#he wasn't 1940s enough for me

[jerich0two]

Heard he was part of the mob in his prime...

Bonus monochrome newspapery version!

Maybe -- just maybe! -- this is my version of Overlord Angel.

[redhoodinternaldialectical]

Too Dangerous for Kids

So, recently I had reason to go back and read Jason's post-crisis debut comic Batman (1940) #408 and it clicked really hard that basically the central theme of Jason becoming Robin was that Robin was too dangerous a job for kids. Before he becomes Robin, Dick got injured, badly, by the Joker, and Batman swore to never endanger another child like that, which is the reason Dick stops being Robin at all

Batman (1940) #416

And I'm friggin realizing now that the posing in Death of the Family is straight up a mirror to this scene of Dick having been shot?? I'm losing my mind???

Batman (1940) #408

Like, look at this in universe magazine shot with this talk on the radio compared to Bruce holding Jason and tell me this was not deliberate????

Batman (1940) #408 and Batman (1940) #428

And THIS TALK?????

Batman (1940) #408

I just... HMMMM, idk there's something very fascinating to me that the theme of 'this is too dangerous for kids' has been there in Jason since day zero.

It also makes me sympathize a lot with poor Dick who got fired "cause it's too dangerous for a kiddo out there", when he was no longer a child, and then WHAT DOES BRUCE HAVE WITH HIM NOT EVEN A YEAR LATER?!

Batman (1940) #416

He's devastated by the realization there's a new Robin, then harsh and critical of the new Robin because he's sure they're gonna screw up and get hurt

Batman (1940) #416

Not because he wants his old job back

Batman (1940) #416

Despite his misgiving about the mantel being passed on at all, at the end of it, he still gives Jason his respect and acceptance into the role

Teen Titans (2003) #29

And this has such fascinating parallels to Jason's reaction to finding out there's a new Robin after him!

Red Hood: The Lost Days #4

He is devastated by the realization there's a new Robin, then attempts to brutally dissuade the new Robin from keeping the mantel because he's sure they're gonna screw up and get killed

Teen Titans (2003) #29

Not because he wants his old job back

Teen Titans (2003) #29

Despite his misgiving about the mantel being passed on at all, at the end of it, Tim still has his respect, and perhaps even his acceptance into the role, although he was far too violent about it to actually properly give the role over like Dick did for him.

Teen Titans (2003) #29

Neither of them have a petty, jealous reaction of you replaced me, but instead have a tangled mess of "I was sloppy, I wasn't good enough, I got hurt, and now you put an even less prepared child in the line of fire?!" Jason is wildly more violent about it, but at the core I feel like the sentiments are the same, and it kinda makes sense because really the end of their times as Robin were very similar to each other, just Jason's was wildly more violent!

I can't help but wonder if maybe part of Jason's reasoning somewhere along the line was "Now I finally get why Dick was so harsh on me back then." And... honestly I don't think it is. Cause while it would make sense it just doesn't seem to be a parallel either of them is conscious of.

It's just this fascinating set of reflections neither one seems to see.

[talkbycolor]

the nun and the soldier

A/N; I ACTUALLY DREAMED ABOUT THIS AND THOUGHT LOL WHAT A GOOD IDEA FOR AN OS

Pairing; "[REDACTED]" x AFAB!Reader

CW; cnc? for someone who doesnt know how to put limits the line is very blurry, you will guess / daddy kink but in a priestly way / def religion kink, breeding but im not sure if its just a kink, worship but im not sure who worships who the most / this is more like an au like 1940 battlefield where [REDACTED] is a soldier and MC a nun

The night was like a classic old horror movie scene.

And how not to be scared? Outside the cathedral it was raining heavily, the skies were roaring from the electrical storm and the only lighting was the holy candles, that place was a refuge for the homeless.

After all, many people needed comfort in times of war.

You had decided to stay until midnight, praying to your father to protect the soldiers in battle, that the families would stop going hungry, you held the wooden cross that hung from your chest so tightly, begging for the massacre to stop, the times They brought sadness to the entire nation and God had to save them.

A loud clap of thunder echoed outside the cathedral and the doors were opened, the cold of the night and the wind caused the flame of some candles to go out, so holding the cross tightly to your chest you turned to see who dared to break in. with such violence in the house of God.

