#future-jazz

[trashiiplant]

guess who finally caved and made their own tf redesigns

I'll be tagging this as "Transformers Revitalized AU" it's simply your typical everyone lives no one dies au mostly so I can freely goof around with the characters.

post war type beat, everyone tries to just kind of heal from it the best they can and reconcile with old friends

(megan is an author in this one :>c)

individual images vvv

[slutpoppers]

[phantompasta]

more If you find a vigilante in a dumpster by @lunamugetsu art because I do not feel normal rn

The lady on the left is Lady Gotham btw that's kinda how I picture her until the author describes her current appearance

Lady gotham-less art after the cut in case she wasn't the evil mastermind behind that last chapter ending + a meme

Also, for so you can see Danny's drawings in the background

[stealingyourbones]

I desperately need more mentor uncle figures and mentor brother figures in DPxDC to fill the interesting relationship dynamic gap that father figures stories can't always fill are u picking up what I'm putting down. Hell, just a regular friendship relationship with absolutely 0 familial dynamic.

[bet-on-me-13]

Harley and Ivy meet Jazz while she's Interning at Arkham, and think she's their daughter from the Future. Somehow.

They're not wrong.

Turns out the Fentons decides to test a Prototype Ghost Portal one day 18 years ago and accidentally made a Time Portal instead. Deeming the experiment a Failure, they were just about to close it and start again when a Baby was launched out of it and into Jack's arms.

The moment he looked into her Eyes he knew he wanted to keep her. Maddie was much the same.

They did Try to return her at first, but turns out the Portal was Unstable and constantly shifting between dozens of different TimeZones, so they could never find where/when she came from. She could either be from Earth 18 years later, or Mars 5 Million Years Ago. No way to tell.

So without any other option they decided that she was their Daughter now.

It helped that she looked so much like them, and that both had been in the Lab for 9 Months straight building the Portal so nobody would question the sudden Baby. They just told the Hospital they had an At Home Delivery and officially made her their Daughter.

They raised her believing that she was their's Biologically, because after a while they honestly forgot she wasn't.

Now Jazz is working as an Intern at Arkham Asylum, and has met the 2 Patients she will be helping take care of.

Doctor Pamela Isley, and Doctor Harleen Quinzel. Aka, Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn.

This should be an interesting internship.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 261

“So is no one going to talk about the eldritch space child or…” 

“I mean, do you want to get between a child and Batman? I think the only one who could even get close right now is Superman…” 

“No you’re right, I think- oh my god the eldritch space child is playing with batman’s bat-ears and he’s not doing anything about it what the fuck I thought only Robins could get away with that-” 

[bluerosefox]

I've been seeing a few DPxDC Dad!Damian ideas so I'd like to toss my idea into the void of the internet.

Damian is on a lead about a glowing green puppy, that can apparently change size and go through walls, and finally manages to track it down before even his father hears about it. The puppy seemed to be stealing random things too.

He was fully ready to use all the tricks in the book to get the puppy to trust him... and after a few days/weeks he manages to gain its trust.

He just wasn't expecting the puppy to drag him to abandoned warehouse and drop him in front of a few kids that were hiding out in it.

"Oh! Cujo you finally brought your new person over!" says the only red-haired one in the group, and she was holding a baby, as two almost identical toddlers ran over to the excited pupper that began to run around them.

[pepperquinnartz]

Are Danny Phantom redesigns still cool? Well regardless, here's some edits I made a month or two ago with my own interpretation of some of the characters!

[sketchnskribbles]

Elita One bringing out her minors miners out for their daily mandatory walk. What a wonderful Supervisor she is 🥰

[the-scarecrow-of-aus]

Time limits and being late for dinner

Danny, pinned down by gunfire on top of a wounded red hood who caught him in his territory and chased him into a rivals warehouse:

"Hey hood, soo... hypothetically, if I was to remove your helmet how long is the detonation trigger?"

Jason starting to lose conciousness and slur from blood loss:

"Like half a second after it triggers, it'll blow before you can clear my head, why?"

"Cool, that gives me half a second to see why my sister is obsessed with your ugly ass!"

"What? Wait... who's your sis-"

*grabs Jason's head by the helmet and phases it straight off and through his body using the momentum to throw it towards a group of shooters in a single move*

[There's a loud bang and the shooters duck for cover as two go down screaming from the shrapnel]

"-ter... hey! How'd you do that?"

