumped directly into my veins!!!

P.S. I just wanted to say... Batman miiiiight call Santa Claus before he calls Constantine for help on an investigation lol (apparently Bruce apprenticed under Santa for a time :p ).

[lboogie1906]

Captain Ed Dwight (September 9, 1933) the first African American astronaut candidate, IBM computer systems engineer, real estate developer, professional sculptor, and former Air Force test pilot, was born in Kansas City, Kansas.

His father Ed Dwight, Sr. played second base for the Kansas City Monarchs in baseball’s Negro League which left Ed with his mother, Georgia Baker Dwight. He graduated from Bishop Ward Private Catholic High School in Kansas City, The school did not accept African Americans, but his mother wrote to the Vatican directly, and they ordered the school to accept her son and racially integrate. He attended Kansas City Junior College where he completed an AA in Engineering and enlisted in the Air Force. He racked up over 9,000 flying hours. He continued his education and graduated with an Aeronautical Engineering BS from Arizona State University. He received his MFA in Sculpture at the University of Denver.

He was accepted as the first African American in NASA’s Astronaut Training Group. He was not selected as an astronaut and he resigned from the Air Force at the rank of Captain. He took a position with the IBM Corporation as a Marketing Representative & Systems Engineer. He became an Aviation Consultant for a Dallas firm and joined Executive Aviation, Inc. He founded Dwight Development Associates, Inc. a Real Estate Land Development, and Construction Company, and became one of the largest Real Estate development entrepreneurs in Denver.

He would become recognized for many of his sculptures across the country, including that of the historical life-size sculpture representation of President Barack Obama’s first inauguration scene, and the Underground Railroad Memorial in New Jersey. He owns a studio/gallery and foundry in Denver. He has received hundreds of awards from around the US for his achievements & contributions to racial progress through his many sculptures. He has received an honorary doctorate from his alma mater, Arizona State University. He was made an honorary Space Force member. #africanhistory365 #africanexcellence #phibetasigma

[woodland-gremlin]

Summoning Your Secret Boyfriend Pt. 2

Previous AU Summary

This post is dedicated @fanfics-or-dragons who wrote part of the post. I will put their part in bold. I would suggest checking them out, they write some really interesting stuff.

Previously:

The con man opened his mouth, looking like he was losing his mind, before just shutting his mouth and contemplated how his life got to this point. He was just fine conning demons, detective work for the occult, and doing the occasional good deed, but no,  he just had to get involved with the League of Goody-Two-Shoes who have no idea how to handle the supernatural. He was getting flashbacks to the time he realized that the Bats had no idea that they had a city spirit watching over them (he refuses to be the one to explain that to them). Or having to deal with the Flashes saying that magic wasn’t real. He wasn’t paid enough for the shit the League puts him through.

Constantine was always happy that there wasn't a teen version of the JLD cause he didn't want to have to chase kids around a bunch of demons, monsters, and other badies he deals with daily.

He is only now realizing that because there wasn't a teen version of the JLD that the young Justice team also dealt with the supernatural world just without any adult supervision cause none of the JLD or JL knew that they were. It was like they were trying to send him to an early grave. He blames Bats, he was the one to drag him into this crazy fest. You help a guy with something supernatural once and then suddenly you are a consultant to his Do-Gooder Club for anything involving the supernatural.

“And how and why do you know that Pariah isn’t the King anymore?” Constantine asked through grit teeth.

Supernova stills, finally realizing the danger of the line of questioning. He couldn’t lie, his crummy template would tattle on him immediately. But at the same time he couldn’t just avoid the question without people getting suspicious. So that left the last option. Being as vague as possible.

“Someone from the Infinite Realms mentioned it,” Supernova said with false casualness.

“What?”

While most of the League just looked confused, almost every member of the JLD looked like he just told them he invited Trigon to a tea party. Constantine especially looked pale, similar to how Danny looked in human form. Half-dead wasn't a good look on him.

“You’re saying that a citizen of the Infinite Realms, which is literally the glue of the multiverse, just told you that Pariah wasn’t their King anymore?!” the sad trench coat man asked desperately.

