Zelda And Link As "The Shadow" (1909), Edmund Blair Leighton

Still thinking about the Social Worker Jazz concept that @gilbirda posted about and it's slowly turning into a full Anger Management fic send help

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Jason at length - much longer than it really should have taken really - set the resume down.

The new Social Worker’s resume. Because she was there, in his office, trying to convince him to hire her as a member of his criminal organization.

Crime Alley’s new social worker. A bright eyed Midwestern transplant from some tiny speck of a place that only qualified as a city because there was nothing bigger in a hundred miles in any direction to claim otherwise. The new social worker who had a Psy D. and three masters degrees and who had graduated Valedictorian. The one that had high paying private gigs lined up all over the country with the offering companies fighting over her.

The one who had, apparently, decided to take a shit job in Gotham’s shoddy social services department instead. The one that got kicked to Crime Alley - which was its own division despite technically being a small neighborhood in the grand scheme of things - within her first month. Supposedly for the sole purpose of scaring her off or getting her killed for all the questions she was asking and secret dealings she was sticking her nose into.

That social worker.

“I’m gonna need you to run this by me again.” Jason said, never so grateful for the voice modulator in his helmet as he was in that moment. It stripped out the bewilderment that had bled through into his words and made him sound stoic instead.

“I’d like to work for you.” The social worker - one Dr. Jasmine Nightingale - repeated primly. Back straight, clothes neat - if skewing more on the librarian side of professional - expression confident and hopeful. Completely and utterly oblivious of how fucking insane she sounded. “I was told that you’re the person in charge of Crime Alley.”

He resisted the urge to scrub at his face. It’d just look weird with his helmet on and not do anything to actually settle him in that moment anyway. “I understood that part.”

“Look, Doc,” She earned a doctorate and she was crazy enough to waltz into the office of one of Gotham’s most powerful Crime Lords, he’d be respectful about using her proper title at least, even if he suspected she was ten pounds of crazy in a five pound bag. “You’re going to have to tell me why. I was under the impression the only reason you ended up dumped on our end of the city ws because you wouldn’t play ball. But now you want to sign up for my crew?”

Nightingale frowned a little at that.

“Is that what people are saying?”

“What else are they gonna say?” Jason answered, leaning back in his seat, “Head of the department only dumps Crime Alley on folks he don’t like. And everyone knows he doesn’t like anyone that can’t or won’t play his game by his rules.”

“Alright, well. I’ll give you that.” Nightingale conceded, “Payne doesn’t like me. The feeling’s mutual. But for the record,” She added giving him a wry smile, as if sharing wry smiles with Red Hood was just something people did, “I asked to be assigned to the Park Row and Bowery neighborhoods.”

“You wanted to work here.”

“Yes.”

“Bullshit.”

Nightingale laughed. It was a bright sound. Not especially clear or pretty, but warm and welcoming in a way that carefully calculated giggles or overdone guffaws couldn’t be. Something with real and honest amusement in it, that encouraged those nearby to laugh along. Not the kind of involuntary, nervous chuckling people tended to slip into when they thought they had pissed someone that scared them off.

She just wasn’t intimidated by him at all, was she?

Behind his helmet, Jason found himself smiling. Just a bit.

“I’m serious.” She assured, blue-green eyes meeting the dark stare of his helmet without a moment of hesitation. He watched as she brushed a lock of her bright red hair behind her ear and out of the way. She’d woven it all into a practical, neat braid but a few sly pieces had snuck out to bounce around her. Gilding her quiet professionalism with a playful charm that worked well with her academia but make it cottagecore kindergarten teacher aesthetic.

“I’ll admit, Gotham wasn’t part of my plan when I first graduated. Time and choices take you funny places sometimes.” She plucked an invisible bit of lint off her soft blue cardigan, not nervous but absent as her gaze went distant for a moment. Thinking back on the events that had led her to his fine city. In a blink, those sharp eyes were back to focusing entirely on him. “But Gotham is where I am now, and I want to help.”

She looked at him, a serious, determined expression settling easily on her face. “The city as a whole has so much chaos and crime breaking out all the time.” No censure or horror in her voice, just a neutral fact to be observed. “But where the rest of the city has millions of dollars poured into it by various foundations or charities run by the Waynes, Park Row is largely ignored.”