"Ugh, I was right, you remind me of Johnnie. Oh well, c'mon man, well be late. Not something you want to experience when jazz is waiting"

"Jazz... Wait! Are you kidding me, the bookworm Jazz, is your sister?"

Danny braced his arms across hoods chest under the arms like they were floating in water and leaned backwards, red hood and himself suddenly unburdened by gravity slid through the wall covering their backs and disappeared from sight (if not sound as Jason dazedly kept commenting on the cute girl he'd mistaken for babs and if she actually liked him back)

They were late, jazz was definately gonna be mad!

[keferon]

.....face in hands. I don't know what to say.

I'm reading this fic at a snail's pace because after every fifth paragraph, fireworks explode in my brain and I go to draw what I just read

[faeriekit]

The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

*

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

[slutpoppers]

[dclovesdanny]

Dcxdp

Dan/Danny/Dani 2/5

Dan raising Ellie and Danny in Central City

Due to the GIW interfering and almost killing everyone, Danielle was destabilized and Danny was almost completely ended.

Dan, who had been doing community service with Clockwork, was now saddled with his younger self who was now a baby, and his younger self’s clone, who was now a toddler, both of whom had very little memories of before.

Due to Vlad and the GIW, being dicks, it wasn’t safe for Danny or Ellie to remain in Amity while the fighting was going on. So, clockwork decided that Dan, for the rest of his parole, was going to raise both halfas in the immortal world, since staying in the infinite realms was not good for them.

Thankfully, clockwork and Tucker created a fake identity. He was now Dante times, a single father of a girl named Eleanor and a boy named Danny. Clock work even lined up a job for him as a mechanic at a shop in Central city.

He even had a slightly odd friendship with a guy named Roy, a single dad who lived in Central City due to some problems with his father, and had an adorable little girl named Lian.(Ellie and Lian were best friends from the moment they met, and both girls doted on baby Danny.)

Wally hadn’t expected much when he found out Roy was living in Central city. It was a well-known fact that he had been feuding with Green Arrow for a while, and the Flash Family had agreed to let Roy hide out here. What he wasn’t expecting to see was the guy who Bart had warned them all about, the guy that had taken out all the heroes, including Batman, in his nightmare future, talking to Roy over coffee while a girl who looked exactly like him play dolls with Lian. He especially wasn’t expecting to see the man Bart described as a sadistic monster soothe a crying baby boy who looked almost exactly like him.

Wally got the feeling they would have to have a Flash Family meeting soon, and started debating on bringing Roy.

[fuchinobe]

Platinum Airways Flight 900 (1997, RCA, BVCR-1054)

[anonymous-existences]

Prologue: Last Moments.

She's.....

She's hurt...

Danny stares at the Sword of Pariah Dark that went through Jasmine's body.

Oh no...

Danny was breathing heavily, his heart. Beating?... Racing. He ran to her with no hesitance, closing their distance with a desperate hug.

His body trembling as blood dripped down from her to his hands. He felt his tears trail down his cheeks, slowly emerging from his eyes even further making him sob uncontrollably in his silent space. Before finally, she spoke. "Danny, Danny... No... Don't cry..." She says softly as she caresses his cheek trying to console him. "Jazz, I'm sorry .. I'm so sorry... I'm so sorr—" he was cut off. "Shh..." She shushes him softly and kissed his forehead. "It's okay... Danny... Remember... Remember you're my baby brother okay?... It's gonna be okay- even if... Even if I'm not here" her voice was trembling in both fear and... Sadness. Danny couldn't help but keep sobbing in her hand, her chest bleeding out with a sword impaled right through her chest. "I-... I love you .. my little brother... my precious Danny.... remember that .... I love you.." She struggles to breathe and talk as she kept consoling her baby brother. She slowly learns forward and rests her head on his shoulder. "Jazz...?" Danny Muttered. "Big Sis...?" His voice breaks as he hugged her body tight, he can't feel her breathe, he can't feel her heart. The warmth of her body slowly fading... Matching the coldness of his skin. Of his own self. He feels her body matching his own... Pale, Cold, Unmoving. "I'm sorry.... I love you too.." He muttered one as he buried his face on her hair in his tight embrace.

I know I'm evil hehehehe

@talia-scar123 XDD