As the Hulk in Danny Phantom/DC/Young Justice

The morning announcements at Casper High brought collective groans from the student body. Principal Ishiyama's voice crackled over the intercom: "And don't forget, students, this Friday is our annual Spirit Week Carnival! All proceeds will go to repairing the... unexplained damage to our cafeteria and science wing."

"Great," Samael muttered, carefully opening his reinforced locker. "Another public event to try not to hulk out at."

"Could be worse," Tucker said, not looking up from his PDA. "At least they're not making you run the strength-testing booth like Dash wanted."

Danny phased through the adjacent locker, still struggling with random intangibility. "Yeah, because nothing says 'school spirit' like accidentally throwing the high striker into orbit."

"I've been working on some relaxation techniques," Jazz chimed in, appearing with her ever-present psychology books. "Deep breathing, visualization-"

"If you suggest yoga one more time..." Samael warned.

"Actually," Sam interrupted, joining the group, "we might have bigger problems. Look who's organizing the carnival games."

Down the hall, Paulina was holding court with the other A-listers, a clipboard in hand and a determined gleam in her eye.

"And Samael Fenton," they heard her say, "will definitely be perfect for the dunk tank. All those muscles in a wet t-shirt..."

The temperature around Samael seemed to rise several degrees.

"No, no, no," Jazz said quickly, noticing her brother's eyes starting to flicker green. "Deep breaths, Sammy. Think about..."

"I TOLD YOU NOT TO-" Samael caught himself, lowering his voice. "Not to call me that."

"Hey, maybe this is good practice," Danny suggested, finally managing to stay fully solid. "I mean, if you can handle Paulina's... enthusiasm without going green, you can handle anything, right?"

Tucker's PDA beeped in warning. "Uh, guys? His cortisol levels are-"

"Fenton!" Paulina's voice cut through the hallway as she approached, clipboard held like a weapon. "Just the man I was looking for!"

"Paulina," Sam stepped forward, her combat boots squeaking on the linoleum, "maybe this isn't the best-"

"The dunk tank needs someone strong to help set it up," Paulina continued, either missing or ignoring the warning signs of Samael's tensing muscles. "And since you're obviously the strongest guy in school..."

The metal of Samael's locker started to warp under his grip, explained away only by Jack Fenton himself being abnormally strong - so in a way, expected of his son.

"Actually," Jazz intervened smoothly, "Samael's helping me with a psychology project during carnival setup. Very important research about... sibling dynamics under stress!"

"But-" Paulina started.

"And you wouldn't want to interfere with academic pursuits, would you?" Jazz's smile was sweet but firm. "I'm sure Dash would love to help with the dunk tank."

"What's this about refusing to help with carnival setup?" Mr. Lancer's voice made them all turn. The English teacher approached, ever-present copy of "Lord of the Flies" tucked under his arm.

"Mr. Lancer," Jazz began, "I was just explaining that Samael has other commitments-"

"Miss Fenton, while your academic enthusiasm is commendable, school spirit activities are also part of a well-rounded education." He turned to Samael. "Besides, we need someone with your... newfound strength to ensure the equipment is properly secured. Safety first, after all."

Samael closed his eyes, counting backwards from ten as Jazz had taught him. "Yes, sir," he managed, his voice carefully controlled.

"Excellent!" Paulina beamed. "Setup starts after school. Don't forget to wear something that can get wet!"

As the A-lister sashayed away with Mr. Lancer, Tucker whispered, "Dude, your temperature's rising but... you're keeping it together!"

"Because he knows he can handle this," Jazz said proudly. "Right, Sammy- I mean, Samael?"

Samael opened his eyes, which held only a faint green tinge. "Yeah. I can do this. It's just carnival setup. What's the worst that could happen?"

"Don't say that!" Danny groaned. "Every time someone says that, something always-"

The bell rang, cutting him off.

"Great," Sam muttered. "Now we've tempted fate AND we're late for class."

As they hurried to their respective rooms, Samael felt the anger simmering just below the surface, but manageable. For now.

"Hey," Danny called before phasing through his classroom wall (accidentally), "at least you're not the one who has to explain why their homework is glowing!"

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

After school, the football field transformed into a carnival setup zone. Samael found himself lugging heavy equipment while Paulina "supervised" from a safe distance, occasionally calling out unnecessary instructions.

"The dunk tank needs to be more centered!" she directed. "And make sure it's stable. We wouldn't want any... accidents."