Jason watched as steeliness sharpened her gaze, the blue-green shifting from the shine of a bird’s wing to the warning hue of something poisonous and deadly. “No one deserves that. No one.” Her chin tilted up, proud but not imperious. “So yes, I want to work here. There are people in Park Row and the Bowery who need help and I refuse to let any of them feel like they are going to be ignored.”

Jason considered her.

Really looked at her. Pealing back his initial off handed impression of her as some clueless transplant in over her head with no idea of what she was doing or what she was poking her nose into to find the real woman beneath. Her confident poise, her clear unshakable belief, her unflinching willingness to look danger in the eye and not blink. The tense curve of her frown, the lines of pain at the corners of her eyes, the simmering anger beneath it all. There was an edge to her, too. Something sharp and dangerously well hidden by the cardigan and folksy charm of her accent.

It was personal for the woman before him, Jason realized. Maybe not Crime Alley specifically, but something about the whole situation. The treatment the neighborhood and its residents received from the city at large, from those even beyond it.

Crime Alley wasn’t a place that received much in the way of charitable thought. The average joe with their house in Somerset and job at some corporate shithole hating every second of their life but thinking at least I don’t live in Crime Alley. Those asshole hoity-toites in city hall throwing money around equally between shit that’d get them re-elected and their off-shore slush funds in the Caymens doing their damn level best to pretend the black mark on the other end of the city just didn’t exist. Bruce, flooding the entire city with charitable programs and carefully constructed infrastructures shying away from the manifested grief and trauma that was the place he watched his parents get murdered.

For the most part no one from outside of the Alley gave a shit about the Alley other than as a place to avoid at all costs. And most of the time those natives that manages to claw their way out into better and brighter lives didn’t ever turn to glance back. Orpheus could have learned a thing or to from an ex-Alley Kid who managed to eek out a steady 9-to-5 and move to Burnley.

And something about that seemed to piss Dr. Jasmine Nightingale Psy. D right the fuck off.

He could see why Bill said he liked her enough to let her in.

“Alright.” He said, tilting his head, watching the woman seated across from him carefully, “Still doesn’t explain what you’re doing here. Why you’re trying to get on my payroll.”

“I’m not trying to get on your payroll.” She said, some of the glinting edge softening, but the steel remaining. Strong and unyielding. “I’m trying to get into your community outreach program.”

Jason thanked god and all the saints once again for the gift of his helmet. That baby had saved his ass more times than he could count both by keeping his head in one piece and keeping his stupefied expressions wrapped up and hidden from view. Dr. Nightingale was one hell of a woman to make him have to rely on that fact twice in one conversation.

“Wasn’t aware that was something I had.”

Nightingale, not fortunate enough to have a full face covering helmet of her own, had nothing to hide her stupefied expression behind. Jason had a feeling she might have removed it to make sure he saw even if she did though. She looked like she had caught him eating glue like it was a cheese stick.

“Yes you do.” She said, sounding deeply confused but unshakable confident in what she was saying. “I’ve seen it. The soup kitchens, the shelters, the collection boxes for donating old clothes, the after school day care.” Nightingale ticked off on her fingers, “I’ve lived here for less than two weeks and I’ve lost count of all the things I’ve seen setup to help people struggling in the area that I’ve been very reliably informed you and your organization are behind.”

Oh.

Those.

“Those aren’t part of some community outreach program.” He said, “We are simply locals offering services for our neighbors.”

He watched as her caught-him-eating-glue expression shifted into one that said she’d stumbled upon him licking electrical sockets for a mid-day pick-me-up instead. He had to give it to her, the woman was not afraid to let one of the most dangerous men in the city know she thought he was a fucking idiot.

“Let me see if I understand this right.” She said, and he appreciated that there wasn’t any kind of condescension in her voice, even though she very clearly thought he’d been dropped on his head as a baby. Possibly from the top of a three story building. “You have a large group of people working together to plan, organize and execute multiple services in your area - your community, if you will - that provide aid and support to those that otherwise would not receive it. Reaching out with your available time and resources to offer these services, that you provide. For free.”

