#she's so hot and he's so hot and they—

[chelseasdagger]

MATT MURDOCK and CLAIRE TEMPLE in DAREDEVIL

Season 1, Episode 5: World on Fire

[madscientistenthusiast]

Personally I think that Azula should have been redeemed simply so that she can become Zuko's horrible little advisor who whispers evil little plans to him so that he can do the exact opposite

[chloesimaginationthings]

What FNAF movie Vanessa’s REAL job is..

[muffinlance]

Hi ! prompt idea : What if Zuko was armed during the first episode and was stranded with the water tribe while the avatar left with Katara and Sokka, Iroh on his trail for white lotus reasons.

Oh we are going to have us some FUN with "stranded with the water tribe", say no more.

---

Zuko was dripping, and steaming, and staring down two dozen women and their gaggle of small children, plus that old not-the-Avatar crone from earlier. They were all cowering away from him. Which was--

Good. It was good. If they were cowering, then they hadn’t noticed how steam was not flames. He wasn’t sure he could make flames, not after the arctic water he’d landed in, with that last sight of the Avatar glowing; not after surfacing under the ice pack, after swimming, after kicking slamming breaking through and his ship was gone and there was only ocean all around and

and he’d made it back to this pathetic little camp of the Southern Water Tribe, because that was the only place he knew for sure would have shelter, and he wasn’t going to die just because they were all staring at him, even if felt like he would.

Even if the old not-the-Avatar woman could probably take him, right now. But she didn’t know that.

Zuko pulled himself up, taller than her by at least a few inches, and blew steam from his nose.

“I am commandeering one of your huts,” he said. And added, because Uncle said even a prince should be gracious: “You may choose which one.”

---

She choose her own.

...The only one without children that flames might scar, or younger women to catch a soldier’s interests.

Zuko sat by her fire and determinedly started struggling out of his wet clothes and she was still in here with him--

Zuko pulled one of her animal pelts over himself, and finished fighting off his clothes. When he stuck his head back out, cheeks still reddened from what was obviously the cold, she dropped a parka on his head.

“Dry clothes, Your Highness,” she said.

The parka was much bigger than he was. He fell asleep hoping that the camp’s men were on a long, long hunting trip.

---

He woke up again. Kanna tucked her favorite ulu knife away, newly sharpened, and stopped contemplating the alternative.

---

“I am commandeering a ship,” he said.

The crone led him across the village, all twenty paces of it, to a row of canoes.

“Take whichever one you want,” she said. “Will you need help getting it to the water?”

Zuko looked at the canoes. Looked at the ocean. Watched a leopard seal, easily the size of the largest canoe, dozing just past the ice his own ship had broken through the day before. It was frozen again, a great icy arrow pointing from the waves to the village, snow already starting to cover it over.

Beyond was blue sky and gray ocean and white ice, floating in blocks like stepping stones, like boulders, like cliffsides.

There wasn’t even a hint of gray steel, or smoke. Or any land, besides what they were standing on.

He looked down at the canoes again. Somehow, they seemed even smaller.

“I, uh,” Zuko cleared his throat. “I’ll require supplies. Before I go.”

---

They... did not have supplies. Not extra ones. This didn’t stop them from trying to give him supplies, food and blankets and anything else he could think to ask for. But each blanket was a pelt hunted by someone’s grandfather, had been inked with images and stories by someone’s mother, was the favorite of someone’s husband or brother or uncle or cousin--

They couldn’t go to the nearest market to replace things, here.

And when they talked about food, about what they could spare, they kept sneaking glances to their children, who were sneaking glances at Zuko from the huts, sticking their heads just over the snowy ledges like their fur-trimmed hoods would hide them. Their mothers and aunts shooed them away, and they crept back, like barnacle-crabs. Zuko glared, and they disappeared.

“When are your men coming back?” he asked. “They’re hunting, aren’t they?”

Oh. So that was what they looked like, when they weren’t trying to hide their hate.

---

Zuko wrapped himself up in the same blanket that night. It was printed inside with fine lines and images, telling a story he didn’t know. He wondered whose favorite it was.