"Who's there?" You asked as you walked towards the huge wooden gate.

A man in uniform walked in, soaked from the rain, he looked tired, hungry, hurt, he barely made eye contact with you you felt a chill run through your entire body, not just because of the weather.

"I need food" He was a soldier, you nodded immediately and helped him walk to take a seat on one of the benches while you went to the warehouse for something the man could eat, there was food stored that was going to be donated, or that's what the priest said.

You returned with canned food and some water for the stranger, who snatched your things to eat like a dying dog, water running down his chin and eating haphazardly as he breathed heavily.

"Sir, are you okay? Where is he coming from?" You didn't avoid being curious when asking those questions, although just one cold look from him was enough to make you close your mouth.

…

You only heard him chewing, the man seemed to have had a really bad time and it was no wonder that you could tell from miles away that he was a soldier, and since he came alone, there was a high probability that he was one of the few survivors in the trenches, but you are not going to assume too much.

"Father, please help this poor man to heal his wounds safely, to regain his strength, to protect his life on the battlefield and the lives of our nation -…"

"Stop talking shit" he interrupted you in a vulgar way, causing astonishment on your face, even disgust.

"That is no way to speak before the lord" You scolded him, the black-haired man only laughed hoarsely.

"Bring me clothes, I'm freezing in this" he demanded arrogantly, getting rid of his wet clothes, your kind soul heeded his words, because that's what you were, right? A sweet nun willing to help the needy, love your neighbor as your god ordered.

"Excuse me, I only found the priest's old clothes and I'm not sure they fit him, I hope they can help you" You said as you returned to the bench, he once again snatched the things from your hand.

Yes, he was a rude man.

The minutes passed, the candles continued to melt at the altar, you were praying in front of the golden statue of your lord while the soldier was resting on the benches, grunting at his wounds and trying to stay warm.

"Hey, nun, since you won't shut up come here, I think I know how you could keep that mouth busy" The man suggested with a cheeky smile, it was unheard of how he could say such things in the lord's house.

"Hey! That's enough of-…"

"It wasn't a question, come here or I'll come for you" his voice was sharp, and with no intention of continuing to listen to you, seeing how you froze in surprise he grumbled and took the trouble to walk towards you.

Right in front of the golden statue of your god, he subdued you to the ground and lifted your robe to reveal your underwear, that man was shameless because he simply buried his face between your asscheeks to inhale deeply.

"HEY! HEY" WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! STOP! YOU CAN'T DO THAT!" You begged him, confusion and disgust replaced with terror, but… he was a soldier, a man willing to sacrifice his life for his nation.

"Please, honey, aren't you supposed to be a helpful sweetheart? You promised to help me stay warm, and this is my last dinner before I die?" He murmured on your back, riding you without a word, his hands had already pulled down your underwear while you were busy in your thoughts.

"Oh my god, this can't be happening, I'm supposed to stay pure" You whimpered as you covered your face, too embarrassed by the situation but not trying to push the man away.

He was an angel sent by god to save the country, it would be so rude to reject any order he gave.

He ground his hips against yours in a messy manner, he hadn't even prepared you well when your pussy was already engulfing his cock.

"Wow, you're so tight, so it's true that nuns are virgins, right? I feel so lucky to be the one to take your chastity, dear." His voice was teasing in your ear as you squeezed your eyes shut to endure the sudden intrusion, you were Pretty sure you would bleed.

No one would pass by the cathedral at that time of night, much less in a storm, the clicking of both skins echoed in the enormous building, right in the eyes of your lord.

"P-please forgive me Father for I have sinned, forgive me so much" A hand grabbed your jaw to silence you.

"You better ask thanks to the Lord because you will soon have a son, I will take care of filling this pretty pussy of yours to the brim, okay, angel?" He mocked your prayers but the seriousness in his voice was immaculate, he really wanted to impregnate your womb with his seed.

Your legs were shaking as you tried to stay in the doggy position, the soldier was selfish, penetrating your wet cunt for the sole purpose of having his release and getting you pregnant.

"S-sir please slow down, I feel like you're going to break me" You begged, snot slipping out of your nose as well as tears at how disastrous the situation was, the problem wasn't that the man was using you, because he was part of the brave army that risked his life, it is logical that you want to help.