Alright, Jason got it. He had stumbled ass backwards into creating a community outreach program. But he wasn’t just going to let her think she won this one. He was Red Hood, he had a reputation to uphold here.

“What makes you think any of that is free?” He tilted his head at just the right angle, the one that cast shadows across the planes of his helmet and made him look hell-touched and terrifying. “Just because we don’t charge money, doesn’t mean there isn’t a price to pay.”

Dr. Nightingale, dressed like a damn kindergarten teacher, laughed at him.

Just some dp doodling

Adopt a Bat Dad

AKA "Danny becomes de-aged in Gotham and finds the only person he knows who can probably help. Bruce Wayne, the Batman. Except Bruce thinks Danny is a kid mistaking him for his dad??" prompt idea!!

HC that Bruce Wayne and Jack Fenton look super similar. Therefore, Danny and Bruce also look pretty similar!!

I love the idea that Danny already knows Bruce Wayne is Batman. Maybe it's his aura or because the amount of kids Bruce has directly correlates to the amount of bat-themed sidekicks there are. Who knows? Anyway, Danny comes into a small bit of trouble. He may or may not have insulted an immortal witch who cursed him because he's an "immature child, may as well look as young as you act!"

So. Now Danny looks a solid 3-4 years old. It's a good thing that Sam and Tucker briefed him on all he celebrity gossip before he came to Gotham, because he coincidentally knows where the Wayne Enterprise building is. He... can figure it out. Probably. It's actually alarming how many people watch what they think is an unaccompanied kid huff and puff his way in downtown Gotham. (Also, wow, Danny severely underestimated how difficult it is to run after being babified.) But he does make it to the general area of where WE is supposed to be!

His legs are practically shaking at this point, sweating through his toddler-sized NASA hoodie, and searching frantically for Bruce Wayne. Because he really didn't think of it before, but it's Friday afternoon. What if Mr. Batman isn't at WE today? What if Danny gets to WE after 5pm and he's gone until Monday? Would Danny even be able to find the Wayne Manor, much less get transportation there?

Except as Danny's becoming increasingly worried (don't cry, don't cry, don't cry), he spots... his dad?? in the coffee shop windows beside him. No, not his dad. Bruce fucking Wayne! Hell, yeah! Danny smacks open the doors of the coffee shop with single-minded toddler-clumsy determination. Makes a bee-line straight to the coffee pick-up. Bruce Wayne is standing off to the side, quietly speaking on his phone, as Danny practically slams face-first into his knees. Thankfully, it doesn't take either of them down, but it is particularly embarrassing.

Especially when Danny clutches to Batman's pant leg and confidently shouts, "Batman!" Except... he doesn't. A weird jumble of words come out of his mouth that sound more like baba! It's like the world screeches to a stop because, first of all, what the fuck. Second, that bitch witch! She must've made it so whatever he says comes out in toddler-speak despite the fact that he should be able to say somewhat comprehensible sentences, being he's physically 3-4.

That doesn't stop him from trying, though, so he ends up babbling baba, baba, baba in an increasingly frustrated tone.

And Bruce Wayne, who's become used to Damian calling him baba instead of Father, can only stare down at this child who could pass as his clone. The similarities are striking. Even if the toddler is huffing, red-cheeked and clearly on the verge of crying, he looks so much like Bruce that he wonders momentarily if it's another Damian situation.

Regardless, there's a kid crying in front of him, tugging on his pant leg and calling for his dad. And Bruce is nothing if not absolutely weak-hearted against stuff like this. So, he leans down and just... scoops the kid up. Murmurs, "Shh, it's okay, kiddo. You're okay." Pats the kid's back, sways. Completely forgets he's in a crowded coffee (this is definitely going on YouTube, posted under 'Wayne Adopts Another??') and that he's on a phone call with Dick. It's like his Dad Instincts kick in and he's completely focused on Danny.

Danny is... bewildered. Because why is the Batman coddling him?? Except he notices that others have noticed, and have their phones out recording, which is really Not Good. He's not super confident that his parents would be able to recognize him while he's de-aged, but the fact that they might? That's opening a can of worms he can't handle at the moment. So his little string bean arms loop around Bruce's neck and he shoves his face into the collar of the man's suit. Much to his irritation, he can hear several girls next to him coo and giggle about him being such a cute baby. Danny's really regretting not approaching Batman privately now.