“Well, it was more like an example of how some of their rules work,” Supernova stated with no filter.

“That makes even less sense!” Constantine screeched, “Most of the citizens of that realm are beings of emotion that literally come into being knowing how things work. They don’t work by our rules and certainly don’t explain theirs. And you're telling me that they sat down and explained the rules without you losing your soul?! And that you understood what they were explaining too?! The rules that have been driving those in the occult crazy trying to figure out so they can avoid them without offending them??”

Supernova laughs nervously. “Well when you put it like that it sounds insane.”

“Because it is!” Constantine screams, “They literally say ‘hi’ by fighting each other. Not to mention even if they don’t try to purposely hurt you they often do due to how fragile we are compared to them. Even their weakest would be a challenge to our heavy hitters!”

To be continued . . .

Next

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Erum Salam at The Guardian:

Hundreds of US students returning to college this fall will be focused on navigating academic suspensions and criminal charges instead of choosing their classes and decorating dorm rooms, following last semester’s Gaza solidarity encampment protests that swept campuses. More than 3,000 students were arrested when tent protests and occupations from coast to coast, at public and private universities, were broken up by police. Many still face consequences from both their universities and the legal system. Craig Birckhead-Morton, a recent Yale graduate and incoming Columbia graduate student, has been traveling between his new home in New York City and New Haven, Connecticut, to face criminal proceedings in superior court. “I was able to get through the whole disciplinary process all right, so there are no disciplinary charges left or anything in terms of academic [punishments]. It’s just the legal charges, which we’re still having an issue with,” Birckhead-Morton, 21, said of fellow students and himself.

Months of US protests, since the 7 October Hamas-led attack on southern Israel and Israel’s devastating and ongoing retaliation in Gaza, evolved into spring encampments when Columbia University students pitched tents on the Ivy League school’s main lawn in New York City and then occupied a building. This action and many others were met with police crackdowns, some violent, against scenes of campus dissent not seen since the Vietnam war. Meanwhile, some university administrations have taken additional steps to handle the volume of disciplinary cases, such as hiring outside consultants and implementing new policies in an attempt to prevent protests of the same scale.

Despite this, activists are planning a fresh wave of pro-Palestinian protests at US colleges this fall. Action is expected to be boosted by “summer school” online lessons over the break, created by student protest leaders to offer education and training on how to organize, with the aim of creating a more unified and better-prepared mass demonstration movement. Birckhead-Morton said he remained determined to keep advocating for divestment. “Obviously we want the charges to go away, but our movement, our organizing, our action around this issue isn’t going to go away, and we’re going to keep pushing against these institutions,” he said. Columbia students who declined to share their names publicly, for fear of doxxing and retaliation, said that while their charges had been dropped by Manhattan prosecutors, they were still dealing with university administration disciplinary proceedings.

One student said she was being investigated by Grand River Solutions, a third-party higher education consultancy group based in Saratoga, California, brought in to conduct investigatory interviews via Zoom with protesters. “We’re in limbo for the most part. The university has chosen to waste time and money this summer doubling down on their efforts to be a world-renowned ‘cop university’,” she said, referring to multiple instances of New York police being called on to campus and arresting students en masse. Grand River Solutions did not respond to a request for comment. A list of punitive actions Columbia’s leadership took under Minouche Shafik, the recently departed president, against student protesters, shared by the university with the congressional education and workforce committee in the Republican-controlled House, has been made public. It reveals that most student protesters are currently listed as being in good standing with their institutions, meaning they can continue their educations, even though they may have received disciplinary probations or suspensions. Many investigations are ongoing.

College students across the US that were arrested in protests against the Gaza Genocide last school year are facing academic and legal woes. Pro-Palestine college protests are expected to resume in the fall with students returning.

[magicfootballstuff]

United for Christmas (leila ouahabi x reader)

Summary: A special gift exchange when Leila returns to Barcelona for Christmas throws up a couple of surprises.

Things haven’t been the same since Leila moved to Manchester.