"... We shouldn't be doing this in the Father's house." Sob quietly, your body reacted so well to his touch and it was inevitable not to moan, causing echoes in the cathedral.

"No, no, angel, call me father, you don't want your lord to hear you acting like a slut in his holy home." His calloused hands squeezed your hips and he pulled you like a wolf would its prey towards its nest.

"My god, angel, you feel so good, I'm melting between your walls, I want to spill all my essence inside you, you're being so good for me, I promise you it will feel better" He whispered lovingly despite the furious thrusts. that you received. "Don't worry, this is what your god wants, right? Demigods are worshiped with flowers, real gods need blood." His tone felt so somber, his hand traveled to your crotch to caress, collecting said blood, your blood.

So if he died on the battlefield, he would at least have left his inheritance in the world and he wouldn't be completely forgotten, right? His greedy hands ran over every inch of your skin under your tunic, squeezing the flesh, he too seemed inexperienced too, moaning and letting out incoherencies as he ground his groin against you, saliva running down his jaw as he moaned like a dog, panting, his eyes rolling back, sharper sounds until you both trembled violently.

Just as he said, you were dripping, as soon as a mirror cascade came out of you and warm semen was present from your pussy, his member was already a little more flaccid as he observed such a work of art in front of him.

He didn't want to die, he wanted this stupid war to end so he could get this nun pregnant and raise a child together.

"It's okay, you'll be okay" he murmured one last time as he clung to you, taking you into his arms with a blank look, but his words weren't.

He promised that when all that was over he would return to you to take care of you and the baby, that was what he wanted most, a life without daily blood, peace.

It's a shame that the promise would never be fulfilled.

♡

[semicolonsspace]

Him (your favorite) (Stiles//Dylan O'Brien)

No use of names. Just pet names and Y/n.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Roleplay, unprotected sex, edging, begging, praise kink, degradation kink, Bondage (use of handcuffs), breeding kink, stretch kink(?), mommy kink, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, subspace.

"Honey, I'm home," he yells as he shuts the door. He would always do this, he would always say it's 'hilarious'. Y/n found it humorous so soon after they made it a thing she started doing it as well. But except she put her spin onto it, talking like a 1940s housewife that just got back running errands.

Y/n rounds the corner to the front door. She was wearing his favorite, his T-shirt and shorts— or at least he thought she was wearing some; She wasn't. She was doing errands around the house in his shirt—Which mostly consisted of organizing the new room they had just renovated— more like Y/n renovated because she wanted it to be perfect!

"Hello, dear," she says in her housewife's voice. He laughs at her and pulls her in by the hips to kiss her. His hands snaked under the shirt she wore and slapped her ass when he realized she was only wearing underwear and his shirt. "You tryna kill me today?" He asks in a guttural groan. Her forehead rested on his as she smiled lovingly at her boyfriend of two wonderful years. "Not currently."

He gave her a playful shrewd look. "I think I'm already dead, then," he hums suggestively as he pulls hair out of her face, then resting his hand to cup it. His soft touch sent a chill down her spine as she stared up at him with lust that was masked by playfulness. "Oh, yeah?" She starts as she bats her eyelashes. "Well, I guess I might have to resurrect you."

He looked intrigued by her choice of words, choosing a decision for himself he indulged her humorous antics. "How so?"

"By laying you on my sacrificial altar bed and extracting your life force fluids," she jokingly purrs at him. That seemed good enough for him because he slung her body over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. As he walked he shreaded his layers then threw her on their bed.

Y/n scolded him for being so careless, as she almost hit her head on the metal bed frame. She pulls him down, and pulls his shirt off effortlessly—as she had done it so many times before due to the numerous times of "catching up sex" they had due to his work. She pins his pale buffed arms to the mattress while speaking. "Now, baby. Don't you remember how I said 'I' have to extract some fluids?"

He looks up at her and smirks. He decided to indulge her roleplay and started improvising lines. "Please, don't hurt me— I'll be good— you said you needed fluids, take my spit anything but my blood!" He whined with feigning horror. But she knew he was aroused, she could feel it— feel his 7-inch cock pressing— begging to be drained by her— and if he was lucky he could have her cunt to grip her tight.

Y/n chuckles darkly, something he thought was too authentic to be in their present roleplay. "I never specified which fluid I needed, dummy."

