#anger management ship | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ew-selfish-art · 8 months

Text

Dpxdc Au: As Danny gets more comfortable as a “long term roomie” in Wayne Manor, he starts to have freinds over. Aka psychopomp AU

Danny decided to take Batman’s deal upon the JL shut down of the GIW and Fenton Labs. He’d been working with the various heroes for a minute while they pursued the illegal government branch and his mad scientist parents- when it was clear he wasn’t going to have a home to return to, the Bat said he had a civilian contact that could help him and Jazz.

Jazz was honestly so relieved that they wouldn’t have to start from zero in her college town- how could Danny possibly say no when it took so much stress off of his sisters plate? Begrudgingly, he gets back to the Big Bad Bat and gets the contact info for one Bruce Wayne. Adoption is refused but, Jazz and Danny are invited to stay for how ever long they need to get their feet under them.

Danny keeps a lot of distance between himself and the other kids in the house, only coming to the meals that Jazz also attends. She’s pretty busy with classes during the day but it’s becoming clear that she’s also spending “quality time” with one of the older guys that stops by for dinner. Jazz advocates that he start to integrate himself or find a local community and after months of being a shit about it- Danny agrees to make new friends. He never said they would be alive tho.

Thus, Danny becomes Gothams local psychopomp. He just starts inviting the Shades of the unavenged for tea time in the west wing gardens. Alfred is always happy to supply tea and snacks, Danny doesn’t understand how the man doesn’t have more questions but is going to push his luck by asking. Wayne Manor is high key becoming the most haunted spot in the city and it’s starting to show.

Tim is the first to notice the changes in the Manor- he’s always been the smartest detective- and joins Danny at one of his tea times. What he hears Danny and the vague shape of a man talk about… is an old cold case. Holy shit, he’s got a break through.

Jason is the next to show up, but not because of the flickering lights or cold air, because he’s just maybe the teensiest bit interested in Jazz. Danny initially ignores him but seeing as the shades are all quivering in fear, Danny sighs and ultimately tries to figure out this dudes “whole undead deal”. Jason just wants to know what her favorite meal is but Danny will only exchange information for information. Jason gives him an abridged version of his death and rebirth- He walks away knowing Jazz’s preferred take out orders, favorite brand of tea and the cafe she likes to study at.

It’s going well honestly- Danny is having quality time with the ghosts in the city, the city is repaying him in good karma and Jazz is too occupied with the zombie to get on his case about not making human friends.

Then one of the batkids gets overshadowed and it results in… reveals? Drama? Friendship? Actual brotherly bonding?

#dcxdp #dpxdc #danny phantom #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management ship #Danny is adopted AU #Danny is a psychopomp #write in the other sibling interactions lmao #duke is hella not sure what this guys deal is but he straight up refuses to go to the west wing during ‘tea time’

2K notes · View notes

spacedace · 27 days

Text

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

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.

#dpxdc #jazz fen #jason todd #social worker jazz #social worker jazz fenton #anger management ship #anger management #pre anger management #jason todd x jazz fenton #i don't know why i keep writing scenes where Jazz writes resumes to apply to work for crime bosses but it just feels right in my soul okay #the real reason Jason wears a full face helmet is so people can't tell when he utterly fails to hide his emotions about something #the idea of social worker jazz working in crime alley has completely consumed me mind body and soul

811 notes · View notes

gilbirda · 10 months

Text

Danny is the rightful Ghost King, but since he's not of age he needs a regent who is a) his species, b) his family, and c) an adult. The only adult haftas are Vlad or this Red Hood guy from Gotham that he's never heard of. Since Vlad is not going to happen looks like it's Red Hood, now how to make the guy count as family...

Jason has had a lot of weird shit happen to him over the years but a woman tracking him down as Red Hood to propose a temporary political marriage so he can be regent of a death dimension until her brother is old enough to rule in his own name is a new one for him. Of course he accepted. The only other option was apparently a creepy uncle figure. He's read enough romance to know a forced marriage of a woman to her creepy uncle never ends well. A forced marriage of a woman to a crime lord doesn't usually end much better, but he's ignoring that for now. He's going to woo and romance his spit fire of a wife with respect, spontaneous poetry, his damn good cooking, and by not being a Darcy. And he is going to rock not just this whole regent thing, but also and more importantly the mentoring her brother and his new ward on how to rule this dimension. Competence is always attractive. He runs a tight ship in his crime empire, surely running a dimension can't be that much harder.

