#jazz week

[that-creature-thing]

Did you know? It's Jazz week! One theme for the 17th was Sniper. So I had this idea. Prowl got them spidy senses lol but don't worry, it's just Jazz flirting!

I tried to keep it simple due to the time limit but I still put in more effort than anticipated lol

[beemochi-art]

I MISSED JAZZ WEEK!! So BUSY!! SO SAD!!!

So much work and I completely forgot.

Kinda bummed out. But I guess I will just have to wait till next year 🤷. Me too Jazz, me too.

[v-exian]

July 19: Magic for Jazz Week 👀👀 @autobotjazzweek

[danu2203]

LISTENING THIS WEEK...SOME HEP CATS...

JASON MORAN, MILES DAVIS, SONNY ROLLINS, ROY HARGROVE

AND, TWO KOOL, KOOL, KITTIES

SARAH VAUGHN AND DINA KRALL

[they-hermes]

the only way id accept jazz frequently going undercover as a decepticon in fanon is if how he does it is just by being nice and funny. like i bet any decepticon would spill massive intel if they met this guy who made funny jokes and offered to clean their guns sometimes. sure they'd like to punch the rookie around but they mellow out pretty quickly and soon enough they're telling the new guy every detail they know about high command over a few drinks and letting him through restricted areas

[bloominglegumes]

chomp

[floq]

I got inspired…

based on this meme

[pricklenettle]

Im sorry this isn’t the best photo ever, but heres some jazzes and a spike

[bluerosefox]

Drake Siblings

Have I read this prompt somewhere or was this a fever dream from my bored mind.

What if, now hear me out.

What if we bring up Dana Winters-Drake (whose confirmed to at least be alive in the DC verse but no one knows where she actually is)

What if instead of when she had a mental breakdown and getting committed to an Bludhaven clinc she wandered away before anyone noticed and by the time Tim or anyone did notice a lot of stuff started happening at once in both Gotham and Bludhaven (Steph dying, The Bludhaven crisis, etc etc)

Tim still tries to find her though but even with best resources it was like she just disappeared into the wilderness and the stress of trying to handle more and more problems get worse.

So when out of the blue, a couple of years later, he gets a call from an unknown number. On his private, only for friends and family, phone and when he answers he meet with a young girls voice on the other end.

A very young, maybe six or seven, girl who informs him about his apparently half-brother Danny Drake-Fenton. And how she loves Danny so, so, so much but knows her home is dangerous for him to be in.

Tim is stunned and before he could question her, she says Danny is Dana and Jack's baby and that her parents had adopted him years ago and put Dana's stuff that the hospital had away for him to look at when he was older but she just had to fight off their lunch from eating her brother and she knows he needs a better place to live and so she snooped around and found Dana's diary and that she had to unscramble the nonsense Dana wrote and found Tim's number with the words 'tell him about his brother Danny' hidden in it. And-

But before she could keep rambling she hears Danny screaming "JAZZY THE MILK WENT BAD AGAIN AND HISSED AT ME!"

Tim is left with silence after hearing Jazz yell to Danny to lock the fridge and step out of the kitchen as she gets the bat.

[demonic0angel]

DC x DP Prompt: Jazz receives super powers after a random accident, and like a sensible person she ignores it to focus on her studies/work. But supervillains keep coming around to pick fights and cause trouble for both her and Danny.

(I hc that Jazz has shadow and dream related powers. She probably still has Shadow tho)

Danny: So… what’s with the skull outside the apartment window…?

Jazz: It’s a warning to everyone else to not bother us :)

Danny: …. So who is it?

Jazz: The Joker :)

Danny: …. Okay. So how did you kill him?

Jazz: You know how :)

Danny: …. Yes. Yes, I do. So when did you kill him?

Jazz: This morning when he started harassing the Red Hood :)

Danny: … so is that why he’s been dropping off flowers and chocolates since then?