His eyes widened when he 'realized' what she meant. "By all means, go ahead— just don't kill me— please—" he begged once more. Y/n plants a soft kiss on his pointed elf-like nose as if saying 'good.'

That led to having him cuffed to the bed for hours. Her hand wrapped around his cock— jerking it just to stop before he would release. She wanted him to explode when he did so. And she wanted it to be inside of her. She wanted to feel the familiarity of the thick warm liquid rife her up just for it to enter her cervix. She was on the pill, plus she had a few boxes of plan B she liked to keep a stack of.

"Mama! Please! Just let me cum! I'll be good!" He screams, fake tears streaming from his eyes. Some of them were genuine tears from how delicious the pleasure was.

"Will you be my little ingredient holder?" She tilted her head as she spoke, speaking in the most condescending tone she could muster. "I need lots of human sperm to make my potions, would you like that? For me to milk you dry every day?"

He lets out a guttural groan that she didn't think was part of the roleplay. This was purely him. He was enjoying every bit of this, lapping up all the attention his girlfriend gave her.

The last statement was proved by his hips thrusting into her hips in an attempt to chase his orgasm. She stops and rubs his stomach. "How many times was that? 6 times? 6 potential orgasms just for me to stop... That makes me powerful don't you think? To have the ability to stop you from doing something your body chases? It's okay though, you'll get it soon."

Then her cunt was hovering over his red cock that was tortured for the last 2 hours. He nodded eagerly as he babbled how much he needed her to finish him off— to give her the "ingredient" she needed. She sat on him, wincing at how big he was, Every time she had him in her at first she would always be shocked by how much he stretched her fluttering walls.

"Going to be the best ingredient ever— make the strongest potion," she praises, continuing their little roleplay. He didn't seem to be acting anymore due to the immense pleasure, mostly just him begging for mercy for her to finish him off finally.

"For fucks sake— please just ride me, mama— need it," he whines, actual tears falling down his face. He was ruined— disheveled. And she felt glorious; she had done that. She had made him feel so divine just for her to deny his unholy release six whole times.

Y/n clicks her tongue and slaps his chest slightly, before reaching back and squeezing his balls. By his reaction she knew it was painful from how much he groaned— a different type of groan— he needed that release and she was just toying with him— She had been toying with him this whole time. "Next time you won't finish. I may need the ingredient but I can always use other fluids," she warns darkly.

He seemed to get that she was still roleplaying and nodded, breathing a sorry that was soon sucked in as she started hopping on him, his dick curve hitting her spot every time she sheathed onto him.

Her hands rested on his pecs before finding his nipples and tugging on them harshly. "Pretty boy looks so good fucked out for me," she whispers into his ear, her one hand caressing his sweaty hair. "Only for you." His eyes flutter, his mouth staying open. She kissed him— now instead of hopping, she was rocking into him, which seemed more sensual to them as they moaned in sync, telling each other they loved each other, completely forgetting about the roleplay. Now it was just the couple of two years that have lived with each other for eleven months.

Y/n reaches for the cuffs and he shakes his head while begging a no. "Keep them on, please," he moans.

Her mouth forms a smile before opening from the pleasure. She gets an idea so they both have what they want. "Wanna feel you touch me," she says uncuffing one singular cuff. His hand immediately finds her hip while his hips thrust into her—seeming like he was trying to gain control.

"Fucking being a brat for not letting me cum, baby," he groans as he pinches her nipple. She smiles at him before kissing his neck. "Good," she whispers, before unlatching the other cuff. Then she was flipped on her stomach, her ass in the air, her face buried in the mattresses as he plunged his abused cock into her. "Oh, you feel so good—way better than your hand, that's for damn sure," he murmurs breathily. Y/n was clawing at the mattress, bratty almost pornographic moans being muffled into the light grey satin sheets.

She lifts her head finally, positioning her body to arch, her elbows propping her up as he continued to rail her pussy into oblivion. "Cum in me— wanna feel you-"

He cuts her off before she continues with a humorous moaning chuckle. "Trust me, I'm gonna fucking milk every fuckin' drop inside this pussy, gonna stuff it full so you can carry my baby," he growls, making his thrust harder to punch— not kiss— her cervix. She squeals as a sudden wave of intense pleasure knocks her out. Her vision faded black and he coaxed her, his thrust becoming sloppy before he stilled in her. He doubles over from the climax, whispering praises into her ear. "S'good, I love you so much, honey," was all she could make out.