Not in a ‘this relationship is doomed to fail’ kind of way, but more of a ‘part of your soul now lives in another country’ way.

Complaints about the chilly English weather aside, Leila seems to be loving it in Manchester. You talk almost every day and she tells you about her new teammates, about the differences between the Spanish league and the WSL, about exploring Manchester or a funny new English phrase she’s learnt. In return you tell her about what’s been going on in Barcelona since she left, but you omit the parts about your apartment feeling cold and empty when you return from an away game without Leila there to keep you company.

It’s strange that despite being your home for over ten years, Barcelona stops feeling like home when your girlfriend moves abroad.

Maybe Leila is actually your home.

You haven’t told Leila any of this, beyond the occasional admission of how much you miss her. You don’t want to make her feel guilty for moving when she’s clearly really enjoying herself abroad.

There’s one other thing you haven’t told Leila, and that’s that Barcelona won’t be your home for much longer. Though you hesitated at the prospect of a transfer in the summer, you’ve been feeling increasingly like it’s nearing the right time to move on from Barcelona. A couple of conversations with your agent later and you found out that there were a few clubs who were still inquiring about your interest in a move.

The decision ended up being a fairly easy one. You tried to give all the options a fair consideration, to not just make a choice based on proximity to your girlfriend, but when everything started to fall into place for one particular club, you knew exactly where you would be playing your football come January.

And when better to break the news to Leila than at Christmas?

Leila returns to Barcelona for the winter break after Manchester City''s last game of the year, and that’s when it gets harder to keep your secret. You’re attached at the hip, making up for all the long months apart, and you’re practically exploding with the excitement of your news, barely able to keep it to yourself. Leila can tell something is up too, but whenever she asks you just tell her that you’re happy to have her around again and she seems to buy it.

When it actually comes to exchanging gifts, you’re more nervous than excited as the reality sets in. What if Leila won’t be happy with your news? What if she moved to England specifically to spread her wings away from you? Maybe you should have at least consulted with her on such an important decision.

“I want to go first,” you say, deciding that you need to get Leila’s reaction as soon as possible.

You present her with a neatly wrapped gift, symbolic of the announcement you’re about to make, as you sit side by side on the couch in your Barcelona apartment. You’ll celebrate Christmas with your families later, but for now it’s just the two of you, the perfect time to tell Leila you’re transferring to a new team.

Leila accepts the gift and tears away the wrapping paper, revealing a red football jersey with a white collar. Her fingers trace over the Manchester United crest, then she looks up at you with a quizzical frown, clearly unsure how she should react to the present.

“Oh, um, you know I play for Manchester City?” she asks confusedly. “This is Manchester United.”

Barely able to contain your excitement, you tell her, “Turn it over.”

Leila peels away the rest of the wrapping paper and unfolds the jersey, before turning it over, eyes narrowing as she reads your name on the back. You can tell she’s still a little confused, unsure exactly why you’re gifting her a Manchester United jersey emblazoned with your name and number, but you’re almost exploding with the excitement of telling her your news.

“They’re going to announce it officially in January when the transfer window opens,” you tell Leila, reaching for her hand. “But I wanted you to be the first to know.”

Technically, she’s not the first. Your agent knows, obviously, as do your parents, and you told Ona too, swearing her to secrecy as you asked her enough questions about her time at Manchester United to be sure that the move was the right one for your career as well as your personal life.

Leila’s mouth falls open as she realises the significance of the gift. You can tell from the expression on her face that she’s still processing the news, perhaps not quite believing that you’re going to be following her back to Manchester when the season resumes.

“You’re coming to Manchester?” she asks.

“I miss you so much,” you confess. “I know we talked about both moving last summer and I wasn’t ready to leave Barcelona, but I haven’t been able to perform at my best this season and as soon as my agent told me United were interested I knew I had to at least consider it.”

“Seriously? This isn’t a prank?”

“It’s really happening,” you promise her.

“You’d move to England for me?” Leila asks, and though she’s not overly emotional, there’s a really sincere affection in her eyes as she grins at you.

