#business capacity

[j-august]

"Writers," I said, and, I think, said rightly, "love money, they adore money! Successful writers, I mean. The ones who have become venerable - the ones who have made great names by writing about the irony of life and the incapabilities of wealth, the writers of the people for the people. They worship money, they hoard money. One and all despise rich people, and are perfectly beastly about the upper-classes. You should ask any publisher about the business capacity of any great author who writes about the Irony of Life."

Michael Arlen, The Green Hat

[markscherz]

‘But I am very poorly today & very stupid & hate everyone & everything’

- Charles Darwin. Letter to Charles Lyell, 1 October 1861

[sereneabyyss]

I see so many things where like SY is the sweet innocent one who shows SJ how to love and be loved and fixes him blah blah blah. But oh come on now, this is Peerless Cucumber we're talking about. Number one hater extraordinaire. He is so bitchy. He would not fix SJ if anything he would make him worse.

I need more content that's just SY and SJ standing with their twin fans unfolded, viciously tearing their opponents (the other peak lords) apart with their barbed insults. I need them casting vicious mockery within every battle, whether it be against demon, peak lord, or random civilian who just happened to spill tea on them.

[pikopikoheartz]

MATRYOSHKA !! ☆

[palmettoshenanigans]

I'm not even gonna write an essay on this one, I'm tired and it's rapidly approaching the witching hour so imma just-

Neil is constantly shadow boxing with his fear of being Just Like My Father NOT because he fears that Wesninski Blood but because he fears the fragility of choice. Everything he knows how to do, all of his skills, combined with his natural disposition and temperament really do put him on par with his father - potentially even worse than his father if you think Nathan lacks Neil's ability to meticulously execute a long con.

Ruthless. Manipulative. Intelligent. Sneaky n Stealthy. Fast. Quick learner. Violent. Cut throat. Selective empathy. Observant. Skilled with weapons. Crime prodigy. Improv. Etc etc etc - Nathaniel truly is Nathan's son when you look at Capacity. Neil had very good reason to fear that - he really is a Wesninski in more than just name.

He just chooses to be kind. Chooses to care. Chooses Exy and friends and family and Andrew and Love.

But choices are both iron clad foundations and flimsy whisps in the wind

Neil isn't different from his father because of difference in Capacity. Neil is different from his father because of difference in Choices. And "Is that enough?" is such a scary question when it suddenly involves people he dared to care about.

[blackbatcass]

listen I know it’s kind of corny and inaccurate to act like every single person in the dc universe knows each other and is besties but it IS endlessly funny to me to follow the web of connections and see how many degrees removed from each other everyone is.

like look at the arrowfam okay. ollie and dinah are together, ollie is homoerotic best friends with hal, dinah is homoerotic best friends with babs. roy is dating dick, has a kid with jade, and is basically an adoptive father to both grant emerson and rose wilson. connor is dating kyle and is constantly followed around by eddie fyers. mia is friends with a lot of the second gen teen titans kids, had an on-again-off-again thing going on with steph for a while, and is currently dating sienna. emiko is besties with courtney and some of the other recent teen titans. sin has a small army of protective aunts from the birds of prey. the real question is how far does it go before ollie puts a cap on the number of people who are invited to family brunch on sundays

[saltynovember]

As a Japanese I know Zoro's notorious line "You're asking the wrong guy" is supposed to represent his bushido(武士道) spirit in which having interest in romance is regarded naive and unprofessional, but the fan(girl) me is 200% onboard with the Tumblr interpretation of "Oh he's 🌈✨"

[zenlesszonezero]

Join Zenless Zone Zero with Tsukishiro Yanagi, the deputy leader of Hollow Special Operations Section 6! Beneath her ordinary office lady exterior lies a meticulous, emotionally intelligent big sister to the team.

[ljsarts]

having a severe art block where nothing is turning out how i like but we persist! anywho here's a wip/very rough sketch of a Tim breaker design to go along with my rose piece : D

Update finished it! here

[sssammich]

day 4: garden | hallucinations

note: this story is about death, but with a twist. but still, death.

supercorptober / whumptober

---

her dark brunette hair, pulled into a low ponytail over her shoulder, swishes across her shoulder when she turns her head to a blonde woman standing at the edge of her yard, her hand hovering over the makeshift wooden fence she'd erected a handful of decades ago.

she shuts her eyes, echoes of echoes of memories float in her mind of many bygone eras, but the blue of the woman's eyes remain the same through them all. perhaps it's just a hallucination. beautiful blue-eyed blonde women come around often enough.