He actually already has a plan on how he's going to handle the whole 'The USA declared war on the dimension he's regent of' thing. It's simple really he goes to the next family dinner and causes chaos. The faces everyone will make will be glorious when he drops that he's lord regent of a dimension, the USA is at war with his dimension, and it's such a shame that no one can meet Jason's wife or ward till there is a peace treaty. Then he just needs to sit back and watch the entertainment as his siblings realize he has forever won the position of favorite child by being the first married and first to give Bruce a grandkid. Also you know the chaos of Bruce willing to wage a one man war if necessary so he can meet his grandson. Jason figures it will take at most a month for the government to cave.

And like a cherry on top he's going to get on a medical treatment plan for the pit. Everything is looking great for him.

#submission by sarahlikesbugs-blog #this has been sitting in my inbox forever im so sorry #i was waiting to have something smart to add but guess what burnout is a bitch #anyway king regent Jason and his lovely go getter wife #he really said 'im going to make the most of this and take advantage as i can'#also making Bruce fix things for him? cherry on top #petty jason is so fun #jazz/jason #anger management ship #hardcover ship #jazz x jason #dpxdc

3K notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 7 months

Text

Excerpt from an in-progress DP x DC soulmate AU starring Jazz Fenton, a very unfortunate mugger, and a smoothie. Oh, and I guess Jason is there too.

Jazz meets her soulmate in, of all places, Park Row. Or as the locals call it, Crime Alley.

Seems about right for her life, she decides as she kicks the shit out of the guy who was trying to stab him for his wallet fifteen seconds ago. Her soulmate watches her curiously, seeming unconcerned by the fuss, and takes a sip of his smoothie.

Also seems about right, for her soulmate. A guy who got too nervous when necessary violence happened was not going to survive Thanksgiving in Amity Park, much less Christmas.

Well, it is Gotham.

"Hi," he says.

"Hi, sorry, one sec," Jazz says, then leans over the groaning mugger and offers him a card to the best local crisis center she's managed to track down via research and word of mouth in the four months she's been in Gotham. Not her card, obviously, since she just roundhouse-kicked the guy in the head to protect her soulmate from him and that's arguably a conflict of interest. Or close enough, anyway. "So you should check these guys out, they've got a very high success rate in their job program and there's an associated food bank and rent assistance, if you qualify."

"What?" the mugger says dazedly.

"Also if you ever touch my soulmate again I'll make you wish for the cold mercy of the Infinite Realms," Jazz adds pleasantly. The guy goes very, very pale. Then he snatches the card from her and runs for his life and eternal soul.

"This is the nicest thing the universe has ever done to me," her soulmate muses, taking another sip of his smoothie.

"Getting you mugged?" Jazz asks wryly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Are you religious? Do you want kids?" her soulmate asks. "Also, who's your favorite Bat?"

"Robin, obviously," Jazz says. "The overdramatic and feral little stabby one, I mean. He reminds me of my little brother. Makes me feel a little bit maternal, to be honest. So that answers two out of three, and as far as religion goes, I only believe in Psychology Today, highly customized guns, and my mom's ninth-degree black belt."

"This better not awaken anything in me," her soulmate mutters under his breath.

"That seems unlikely, or we wouldn't be soulmates," Jazz says.

"Point," he says, sipping his smoothie again. Jazz didn't even know anywhere in Crime Alley sold smoothies, but she is new around here. "Wanna go break my bed? Or maybe go get coffee?"

"You've already got a smoothie," Jazz says.

"So I do," he says.

Jazz looks him over. He's her soulmate, so she's not surprised to find him gorgeous. She wasn't ever expecting a familial soulmate–Danny is a very intense sibling to have, and her parents are very intense parents to have, not to mention everything about Dani, and "soulcousins" aren't typically a thing–and she's never been especially interested in keeping around too many close friends, so considering all that, she was already expecting her soulmate to be a romantic one. If they are platonic, it's definitely only going to be because her soulmate is an aromantic asexual. Which he probably isn't, since he already asked about kids and religion and if she wanted to go break his bed.

Then again, she's met people who'll posture worse than that. Especially guys, and especially ace ones with a clear investment in their masculinity, and given this particular guy is built like a brick house could only dream to be, chances are he has some feelings about his masculinity. Though he's also drinking a visibly pink smoothie, not a neutral-colored protein shake or generic black coffee, so . . . fifty-fifty there, maybe?

Further inquiry will probably be required.