She thought he was the one who was going to be exhausted but he kept going, his cock continuing to piston inside of her for round two. She was more than okay with it, letting him use her just how he wanted; he deserved it.

By the time he stuffs her brim full with a second orgasm, she is on her back. The cum oozed out of her cunt as he pestered wet-sloppy and open-mouth kisses all over her neck and chest. She was bound to have marks all over her in the morning. "Look at that, baby," he says as he plays with his release around the hole. He was still inside, his finger lapping up the release and stuffing it back into her.

"Fuck, don't do that, or we're doing a round three," y/n squeals. He smiles cheekily at her and stuffs his finger into her again.

His cock and his finger were both inside, stretching her to limits she never thought she would be able to with him. Then he starts thrusting slowly, his vacant hand holding her ankle in the air so he can have maximum access to his favorite toy.

"We need to get those ankle holders like hospitals have so I can fuck you better," he says between grunts. "Or a fuck machine so I can get payback."

At the mention of the machine, she screams, especially because he removes his finger and presses it onto her stomach. "Scream for me again, baby: tell the whole fuckin' neighborhood I'm breeding my little whore again."

And she did, she couldn't take his rough thrust with his hand pushing on her stomach, it made her tighter— sensitive. But she could not bring herself to stop such amazing pleasure.

His stamina never seemed to shock Y/n. It did at first, having to beg her to eat her out. She let him, barely saying no simply because it was a win-win. He would always say "I get pleasure from eating my girl out, I don't need anything else." Which she loved, it almost became a love language for him to do so. While she answer emails for her stay-at-home job—when he was home that is— he would rarely pass an opportunity to either 1: eat her out or two: fuck her while she worked— and trust the universe, he made sure she would take it while working whatever she did on her computer.

He soon got tired of the position and pulled her by her thighs, manhandling her and flipping her back on her stomach. Y/n pushed herself down the bed, her feet touching the ground in front of him. He pushed himself back in, his hands grabbing her hips so he could pull her back onto him repeatedly. His thrust was a little harder, exactly how she wanted right now, making loud pleasured moans to leave her lips— along with many praise for him for how good he made her feel.

She then pushes herself off, causing them both to stand, he gets the hint and pulls her close, grabbing by the throat to choke her. Her vision fades a bit, from the pleasure of his cock hitting her cervix and his slender hand stifling air from her throat. "I love you, honey. 'Missed you at work; 'Could only think of my beautiful girl all alone at home," he says between moans. "My good fucking girl," he growls as he moves her hair from her face just to return to her throat. His thrust never faltered either, his words, and admiration, all pushing her over the edge so hard she went limp. "Did I fuck you too dumb, baby? Awe, my poor baby." He then pushes her face back into the mattress, spreading her cheeks to gain better access to his cock moving into her pussy repeatedly. "Take me so well," he groans, massaging the fatty flesh of her rump.

Y/n was too far into subspace to talk. She could barely even comprehend his dirty words, plus the painful pleasure she had from overstimulation of her recent orgasm was going straight to her head.

He continues to fuck her, eventually picking her back up and carrying her to the bathroom—while fucking her. Her arms wrap around his shoulder lazily, his hands steadily gripping her ass to push her onto his cock repeatedly. He lays her down in the huge circle bathtub, turning the water on and continuing his work to chase his own orgasm. "Baby, fucking love you and your pussy, both of my girls make me so happy," he then doubles over, his face going for her neck, stifled whimpers escaping his mouth traveling from her neck to her ears.

Y/n holds him, her hands rubbing his back as he finishes for the third time inside of her. "I love you too, dear," she whispers. He whimpers causing her to chuckle. "Too sensitive?" She asks, feeling his dick twitch inside of her. He nods into her and she splashes water onto his body. "You wanna take a nap in the bathtub?"

He moves his face to look at her with a dumbfounded expression. "Honey, as much as I love being in your embrace, I don't want to risk you drowning."