"you've finally found me," she says finally, after having opened her eyes and confirming that she's now face to face with the very woman she's been waiting to cross paths with.

"so i have," the woman says, her voice soft and gentle.

for the first time in almost a century, the evader of death stands in front of death herself.

death asks, "how are you?"

against her better judgment, her face breaks into an amused smile. "i'm just fine."

death nods, as if receiving her answer like they're simply discussing the weather.

after a muted beat, she comments to death, "you took your time."

"i was needed elsewhere." death says it with a half shrug, her hands resting on her waist. an image of innocence that completely belies her true powers or the true cost of her role.

she dusts her hands of the dirt and grime from her garden. she'd just gotten the hang of planting plumerias, but perhaps she'll have to worry about them at her next destination. "until next time?"

when she attempts to walk towards her house, death's voice rings in her ears from behind. "do you want to go?"

she stumbles in her steps, grabbing hold of her porch railing. she whips around, the green of her eyes studying death exactly where she stands.

"isn't that up to you?" her voice comes out strong, but quiet.

death, for the first time since her arrival, looks away.

the time between them, naturally, stretches and contracts, the two of them once again stuck in limbo.

from the foot of her porch steps, she takes decided steps towards the wooden fence. she grabs hold of the handle and swinging it back to eliminate the one physical barrier between them. mere minutes ago, she'd just been thinking about her impending departure, determining which of her contingency plans would work best for her current situation.

yet now, as she observes death's face standing in front of her, she catches a rare glimpse of death's true state of being. deep and tired and burdened, the millennia of millennia death has lived betraying the arrested youth of her face.

resolute blue eyes stare into the very depths of her and at once, a surge of renewed energy flows through body of the evader of death.

there is a lifetime of lifetimes shared between them, every single moment paired with every single emotion one could ever experience. hurt. joy. anger. sadness. pride. jealousy. happiness. pain. contentment. love.

grief.

love. grief. love. grief. love. grief. love. grief. love.

though her impossibly beating heart thunders in her chest, in her stomach settles a sense of peace. a difference in every other moment prior to this one. a change in the wind, a change in the weather, a change in time.

she brings a hand up and brushes death's blonde hair out of the way, going so far as to tuck it behind her ear. when had they done this last? before everything changed? after?

days and years and seconds and millennia.

her lips, a pale pink hue and chapped and teeth marked, press upon death's cheek. a mortal damp warmth against the coolness of immortal skin.

"will you really do it?"

death's jaw tightens. "i have caused you enough suffering. a lifetime or two, some would say."

it's a terrible joke: on the nose, expected. but the evader of death laughs because this is it. this is where they have found themselves, in a shaded garden so far away from who they used to be, once upon a time.

she sticks her finger out, pointing, accusatory. "if this is some trick—"

"it's not a trick." death grabs hold of her finger before cradling her hand to a cold chest. "it's not a trick. if you want to go, i will let you go."

grief. love. grief. love. grief. love. grief. love. grief.

she takes purchase in a singular moment, her answer having made a home on the roof of her mouth for as long as she can remember.

"i do. i want you to let me go."

death releases a shaky breath, one that falls warm on her face. "okay."

you see, the evader of death is a misnomer. incorrect. a bastardization of the truth.

the evader of death has never wanted to escape the natural progression of life, to disrupt the order of chaos. she has wanted to embrace death for all of her life, for all of the lives of her lives, but death herself has evaded her.

because death wants her but she cannot be anything but herself. neither of them can be anything but themselves.

so they have been playing an interesting cat and mouse game where the cat hides from the mouse instead, the mouse placing herself in all facets of discovery, only for the cat to betray her very being and leave the mouse alone.

the evader of death brings her arms up to wrap them around death's neck, death immediately cradling her in her arms.

a sad smile appears on her face, one overflowing with great sadness only equal to that of great tenderness.

"do you remember who we were? the first time?" she asks, their faces practically touching, their noses grazing.

death's own lip quivers. "yeah. i've never forgotten."

"that's how i want you to remember me. that's the best of me."