Jazz: Probably? :)

Danny: …. Okay, I’ll just… not do anything about this…. I’m taking a nap :,/

Jazz: You do that. Sweet dreams :)

[gummybearstastelikesadness]

When Danny enters the Fenton portal for the very first time, he still trips and shocks himself but at the same time damages the inside of the portal enough that it can’t sustain itself past the point of changing Danny’s molecules.

The electricity and damage done to both Danny and the portal isn’t something Danny, Sam, and Tucker can cover up and his parents find out immediately. They’re more concerned about their son then the portal (they have the blueprints for the portal and can rebuild it later but can’t replace their son if something happened to him) and go through a lot of things emotions regarding the existence of ghost human hybrids.

Danny’s new biology could easily be passed as meta human traits. Unfortunately President Lex Luther had just recently passed laws against meta humans. Meaning they can’t risk people find out about Danny’s new powers, at all. The Fentons decide that Danny should live with one of Maddie or Jacks relatives off grid until he can control his new abilities better.

luckily Jacks sister, Martha, and her husband have experience with a super powered child and after their son moved to the city could probably use a hand on their farm. All Jack needed to do was call.

[redmedic]

Bloodweave Week - Day 2 [Hair]

I know I said yesterday that I would make these fully coloured this week, but I was just so happy with the lineart, so I didn’t want to cover it up too much.

I just know Astarion is a fan of hot baths, and Gale is so devoted to him, helps him wash those pretty curls with fancy oils and a jug of hot water.

Tomorrow’s is going to be a collab job as well! Accompanied with a gorgeous fic from a good friend!

@bloodweaveweek

Patreon | Instagram | Redbubble

[starry-bi-sky]

Clone^2 - Separation Strikes

"Why do I have to go?" Damian asks, surly and accent-thick, it sounds more like a demand and a whine at the same time. Sitting on the kitchen table with his arms crossed, in a green t-shirt that Danny bought him at a whim when he was at a thrift shop, and black shorts, he's never looked more like a kid. There's a little backpack leaning against the table leg, Damian begrudgingly picked it out when they went shopping.

His English has grown in leaps and bounds since Danny found him -- er, or more accurately; since Damian was spat out in front of him. -- and very little did they have to use the translator on Danny's phone these days.

Which meant one thing: Damian can start attending school comfortably now. And 'go' was the Amity Smiles Child Care Center. Danny and Jazz went as kids until they were twelve, and Mom and Dad actually managed to convince the center director to let Damian enroll for the summer.

And it was summer; Damian starts today.

"Because," Danny says, trying and failing to hide the smile pulling on his face, his heart warm and soft, and also laughing at Damian's expense; "being cooped up in the house all day isn't good for you, and you're starting school in the Fall. And, in Jazz's words: you need to have interactions with other kids your age for the benefit of your social development. And besides, it's only for the morning."

Damian's nose scrunches up, and his eyes roll so violently that for a moment, Danny thinks about joking that he'll get his eyes stuck like that. He holds his tongue; his little brother already looks like he's five seconds away from committing an act of violence.

"I don't need social interaction." Damian sneers, his cheek in his hand; a neverend pool of pride. "I am--"

"The Blood of the Demon Heir, better than everyone else." Danny cuts off, waving his hand in dismissive circles, his voice mockingly deep. Damian's brown skin darkens in embarrassment, and he scowls at Danny. "I know, bud. But Jazz is right, -- don't tell her I said that, -- you should be around kids your age."

Especially when he starts First Grade in the Fall. Honestly -- Danny was a little nervous to send him to the center. Damian's long since cut the habit of trying to kill or otherwise maim people, his palms ache-burn with gentle reminder, but his tongue was as sharp and as cutting as his sword. He still struggles with trying to quell it when he's upset. Vicious child-weapon that he once was, and will never be again.

Danny knows that it comes from a place of fear and defense, that Damian lashes out because that's what he's been taught. That at the end of the day, he doesn't really mean what he says, and he's learning to express himself better. But the other kids don't know that, and kids can be unforgiving and cruel.

Danny just...

His slow beating heart sighs, melancholy settles behind his lungs.

He doesn't want Damian to be outcasted. He doesn't want him to be alone.

Not like he was.