And it doesn't end!!

Bruce calms the kid down and then immediately goes to the store manager, asking if any parents have lost their child. He doesn't trust that someone may claim Danny as theirs when that may not be the case. Then, he calls up Gordon, asks about any missing person reports on a child the ages of 2-5 with average height, medium build, and black hair. No hits. Eventually, Bruce makes up his mind and takes Danny home with him. Oracle will likely be able to pull more information than the GCPD anyways.

Meanwhile, Danny zonks out. Like full on, toddler-sprawl open-mouth drooling, because it's been a long day and he got Batman. He did it! And from the way Bruce is still carrying him, Danny will likely be with him for a little while. A little catnap will do him some good. Maybe when he wakes up, he'll magically have the ability to speak normally instead of hysterically babble.

(Four hours later, Danny wakes up on the couch at Wayne Manor, bundled up in super soft blankets with Bruce talking on the phone with some woman. Bruce smiles at the way Danny says baba again. Danny's ready to throw that witch into Bruce's well-maintained fireplace because screaming son of bitch isn't as satisfying when it sounds like sa-bA-BAH!!")

Cue Danny doing increasingly ridiculous things to make The "Greatest Detective" Batman realize he's not a literal baby and Bruce Wayne so enamored with this little kid that he does not realize.

A fun little headcannon is that everyone believes Jason to prefer paperback and physical paper but he honestly doesn't care. Maybe it stems from his Robin days reading for hours in the manor library. Or how'd he always tell Bruce to write down the details of the case to solve it faster. Or even that they needed to have physical copies of each file in case the Batcomputer got hacked. It just stuck with Bruce and by extension everyone believes it.

But like he would totally love an eReader with how many books you can fit on it. Audio books are even better because he can listen to them anywhere. The man likes the stories people have to tell. How he consumes it isn't a concern. But of course he has a flare for dramatics so he plays into this misconception.

Steph: Jason, I know you'd prefer a physical book but I got a Kindle that you could use more than me.

Jason who already owns the newest model takes it and chucks it at the floor: Disgusting.

Tim at the Batcomputer: Why do we need to write up a report for Condiment King of all people. Its the third one this month!

Jason: Back in my day we would hand write each and every report.

Dick: No we didn't???

Jason magically pulling out a file cabinet with said case files.

Jason: Honestly we should start doing that again let me go ask Bruce.

Bruce: Honestly if you'd wait five more minutes someone would have come in as backup. You don't need to do everything on your own Hood.

Jason completely ignoring him because he's got books downloaded on his helmet.

Damian next to him knowing what Jason is up to because he did the exact same thing with Ra's.

YES, YES!

i think Jason loves paperback when it is his already favourite books, the ones he knows he loves and wants to annotate and explore — otherwise, he prefers to try books in e-version first. or borrow books from the library if he is in the mood. he strikes me as someone who loves supporting local libraries! plus, listens audio-books on missions and during work-outs, yep, yep.

do other family members have a wrong opinion in that in their minds because Bruce is the "heard my kid mentioning something once, now i think their whole personality evolves around this thing" type of parent sometimes? oh, fucking absolutely. does Jason love to play on the stereotype of "boomer" sibling? yeah— lol.

also, he is a type of kid who would remind the teacher about homework (i think he genuinely cared about this as a kid and didn't understand why everyone got mad, but now he knows WHY, and he will do it EVERYONE'S problem) and combined with him, writing reports on papers, i raise you this:

Bruce, tired by the end of the patrol: Had we discussed everything? Hadn't I forgotten something?

literally everyone but Jason, quickly: no, no, we are fine. ha-ha.

Jason, appearing behind them: well. actually. we all now should write our reports.

Bruce: oh, right.

Jason, smirking: here is mine, by the way. i wrote it while you are all was bickering.

Bruce: so competent! thank you, lad.

Other kids, fuming: -_-

also, the image of Jason blasting audio-books through his helmet is frying me. so, get this:

Dick: Jason is so suspiciously calm for the last few days! like, seriously. proud of him.