"all of you is the best of you."

for the first time in a long while, her body vibrates in laughter. the freest she's felt in an open cage. "i'm already in your arms, darling."

death's laugh comes out stuttering and wet, but it is more life than she has expressed for so, so very long. "can you ever forgive me for keeping you here all this time?" death asks hers.

she slides her hand to caress death's cheek, the same one she'd pressed a kiss to earlier. "i forgave you a long time ago, kara. i've just been waiting for you to forgive yourself."

grief.

kara sniffles, a tear making a run down her cheek, her name uttered out loud after years of disuse. "can i do anything for you?"

she sighs, an exhalation of all the tension she's held for all of time she's held within. this is what's right. this is correct. her body feels at home and her soul feels at rest.

"say my name. tell me a story. hold me."

"in that order?" a lopsided smile appears on kara's face. a better joke, she thinks. she appreciates. her heart sings.

"in that order."

kara clears her throat, bravely pushing past the threat of sobs, and tightens her hold.

"oh, lena. well, i think you'll like this story about these two imperfect people who met a long, long time ago. against all odds, they found each other. one of them was shadowing her cousin to interview this young ceo who was taking over her family's company. ever heard of it?"

love.

lena's mirth splits her face and she tucks her head in the crook of kara's neck, tightening her own hold of kara's body pressed against hers. satisfied, held and cradled in kara's arms. they don't let go of each other, not even when kara's tears spill and drop on alabaster skin, not even when death's grip inevitably takes over and the brightness and vibrancy in green eyes disappear once and for all.

[jovenshires]

so heyyyy.... how y'all doin......

[magneticflower]

Also, I'd like to say the dots are connecting for me

But they are not

All I got are lots of Ham references

[rosekasa]

there is something so. intensely frustrating about feeling incapable of showing up for people the way that they want you to

[labyrynth]

so um anyway jiang cheng canonically does not consider wei wuxian a servant—let alone “just a servant”—and does not treat him like one. idk where this idea came from but it is factually untrue.

in fact, jc repeatedly indicates that he thinks wwx’s station is on par with other gentry, that he likes the idea of being part of a pair with wwx, and even jokes with wwx, mocking the notion that wwx could be a servant.

after wwx was taken in, they were functionally raised as equals, and there is nothing in their interactions as youths that indicates or even hints that their relationship was master/servant instead of simply childhood friends.

and obviously wwx is not sect leader, so yeah, he is expected to defer to jc after the war, (and that’s not an inherently bad thing, that’s how leadership works) but jc lets him get away with SO much shit that Would Not Fly if wwx were a servant (or treated like one). if jc only regarded wwx as a servant, there is literally no reason to be as lenient as jc was with wwx’s loose canon tendencies.

i’m sorry, but there is simply no valid reading of their relationship where the dynamic of their relationship is master/servant. their relationship simply is not built on obligation, as much as they both try to act like it. this assumption undercuts a huge amount of context and motivation, leaving nonsensical character decisions and gaping plot holes. there is no mdzs unless they care about each other as individuals.

[rawr-mortgage]

made this earlier and just realized that “passively suicidal and actively self-destructive” is actually a great way to describe Jude's character

[sonicblooms]

the baby, elijah, finally made his grand entrance :’)))

[spacedace]

Here, have a snippet of the Jason & Steph sibling bonding portion of the DP x DC AU I wrote 10k words for since last night in a haze of post sickness/burnout creative burst, featuring some Anger Management because of course it does lol

(I call it a snippet but it’s like...3k words lol)

Trigger Warnings because most of this snippet focuses on them running around Crime Alley and shit that goes down in it: references to drugs, overdoses, domestic abuse, child endangerment (if I miss anything let me know and I’ll add it). Nothing expliciet or details but they are things mentioned as happening because, well, Crime Alley.

-

Spoiler shifts subtly from foot to foot on the rooftop, hands open and ready at her side as she split her attention from watching him and checking the street below for signs of trouble. Her gaze was sharp on the girls working the corner, tracking for any hint that the man talking them up was making any of them uncomfortable even as she made sure Jason didn’t suddenly dart across the ten feet between them to strike out at her.

“George Conrad.” He said, satisfied that his sudden breaking of the silence didn’t make her jump though did catch her attention fully, fingers twitching warningly towards her belt. He nodded his head down to the street and the large man rummaging through the bag he brought with him. More of the girls had huddled up around him. “Not a john. Not even from Gotham.” He explained, shifting to walk over to the edge of the roof, giving her his back as he did. “His son Kyle ran away from home while George was oversees and ended up working the streets. George tracked him down once he was back in the states a few years ago but by the time he made it here Kyle had been killed.”