Damian sneers again, but says nothing, his shoulders crawling up to hide his ears like a turtle receding into his shell. Danny watches him silently, leaning against the kitchen counter with his own arms crossed. The clock hanging on the wall ticks in their ears -- it's almost time to go.

He watches Damian, careful, and so he sees it when his little brother's stone-shell pride and petulance shudders, and cracks. The darkened furrow of Damian's brows weakens, and for a moment, slants back.

Ah, Danny thinks, his own shoulders slumping. Epiphany washes over him, and his sad-heart soothes in warm understanding. So that's what it is.

His head tilts, and his hair spills over his shoulders, messy and fluffy, tickling his neck. Some of his bangs fall into his face. "Hal 'ant easabiatan ya habibi?" He asks, voice low and soft. Just as Damian's English has improved, so has Danny's Arabic. He still stumbles over himself some days, and Damian says his accent is trash, but they can have whole conversations now in Damian's mothertongue.

(Danny was incredibly proud of himself for it.)

Damian's face darkens, his blush spreading across the rest of his face, and he ducks his head down. Grown-out curls, black-brown and springy, falls over his eyes. "La!" He yells, loud and indignant, and not at all convincingly. "La 'asheur bialtawaturi!"

He was nervous. Danny can see it now, in the hunch of his shoulders and the tightness of his face, and faintly, he can feel it too. In the ecto-rich air of the Fentonworks House, it thrums, barely-there, like a hummingbird behind his lungs.

Danny can't stop the little, fond smile that forces itself across his lips and upticks the corner of his mouth. "It's okay to be nervous, little brother." He says, he sounds like Jazz when he says that. He doesn't think she'll mind him borrowing the nickname.

He pushes himself off the counter, and Damian refuses to look at him, hiding behind his hair and in his shoulders. It takes three long strides for him to reach the table, and Danny turns, plants his hands on the ledge, and hoists himself up. Right next to Damian.

Damian leans into him easily when Danny's arm wraps around his shoulders and tucks him close to his heart. He can feel his ear against his ribs. Danny hunches over him, resting his chin on Damian's head. "It's so okay to be nervous, actually. I was nervous, Jazz was nervous." He tells him, scratching the blunt edge of his nails across his scalp. "Everyone gets nervous."

"'Ana last aljumiea." Damian mumbles, as small and feeble as he was the night on the OPS Center balcony, realizing that his mom and the League weren't coming for him. Realizing that he was replaceable.

Danny's half-working heart squeezes; in grief, in rage, and his faucet eyes sting. He breathes in carefully, and presses his nose into Damian's hair in a loving faux-kiss. "You're right, you're not everyone." He says, steady and strong, because if he's not a pillar for his family, who else is he?

He can feel Damian's eyes flick up to him, and Danny smiles into his black-brown curls. Tilts his head to squish his cheek against him instead, hand dropping to thumb below Damian's lashes. "You're Damian Fenton," Because the adoption went through a few weeks ago, and he's still riding that high, "You're my baby brother. O' Artist Extraordinaire, Kickass with a Sword, Vegetarian and Wonderful Co-Ghost Hunter."

Damian tries to stifle a smile, and fails. Score! Triumph gathers in Danny's gut, his smile grows wider. He squeezes Damian tight, and only releases him so he can look him in the eyes. "And if anyone gives you a hard time at school, and I mean anyone--"

Danny has bad memories of the teachers looking the other way when the other kids were bullying him, all because he was a Fenton.

And Danny, bleeding heart, bleeding hands, loves his family more than he will ever love himself, will never let Damian experience the same injustice. Not if he can help it.

His eyes narrow, and the buzzy-film of ectoplasm covers his eyes, making them glow, "--You tell me. And as your awesome great big brother-and-technically-dad-but-only-biologically, I will handle it."

Damian, wonderfully made, full of light, his little brother Damian, giggles weakly at him. A sound that's worth it's weight in gold. The scary eyes dissipate, and Danny matches the sound with a cock-eyed, impish grin, dragging Damian into a soul-crushing, too-tight hug. The kind that only annoying older brothers can give. "Got it?"