Tim: right? it is actually hilarious. Bruce was screaming at him yesterday, and Jason was just staring at him silently, no word, no remark... he was so quiet that Bruce instantly felt bad and apologised. like. master-tecnique. lol.

Jason, who was listening to audio-book all this time, and didn't even hear what Bruce said, just nodded when he started randomly hugging him and murmuring "my baby": whatever.

can you guys reblog this with your birth month and favorite mha character i’m trying to test something

Okay okay, but imagine if Danny just stalks Damian. Like, he has decided that he shall become this child’s unofficial guardian angel. Because Ancients know he needs it. 

So, one time Damian and Jon are out and Jon wants to go to the Arcade but Damian just says something rude and then…

Danny: *whispering in Damian’s ear* You should be nicer to your friend

Damian: Huh?! *looks around, only to find nothing* 

And that’s not all. Over time, Damian starts noticing how this strange presence as he calls it starts acting more and more. Whispering advice or words of encouragement in his ear (or just flat-out scoldings), making items he had misplaced magically appear back on his room the next day, protecting him from any surprise attacks any time he lowers his guard (which happens very rarely). 

Heck, once he even brought him a starving kitten he saw once in an alleyway that he was planning to adopt anyway! 

The Batfamily is aware of it. They refuse to do anything because they are far too amused. If anything, they give Damian a thumbs up and a “good luck" before sending him his way. 

It all ends up becoming too much for Damian to tracks down Constantine and tells him; 

Damian: I am being haunted. This annoying pest won’t leave me alone. Get rid of it, or else! 

Danny: *whispering on his ear again with a Disappointment Mom voice* What did we talk about? 

Damian: *sighs and cringes at the same time, before putting on a smile that looks more like a grimace* Please? 

Batsiblings convince Jason to get himself a cooking Tiktok account, and he gives in. To his surprise, he quickly gains millions of followers and a loyal auditory. The only problem? Jason has no idea that these people came here not necessary for recipes.

Jason: Geez, my followers had been pissing me off lately. Dick, confused: Huh? Why? Jason: They keep commenting ATE. Like, dude? Fucking where? I am not eating in my cooking videos. What is the fucking point? Tim, choking: Oh my fucking God-

Jason, making an angry text post for his followers: YOU ALL. STOP COMMENTING "RAW". MY MEAT IS NOT RAW. I AM A PROPER COOK. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU??? Cassandra: Maybe it is time to tell him... Tim, Steph, Duke, in unison: NO

Bruce, awkwardly trying to have a conversation with Jason: Hey, lad, how is your cooking blog is going? Jason: Uh, people keep commenting cryptid messages. Like, the last time I was showing the right way to tenderise meat for chops because apparently it wasn't clear and someone requested the whole video? Anyway, I did it, and the whole comment section was writing me "in bed, on the floor, on the couch, on a chair, against the wall, against the window, against the door"... Like, why would I do that, not in the kitchen? Bruce, no less clueless: Maybe it some kind of challenge. Kids love trying new stuff in extreme places nowadays. Jason: Huh. Maybe. Thanks. Bruce, just proud to have a proper conversation and somehow a help: Anytime, Jaylad! Damian, who was unblissfully educated on the slang matter by Tim (because it was his responsibility as a big brother to traumatise him), with his eye twitching: ...None of these words were in Koran

I have a head cannon that Dick isn’t as phased by things in Gotham as the rest of the batfam. Per my post about Dick getting to do whatever he wanted as Robin, I feel like Bruce learned what he should censor for the other Robins but he only learned that by having Dick experience it first. So now Dick will just walk into the most cult like violent scenes and he’ll just be walking around like he’s in a Home Depot. Like one of my favorite panels of Dick is when he is with the titans and he tastes the “blood” on the floor to see if it’s blood or not. I just feel like he does stuff like this all the time and Jason and Tim stare at him like he’s insane.

After the Nasty Burger incident, Danny went to live with Vlad under the promise that he would change. And he did, for all of two months before Danny discovered a secret basement full of clones. All except one of them were unstable.

Thoroughly betrayed, Danny takes the one stable clone and puts the rest of them out of their misery. Then he heads to Gotham where the local billionaire has a habit of taking in black hair blued eyed orphans. Fight fire with fire right? Or in this case money with money.

penis dashboard kind of night