---

Kanna wondered how quickly he’d wake—if he’d wake—if she built the fire up with wet driftwood and tundra grass, if she had one of the younger girls boost up a child to plug the air hole, if she let the smoke draw its own blanket down over this fire child.

---

It was hard to know when to wake up, because the sun never set. So everyone was up before him, and they all had spears and clubs and—and nets, and trap lines, and snow googles with their single slat to protect the eyes from snow blindness. Zuko had seen those once, at the Ember Island Museum of Ethnography, where they’d gone when it was too rainy for anything more exciting.

Oh. They were going hunting.

“Give me that,” Zuko said, and took a spear.

The women looked at him. One of them adjusted her googles.

“I can hunt,” he scowled.

He did not, in fact, know how to hunt.

---

“Give me that,” the Fire Prince said, and Kanna almost, almost gave him her ulu. Humans, like most animals, had an artery in their legs that would bleed them quick enough.

She kept skinning the rabbit-mink one of the women had snared.

“I can help,” he said, with less grace than most of their toddlers. Likely with the skinning skills of a toddler, too. She wasn’t going to let their unwanted visitor ruin a perfectly good pelt.

“Chop the meat,” she said, and gave him a different knife. “It’s dinner.”

“...This is really sharp,” he said a moment later, looking at the knife with some surprise.

“Is it,” said Kanna.

---

Things the Fire Prince was convinced he could do: hunt (until he realized he couldn’t tell the tracks of a rabbit-mink from a leopard-rabbit apart); spear fish (at least he could dry himself); pack snow for an igloo (frustrated princes ran hot); ice fish (the prince was a problem that kept coming close to solving itself).

Things the Fire Prince could actually do: mince meat, increasingly finely; gather berries and herbs, once he stopped trying to crush them; dig roots, under toddler supervision; mend nets, after the intermediary step of learning to braid hair loopies.

“Can’t I take him ice fishing again?” asked one of the women, as she watched Prince Zuko put as much apparent concentration into braiding her daughter’s hair as his people had into exterminating hers.

“Wait,” said another woman, sitting up straight. “Wait wait wait. I just had an idea.”

---

Three words: Infinite. Hot. Water.

---

Summer was coming to an end. The sun actually set, now, and the night was getting longer, and colder. The salmon-otter nets were mended and ready. The smoking racks were still full of cod-lemmings. The children were all a little older, the women all a little more used to doing both halves of their tribes’ chores; a little more used to not watching the horizon, waiting for help to come.

The Fire Prince was staring at the canoes again.

“Are you actually going to try leaving in one of those?” Kanna asked.

“...No.”

“Come on, then; someone needs to watch the kids while the women are hunting.”

She didn’t leave him alone with them, of course. But she could have.

---

Elsewhere, the war continued.

The moon turned red, for a moment none could sleep through; they did not learn why.

The comet came and went, leaving their castaway prince laying on the beach, his breath fogging up into the night sky above him, as the energy crashed from his system as quickly as it had come. Above, lights began to dance in the sky; Zuko pulled his hood up, so none of those spirits—children, dead too soon—got any ideas about kicking his head off to be their ball.

The war had ended. The world didn’t feel any different; no one in the south would know until spring came again.

---

Suffice it to say, Sokka and Katara were not prepared for this particular homecoming.

[grasslandgirl]

i'll never get over how fascinating eliot's characterization as a hitter. obviously he's trained- military, hand to hand, weaponry, martial arts- that's to be expected. but so often I think in media about like. the Best Hitters in this genre and etc they're characterized by like? not getting hit. they're sooo good that the avoid every punch and catch every kick in mid air and dodge bullets and etc and that's not Eliot at all. he lets himself get punched in the face. he gets kicked and bowled over and uses that shift in momentum to his advantage. he gets knocked to the ground and the guys he's fighting think he's down for the count for only one moment before Eliot Spencer gets back up. because he always gets back up- but that character trait is Only compelling IF he gets knocked down enough for it to MATTER. and he DOES! and his fighting skills- they're not innate, they're not a natural inclination to fighting, its training and knowledge- he can talk about details and styles at length, he can (and does!) teach the others how to take and throw a punch, which speaks even more to his skill and knowledge and ability. he's the hitter because he's been doing it so long. because he fights to survive and he isn't afraid to get hit and lose the fight to win the battle. god. Eliot Spencer. character of all time

[angry-kid-with-no-money]

"Nora doesn't know anything about the things she writes about" "aftg is terrible queer rep" "the queer characters in aftg are so problematic"

Idk guys maybe the book series abt problematic ppl set in 2006 and written in the mid 2010s shouldn't be expected to hold up against scrutiny of what we consider to be moral and correct now, in 2024

Idk tho, idk

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Okay so like stick with me but young Derek, alive hale fam au.