She moved to join him at the ledge, still leaving space between them but not enough for his guns to be as effective. Smart, vigilant, but still with a soft enough heart to stop and listen to one of the many tragedies that played out in Gotham’s darkest streets.

“What happened?” She asked, eyes softening on the big man in question as he started handing out ziploc bags. Jason knew very well what they held, and wondered if Spoiler could make out the finer details from the distance they were at. Sandwiches, granola bars, water bottles, condoms, clean needles, wet-wipes, little travel sewing kits, over the counter pain meds. Anything and everything George had ever been told would be appreciated or useful by the sex workers he spoke to.

“Overdose.” Jason answered, grateful that the distorter built into his helmet disguised the tightness of his voice. Memories of a cold body on the floor, stiff and waxy with distant glassy eyes. “Got mixed up with the wrong person. Boyfriend. Not a big player but,” He shrugged and knew that Spoiler would understand. It was how a lot of people got mixed up in sex work when they wouldn’t have normally. Boyfriend that promised the world, the painful fall into being pressured to sleep with said boyfriend’s friend, then another, then another. “One of Daisy’s boys was a neighbor and figured out what was going on, Daisy helped get him out but it was too late by then.”

Below one of the girls, younger than the rest - an adult, because he wouldn’t allow anything else in his territory, but still new to the scene - surged forward to wrap her arms around the old man. George gave her a gentle pat on the back, pushing her back gentle to dig out a card from his pocket. A list of numbers for her to call, shelters and organizations that could help, his own number in case she ever needed anything. “They chipped in for a funeral for him. Gave George somewhere to go and mourn. He’s been here ever since, trying to look after them all. He works as a bouncer at Daisy’s these days but he always does the rounds when he isn’t working.”

“People never get this part.” Spoiler mused, voice going soft and distant. “They always think the Alley is just…” She waved a gloved hand, “Trash and monsters. They can’t seem to get that there’s more. Just…people. Some really good ones even.”

He smiled behind his mask. There was a reason she was the one of the whole Bat Clan he’d decided to trust with this.

“Come on.” He said, waving her after him as he began an easy run that’d let them both move easily from rooftop to rooftop. Spoiler hesitated a moment, but at length followed, quick and quiet as she darted from shadow to shadow in his wake.

They spent the following couple of hours meandering around Crime Alley at an easy clip. Squat roofs and rusted fire escapes, narrow streets and dark corners. Pausing to jump in and handle anything that popped up or at particular spots of interest where he’d point out places and people. The chop shop run by the ragged gang of teens and children some of the gangs had been angling towards that needed looking after. The homeless encampment nestled between the grimy apartment building Daisy O’Neil had taken over to run her business out of and the tiny, almost forgotten pauper’s cemetery. The usual roosting spots for the drug dealers, the gambling dens, the little family owned cafe that had the best Tantuni at midnight and even better Turkish coffee at the crack of dawn.

It was as they perched on top of this last one, tucked back in the shadows away from view as Spoiler devoured the freshly made Lokma that Mrs. Solak insisted on making fresh for them when they stopped by that the question finally came.

“So what exactly is all this?” Spoiler asked, popping another of the sugary, honey covered Lokma in her mouth. He’d shoved the container Mrs. Solak had given to him over to her after eating only a few, knowing she was going to try to steal them anyway if he didn’t. “When you said you needed my help with something in Crime Alley, I was expecting…I don’t know, drug runners or something.” She popped another golden dough ball in her mouth, cheeks round as a chipmunk and voice muffled as she said, “Not a tour of the place.”

Jason let his head fall back on the brick of the rooftop entrance behind them, eyes scanning the glittering horizon of the Gotham skyline, trying to sort out his answer. He had talked about how he was going to do this with Jazz, practicing what he was going to say, what he wanted to reveal, what outcomes he could expect from the whole thing. When he left he’d felt confident about it all, riding high on the warmth of Jazz’s kiss and the fluttering thumps of little legs kicking against his hand. Now that he was here though he felt lost as to how to begin.