"I'm Jazz," she tells him. "What's your name?"

"Robin," he says. Then he–pauses. Blinks. "I mean–Robin."

He looks very confused for a second, and Jazz blinks too, and refocuses her eyes a bit. Oh, is he–

"Are you overshadowing that guy?" she assumes. For the love of–of course her soulmate would be a ghost, she thinks dryly. Who'd want a soulmate their mom and dad wouldn't want to grill for information and ask a thousand invasive questions, after all? "I mean, he's really hot, don't get me wrong, he looks good on you, but I'd rather meet you for real."

"'Overshadowing'?" Robin looks bemused.

"I'm Danny's sister," Jazz clarifies. Robin does not look less bemused. "You know, the new king?"

"What?" Robin says. Jazz frowns a little, feeling a bit bemused herself.

"Do you not get out much?" she asks.

"Never, actually, but also yes and constantly and way too often," Robin says. "My job is kind of demanding that way."

"What's your job?" Jazz asks curiously. Ghosts' jobs are always interesting, even if only for how they interact and manifest with their Obsessions. She wonders what his Obsession is, actually, because smoothies seem like an unlikely option but she doesn't have much else to go on here.

Can't be weirder than Box Ghost, either way.

"I'm a Bat," Robin says, then looks absolutely alarmed and also absolutely horrified.

"Huh," Jazz says, tilting her head. He seems really big to be one of the Robins, and a little too old besides. A year or two younger than her, maybe, and even the older Robin she's pretty sure is at best Danny's age. Though that's assuming this body is the one he fights crime in, admittedly. Although it's kinda funny if one of the Bats is just named Robin. Must get annoying on patrol, though. "I didn't know any of you were dead, but I guess that's not actually a surprise either, given the profession."

"Why did I say that to you?" Robin asks tightly.

"I told you, I'm the new king's sister," Jazz says. "You know, it's the royal family thing. Technically I'm his regent, legally speaking, but only because I'm better at paperwork and he doesn't count as a legal adult in the Infinite Realms yet. Hasn't been dead long enough, you know how it is. But I've been alive long enough to, apparently? But his 'being alive' technically stopped tracking at fourteen. It's complicated, basically."

"What the fuck does that mean?!" Robin demands.

"It means you can't lie to me because you're one of my brother's subjects," Jazz says, really not understanding his reaction. Every ghost knows this, after all. The only ones who wouldn't know it are too young to be away from their guardians' haunts or even leave the Infinite Realms at all. Definitely a ghost who knows how to overshadow someone this thoroughly and fully is old enough and experienced enough to know it, though. "Whose body is that, anyway?"

"It's my father's," Robin says. Jazz's eyes widen a little and she has several very concerned internal reactions before he chokes and sputters–"I mean–it's not–he's not–!"

"You realize there is no healthy way to mean that, right?" Jazz says. Robin looks frustrated and freaked out and she feels bad about it, because she didn't mean or want to upset him, but she clearly has. "Sorry. I mean, I still secretly feel like I'm the one parenting my parents half the time, you're not the only one with weird feelings about yours."

"I'm his," Robin says, then grits his teeth in visible pain. He's this close to crushing the smoothie cup he's holding but hasn't actually done it. Jazz wonders if that's an example of deliberate self-control or subconscious restraint.

She's pretty sure Robin didn't mean to say that, though.

"Are you okay?" she asks, a little concerned. Normally ghosts just stop talking about things they want to lie about, when they realize who she is.

"No," Robin says. "I'm just his. I've always been his, I always will be, his good soldier, his worst mistake, not his actual fucking son, why am I telling you this?!"

"I don't know," Jazz says, frowning in increased concern. "Usually people can work around the inability to lie a little bit, but you sound like you're being compelled to speak. Increasingly like, actually. Hm. What's your Obsession? And what kind of core do you have?"

"What?" he says.

"They might be making you unstable, is all," Jazz says. "I don't think it'd be a soulmate thing but to be fair I don't really know how that works. Are you dead, or are you a manifestation of something?"

"I'm dead," Robin says, staring at her. "That bastard clown beat my head in with a crowbar and blew up what was left of me. I woke up in my grave and–I–how did you know that?"

"Well, I didn't, that's why I asked," Jazz says reasonably, idly wondering why the Joker isn't dead yet, since this is Gotham and obviously it wouldn't be another "bastard clown" Robin was referencing, even if he wasn't a Bat. But like, at least dead via the court system, if nothing else. The Joker is insane, yes, but no one can argue he doesn't know right from wrong at this point. Does New Jersey just not have the death penalty, maybe? She hasn't thought to check. "Maybe it's the guy you're in? He's not drunk or high or anything, is he?"