So like the Hale family finds out that Derek has a crush on Sheriff Stilinski’s delinquent son, and has mixed reactions. Talia is torn between amusement, worry and wanting to dislike stiles. Papa hale is very protective but thinks it funny that him and his son have the same tastes.

Peter is ecstatic, Stiles once beat him in chess when running from the cops. (stiles was running and sat down in the park around people for cover, turns out he interrupted a chess tournament. Peter challenged him to a game if stiles lost, Peter would turn him over to the police. If he won, stiles could use him as an alibi)

The rest of his siblings don’t really have an opinion other than using Derek’s crush to make fun of him EXPECT for Laura. Laura is in a one sided rivalry with stiles.

As the sheriff right hand deputy she was tasked with keeping an eye out for stiles and she constantly loses him. Which shouldn’t be possible because she’s a werewolf. She can never connect him to a crime he’s committed and can never prove anything. Can’t go to a judge a say “oh he left a scent trail which I followed because I’m a werewolf.”

Derek brings him home to dinner after they start dating. Unfortunately, the day that Derek brings him over, is also the day that Laura had to run around town taking reports of his crimes. She is fuming. Stiles looks her dead in her twitching eye and asked her how her day went.

The only crime she can connect him to is when he commit aggravated assault against a few of Derek’s teammates went to far with hazing. (Derek refused to fight back as not to hurt them) she lets him off.

[stevebabey]

you're the only one for me, baby

1.7k, steddie, one of them getting so drunk that they don't recognise the other and telling them back off i've already got a boyfriend, it's all sweetness <3 likely a modern!au and actually just goobers in love

Eddie doesn't really drink. He's not against partying but he's much more attuned to smoking a little weed to take the edge off, sometimes a spliff if he wants to mix a little business and pleasure.

Eddie doesn't really drink—so when he does, it goes about as well as expected.

From zero to a hundred.

Steve had lost track of him after directing his stumbling feet towards the bathroom to take a leak. But apparently, as he's now found out, this bathroom has two doors.

What the fuck kind of bathroom has two doors, like some weird thoroughfare?

Regardless, it took all of five minutes with no noises coming from the inside before Steve had loudly announced he was coming in, no matter what, getting quite worried for his boyfriend.

He trusted Eddie to not be too sloshed to handle a piss, even if he was on the wilder side tonight, but still leaned up against the door to chase off anyone else looking to knock—because Eddie hilariously gets pee-shy.

The door had opened easily, apparently unlocked, and Steve had stepped into the empty bathroom. The other door across the room, the one he hadn't noticed until now, was wide open to the party.

So, now he's on the hunt for Eddie.

Which is a task that feels a little bit like herding cats because drunk Eddie isn't something Steve has a lot of experience with. But what he does know, is this: it's the opposite of high Eddie.

Stoned, Eddie likes to find the comfiest place he can (usually Steve's lap, or so he proclaims) and sink into it, like melting wax. Then, given he has access to adequate snacks, he doesn't move for quite some time.

Drunken Eddie cannot even fathom the concept of sitting still.

Either way, looking where there's food is a good as a place to start as any.

Steve ambles out the strange two-doored bathroom and flips his head back and forth, trying to remember the direction of the kitchen. He hasn't been here before—one of Eddie's band connections—and Steve's still had a couple beers himself.

He shakes his head and takes a left, relieved when it leads to the stairs. Okay, he sort of knows where he's going now. They had only come upstairs to find the quieter bathroom for Eddie.

As Steve reaches the bottom of the stairs, a faint stir of irritation flashes through him. Eddie just left him behind? That wasn't that nice, even if he was incredibly drunk.