Tucker monitored his PDA from behind the bleachers. "Blood pressure elevated but still within safe ranges. You're doing great, man!"

"Thanks," Samael grunted, carefully adjusting the tank's position. His muscles strained against the fabric of his shirt, drawing unwanted attention from nearby students.

"You know," Dash approached, trying to sound casual, "I could help with that. I mean, I am the quarterback..."

"I've got it," Samael said through clenched teeth, focusing on not leaving finger-shaped dents in the metal.

Jazz appeared with a water bottle and what looked suspiciously like stress-relief squeezy balls. "Hydration break! And maybe some therapeutic hand exercises?"

"Jazz, I swear-"

"Oh my gosh!" Paulina's squeal cut through his brewing irritation. "You're so strong! The whole tank by yourself! You know, I was thinking, during the carnival..."

"Deep breaths," Sam muttered from where she was setting up the ring toss. "Think about boring things. Like Mr. Lancer's lectures on Shakespeare."

Samael closed his eyes briefly, centering himself. When he opened them, they were still their normal color. "The tank's set. What's next?"

"Well," Paulina smiled sweetly, "we need someone to test it. You know, to make sure it's safe..."

"PRIDE AND PREJUDICE, people!" Mr. Lancer called out. "Less chatting, more setting up! Mr. Fenton, the high striker still needs assembling."

Samael had never been so grateful for a teacher's interruption.

The high striker assembly provided its own challenges. Each time Samael lifted a heavy piece, someone would comment on his strength, making control that much harder to maintain.

"Hey," Danny floated invisibly near his ear, "at least your homework isn't trying to escape through the ground like mine did in History."

"Danny, I think I got it the first time, that things could always be worse..." I mutter under my breath.

Though still, despite his irritation, Samael managed a small smile. Leave it to his little brother to always provide perspective.

"Fenton!" Dash called out. "Bet you can't ring the bell on the first try!"

"Not now, Dash," Samael replied, carefully securing the base.

"What's wrong? Scared you'll lose to the quarterback?"

Tucker's PDA beeped in warning. "Uh oh. Testosterone levels rising..."

"I said, not now." The metal support beam creaked slightly in Samael's grip.

"Come on!" Paulina joined in. "Show us those muscles in action!"

Jazz appeared seemingly out of nowhere, psychology textbook in hand. "Actually, research shows that competitive behavior during construction tasks can lead to decreased safety awareness and-"

"Great Caesar's Ghost!" Mr. Lancer interrupted. "What's that green glow coming from the equipment shed?"

Danny, who had been practicing his powers nearby, quickly turned visible. "Uh... faulty fluorescent lights?"

The distraction gave Samael a moment to regain his composure. The warmth of transformation subsided, his grip on the high striker loosening before any damage could occur.

"Nice save," Sam whispered, pretending to adjust some nearby decorations. "Though I still say we should let you smash just one thing. Might teach them a lesson about peer pressure."

"Sam," Jazz warned, though she was smiling slightly.

"What? I'm just saying, a little controlled destruction could be therapeutic."

As the afternoon wore on, the carnival setup neared completion. Samael had managed to avoid any major incidents, though several pieces of equipment bore subtle finger-shaped indentations.

"Just one more thing," Paulina announced, consulting her clipboard. "We need someone to demonstrate the dunk tank for the local news. They're doing a piece on school spirit."

"Oh no," Tucker muttered, his PDA practically smoking with warning signals. "That's not good."

"And since Samael's already familiar with the equipment..." Paulina smiled sweetly.

Before Jazz could intervene with another psychological study excuse, Principal Ishiyama appeared. "Excellent idea! Mr. Fenton, your participation would really help boost ticket sales. The repair budget could certainly use it."

Samael felt trapped. The familiar warmth started building under his skin as cameras were set up and students gathered to watch.

"You've got this," Danny whispered, floating invisibly nearby. "Just pretend it's like that time Dad's ghost-hunting suit malfunctioned and sprayed you with ectoplasm."

"That's... surprisingly helpful," Samael muttered, focusing on the memory of that ridiculous situation rather than his current predicament.

"And remember," Jazz added quietly, "anger management is all about choosing your reactions."

"Though if you do hulk out," Sam smirked, "make sure the camera gets your good side."

"Not. Helping."

The news crew positioned themselves as Paulina handed Samael a shirt that looked at least two sizes too small. "For the camera!" she explained brightly.

Tucker's PDA started beeping frantically. "Uh, guys? His vital signs are-"

"Rolling in three, two, one..." the cameraman called out.