“Yeah,” you nod. “Barcelona’s not the same without you. And I’m not just moving to be closer to you. I’ve been playing for Barcelona for so long that I know it’s the right time to move on. It just took you making that leap first for me to realise that my journey needs to carry on somewhere else. The fact I get to play in the same city as you is a bonus.”

Leila wraps her arms around you and pulls you in for a hug that allows her to nuzzle her face into your neck.

“I can’t believe you’re doing this,” she mumbles. “But you’ve kind of messed up my present to you.”

“If you tell me you’re transferring back to Barcelona…” you say, pulling back from the hug to look at Leila with wide eyes.

“No, no! Nothing like that!”

She sits back, takes a deep breath and exhales with her eyes closed for a second, like she’s psyching herself up for something, before she turns to look at you.

“I’ve spent the last couple of months writing and re-writing a speech that doesn’t make much sense now you’re moving closer,” says Leila. “But it was mostly about how moving to England has made me realise how much I love you and need you in my life. And there were other things I wanted to say about how we’re gonna make the distance work, and even though this isn’t the most convenient present if we live in different countries, there is nothing I want more than to be able to call you mine forever.”

With this last part, Leila reaches into the gap between the side of the couch and the cushion she sits on and pulls a small black box, before she slides off the couch and drops to one knee in front of you.

“You’re the love of my life. Will you do me the greatest honour in the world of marrying me?”

With tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat, you find yourself unable to answer with words, so instead you fling yourself at Leila, throwing your arms around her neck and knocking her off balance until you’re lying on top of her on the floor.

“Is this a yes?” she asks.

“Yes,” you manage to choke out.

You prop yourself up on one arm, shifting some of your weight off Leila’s body as you realise that you didn’t even get a good look at the ring before throwing yourself at her. She holds the box out and you find yourself tearing up again as you admire the ring. It’s a simple silver band with a single diamond but it’s perfect and you let Leila slide it onto your finger.

“We’re getting married,” she grins at you. “You’re going to be my wife.”

“Who knew that four months in Manchester would turn you into such a hopeless romantic?” you tease her.

“Shut up,” she grumbles, wrapping her arms around you and pulling you into her chest so that she can press her lips to your temple.

Leila’s phone buzzes against your hip and without moving from beneath you, she manages to wiggle it out of her pocket.

“It’s Ona,” she explains. “She wants to know if we’re engaged yet.”

“Wait, Ona knew you were going to propose?” you ask, lifting your head to look into Leila’s eyes.

“She helped me choose the ring and I practiced my speech on her a million times. The speech that became irrelevant as soon as you told me you’re moving to Manchester.”

“That sneaky little…” you trail off, then explain to Leila, “Ona’s one of the only people who knows I’m leaving Barcelona. She keeps telling me Manchester is red.”

It’s Leila’s turn to be surprised. It seems that Ona is really good at keeping secrets from both of you. You can only imagine Ona’s delight at being the one person on earth to know both plans, to know that Leila was planning to ask you to marry her at the same time that you were planning to upend your entire life to move closer to the woman you love.

“Firstly, Manchester is blue,” Leila tells you with a grin, starting a rivalry that is sure to add an interesting new dynamic to your relationship. “But also, let’s send her a picture.”

Leila opens the front facing camera on her phone and holds it above you.

“Wait!” you say, before Leila can snap a selfie. “I’m wearing your present. It’s only fair you wear mine.”

Leila eyes the Manchester United shirt and pretends to shudder.

“Not a chance!”

Despite her protests, Leila lets you hold the jersey with the Manchester United logo visible next to your ring as she snaps a cute selfie of the two of you and sends it to Ona to confirm your engagement. Within seconds, Leila’s phone is ringing, and she puts it on speaker as she answers Ona’s call.

“Congratulations!“ says Ona. “I’m so happy for you! And happy for myself, that I don’t need to keep your secrets for you anymore!”

“We’ve spoken so many times in the last few weeks,” you remind Ona. “I can’t believe you knew the whole time that Leila was going to propose.”