He can hear the din of people chattering just above the music and he follows it, leading him into the half-full kitchen, people dotted around. There's a few pizza boxes scattered around and Steve eyes each of them specifically, looking for the tell-tale wipe of Eddie's greasy fingers. No dice.

Steve wrinkles his nose, spinning around and double checking before he moves on.

If not by the food, then... where?

Steve takes a few steps forward into the living room, his heart beginning to sink and shrivel all at once. There was a miserable feeling attached to looking for his partners at a party, a wallowing and awful memory tied to the feeling.

Steve pushes a hand across his chest roughly, as if trying to shove the feeling away.

Eddie wasn't... her. Eddie wouldn't do that.

But the moment he's thought it, it's stuck in his head. Steve's feet begin to speed up, checking a little more carelessly as he starts to stick his head in different rooms, his hazel eyes jumping around. Not Eddie, not Eddie, not Eddie—so many people and none of them are Eddie.

Until—there. Steve spots a very familiar looking behind as it leans over the back of the couch, the owner of said-behind talking to someone sitting on the couch.

He blinks, just to be sure, but the details come into better focus. There's chains on his belt loops and when he shakes his head, Steve can see the curls he loves to bury his hands into.

Eddie.

Steve's relief pulls him forward, his feet almost stumbling, his mouth pulling into a relieved smile. He puts a hand out, fingers spread, across the leather-clad back.

"Eds," Steve says, relief colouring his voice.

Eddie swings up abruptly, pushing himself off the couch. When he turns, a bit of liquid sloshes out of the beer bottle he's holding.

"Heyyy," The words come out a bit slurred and when he finally stands straight, he doesn't look right at Steve. "Handsssss off the merchandise, buddy."

Steve chuckles, reaching out and plucking the bottle from his boyfriend's grasp. Eddie gawps, an adorable little hiccup interrupting his shocked expression.

"Hey," He says loudly, reaching forward for it fruitlessly as Steve pulls it out reach. "That's mine." Eddie whines.

"You've had more than enough, I think." Steve says. He steals just one gulp of it before he turns at puts it on a nearby table. When he turns back, Eddie is frowning at him, brows pulled together tightly and bottom lip jutting out.

"Listen—" Eddie leans forward, jabbing a finger into Steve's chest. "I dunnowhoyouthinkyouare," The words come out in a one big jumble and Steve frowns.

What? Something sour claws into Steve's chest at the frosty greeting.

"Eddie," Steve says, his hazel eyes wide and worried as his gaze darts between Eddie's squinted face and swaying form.

Steve reaches out to put a hand on his waist, aiming to steady him, but Eddie sees it coming and widens his eyes comically. He swerves back to avoid it, his boots tilting dangerously on the wooden floors. If he was still holding his beer, Steve bets half of it would be on the floor by now.

"Wo-oah," Eddie exaggerates, waving a hand out and batting Steve's outstretched arm away. The rottenness in Steve's chest blooms, rancid and freezing. He sucks in a sharp breath.

"Ed—"

"I—" Eddie says, holding up his hand and waggling one finger at Steve, like he's a naughty schoolboy. His words still have that drunken slur to them.

"—already have a boyfriend, thank you very much. He's much too pretty to be throwing it away for the likes of you, you weasel of a man..." His ludicrous and nonsensical insult trails off under his breath as Eddie's attention is drawn away by a shout across the room.

As he watches Eddie drape himself back over the couch, the sourness between Steve's ribs shifts, transforming into something infinitely sweeter. He lets out a dazed laugh, a wild smile spreading on his face before he can smother it beneath his hand.

I'm dating a lunatic, Steve thinks happily.

He reaches out and steals Eddie's beer once more, taking another large swig before giving it another go.

This time, he sidles up beside Eddie who's engaged back in conversation with one of the guys on the couch, and just waits. It only takes a minute before the dude on the couch seems to realise who Steve's waiting for and he nudges Eddie, gesturing behind him.

Eddie, still bent over the back of the couch, twists only his head to look. This time, the recognition is immediate.

He springs up, pushing the couch forward an inch in his excitement and leaps forward, his hands clawing into Steve's shoulder with a fierce delight.