"I hate drugs," Robin says, gritting his teeth again; tightening his grip on the smoothie again. He's trembling, just barely. "I hate them. I'd never touch them. I don't know what you are. You're scaring me. Please stop."

He definitely didn't mean to say that, Jazz can tell.

But . . . he doesn't know what she is.

He doesn't know.

Well, that's a problem.

"Robin," she says gently, and for some reason his face twists painfully at the sound of his own name. "Can I see your core? Please?"

#hardcover ship #anger management ship #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #idk which order is 'accurate' here lol #jazz x jason #jason x jazz #rinfic #long post #wip: queen regent jazz and her dead soulmate

1K notes · View notes

strong-with-the-sarcasm · 16 days

Text

Social Media Time #1

[Social media is a big thing, so what's going on with Gotham's own accounts?] Main Masterlist Regent Masterlist Mundane Macabre

[#1: The Justice League declares that the GIW is in violation of the Metahuman rights act and that they nearly caused an interdimensional war.]

[#2: The vigilante Phantom publically posts his thanks to Batman.]

[#3: phantom's puns are officially certified to make a rogue cry.]

[#4: Red Hood getting a vote in his own ship name. :) ]

Free Nightingale @thewanderer = Ellie Nightingale Star child @nasanerd = Danny Nightingale

Social Media AU: #2

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc au #dc x dp crossover #regent!jazz #hardcover ship #anger management ship #jason todd #red hood #social media au #somewhere on the timeline this exists #once again brought to you by internet and insomnia

477 notes · View notes

demonic0angel · 5 months

Text

The Ghost Game AU is getting written! (Click for clarity)

The first chapter is coming out in a few days! Tell me if you want to be tagged!

#dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom x dc #jazz fenton #danny fenton #dp x dc crossover #ghost game au #jason x jazz #jazz x jason #jason todd #dpxdc #dcxdp #dp au #anger management ship #I feel like I keep lying about my fanfiction 💀#Danny has now been renamed from DP to Sparrow #hardcover ship

510 notes · View notes

yupekosi · 5 months

Text

much as i love name blender ship names i go absolutely buckwild for ship names that are fandom inside jokes based on relevant motifs or plot points. redstreet. holyghost. anger management. dream theory. crabapple. savant par. green tea. charcuterie swords. it's poetry in the dumbest way

#redstreet #jeffbritta #holyghost #holyghost ship #anger management ship #dreamtheory #securitywaiter #crabapple #davekat #savant par #green tea ship #izuchako #colindeli #charcuterie swords #fandom #shipping #ship names #arcades cutscenes #textposts

370 notes · View notes

night-wilf · 1 year

Text

Writing prompt 06:

A few of the bat kids have discovered a favourite private bar that doesn't care for their names or ages, just that they pay for everything. They don't even try to hide their identities or masked name as no one cares. Given one of the regulars is a human sized plant thing that Ivy likes to kick around with, they shouldn't be surprised.

The name of that bar? Phantom's room.

Edit: Phantom's room: the halfway point between dimensions (some really good ideas in the comments!)

The rules are fairly simple to follow:

- Just pay for whatever you get or things will be personal

- Do not bother anyone

- Do not be overly loud

- Pets are permitted and must be cleaned up after, some warning is appreciated

- If injured, don't bleed all over the floor

- Do not ask for alcohol if under 18

- Do not approach alternate/different timeline versions of yourself as they can't see you

- Parking is free unless you are intoxicated trying to go home alone

- State allergies when ordering and something will be made

- No fighting

- Do not ask questions

Jason seems to like the tall ginger bar tender who enjoys his antics and they share scar stories to pass the time. Her dark haired partner sometimes breaks the magic for fun.

Damian likes the large security guy always on duty, nice guy with a rough past and it's nice to talk out stuff with someone willing to listen. Has he become a minor father role to him? Maybe. Does he help with his homework? Yes.

Tim likes to play chess with the blue skinned guy who sits in the corner reading, he's a good talker when not more confusing like the riddler.

Everyone has their favourite and usually visit after a patrol for some water and food before going home. If they come in injured a mysterious gel is slathered over it and they are healed 10 minutes later. Asking to take a sample home is answered with a firm no, as the stuff to can become addicting to humans.