“I’m hanging up the mask.” He finally said. It wasn’t quite like the first time he’d said it out loud, in the privacy of his apartment, curled in bed with Jazz, only brave enough to whisper it in the dark. There wasn’t that rush of anxiety and relief that had hit him at finally saying what had twisted over and over in his head for weeks leading up to that moment. Now there was just the settled feeling, the certainty, the surety of being on the path he wanted to be on. “I wanted to ask if you’d look after my territory me when I do.”

Spoiler gaped at him. “Wait, seriously?”

He almost laughed, he settled on giving her a lazy smile. “Seriously.”

With her masked pulled down so she could eat her treats he could see her wide eyed, disbelief on her face easily. “Why?”

He gave a shrug, aiming for nonchalant. “This used to be your territory for awhile, right? You’re from here, you know the Alley and the people and how it all works.” He felt his smile go softer, “I trust you to be able to keep it safe.”

Spoiler’s - Steph’s - expression softened at that. “That’s…thank you.” She glanced out the same way he had before, face caught in something bittersweet. “I…I hated this place growing up. I still do, kinda. I think everyone that lives here does. But I still missed it, it’s still…still home.”

“Yeah,” He agreed, mind turning over his childhood. The constant fear and hardship. Living rough even when he did have a roof over his head. His father’s heavy hands. His mother’s slow wasting. Crime Alley was a complete shit hole, one where the worst of the worst tended to gather. But it wasn’t all monsters. There were good people too, just trying to scrape by. Old George wandering the streets handing out necessities to working girls and boys. The Solak family and their little shop, giving out the left overs to the street kids and homeless. The Nightingales, crammed into their two bedroom apartment, just trying to get by. “I knew you’d get it.”

They sat in silence for awhile. Steph chewing over his request and her Lokma, Jason lost in memories of the past and wistful dreams of the future. At length the blond next to him bumped his shoulder with hers, head tilting at a questioning angle. “I…I really appreciate what you said, about why me.” She said, awkward and touched in equal measure. “But…I was actually wondering why you were stepping back.”

He was ready for that question, he was. He’d initially just wanted to leave it at none of your fucking business but Jazz had - wise as ever - pointed out that he was asking her a favor, and a big one at that. He might not be comfortable with the rest of his family knowing everything - or anything - but Steph at least deserved an explanation as to why he was asking her to take over his territory.

“You tell anyone this, and I will kill you.” He started and then cringed internally because that had not at any point been something that had come up in his practice conversations with Jazz. Oh well, any more ooie-gooey feelings talk and Steph probably would have thought he was replaced by a pod person or something. “I’m seeing someone.”

The faintly alarmed look the blond vigilante beside him had melted away in an instant, replaced by a sly, mischievous grin. Hellion. One whiff of gossip and that’s all it took. “Ooooh, Big Bad Red Hood has a heart after all.” She crooned, ignoring her earlier reticence to get too close and leaning dramatically against his side. “Who is it huh? Anyone I know? Ooh, is it someone in the Outlaws?”

He was reminded of before he died, suddenly. Of teasing Dick over his latest crush over a beautiful red head that could kick his ass like a proper annoying little brother. In an echo of that moment so many years ago, he shoved Spoiler off in the same way Dick had done to him, rolling his eyes at her dramatic squawking as she nearly dropped her treat to disguise the small smile that wanted to curl at his lip. He swiped at the container lazily, a feint at stealing it back that resulted in a brief scuffle that ended with him popped a few of the Lokma in his mouth as she tore the container - that he had given to her in the first place - away, holding it close to her chest like a precious treasure.

“No, no one you know.” He answered at last they finally settled down. He paused for a beat, gaze turning back to the city as he added. “She’s a civilian.”

Spoiler looked considering at that, chewing at one of the last of the Lokma thoughtfully. “So what’s going on then? You do a face reveal and she asked you to quit the vigilante business?”

“No.” He said, taking a small, steadying breath. Better to just rip off the bandaid. “She’s pregnant.”

Spoiler went still beside him, laughing eyes shuttering and face falling into a neutral mask as she stared at him. After a long, long moment she gave a small, unreadable little, “Oh.”

Jason fought the urge to fidget. Oh. It could mean so many things. Oh shit. Oh no. Oh how nice. Oh boy I can’t wait to tell Bruce about this. That last one, admittedly, was unlikely. Spoiler was on good terms with most of the Bats and Birds but she and Bruce had long had something of a rocky relationship. No where near as bad as what he and the old man had, but still enough that she was probably the very last person to willingly go hunt Bruce down to share all the details of Jason’s private life unless she thought it particularly necessary.

