Headcanon #5: 1directioner

Artemis has known Wally long enough to accept his ’80s dance sessions as the norm. Every once in a while, he’ll just pop a CD in the stereo (because he’s dropped and broken his iPod more times than he can count) and start jamming out to Joan Jett. Y’know, “Bad Reputation” and all that. He likes the idea of a moody, kickass female rockstar. In fact, Joan reminds him of Artemis.

Not that he would ever admit to that.

Artemis will typically walk into the living room somewhere between I don’t give a damn about my bad reputation and you’re living in the past it’s a new generation. Usually, she’ll clear her throat or just walk right behind him, taking the groceries to the kitchen before he blows a speaker. And he ALWAYS blows a speaker.

Wally figures his wife thinks he’s crazy, shrugs his shoulders, and keeps dancing.

But once, just once, he comes home to discover something entirely unheard of. Artemis has popped a CD in the stereo, and it isn’t any Joan Jett classic either.

No, Artemis is listening to One Direction.

She’s standing on the top of the couch, holding a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other. Which is odd, because Artemis doesn’t drink much, and she certainly doesn’t drink cheap Budweisers at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. But she’s jumping up and down, shaking her ass to baby you light up my world like nobody else. And Wally can only stand there in the open doorway and stare. 

Nelson’s having something akin to a heart attack, sitting on the floor and yapping at his mother like she’s turned into the Creature from the Black Lagoon. But she’s paying absolutely no attention, as she spins around in the air, leaps off the couch and onto the armchair, playing air guitar with the spatula.

She starts to “raise the roof,” bumping her hip against the bookshelf and sending a mass collection of magazines tumbling to the floor. She kicks them aside with one foot, as right now I’m looking at you and I can’t believe.

Wally glances over at the kitchen stove, and notices that Artemis is making grilled cheese. Or, she was, until Niall, Zayn, Liam, Harry and Louis infiltrated their home’s speaker system. 

Sneaking past her, as she flips her hair back and forth in a headbang, Wally makes for the stove. The grilled cheese is burned, but the gas fire’s off, so it’s nice and cool by now. He lifts it gingerly, sneaking a grin back at his wife.

Positioning himself in the perfect pitcher’s stance, feet planted, knees bent, Wally winds up. He lifts his leg and everything—a real Roger Clemens.

Then he tosses a gooey grilled cheese sandwich at Artemis’ head.

It hits its target in the middle of so come on you got it wrong and to prove I’m right I put it in a song. Artemis immediately stops dancing, her body suddenly frozen and rigid. A creeping second of horror passes, but Zayn keeps singing as if all’s perfectly normal in the world.

Then Artemis whips around, sees Wally, and her face becomes the physical embodiment of “Ohhhh, crap.”

Wally grins his most winning grin, and does a little tango over to her. She just stands there like a dumbstruck baby deer, ashamed and embarrassed and windswept.

“I like the improv butt-shaking,” he tells her. “No, really. It’s quite sexy.”

“Shut up,” she mutters.

Wally grabs her by the shoulders, and twists her around to face the mirror on the wall.

“Aw, c’mon, have a look.”

The reflection is an absolute mess. Her make-up is smudged, her hair’s in tufts, and there’s cheese gooping down the side of her face. 

Still, Wally kisses her cheek.

“That, babe,” he says, and points to her reflection. “That’s what makes you beautiful.” 

They spend the rest of the night eating overcooked brownies and slow-dancing to the sweet, savory sound of Harry’s voice.

They never speak of this again. 

Headcanon #4: Fireworks

Damian’s relatively new to the whole “4th of July” thing. He doesn’t really get what’s so exciting about a bunch of barbecues and fancy colors in the sky. Colors that could easily be turned into projectile weapons.

So he’s dragged to Stephanie’s lakeside picnic rather reluctantly. In his opinion, crime does not wait for the holidays to pass, and the streets must be teeming with thugs stuffing cocaine in their pockets, cocaine designed to look like firecrackers. The very thought of it makes him grit his teeth.

But Bruce seems calm enough, so he tolerates the dragging. 

The BatKids spend the first few hours grilling hamburgers and listening to Dick sing “God Bless America” in four different languages. Cass corrects him quietly when he pronounces something wrong—things like that bug her to death. 

After Bruce has made his annual awkward “well, kids, it’s been an honor serving another year with you” speech, Stephanie and Jason get out the fireworks. God knows why Stephanie and Jason are in charge of the fireworks, but they are.

Damian stays at the top of the hill with Titus, grumbling to himself about “insipid traditions” and “wasted seconds.” It isn’t until the first firework shoots off that he shuts his trap.

At first, he remains unimpressed. Okay, neat-o, it’s a pretty blue streak in the sky. Woo. Hoo.

Then Jason gets the ball rolling. The second Robin knows a few things about pyrotechnics, and Steph’s reckless enough to try and help him. Before anyone knows what’s going on, neon Bat Signals of fire are striking the atmosphere, purples and blues and reds and sparkling yellows that remind Damian somehow of champagne. Dick runs down to the lake’s shore with a whole set of lit sparklers, and starts juggling them with his eyes closed. Damian snorts, knowing Grayson is being an irresponsible idiot, but he can’t deny the entertainment factor.

He gets a little…well, he gets sorta mesmorized. I mean, it is pretty. Damian hasn’t seen a lot of things like this. Certainly not back in the Middle East. There isn’t a lot of light in Gotham, and there’s even less over there. Seeing something so bright and beautiful and happy almost fills him with…something kind of like…a little bit of…

Hope.

Then Steph lights the meadow on fire and they’re back to Square One. 

Headcanon #3: We’re All Mad Here

Wally comes home most nights as early as he can. He doesn’t like leaving Artemis waiting, especially after what happened a few months ago.