“It was pretty funny actually,” Ona laughs. “You would call me saying you were worried Leila would think you were smothering her if you followed her to Manchester, and I had to keep quiet because I’d literally just spent an hour listening to Leila practice a disgustingly soppy proposal on me.”

You can’t help but laugh now. In retrospect, with Leila’s shiny ring decorating your finger, it seems stupid that she would ever have had a problem with your plan to move.

“Well I’m not happy with you, Ona,” says Leila, raising her eyebrows at you as she addresses your friend down the phone. “I can’t believe you persuaded her to sign for the wrong Manchester club.”

“Babe, don’t start,” you say to Leila. “You’re outnumbered. United all the way.”

“We’ll see about that at the next derby,” Leila warns you with a grin.

“Anyway, Ona, we’ve got an hour before we need to leave to visit Leila’s family and I plan to spend that time celebrating our engagement,” you say, raising your eyebrows suggestively at Leila, whose eyes darken in response as her teeth dig into her lower lip.

“Okay, yeah, I’m hanging up!” comes Ona’s quick reply. “But see you both in Manchester very soon!”

You both say goodbye to Ona and Leila presses the button to hang up, before tossing her phone aside.

“So, these celebrations,” she grins at you. “Did you have anything in mind?”

You straddle Leila’s hips and as you lean down for a kiss, you murmur, “I’ve got a few ideas…”

[nophunleague]

stare decisis: chapter one - novus

novus: latin for new

masterlist

wc: 1,043

rafael barba x original female character

Quinn Brady glances at the name she had scribbled on a bright pink sticky note, Rafael Barba, she confirms that it matches the name on the door before walking up to the desk of his assistant. She's a beautiful woman, Quinn can tell she's tall before she even stands up. 

"Hey, good morning. My name is Quinn Brady. Mr. McCoy sent me," the woman nods knowingly. 

"I'll let Mr. Barba know you're here," she disappears through the double doors of the office briefly before coming back out. "You can go on in," she smiled. Quinn thanks the woman and then enters the office. 

"Mr. Barba, I'm Quinn Brady, the DA just pulled me over from Queens," she holds her hand out for a shake, his large warm hand covers her pale cold one with a firm grasp. He's intimidating, she notices, arrogant too. 

She's attractive, he can't deny that. Slender, only a few inches shorter than him, with freckles covering her cheeks and nose, and ginger hair that compliments those freckles so nicely. Shamefully he admits to himself that having a woman sitting with him at counsel table during trial will also help with the jury, probably the DA's exact thought. 

"The DA told me you were coming over, what department were you in?"

"Gangs," she smirks as she places a hand on her hip. Her petite stature always allowed her to be underestimated, especially when it came to prosecuting gang-related crimes. 

"Well you've certainly made some enemies then," he smirks, he has too.

"Definitely, I'm sure you've done the same. You have quite the reputation," his phone vibrates in his hand and he tears his eyes from hers to glance at it. 

"Well, welcome to SVU. The squad just caught a case, so we can go over the precinct and I can introduce you to them," he grabs his coat from the coat hanger by the door. He passes right in front of Quinn, and the warm embrace of his evergreen cologne wafts through her senses.  "I need to warn you about them, they're passionate, and don't understand what we go through as ADAs."

"Oh, have you ever met a cop who does?" She quips, and a light flashes through his eyes. Maybe he's met his match. They share a cab, on the DA's office's dime. It's close quarters for newly acquainted coworkers but they make it work. She’s first to break the silence.

"So where did you go to law school," Quinn looks over, his nonverbal markers tell her everything she needs to know. He's an Ivy League guy.��

"Harvard, you?"

"Georgetown."

"Did you stay in D.C. after graduation?” He knows most people do, so in his mind it’s a stupid question. 

“For a few years, I bounced around for a while until I ended up in New York,” she watches closely as the yellow cab pulls up to the 16th precinct, the large building home of New York City’s elite squad of detectives. 

“Well, let’s go see what they have for us,” they make their way up the exterior stairs and then up the elevator to the squad room. 

A short blonde woman is waiting at the elevator doors when they open, she doesn’t give Quinn a second glance, her eyes are only set on Barba. 