"Steeeeve," Eddie croons, crowding in close. His hands start moving, fingers searching like curious spiders, fingertips dancing along the sensitive skin of Steve's neck til he's squirming back, laughter betraying him.

"Stop it." He laughs. Steve arrests Eddie's wrists in his hand and Eddie cackles, using the pause to surge forward, kissing him square on the mouth.

Eddie tastes like the beer he's been drinking and Steve barely gets a moment to enjoy it before Eddie's pulling back, leaning forward so they're forehead to forehead.

"I was looking for you." Eddie says, his doe eyes wide. His pupils grow larger the longer he stares at Steve.

Steve grins. "Uh huh. Looking for me between the couch cushions, were you?"

Eddie rears back, his head flipping as he stares back at the couch and then back at Steve. "Nuh uh. I came out the bathroom and you were goooone."

That explains it. Eddie must have left out the other door — and then thought Steve had left him behind and gone hunting for him. Something else settles in Steve's chest, relieved.

"And—" Eddie hiccups. "—and some guy tried to- to freakin' flirt with me. Can you believeee?"

Steve's grin widens by a mile. "Is that so? What you'd tell him?"

"No, of course!" Eddie says, head pulled back as if he's appalled Steve would think otherwise. He shakes his hands out of Steve's grip and drops them, fumbling for a moment to get his fingers into Steve's belt loops.

When he does, he yanks Steve forward a tad too forcefully, their bodies colliding in a way that's more sore than sexy. Eddie continues on as if he doesn't notice. "Even if he was particularly tasty," He murmurs, his lips tracing the column of Steve's throat.

"I let him know, baby." Eddie all but purrs.

And perhaps if the competition Eddie was beating off was literally anyone other than himself, Steve would be right there with him.

Instead, he can't contain his snort of laughter. Eddie was perfect; he was a possessive and drunken dog, barking up the wrong damn tree. Steve loves him.

"You're laughing," Eddie states plainly, even as his doe eyes manage to grow even more round. Steve can't help it, it just makes him laugh more.

"Treason." Eddie declares. Then using the belt loops to keep Steve captive, he leans in and blows a raspberry on his neck.

Steve lets out an unattractive squawk, his laughter melting into Eddie's as he pushes his boyfriend's face away — to which Eddie simply lets himself go limp, his face cradled and held up solely by Steve's hands.

"Christ," Steve says between his laughs, shifting his hand to hold him more tenderly. Eddie smiles dopely, then puckers his lips and closes his eyes.

Steve rolls his eyes, entirely too endeared. "Alright, c'mere," He gives in, leaning and kissing Eddie, short and sweet. When he pulls back, Eddie's eyes are open, starry and gazing up at him. He gives a dreamy sounding sigh. Steve's heart fizzles, like it's full of pop-rocks.

"Ready to go?"

"As long as it's with you, baby." Eddie says, sounding every bit like he means it.

[demaparbat-hp]

Their actual first meeting in the Kyoshi Warriors AU!

Katara had her Oh moment before exchanging a word with Jian Li, and while she gets over it in time (or, at least, convinces herself that she's not embarrassed by her initial reaction to him) this quasi-interaction haunts her for the first couple of days of their stay in Kyoshi Island.

It's just not fair that the place is full of gorgeous people! Or that he's not only beautiful, but also kind and awkward and respectful and dorky and—oh, La—she's in trouble.

[hauntinglesbian]

Kathryn Hahn as Helen Ryan in Free Agents (2011)

[tategaminu]

[kiivg]

.Tip: always kiss your LI after big boss fights to receive HP boosts.

[kaiju-krew]

...........yeah

[bitchslapblastoids]

V: Not that I’m broke. Because I know where to come if I’m broke.

D: Thank you for buying merchandise at shop.danielhowell.com so that I can pay for my grandma’s…total body workout.

Hard to overstate how much I adore this whole this (saved the parasocial for the tags)

[thatrandomsarahchick]

DC x DP short

I'm picturing Danny moving to Gotham once he's an adult. He came out to his parents, and it went fine. More than fine. They listened to how he was struggling at school because he kept having to chase down the ghosts they let out by leaving the portal open. Jack was super proud of his son for being a ghost hunter even as a ghost, but Maddie understood his concern and set up some new protocols for the portal.