That gets a proper, if short, laugh out of Damian. He wriggles in Danny's arms, trying to break free. But Danny does calisthenics, his arms are as big as Damian's head, so it doesn't work. "Understood, now, daeni 'adhhab ya 'akhi!"

Danny laughs, loud and bright, and loosens his hold just a smidge, only so he can adjust his grip and hop off the table with Damian still in arm.

"Never!" He crows, hoisting Damian slightly. One eye flick at the clock, and in one quick move, he secures Damian under one arm like a football, and hooks his foot under the strap of his backpack. Kicking it up, he tosses it into the air and catches it with his free hand, and slings it over his shoulder. "Now, to the car, my boy! Before we're late and Mom and Dad get charged."

Damian groans, childish and dramatic and long, but his face is all squished up with a wide grin and glee. Danny can taste his joy beneath his tongue.

"And, if my little pep talk didn't encourage you," He says, reaching the door to the garage, flipping Damian up onto his hip instead. "If you have a good day today, I'll make you bal mithai when you get back."

Like all kids at the promise of sweets, Damian's eyes widen and glitter. Danny loves seeing Damian be a kid, it's his favorite thing in the world. "I will!"

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Baby Formula

Dp x Dc Crossover

Duke was having a slow day when he heard the cry of outrage just across the street. He sees the store owner let go of the little kid he had latched onto and pull his hand close to his chest. The kid picked up the box he dropped and turned quickly to sprint away on tiny legs.

“He bit me!” The man screams as he stares angrily after the boy.

Instead of his training to intercept the thief and return the stolen merchandise, Duke follows his gut feeling and just tails the running boy.

From what he can see, the kid it young, maybe six he guessed (he’s not great with ages that young), with black hair and worn clothes. Homeless most likely, or a run away.

The boy slows down and hides in an alley to check to see if anyone is following. Duke takes this time to jump down in front of him.

Blue, blue eyes snap to him and widen in surprise.

“Hey, kid,” Duke greets casually, still crouched to get closer to his height.

The child shift from foot to foot, obviously debating with himself whether to run or not while eyeing him critically. Not easy to trust. Expected.

“Whatcha got there?”

Little hands grip the box of baby formula closer to his chest reflexively and then hides it behind his back. He shoves the water bottle fuller into the pocket of his too large hoodie.

“Nothin’.”

Duke hums.

“I don’t wanna get you in trouble,” he eases. “I just want to help.”

“I don’t need any help,” the boy denies immediately.

“You might not, but what about your baby sibling?”

The boy tenses and his eyes narrow dangerously. So Duke was right.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Why should I tell you?” The boy fires back venomously.

Duke shrugs.

“That’s fair. I’m Signal by the way.” No response, not that he was expecting one. “I do need to know that you guys are staying somewhere safe. You’re a really good brother for looking after your baby…”

The boy frowns. “Sister.”

“Your baby sister and getting her formula, but I’m sure you’d also like to be playing instead of stealing. Am I close?”

“I can help take care of Ellie just fine,” the boy defends hotly.

‘Help’. He’s not the only one.

“You can, but you shouldn’t have to. You’re just a kid too. I wanna help make sure you guys are taken care of. Nothing bad will happen if you show me where you guys are staying,” Duke tried to argue calmly.

He hasn’t had much experience with this kind of situation but he needed to make sure they were in a safe place. Child trafficking had gone down after Red Hood made his displeasure known, but it wasn’t nonexistent.

The kid shifts again.

“They’ll split us up if they throw us in foster care. You can’t call CPS. Promise you won’t.”

He didn’t even hesitate.

“I promise I won’t call CPS.”

The boy thrusts his free hand forward with his pinky out.

“Pinky promise,” he insists.

Duke has to lock down the smile that threatens to creep up on him. Professional. He needed to stay professional.

He wraps his gloved pinky around the tiny finger in front of him and reiterates the promise. Greasy, black hair flops as the boy nods sharply in acceptance.

“Okay.”

Duke does smile a bit then. “Okay, lead the way.”