[captainsophiestark]

Oldies And Goodies

Bucky Barnes x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for my personal fic writing challenge for 2024, Sophie's Year of Fic! Featuring a new fic being posted every Friday, all year long :)

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Bucky's not a fan of modern dating conventions, until Sam sets him up on a date with a good friend who shows him the potential of the modern world.

Word Count: 1,543

Category: Fluff

A/N: To the anon who sent me an idea outline for this, I hope you like it! It got merged with another idea I had, but hopefully, it's still pretty close to what you had in mind :) Thanks for continuing to read stuff for Grant Ward and enabling me to keep writing him- he's my fave, so I'm glad I have at least a few people to share the love with!

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

My eyes scanned the restaurant, trying to make out Bucky through the dim lighting. After a moment, I caught sight of him at a table by the window. I smiled and started heading his way. As soon as he noticed me, he shared my smile and stood to greet me. Always the perfect gentleman. My heart skipped a beat, and I made a mental note to make Sam some cookies or something as a thank you.

Sam Wilson, a good friend of mine even before he'd taken up the superhero mantle, had recently introduced me to the second supersoldier out of time that he'd befriended. Bucky Barnes, the reformed Winter Soldier, was a little different than the Man With A Plan Steve Rogers, but he'd been different in a way that I liked. We'd hit it off pretty well, and with a some meddling from Sam, we'd set up a date within a few weeks of first meeting each other.

I'd spent an hour and a half making sure my outfit looked just right and trying to convince my nerves to calm the hell down. It was just a first date, with someone I was already friendly with. And I knew Sam wouldn't steer me wrong. Tonight was going to be fun.

Once I got close enough to the table, Bucky pulled a small bouquet of roses out from behind his back, holding them out to me with a lopsided smile. I gasped, taking them from him with a slightly disbelieving look.

"I've been told the flowers are a little old fashioned, but... it seemed like the right way to go," he said. I gave a little laugh, taking a moment to smell the roses (literally) before beaming back at Bucky.

"I love them," I said. His shoulders seemed to relax a little, the smile spreading to cover the rest of his face as he took a few steps closer to me.

"I'm glad. Here, let me get your chair."

He pulled my chair back from the table, gesturing for me to sit down. I nodded my thanks, trying to ignore the butterflies exploding in my chest as he scooted the chair back in for me like it was nothing. I gently laid the roses down on the table as he took his seat across from me again.

"Thanks for finding this place," I said, scanning the restaurant to take in the ambiance this time, instead of just searching for Bucky. "It's... really nice."

"Yeah, no kidding," he said, huffing a small laugh. "Honestly, I'm... a little out of my depth here. A lot's changed since the last time I asked somebody on a date."

"Well, for what it's worth, you've been doing pretty damn well so far."

We shared a smile, but then a silence settled over us that wasn't entirely comfortable. As much as this night seemed perfect, I couldn't help agreeing with Bucky. This place wasn't totally my scene, and I was starting to feel a little out of my depth, too.

"So..." I said, taking a deep breath and meeting Bucky's eyes again. "What exactly did dates look like back in the 1940s? One of the handful of times I talked to Steve, he said you set up a pretty cool double date to... some kind of expo?"

Bucky's eyes fell to the table even as his mouth pulled up in a smile. He nodded, talking as much to himself as to me.

"Yeah. Despite how it ended, I was always pretty proud of the Stark Expo one. We got to see a car fly long before any of that should've been possible. Walking around, looking at all the exhibits and experiments... honestly, it was incredible." He looked back up at me, the soft smile still in place. "Unfortunately, there weren't a lot of major, groundbreaking expos happening tonight for us to swing by."

"Damn. That would've been fun," I said, gently reaching across the table to take Bucky's hand in my own. I bit my lip, then looked up at him with a smile. "You know, Steve also said you're kind of a nerd."

Bucky snorted. Clearly, that's not what he'd been expecting me to say. He shook his head, but when he looked back at me, he had a smile on his face.

"Steve's got quite a few stories of his own that he should keep in mind when he says things like that."

"Well..." I took a deep breath, hardening my own resolve. Bucky and I were friends, and for whatever reason, this restaurant didn't feel right for either of us. I needed to trust him and our relationship so far, rather than pretending for norms or anybody else's approval. "Look, I don't know about you, but... this restaurant is lovely, but not exactly my usual vibe."