"Live from Casper High," the reporter began, "where students are preparing for their annual Spirit Week Carnival. Here to demonstrate one of the main attractions is star athlete Samael Fenton-"

"I'm not actually on any teams," Samael corrected through gritted teeth, trying to ignore how the too-small shirt restricted his movements.

"-who'll be showing us the dunk tank!" the reporter continued, undeterred. "Tell us, Samael, how does it feel to be voted 'Most Likely to Make the Tank Overflow' by your classmates?"

"They voted what?" The water in the tank rippled slightly as his eyes flickered green.

"Deep breaths," Jazz mouthed from behind the camera.

"And I understand you've recently undergone quite the physical transformation," the reporter pressed. "Any comments on your sudden... development?"

Tucker's PDA was now emitting a continuous warning tone. Danny, still invisible, positioned himself near the tank's release mechanism, ready to intervene if necessary.

Samael closed his eyes briefly, remembering Jazz's coaching. "Just... focused on helping the school," he managed.

"So modest!" Paulina chimed in, stepping into frame. "But we're all dying to see the demonstration. Maybe flex a little for the camera first?"

The metal platform beneath Samael's feet groaned slightly.

"Actually," Sam interrupted, "according to carnival safety regulations, we should probably test the water temperature first. Hypothermia risks and all that."

"Oh please," Paulina scoffed. "The water's fine! Watch!"

She reached for the target, and several things happened at once: Danny accidentally turned visible in surprise, Tucker's PDA sparked from overload, and Jazz dropped all her psychology books.

But Samael, despite every muscle in his body tensing, despite the warmth of transformation threatening to overtake him, despite Paulina's perfectly manicured finger hitting the target... remained in control.

The water was freezing, and the shirt was definitely ruined, but as he surfaced in the dunk tank, his eyes were their normal color.

"And there you have it, folks!" the reporter beamed. "School spirit is alive and well at Casper High! Back to you in the studio!"

As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, Jazz rushed forward with a towel. "I'm so proud of you, Sammy! Your emotional regulation was-"

"Jazz," Samael warned, but there was a slight smile on his face as he climbed out of the tank.

"See?" Danny said, finally managing to turn invisible again. "If you can handle that without going green, you can handle anything!"

"Though I still say a little smashing would've made better TV," Sam added.

Later that evening, the Fenton siblings sat in Danny's room, reviewing the day's events. Jazz had her psychology notebook open, making detailed observations about "stress management in meta-human teenagers," while Tucker analyzed the data from his PDA.

"Your control is definitely improving," Jazz noted, flipping through her pages. "Even with multiple triggers present: public attention, physical discomfort, social pressure..."

"And Paulina," Sam added from her spot by the window, still looking pleased about the dunk tank incident.

"The readings support it too," Tucker said, showing them his graphs. "Your baseline anger levels stayed relatively stable, even during peak stress moments."

Samael, wearing one of his father's old college sweatshirts (the only thing loose enough to be comfortable), leaned back against Danny's desk. "Still feels like walking on eggshells. One wrong move and..."

"But you didn't," Danny pointed out, accidentally phasing through his bed before catching himself. "Unlike some of us who still can't sit through a full class without going invisible."

A crash from the lab below made them all jump.

"GREAT GALILEO'S GHOST!" Jack's voice boomed up the stairs. "MADDIE, THE ECTO-READINGS FROM THE SCHOOL ARE OFF THE CHARTS!"

"The dunk tank water," five teenagers realized simultaneously.

"I'll handle it," Jazz sighed, closing her notebook. "I've got a whole presentation ready about chemical reactions in chlorinated water."

As she headed downstairs, Sam turned to Samael. "You know, for someone who turns into a giant green rage monster, you handled today pretty well."

"Thanks," Samael replied dryly. "Think they'll let me put 'didn't destroy school carnival' on my college applications?"

"Under 'stress management skills,'" Tucker suggested. "Right after 'survived high school while periodically turning into-'"

Another crash from the lab interrupted him, followed by Jazz's voice expertly redirecting their parents' attention to some new invention.

"Speaking of survival," Danny said, "anyone done Lancer's homework? The copy I tried to read kept falling through my hands."

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(Author note: I hope you all enjoyed the chapter! Do tell me how you found it! Also, yeah, Paulina can be annoying, but she brings life to the story, so I like writing her. Expect more from her, and her eventual character development.

So yeah, do please comment how you found it and I hope to see you all later,

Bye!)