Fair enough.

Though there is nothing online and the "owner"/cook is a boy who died at 14 and somehow still kicking around town. Some family who worked for the criminals of Gotham and got their son killed when he turned on a device, Jason's love interest seems to be the same situation.

Despite that, it takes them a while to tell Bruce as they don't want him ruining it for him. Alfred coming along one day after overhead a conversation between Dick and Jason. Only to find his favourite brand of whiskey already poured for him and an old friend who died long ago waiting to chat with him over a bottle.

He was... gone for some time with that one.

#dc/dp #dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #reformed dark dan #dark danny #dani fenton #dan phantom #jazz fenton #anger management ship #fan fic writing #writing #writing prompt #prompt #night-wilf prompts

2K notes · View notes

obsessedwithstarwars · 5 months

Text

Red Hood: It’s not safe to leave your window open here.

Jasmine Fenton: Oh please. This is Gotham. Safety is an illusion.

Red Hood: …folds arms and stares.

Jasmine Fenton: Besides, you’re the one who waltzed into my apartment like you own the place.

Red Hood: it was an accident.

Jasmine Fenton: I know. That’s the only reason I didn’t knock you to the floor.

Red Hood: …

Jasmine Fenton: *sigh*I can take care of myself, but I will work on keeping my window closed from now on.

Red Hood: Locked would be preferable.

Jasmine Fenton: Baby steps Hood. Baby steps. Now, sit down and let me fix your arm. You’re bleeding all over my carpet.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dc x dp #dp x dc prompt #jazz fenton #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton #dc x dp au #jasmine fenton #dp crossovers #jason todd #jason x jazz #jazz x jason #anger management ship #hardcover ship

958 notes · View notes

ew-selfish-art · 9 months

Text

Dp x Dc AU: Not exactly a meet cute between Jazz and Jason.

Jason's had a long night of beating the shit out of a gang that dared to sell in his territory, the last thing he needs is the Bats on his tail. He can always sense them when he leaves Crime Alley- they watch for him. Waiting for him to fail. It pisses him off.

So Jason shakes his tail, he's pretty sure it's the demon brat, parks his bike, removes his helm and heads into the loudest bar he can find, ditching his mask along the way. There are no camera's and there was no one watching, so Jason just looks like any other angry frat guy at the bar. Well, he supposes that the Leather jacket might be a stand out.

He grabs a drink, and looks at the time. Jason just needs to wait out the chance that a baby bird saw his bike and hope that curfew kicks in before this has to be a 'conversation'. Besides, the music is good and despite all the people, the crowd is pretty behaved.

"Hi! I'm so glad you're here!" A woman approaches, he can tell she's had a few drinks from her walk but her eyes scream sobriety and fear. She's tall in her flats, her hair looks disheveled (from dancing maybe) and her outfit screams 'this is the one fun black top I own'. She's beautiful and her approaching him might've been a wet teenage dream if his suspicions weren't immediately raised.

"I certainly am here." Jason replies, a smirk set into his features easily and as he straightens out his back he can see the three men watching the back of her head like predators. They're wearing super lame white hoodies and coats, like they're organized somehow.

"That's why you're my hero! Always ready to grab me at a moment's notice! Any chance you'll be good to leave after you finish that drink?" Her eyes are pleading but she keeps the same happy smile and joyful tone the whole time.

"Nah, no worries about the drink. It was cheap and I was just getting bored with it anyway. " Jason explains, setting his glass down on the counter. He's mentally photographed the three creeps, "Did any of your friends also need a ride home?"

"Nope! They all got in an uber... without me. So they'll be just fine!" She explains and there is an anger in her eyes that clearly meant she was telling the truth. Her hands are straightening out his jacket collar, making it look like they're more comfortable with each other than just strangers. She lays her hands flat on his chest once her task is completed and Jason feels his throat go dry.

"I'm always telling you to find better friends. Now c'mon, I parked out back." he wraps an arm around her waist, though its not tight, and peers over his shoulder. These guys weren't going to leave without a fight it seems, Dumb, Dumbie and Dumber are all watching her with evil in their eyes.

The two of them walk out and before she can even say thank you, the door swings back open and she's sucker punched one of the assholes and Jason's pulled his gun out for the other two.

"You gents are gunna go home, or you're gonna end up in the dirt. Pick." Jason growls. Not taking him seriously at first, he shoots one dudes foot and the last one standing looks like he might pass out. He picks up his fallen comrades and backs away into the bar.