The kid hesitates for a second before shaking his head and huffing. He leads the vigilante through back alleys for quite awhile before they come up to the back of an abandoned building.

The kid turns back to him with his hand on the edge of a piece of plywood blocking the entrance.

Duke couldn’t tell exactly what the boy was thinking, but he knew he was second guessing. However, with the bright glow this kid was giving off that make Duke think he was a meta of some sort, he couldn’t let him walk away.

The boy continues on like he didn’t even pause, pushing the board aside and slipping through the small crack. Duke follows closely behind as they travel through the place that looks like it used to be a restaurant that had burned down. They walk until they make it to the only room with light, a storage room, and find a red headed girl, older than the boy but still young, holding a baby as she boils something on an old burner.

She looks up and freezes when she sees him.

“Don’t freak out,” the boy interrupts.

“Danny,” she says slowly, her teal eyes zeroing in on her little brother. “Why did you bring one of them here?”

‘Danny’ pulls the water and formula forward sheepishly. Her eyes widen.

“Danny,” she says with disapproval.

“Ellie only has one pack left, Jazz, I had to do something.”

“You didn’t have to steal,” Jazz hisses. “Dan will be back with-“

“Yea, well, he forgot last time, so what were we gonna do then, huh?”

Four names. Four kids living in a burned to hell building that he’s surprised is still standing.

The two kids stare each other down until baby Ellie starts squirming and fussing, reaching for Danny. The boy huffs and takes the baby, looking almost comical with how small they both were.

“I wanted to make sure everyone was okay,” Duke said to alleviate the tension in the too small room. “I just want to help.”

“That’s what people say before they call CPS on us and we have to run again,” she glares harshly, standing from the floor. She didn’t even reach his shoulders.

“And I promised I wouldn’t.”

“He pinky promised,” Danny adds in a hushed tone.

Studying the other kids in the room, Duke can see that Ellie was as bright as Danny, just a different color, and Jazz only had a slight glow.

“How old is Dan?” He asks.

Jazz puckers her lips like she sucked on a lemon.

“Old enough,” is her answer.

“Nobody is in trouble,” he reassures.

Neither of the siblings answer for a minute, Danny nervously looking between the vigilante and his sister, and Jazz staring Duke down with narrowed eyes.

“He’s sixteen,” Danny confesses.

Jazz shoots him a scalding look, to which the boy shrugs off with no guilt, but doesn’t deny it.

The oldest isn’t old enough, which was what he was thinking, but it still put him in a weird position. Should he call Bruce? He should definitely call Bruce.

Jason would be so much better at this than Duke. The Alley kids love and trust Red Hood, but this technically wasn’t Crime Alley.

“I want to help,” he says.

Jazz folds her arms over her chest and he doesn’t blame her for her suspicion.

“How?”

Yea, he’s working on that.

“Who the f*ck are you?”

The snarl comes from behind him and he whirls around to see a teen that greatly resembles the boy. This must be Dan, but holy macaroni, he didn’t even hear him come in.

“That’s Signal,” Danny says, passing Ellie back to Jazz who takes her and steps back from the angry teen.

“Yea, I can see that. Why is he here?” Dan growls.

Danny squares his shoulders and lifts his chin.

“I brought him.”

Dan snaps his glare from Duke to the little boy.

“You WHAT?” The shout sounds too large in the small room and Ellie immediately starts crying. “What the hell are you tryin’ to do, you little sh*t?”

“Hey,” Duke says firmly, trying to redirect the anger to himself. “I would have followed him anyway, it’s not his fault.”

It doesn’t work because as soon as the words leave his mouth, he’s rounding on Danny again.

“I told you to stay here,” he points at the small boy who looks equally scared and defiant. “What were you doing out there, idiot?”

“You didn’t get formula last time,” Danny emphasizes the ‘you’ heavily. “So I went out and got some. You’re welcome.”

“You little-“

Duke intercepts the bulky teen when he lunges at Danny trying to grab the front of his shirt. From the way Danny backs up quickly, it’s not the first time.

“Knock it off,” Duke growls at the teen. “He’s a kid.”