The silence stretched on. And Jason knows what silence does to a human brain. Four seconds of quiet during a conversation after saying something registers as rejection, caused feelings of anxiety and apprehension, even caused the same signals in the brain as physical pain. Prolonged silence and steady attention at the same time caused an urge to fill the quiet, to speak and keep speaking until the other person says something. It was something Bruce taught him, guiding him along in his Robin days on how to perform interrogation and get the person they were questioning to spill their guts.

He was taught too how to outlast that silence in situations where he was being questioned. Both by Bruce and by the League - though the interrogations that he was meant to resist under their teachings had far more than long awkward silences to contend with. He knew how to clamp down on that instinctive drive to keep talking when faced with stillness like this.

And yet, somehow he could stop himself.

“I just…I think about being a kid and my dad going to work,” He said the word with appropriate amount of vitrol, “And then never coming back. Him dying in jail and it just being me and my mom trying to scrape by. Or…or with Bruce. Knowing that I was always going to place second to the Rogues and the city. I just…” His head dropped back on the brick behind him, eyes closed and throat tight. “I can’t do that to my kid. I’m going to be there. I’m going to make sure they’re safe and happy and that they don’t ever have to worry about if their old man is coming home or not.”

It was a nightmare he’d been having, since the morning he and Jazz crowded over a couple of pregnancy tests and saw the results. Dying out in the gutter and shambling home as a ghost to see the grief he left behind. Jazz crying, a child who’s features he could never make out standing in the doorway the way he would stand at the entrance of the cave when he was too injured to go out with Batman. Waiting in painful silence and burning tears to find out that his father was dead.

“I’m not…I’m not cutting out of the life completely.” He said, trying to focus past the squeezing in his chest, trying to force the conversation back into a conversation rather than him just pouring his bleeding heart out to a blank wall. “I’m going to talk to Babs, see if she’d be alright with me helping with some of what she does, or get something similar setup solely for the Alley. I’m going to keep tabs with my guys on what’s going on and work with them that way. And if there’s anything big, obviously you guys can call me in, I’m not just going to sit back if there’s a city wide threat or worse, I just - “

There were arms around him, suddenly. Warm and strong as they wrapped around him, a face pressed into his shoulder, his nose tickled by blond hair.

He sat there, frozen for a long moment before slowly, lifting his own arms to return the hug. Steph gave him an encouraging squeeze. “I get it.” She said, voice whisper soft and almost lost as she spoke into the leather of his jacket. “I think…I think if I’d been older, if I was more able to keep her…I think I would have done the same thing.” There was a faint sniff as she finally pulled away. She wasn’t crying, but her eyes were bright with tears. “I’m happy for you.” She moved to gently head butt him, “And I’m honored to take over watching over this shithole of ours.”

Jason gave a watery laugh, not even caring that he was crying as he scrubbed away some of the tears that had burned down his cheek. “Thanks Blondie. Steph.”

She rocked back on her heels, arms crossed as her expression turned suddenly serious. “I do have one condition though.” At his look the seriousness melted away into an exuberant grin. “I want to meet this mystery woman of yours. Wait!” She brightened, “Two conditions! I want to be there when you finally tell B and the rest! I am not missing the look on their faces when you tell them!”

He rolled his eyes and shoved her, sending her tumbling into the container of Lokma and sending the remaining fried dough balls rolling across the grungy roof. Steph squawked, dropping to her knees before the thoroughly ruined sweets as dramatic as if it was her one true love laying dead before her. “They were so young, so innocent!” She wailed, throwing her head back as if to howl at the sky in mourning before snapping back to him, finger pointing at him accusatory. “You! This is your fault! I will have my vengeance!”

The rest of the night was spent darting from rooftop to rooftop in an echo of the game of tag he used to play with Dick and Babs years ago. Tackling each other and fighting without actually aiming to do real damage. Only pausing to jump down to the street or through a window here and there to knock some heads together.

By the time he was heading to the Dead Man’s Hand so he could walk Jazz home - or whisk her off to his safehouse, if he was lucky and she was able to duck her siblings for the day - he felt lighter. Steph would look after the Alley, the people he protected. He’d work with her over the next few months, get her integrated with his lieutenants and make sure she was familiar with the ins and outs of his little slice of Gotham, make sure she was as ready as she could be to take over for him.