“We need a warrant.”

“For what? For who? Why? I don’t care what you think you need, I care about what you have,” Rafael grunts and storms past the detective; Quinn follows on his heels. She’s unintentionally led right into the middle of the squad, four other people are gathered around a few desks, talking about the evidence they think they could obtain. 

“Barba, great, we need a warrant,” an older brunette woman.

“Yeah, that’s what Rollins said, but why do you think you need a warrant?”

“Josh Casey consulted some telephone attorney based on his cell records. But if it was only a consultation then he’s not a client and attorney-client privilege doesn’t apply. So we need the attorney’s records from their consultation,” a lanky, blond but graying, man says animatedly. Quinn takes in the room, they still haven’t noticed her. Just as Barba opens his mouth to respond Quinn butts in instead.

“Those records are more than likely protected by work product, so you’re not going to get those.”

“Who are you?” a Hispanic man with dark hair asks. 

“Quinn Brady, your new ADA,” she studies the looks of shock between her and Barba. Maybe that wasn’t the best way to say that she was joining the team. 

“What the hell, you’re leaving?” the brunette woman asks Barba.

“No, he’s not leaving, there’s two of us now. DA’s orders,” Quinn answers for him. 

“Brady, this is Sergeant Olivia Benson, Detectives Amanda Rollins, Fin Tutola, Nick Amarao, and Dominic Carisi,” Barba points to everyone as he says their name. 

“You can call me Sonny,” Carisi blurts as soon as Barba says his name. Quinn looks at the man’s outstretched hand but ignores it.

“Yeah, right. And even if it is not all protected by work product, whatever attorney Casey winds up with next would probably instruct him to say he thought the phone attorney was his actual attorney. So then it’s protected by attorney-client privilege.”

“AKA, we’re not getting you a warrant. But thanks for the time for introductions. Call us when you actually have something,” Barba smirks while Quinn pulls out a pen and a bright pink sticky notepad from her coat pocket. She jots down her cell and office numbers on it and hands it to Liv. 

“My cell is the best way for you to contact me, but I’m also right across from his office,” she motions to Barba as she hands it over. Liv holds up the sticky note and thanks her for it. Barba and Quinn leave the precinct together leaving the squad stunned hi her wake.

“Not only did he just meet his match, but I think we’ve met ours,” Liv says as they walk away. 

“Yeah well I think I’m going to marry her,” Sonny smiles.

“And when she finds out you’re in law school and were still pushing for that warrant?” Rollins asks.

“Yeah well I guess that’s not a good look is it?”

[silverwhiteraven]

Game of the Heart: Chapter 1 - Heart of the Problem

MariBat: Vote Your Own Fic - A CYOA writing game.

“Thank you so much! Have a good night!” Marinette said enthusiastically as she left the Joann Fabric location. She was glad to have discovered such an expansive store during her trip. None of her regular chain stores from France were here, and she knew she would have been lost without them if it wasn't for the United States having its own well known, nation-wide location. What would she have done without her stock of fabrics, paints, and handicrafts? Been bored to death, most likely. 

Something had been putting her in a good mood the last few days, and she had to express it somehow. She thought that leaving the Hawk Moth-ridden Paris for ‘Crime Capital’ Gotham would have done nothing to her except make her feel worse, if anything. But better? Like the smog-covered sky wasn’t there and the lowering sun was a blessing instead of a warning of the coming night? She really didn’t know what was going on, but she was glad she decided to come on the trip.

The trip itself was an interesting one. After so many years of Hawkmoth with little progress on the Superheros’ side, the City Council had decided, after consulting with Ladybug and Chat Noir, to start a city-wide project to rally and petition for outside help. Petitions were open to all ages to sign, and votes could be submitted by anyone of 16, with parental permission, and over. After months of this, and countless more attacks, it was decided to send an envoy to America to request help from the most well known Superhero organization in the world.

The Justice League.