It now automatically closes after two minutes unless a specific command is put in by Danny to keep it open while he is in the Zone, and the shielding around it actually works to stop ghosts coming trig without hurting them now.

The shine of the mortal world has worn off for most of his regulars now, and those that come through have figured out compromises so they can still fulfil their obsessions without hurting others. The meta-protection act officially disbands the GIW, and Red Huntress is given a very thorough speaking to about personal bias and vendettas. She's not allowed back in the field until she comes to the realisation that ghosts are people too, and that she been the bad guy by hunting them the way she did. Phantom is officially recognised as a Hero, but he turns down working for any teams or joining the Big Leagues. He agrees to act as a back up though, in case of any world ending event.

By the time senior year rolls around, Danny has gotten his grades up enough that he can go to a pretty decent university if he wants to. He chooses Gotham University for his engineering degree because they're a feeder school for Wayne Enterprises, who in turn are a feeder company for working for the Justice League as a civilian engineer. Tucker also chooses GU for their tech program, while Sam elects not to go to university straight away.

Tucker and Danny move into an apartment right on the borders of Crime Alley and The Narrows. Tucker manages an impressive 4 months as a local hacker before Oracle notices him, but Danny only manages 3 weeks before he's spotted by a Bat.

He's lying down a foot above his building's roof, looking at the stars. It's a very rare cloudless night, and the power is out in his area. Poison Ivy had launched an attack earlier in the day that had taken cut the power lines, with her mutant plants feeding on the smog and pollution to get stronger.

Duke was up late, finishing the day shift by a quick loop of The Narrows, when he noticed a slightly glowing teenager(?) floating on one of the roofs. He takes note that the man isn't causing any harm and is just peacefully stargazing, before calling it in to Jason. He was technically supposed to be off the clock an hour ago, and besides, the building was on the Crime Alley side of this street. It's Jason's problem now.

Jason, on the other hand, is exhausted and just wants to have a quiet patrol before collapsing in bed. He hadn't been hit by Ivy's plants, but had taken a couple of tumbles while dodging them. He heads over to the address Duke gave him, to find the guy still floating there staring at the sky. He gets it, he does, he would float above the grime that coats Gotham rooftops if he could, but it's dangerous for a meta to be so unawares of his surroundings like this while obviously displaying his powers.

Danny, meanwhile, had clocked both of the vigilantes coming near him, but was really hoping that they would leave him alone. It had been a very long day for him. He'd finally managed to get to campus for his class, only to find that the place was covered in overgrown plants. He'd had to freeze a few to get into the building, and had then spent most of the afternoon in the library due to his class being cancelled. Unfortunately for him, his nearly finished assignment that he'd spent the day working on was eaten by one of the giant flowers on his way home. He'd been 'saved' by the stabby Robin, which had caused him to then also lose his laptop as they crashed to the rooftop a few streets over.

Thankfully, he had an amazing best friend in Tucker, who was doing his best to recover as much data as possible. On the downside, though, Tucker was mad at him for now having saved a backup of his files since they left Amity. He'd fled to the roof to escape his wrath, plans of bribes in the form of food running through his mind, when he'd caught sight of the Stars. Holy shit. It was so clear tonight!

He didn't even realise he'd begun to glow and float, too caught up in naming all of the stars and constellations he could see. His Obsession was feeling very satisfied tonight. Usually he had to invisibly fly above the cloud cover to see such a sight. Sure, the light pollution was still bad, but his mind was able to fill in the blanks across the sky.

The moment Jason landed on his roof, Danny heaved a great sigh. Damnit. The fun police were here. He wrenched his eyes from the sky, only to notice that - oh, shit - he was floating again. He fell to the roof with a light thump.

"Heeeyyy stranger, come here often?" Danny asked, as he rolled over to his side, propping his head up on his hand.

[ew-selfish-art]

Dp x Dc AU: Jazz Fenton, after years of fixing her brother’s injuries, becomes a Doctor with an inclination towards behavioral health and psychology- In order to make the difference she wants to see in the world she joins Dr. Leslie Thompkin’s practice. 