"For ancients sake those dudes were trying to traffic the hell out of me." She sighs, and Jason holsters his gun.

"Yeah no shit. You okay?" Jason inquires.

"I will be. I'm Jazz, thanks for saving me Hood."

"I'm no-"

"You're literally leaning comfortably on Red Hoods motorcycle that still has his helmet perched on it. No one would do that unless they were suicidal or him." She challenges, but then a look changes in her eyes and she almost looks nervous "But still, do you uhm, wanna get out of here?"

He blinks. She was trying to pick him up? AFTER finding out he was a crime lord??

The answer is that yes, Hell Yes, Jason does want to get out of here. None of the Bats will bother him while he has a civilian, not at the diner he takes her too and certainly not while he's taking her back to one of his safe houses.

Jason had expected one of his siblings to show up in the morning and cause a ruckus. He hadn't planned for a dude to let himself into his kitchen screaming about government agencies tracking Jazz down that wasn't related. Turns out it's her brother and he's floating and no he's not going to explain why he's there or how he found them.

Jazz has a lot to explain to the both of them and it starts with "So I can admit that I have a thing for motorcycle guys-"

#dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #danny phantom #dc crossover #dp crossover #anger management ship #anger management #jazz fenton #jason #long post #your honor there is no way in my mind that these two aren't bangin within 24 hours of meeting #the chemistry is there #jazz was being followed by the giw and jason saves her #jazz is literally in love from that point forward #she has a type and he checks all her boxes your honor #danny just wants his sister safe but he will shovel talk the zombie later

1K notes · View notes

spacedace · 9 months

Text

Nother dp x dc prompt for yall:

Jazz tracks down the League of Assassins to get as much training from them as she can to take out the GIW and her parents. While there she meets Jason post his Lazarus Pit dip.

They get along a little too well for Talia's (and her plans for Jason's) comfort.

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp prompt #jazz fenton #jason todd #talia al ghul #anger management ship #anger management #dp x dc anger management #league of assassins Jazz #jason still ends up breaking into titans tower but this time it's to bully Tim into eating & sleeping #red hood has a friend when he comes go gotham and it looks like the woman suspected of blowing up several government buildings #they probably end up kidnapped damian after Danny & Elle are safe

1K notes · View notes

gilbirda · 10 months

Note

More than Jazz as a psychiatric I see her as a Social Worker that focuses on Children and Family.

Leaving the plot aside, Jazz may have had the CPS visit her home (or never) and saw how the system failed her and her brother, who ended dead.

She could still study psychology and focus to get a degree in children welfare (or whatever is called) to help children out of abusive/neglectful families.

And then I introduce you "social worker Jazz Fenton Nightingale meet crime lord/children defender red hood"

You are SO RIGHT and actually I had an idea like that written down.... somewhere.

Basically social worker Jazz tries to fix the system from the inside etc etc etc and becomes trusted contact for Red Hood to properly relocate the kids and help them recover.

Everyone knows about Ms. Fenton. That Hood approves of her, that she will always have warm food and a blanket, no questions asked.

And that she would fist fight anyone if they try anything funny with the kids under her protection.

Even Batman.

#gil answers #dpxdc #just had the vision of Jazz fist fighting Batman because she thinks that he's trying to kidnap a kid to be the next Robin #Tim records the whole thing instead of helping #anger management ship #hardcover ship #kinda? can go either way

1K notes · View notes

suzukiblu · 4 days

Text

WIP excerpt for tabetharasa behind the cut; alpha Jazz, a dark alley, and a very pretty omega. ( + non-chrono link for mobile users )

Jazz has no idea why Red Hood thinks he smells anything but delicious, but there’s a very reckless and dubiously-ethical part of her that would be willing to prove it to him. Not that she would, obviously, because that would be, again, incredibly unethical and highly inappropriate and also a total dick move.

She just could, that’s all. Just if it came up or whatever.

“Well, it’s not,” she says, mildly put out by whatever’s going on here, and Red Hood growls. His scent blockers continue to be useless. Just–absolutely useless, yes.

Ancients, he smells so good. What is she even supposed to do about how good this omega smells?

Maybe offer to walk him home, or at least offer him her jacket so he has enough alpha scent on him that no one bothers him on his way back to his den. Although he’s a crime lord–or a vigilante? one or the other, whatever–who’s built like a truck, so that probably isn’t really a concern, she supposes.

Then again, some people seriously do have no sense of decorum.