Wonder Woman, Superman, and Batman were the top picks, but when were they not? Ladybug and Chat Noir were highly against the two Supers. Akumatized heroes were never easy to fight, and though all three JL founders were known for their scary levels of anger when provoked, those first two were simply the greater risks. And Batman? Well, no one really knew if he actually had powers or not, so he remained on the table.

They would have gone to the European branch of the JL, which was stationed in Paris itself, had it not been evacuated when the full scope of Hawmoth’s powers were revealed to be too risky. No members remained, only a few low-level secretaries constantly crunching numbers and reporting to the Head Office. They knew of the petitions and decision making, so at least the JL would be prepared for when it was time to expect a visit from Paris.

And that visit had come.

Marinette was 17 with a year left of Lycée, not quite a full-fledged adult, so why was she allowed on this envoy mission for Paris? Well, it was rather easy, really. First, she already had a reputation alongside her class for several things: countless recorded volunteer efforts for the City of Paris; well-acquainted with the Akuma problem, often caught in proximity or a target themselves; casual connection to the Paris Heroes, thus trusted with being their representatives. And most of all, she was one of very few in Paris to have never been Akumatized. (But two million people live in Paris, you say, how can that be true? Well, let’s just say that a certain Scarlet version of Hawkmoth had become very persistent, creating hundreds of thousands of red butterflies with every appearance. It ads up fairly quickly.) That feat itself may have actually been a disadvantage since she couldn't explain what Akumatization felt like. But she remembered them all with excellent accuracy, more than anyone else- almost as though she had been there each time. And she was, though the City and the JL didn’t need to know that.

All in all, she was an asset, and her presence was permitted.

It has been a few days now since they arrived in Gotham, New Jersey. Metropolis was only a few hours away, some members of the envoy looking north with ungranted wishes to go request Superman’s help instead. But the two confirmed superpowered leaders of the JL were off planet, only available to converse over interstellar communications. Batman had yet to approve of a consultation yet, either. The trip was bound to last quite a while. At the very least, they were glad that Wayne Enterprises was an official representative itself of the Justice League, having its own department to handle the tasks. Meetings with the Paris envoy were being held for hours on end in the daily now, little progress being made considering just how much information was needed to go over, years of compiled events and data.

Marinette was tired of attending all day, with little to do but listen and confirm when information was inaccurate or needed clarification. She didn’t like the stares she got, either, the whispers of how too many young people are putting their noses into adult business. She understood they still had their own internal bias related to some of their board members and major stock holders, but did they really have to project that onto her? She was doing great, all things considered! She bet their company’s heirs were doing great, too, and they were just being salty for prideful reasons.

She was glad Hawkmoth wasn't in this city with them. The place would be a minefield for the innocent and a flowerfield for the magical emotion terrorist. Marinette sighed. She looked up at the color-tinted sky, wondering what tomorrow would bring? Progress, hopefully.

Shaking her head, Marinette decided to think about something else, returning herself to the unnatural but welcomed good mood.

What could have caused it, she wondered. It wasn't something material, or anything related to the Paris Problem. Hawkmoth had even been active daily so far, and she was making tiring trips back and forth with Kaalki for every attack. Couldn't have been shool, either: she was still expected to finish all her assignments and tests from across an entire ocean. It had to be something different, something new that she could only sense and react to with her emotions.

Maybe… Could it be? There’s no way, why would they be here, of all places? Marinette shook her head more vigorously again, trying to clear away the idea, not caring for the way her hair whipped and stung her face. It couldn't be my Soulmate, no way. It’s been years, and I've practically confirmed they weren’t anyone in Paris. That leaves the whole rest of the world, and there's no way I've traveled around enough to come across them already. But… Her steps slow, and she barely pays attention as her surroundings pass her by. I’ve never felt this way. It had to be something, so why not my…? 

She slapped her hands on her cheeks, the bags on her arms hitting her sides. “No, stop thinking about it. You have a job to do, me!” She chastised. “Head back in the game, now,” she commanded herself, face scrunched in determination. Besides, I don't think it works that way, anyway, she sighed to herself. Not that anyone else has figured it out, either. Soulmates, another mystery of the Universe…