Jazz Fenton, M.D. has spent years of her life doing research, doing the hard work and the emotional labor, and finally, finally, she’s joining a practice she can feel 100% confident in. She’s goddamn good doctor and she wants to make the biggest impact that she can. 

Dr. Thompkins (who insists that she call her Leslie as they’re colleagues now), is a kind woman, sharp as a tack and keeps her practice open at odd hours to help the most unfortunate. It took some time for them to bond and trust to be built, but now Jazz is being allotted a few night shifts here and there. 

It’s incredible. Jazz gets to spend time with the kids who come in and really talk to them (in addition to getting them antibiotics, heating pads and pokemon themed bandaids) to help equip them with a few coping skills. Her passion for psychology never disappeared after all, but the expansive knowledge of how to heal the human body has made her find a sense of fulfillment like no other.

Having proven herself and worn Leslie down, Jazz now takes up about 1/3 of all the night shifts in the month. She’s hoping to get to 50/50 by the end of the year but she’s content with what she has. Danny keeps odd hours anyway so calling him after work on her walk home can happen any time of day and he will always answer enthusiastically. 

It’s a particularly busy night before he comes in. The Red Hood. 

He was known for being an ally to Leslie, despite being on contentious terms with the Bats, but Jazz had never asked directly. Never one to turn away a patient with bullet hole wounds, she hops into action to get his wounds cleaned, sewed up and gauze wrapped. She’s handing him a sheet (an Infographic! Dani made it with her! Graphic design is her passion!) on how to care for his wounds when he first seems to recognize that she’s not Leslie. 

“No, Of course not. I’m Dr. Fenton. I can’t blame you for not remembering but I did introduce myself as you bled in the entry way. You’re Red Hood, right?” 

“Hm. Didn’t realize the practice was expanding. Where can I find-” He grumbles before pushing her hand aside from where she had still been supporting his shoulder.

“Hold on there, mister. You’re going home, you’re following this infographic and you’re going to get some sleep.” 

“Lady you don’t know-” His voice modulated ton came across antagonistically. As if he was trying to intimidate her. Ha, Jazz rolls her eyes at the inclination.

“Who I’m talking to? Who I’m dealing with? You’re hilarious. I can eat you vigilante’s hero complexes for breakfast. Tell me who I’m calling to pick you up and then you can say thank you.” Jazz snaps at him. It really had been a long night but his whole dialogue thus far is making her a bit batty. 

“Oh really Doc? You know Leslie’s tough shit, and from what I can tell you’ve got nothing on her-” 

“Trying to make me feel insufficient when I just saved your life? That’s cute. I’m sure a lifetime of abandonment by both of your parental figures gave you that. I’m also sure that you inherited this desire to prove you’re not going to be dependent on anyone who wants to help from whoever got you dressing up in tights to fight crime in the first place. Again, I’d love to talk at length about how predictable you-” 

“Bwah- wait- I’m Predictable? You’re probably some nepobaby who had parents who told her she could have the world-” But Jazz cuts him off with hysterical laughter- he couldn’t be further from the truth. Her parents loved her, but nepotism? With what, the ghosts? If anything she got that from Danny, but he doesn’t need to know about her ghostly titles. 

“You’re just some guy who came back from the dead and made his trauma everyone else’s issue. So shut it. And tell me how I’m getting you home from this clinic.” She seethes though her voice stays devastatingly level with each word. 

Speechless for a moment, he eventually relents to Jazz that he’s already called for help on the comms but it will be hours before they can come for a pick up. The sun had already come up and the night had been over for most of them before Hood had walked into trouble. She groans and the realizes the time for herself and the empty clinic around them.

“Fine. My shift just ended anyway. I’ll get you home in one piece and I swear to all the ancients that you’d better follow the directions on the infographic.” 

And that’s how Jazz ended up calling her brother while supporting the weight of a grown ass man (who no longer wanted to talk to her) on her walk home. 

The next time Red Hood appears in her clinic, he’s brought a dozen roses in addition to the cut on his neck that definitely needs to be pressurized like ASAP. Did he stop for the flowers on his way to the clinic? He’s going to pass out from blood loss! She doesn’t even like roses!