Or survival instincts.

“Shut the fuck up!” Red Hood snaps. Jazz frowns. That seems like a disproportionate amount of anger in his tone. Maybe he's sensitive about his pheromones. Well, if people have been telling him he smells like death . . .

Though “death” doesn't necessarily smell bad, in Jazz's opinion.

Admittedly, that's a liminal's opinion and besides the point anyway. But still.

“Alright,” she says. “But can you get to your den safely? Or . . . somewhere you can den down, anyway, I don't know. I assume you have a headquarters or a safehouse or two, something like that. Or at least can afford a heat hotel or know a decent clinic.”

Red Hood hisses at her. It crackles through his modulator, but the sound of it still makes her jeans a little . . . uncomfortable, she'll just say. Sue her, she likes omegas with a bite to them. Johnny 13 definitely didn't win her over by being the sweet and polite type; he won her over by being a blunt asshole in a leather jacket who'd convinced her that he was a sincere and straight-up person.

She wonders how “sincere” the average Gotham crime boss really is, but it’s a little difficult to concentrate on that question with the scent of old books and burning cedar filling up her nose. And also that note of lilac. That note of lilac is a problem.

A serious problem.

“I realize heat drop is probably imminent and you must be uncomfortable, but it’s a valid concern on my part, given your condition,” she says, which normally she’d make sound politely disapproving but really can’t make sound any kind of disapproving right now. Again: the lilac. “So can you?”

“Fuck makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my den?” Red Hood snarls. Jazz blinks; tilts her head.

“Nothing,” she says. “What makes you think I was asking to go anywhere near it?”

Red Hood–stalls, briefly. Jazz tries to be polite about how incredibly obvious a tell that statement was.

Flattering, but incredibly obvious.

“I mean, I'd be happy to escort you if you’d like,” she says. “Or lend you my scent, if you need it. But I'm not trying to presume anything.”

“Fuck off,” Red Hood snarls. “Nobody escorts an omega like me.”

“Do you think maybe you have some self-esteem issues?” Jazz asks. Heat is almost definitely making him a bit more volatile and emotional than normal, considering the kinds of things he’s been saying to her, but it still seems like a valid question. Being on their cycle doesn’t make people different people; just makes it a bit harder for them to censor and control themselves.

Or a lot harder, sometimes.

Judging by how strong Red Hood’s pheromones smell right now . . .

Well, he might be having a harder time than he’s used to having, so far as “controlling himself” goes.

Jazz certainly is, all inappropriate knotheaded puns aside.

Do Poison Ivy’s pollens make cycles hit harder, actually? Or does the suddenness of the effect disorient or throw people off, maybe?

Well, that’s a worrying thought, since Red Hood seems to be out here alone.

“‘Self-esteem issues’?” Red Hood repeats incredulously, his pheromones briefly sparking with bewilderment. Jazz decides not to press it, since he might be feeling a little vulnerable right now.

“Yes,” she says. “Is there someone you can call, if you don’t want an escort or to borrow my scent? I could wait with you until they show. No offense, just Park Row’s not a very nice neighborhood.”

Red Hood laughs.

“No fucking shit!” he says, spreading his arms. “It’s Crime Alley!”

“I know, sorry, I just keep accidentally calling it ‘Park Row’ in my head. Still new in town,” Jazz apologizes. She assumes a crime lord would prefer his territory be correctly referred to, anyway. Seems like a thing. She knows standard humans don’t actually have haunts–even most liminal ones don’t, including her–but sometimes she does . . . well, not forget, exactly, but just . . . expect them to anyway, she supposes?

She spent way too long in Amity, yes.

Even without Crime Alley being Red Hood’s actual haunt, though, it’s still disrespectful to call it the wrong name. It’s still his territory either way, and she imagines someone on their cycle especially wouldn’t appreciate the mistake.

“What is your damage?” Red Hood snarls, his voice modulator crackling threateningly as he visibly bristles, and Jazz catches notes of that electric and unexpected edge in his pheromones again. Still vaguely familiar, but still not quite what it seems like it should be. Just . . .

Really, if she didn’t know better . . . well, she’d think he was liminal. But that seems like a very unlikely coincidence for her first week in Gotham, so . . .

Then again, her life is her life.

It’s not really the time to be asking Red Hood about his levels of ecto exposure, though, and she’s pretty sure they’ve both got more important priorities right now.