But one night he’s running late. Traffic was bad on the freeway, and the stoplights down Redwood Avenue didn’t help much. So when he pulls into the driveway of his Palo Alto home, he’s hoping Artemis is already in bed.

Instead, he finds the kitchen lights still on. The refrigerator is cracked, he sees, as he gently calls Artemis’ name. He slides his hand along the dirty counter, noticing a puddle of liquid on one side. It’s a very dark red, almost like blood, too red to be Norman’s business or a chemical spill.

Odd.

He pokes his head around the corner wall, and finally finds her.

She’s seated in the living room on the brown couch, her legs folded beneath her. An untouched piece of chocolate cake sits on the coffee table, amongst the various dust-gathering magazines. In her right hand, she’s clutching a glass of red wine in a death grip. Her eyes are glued to the television.

Wally follows her gaze to the plasma screen, and his chest squeezes when he sees what she’s watching.

It’s Alice in Wonderland, the original Disney masterpiece, in remastered high definition. It’s rather gorgeous, Wally has to admit, as if the pictures and characters pop out from the screen. Young Alice, lovely little Alice, is currently creeping her way through that dark and awful forest, where the Cat takes her by surprise.

The Cheshire Cat.

“Artemis,” he begins, but she holds up her left hand to stop him. With her right, she takes an impressive swig of red wine.

“I want to see the rest,” she sputters, after the alcohol has burned her sufficiently.

But he can hear the crack in her voice. He can hear that uneasy tension, that horrific memory bubbling to the surface. He can sense in Artemis’ voice the funeral umbrellas and the goodbye that she never got to give her sister. She isn’t over it. She won’t be over Jade’s death for a long, long time.

Wally stands at the edge of the couch, watching his wife rather than the television screen. He waits for a few minutes. He waits until the Cat and Alice have had their little number, have spoken their speak, have taunted We’re all mad here and grinned that nightmarish grin. It’s when Artemis’ eyes tear up that he cuts it out.

He scoops the remote off of the coffee table and presses “Power.” The TV instantly shuts off, leaving a deafening silence and an abrupt blackness in its place.

The glass of red wine falls from Artemis’ shaking fingers, because she’s started to silently cry again. Wally catches it—he’s still a speedster, retired or not—and places it on the table. Then he lifts her up, carries her bridal style and lets her rest her head against his chest.

“Come on, babe,” he whispers. “We’re going to bed.”

Headcanon #2: Jinora is Stumped

Jinora’s always been known for her avid fascination with books, and her large assortment of knowledge. She doesn’t speak often, but when she does she pops out trivia like it’s second nature. 

The boys in Republic City aren’t really sure what to think of her. She’s only 10 years old, and she doesn’t have the spunk and power that they had hoped from the first Airbending child. In fact, she’s rather normal. Almost a little too normal. Almost boring.

Jinora could not care less. She pays absolutely no attention to the city boys, no matter how hard Pema tries to make her notice them. She keeps her nose stuck firmly in a book, and lets the testosterone-filled pigs go about their smelly business. 

So when General Iroh comes to town, she isn’t expecting a whole lot. Yes, she’s excited—after all, he’s the grandson of the late and great Fire Lord Zuko. He must have some great stories.

But he’s a boy. And boys…boys are stupid.

Therefore, when he walks into the Air Temple in all his ripped-abs glory, she’s a little taken aback. After all, she doesn’t really know what’s happening to her. Why is her heart cinching up in her chest? Why are her eyelashes batting so fervently? Why on Earth does he seem to be sparkling in the noonday sun?

She doesn’t speak a word for the rest of the night.

She does a little research. She tests a few theories, tries a few hypotheses. There are many explanations, but only one truly fits. She hates to admit it. She absolutely despises the truth. But there it is, right in front of her.

She has a crush a mile wide for General Iroh.

Oh, boy.  

Headcanon #1: Artemis’ Showers

Artemis sings in the shower. It’s a quiet, almost raspy side of her voice that Wally doesn’t hear very often.

She’ll only do it when she’s in a lackadaisical mood—perhaps she’s just gotten back from walking Norman, or she’s listening to the sound of Wally burning french toast in the kitchen. (“DAMN it! It can’t possibly be this hard to cook BREAD!”)

Artemis doesn’t know a whole lot of American music—she wasn’t raised by record connoisseurs or 80’s fanboys. Most of what her mother liked was in Vietnamese, anyway. 

So what she does know are tunes that used to echo throughout the halls of Mount Justice, each song carrying a miniature memory like a virus. That’s why Wally will sometimes stop and listen. He doesn’t reminisce much—that’s too tough on his head. It’s easier to turn away from the past than to think too much about it.

But sometimes he will. And that’s usually when he leans against the bathroom door, sighs, and listens to Artemis gently hum “Beautiful Soul.” 

Guys, imagine if they made fandom into a musical.

It would be the most amazing show ever made. It would make you laugh like Spamalot, scream like Rocky Horror, grin like Chicago, cry like Les Miserables, tremble like Phantom of the Opera…everything would just be perfect.

Like, the music too? All the characters would sing. Wally would profess his love to Artemis in a serenade. Dean and Castiel would have a dancing duet, complete with dapper suits and canes. Tony Stark would have an hour-long monologue where he just talked about himself. Lin Bei Fong would fly in on the falling Phantom chandelier. Razer and Batman would have a dark, ultra-bass number which would then be interrupted by Stephanie Brown and an entourage of acrobatic waffles. Dick would chase her off the stage.

IT WOULD BE FABULOUS

I want Zuko to have a daughter.

Just so he can look at her and say:

“The greatest gift in honor is having you for a daughter.”