“He’s a snot-nosed little brat,” Dan snarls at his brother and then turns his ire onto Duke, pushing the vigilante away with a giant shove. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna turn us over to those corrupt social workers, huh? Well good luck.”

“No,” Duke denies with his hands up. “I don’t want to do that. I promised I wouldn’t.”

“He pinky promised,” Danny insists behind Dan after the teen shifted to stand in front of his siblings.

“Shut up, twerp,” Dan snaps but doesn’t take his eyes off Duke. “Then what do you want, vigilante?”

This situation has escalated.

He lowers his hands to his sides to level with the guy.

“I just want to help,” he states for the umpteenth time calmly.

“Yea? And how you plan to do that?”

Dan has been burned before, Duke could tell. His distrust is valid with what he’s probably experienced in the past, and Duke doesn’t really know how to make the brightly glowing teen calm down and not snap his teeth (fangs? Were those fangs?) at any hand trying to reach out.

“I know a guy,” Duke blurts out. Geez, where was Babs when he needed backup?

“You know a guy,” Dan repeats with healthy doubt.

“He can find you a place to live. A place that isn’t a burnt down pizzeria.”

“You mean a foster home,” Dan glares.

Duke couldn’t really deny that.

“How about I talk to him and maybe we can set up a trial period? How does that sound? He’s got plenty of money and extra rooms to spare. Good food too,” Duke compromises. He hopes it’s enough to sweeten the deal and not set off red flags.

“We have a history with millionaires,” Jazz says with a cautious edge. From the dark look on the boys’ faces he can read it’s not a good kind of history.

“Technically he’s a billionaire,” he couldn’t help but say, “but he’s a good guy. I promise.”

“You’re talking about Bruce Wayne,” the red-head states in realization.

Duke thinks to himself that she would get along great with Barbara and not just because of their similar hair color.

“All I’m asking is that you trust me a little and give him a chance. If it doesn’t work out, he’s found homes for other kids before. He’ll make sure you guys stick together. I know how bad the system is, I get it, just… let me help. Please.”

The others look to Dan, the eldest, to make the decision. He glares hard at Duke, and if he hadn’t stared down actual super villains before, the vigilante might actually be scared.

After several long moments, Jazz speaks up in a hushed tone.

“I think we should try.”

Dan raises his lips in a silent snarl, clearly not liking her opinion, but not outright rejecting it. Danny huddles close to Jazz, gripping her shirt tightly, but looking between Dan’s broad back and Duke only a few feet away hopefully.

“One month,” Dan growls lowly and Duke has to keep the sigh of relief from escaping. “We’ll do this trial period for a month and that’s it. If we want to leave, then we leave and nobody calls the police on us. Got it, Yellowjacket?”

“Got it. I’ll talk to him. Just don’t leave, okay? I’ll come back tomorrow.”

Dan huffs and his eyes shift to the door in silent demand to get the hell out. Duke slowly makes his way over.

“Just don’t take it out on the kid. He was just trying to help,” Duke adds, trying to lessen whatever punishment Dan was going to give Danny after he left.

Dan snarls with, yes those were fangs, “Don’t tell me how to raise my brother.”

Duke lifts his hands to back off and then promptly leaves.

He grapples to the nearest roof and immediately calls Bruce.

“Hey, yea, I’ve got four kids you’re about to take in. You’ve agreed to a month trial because the oldest doesn’t trust the system and they all don’t have a good history with rich people. I’ll have Alfred get their rooms set up, but this is me letting you know. Oh, and one’s a baby so you’ll be paying for all the stuff that comes with that. They’ll be at the manor tomorrow so try to show up. Good talk.”

He left the voicemail as the only method of communication like a true Bat. Next was to actually tell Alfred and hope he doesn’t get the disappointed look, though he doubts he’ll get in trouble for helping out some homeless kids. The biggest obstacle will be Damian, but as long as there is some sort of buffer (i.e. Dick or Duke) it should be fine. Probably.

[sunniss]

tae-yi and do-yoon: (?)

[ryuubff]

shuake and january weather and clinginess