“We don’t really have time to unpack all that, to be honest. You really do need to get home,” she says. “Or at least call someone to pick you up. If you go into heat drop alone in Crime Alley, I can’t imagine it’s going to end well.”

Red Hood hisses. That might’ve sounded like a threat, Jazz realizes belatedly.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” she says, apologetic again. “But it’s not safe, is it?”

“If anyone I don’t want near my ass tries to touch me, I’ll put a bullet up theirs,” Red Hood growls, low and crackling.

“That seems like a lot of trouble when you’re on your cycle, though,” Jazz says. He’d have a body to deal with, and maybe someone would call the cops–well, she supposes it is Crime Alley, so maybe not . . .? But it’d be self-defense anyway, and if he is a crime lord, maybe he has people for that.

Hm.

She really needs to get familiar with this area as soon as possible, yeah. And just Gotham in general, really. Every city has its own idiosyncrasies, but Gotham is its idiosyncrasies.

Well, so is Amity Park, of course.

“I think you belong in Arkham, lady,” Red Hood says. Jazz feels like a Gothamite should be more understanding of someone taking supervillain attack side effects and hostile heated-up crime lords in stride, but apparently not.

“Technically, you’re not wrong,” she says with a wry smile. She’d offer him a handshake, but that’s not really appropriate for an alpha to offer to an omega in heat. Especially not an unmated alpha, which Jazz very definitely is. “I start Monday. Jazz Fenton, psychiatric intern. At your service.”

Red Hood manages to very clearly stare at her without actually taking off the helmet. It's actually an impressive amount of expressiveness to get across, under the circumstances.

Or there could be a touch of liminal empathy happening, admittedly. That's possible too. Especially with another liminal involved.

Jazz briefly considers what knotting a liminal omega might actually be like if an empathy loop got established somewhere in the process, which is a lie, because what she’s actually imagining is picking up this liminal omega and showing him exactly how delicious she thinks he smells.

Definitely inappropriate.

“They will literally eat you alive,” Red Hood says.

“I mean, there’s a risk of it,” Jazz allows, because nothing is a perfect guarantee. It’s just not a very large risk. Comparatively, she means.

“You applied to Arkham on purpose, lady?” Red Hood says disbelievingly.

“Oh, no,” Jazz says, shaking her head. “They made me an offer. Somebody read my thesis and liked it, apparently.”

Well . . . “thought we should interview you for either a position or to have your file established for whenever the convictions start rolling in”, whichever. The interviewing psychiatrists had a range of reactions during her interview, she supposes is the best way to put it.

Jazz really doesn’t think it’s fair to classify her parents as actual supervillains, but an increasingly long list of professionals has, admittedly, not agreed with that assessment.

She can’t imagine what they would’ve thought if she’d told them about Danny, considering.

Well, it’s not her problem if someone else is going to be close-minded about things like that.

“I’m sorry, I’m really not trying to be pushy here, but are you sure you don’t want to call anyone? Or want my scent. Or . . . literally anything,” she says, gesturing a little awkwardly with her shopping bags. “I do get told my pheromones are pretty discouraging to unwanted attention, if that helps?”

“Sure they are,” Red Hood snorts. Jazz tries not to look disapproving, given his compromised state. That kind of thing can bother omegas in heat, she knows.

“That’s what people tell me,” is all she says. Obviously it’s not just the default parts of her scent that make it a strong deterrent, but as for the force of the emotions and claim she can put into it . . .

Well. She just hears it’s “discouraging” to other alphas pretty regularly, that’s all. And also some betas, depending on their sexuality. And, um . . . well, a little closer to “catnip”, for omegas, but . . .

“I’ll believe it when I smell it, knothead,” Red Hood snorts again. “Prove it.”

Jazz isn’t sure that’s a good idea, considering–again–his compromised state, but, well . . . he’s clearly a strong omega himself, and maybe she’s a little miffed by him just assuming she’s lying about something like that, that’s all. She knows plenty of alphas do lie about their pheromones or even lay on fake ones, but . . . well, it’s hard not to wonder if he just thinks she’s a lesser alpha because she’s female, or because of how she’s dressed or looks or speaks, or just because.

Her inner alpha doesn’t love the experience of one of the most gorgeous-smelling omegas she’s ever scented sneering at her worth as an alpha without even giving her a shot to prove it, either way.

“Are you sure?” she asks.

#dpxdc #anger management ship #hardcover ship #wip: alpha jazz and a dark alley #tabetharasa #omegaverse

196 notes · View notes