Bucky sighed, shaking his head and pulling his hand out of mine.

"I know, it's not really mine either. I just-"

"Hold on. I have an idea for a solution that might suit us both. And I think it'll be super fun."

Bucky stared at me for a few moments appraisingly, the faintest ghost of a smile appearing on his face.

"You know, I'm not used to letting the other person plan the date. But I guess I can make an exception."

I grinned. "Good. Because I have an idea that didn't exist in the 40s, but is the kind of modern thing I think you'll be able to get behind. You trust me?"

"...Yeah, I do."

"Good." I took Bucky's hand, grabbed my roses, then stood from the table. "Then follow me."

****************

"...and in the original, Gollum volunteered the ring as a prize for Bilbo winning the riddle contest!"

I beamed at my date as he raised out of his chair, the few beers we'd had and his passion for Tolkien pushing him to make his point loudly after being called on for the bonus question of this round of trivia. The host grinned, ringing a bell and pointing at Bucky.

"Aaaaand that's correct! Mark that down as three points for Oldies and Goodies! Hang tight everybody while we update the scoring, and we'll be back with our final round in ten minutes."

With that, the bar dissolved into chatter again as everyone went their separate ways for the break in trivia. Bucky settled back down into his seat with a sigh, then carefully cut his eyes towards me.

"So... was that a dealbreaker for you?"

I laughed. "Are you kidding? You got us three points, all while schooling the rest of the bar on some nerdy shit! It was hot."

Bucky laughed at that, shaking his head even as a smile stayed in place on his face.

"Alright, I've done a lot of complaining to Sam about how much dating's changed since I last did it, but I'll admit... I like this."

I grinned. "I'm glad. And for the record, I like it too. As far as I'm concerned, being able to have fun and kick ass at bar trivia with someone is one of the best green flags there is."

"Well, good. Because that table over there is right behind us in the points, and after they shouted out the worst string of horseshit about the Hobit I've ever heard with complete confidence, there's no way I'm letting us lose to them."

"Hell yeah! I'll go grab us another round, and then we'll make them wish they'd never come to this trivia night."

I jumped down from my seat and started heading past Bucky to the bar, but he caught my arm before I could get very far, his expression more serious than I'd seen it all night.

"Hey. Thanks. For getting a round of beer, for agreeing to come out with me tonight, for bringing us here... it's the best time I've had in a while, and you've been pretty much the entire reason for that. So thank you."

I smiled, my heart speeding up in my chest as I took a half-step closer to Bucky and softly kissed him on the cheek before leaning back.

"You're welcome. Thanks for being willing to try out something as new and chaotic as bar trivia. Maybe we could even make it a weekly thing?"

Bucky beamed back at me. "Sweetheart, I would love that."

"Okay, good. Then start getting ready for the next round, because if we're coming back here next week, I want it to be in defense of our title. This is the beginning of the trivia power couple Oldies and Goodies."

"I like the sound of that," Bucky said, his voice dropping an octave as he leaned into me a little. I smiled, and he pulled me into his side, squeezing me tight before letting me go so I could get us both another round.

My dopey smile stayed on my face even as I got to the bar. I'd always had butterflies in my chest when I was around Bucky, but now, it was more than that. Being around him made me happy. I felt comfortable, and I didn't want the night to end. And luckily for me, he apparently felt the same way.

Destroying our enemies at trivia was just the beginning for us. And with no ending in sight, I truly couldn't wait to see what came next.

****************

Everything Taglist: @rosecentury @kmc1989 @space-helen

Marvel Taglist: @valkyriepirate @infinetlyforgotten @sagesmelts @gaychaosgremlin

[synergysilhouette]

"Batman: Caped Crusader" review

Binge-watched this show, and I wanted to be one of many people to share my thoughts on this--plus I was spurred on by getting a wish of mine granted from the show. Make sure to check out the show if you can!

The animation is beautiful--I know this is a weird comparison, but soemthing about the animation reminds me of 2010s Scooby Doo animated films, and I kind of adore that.

The voice acting was...fine--I can't tell if it was poor performances or poor direction; Hamish's Bruce Wayne sounds too raspy/rugged some of the time, like he's still playing Batman, and many of the other actors felt like they were just reading lines rather than performing lines, not enough emotion. IDK if they're more used to live-action work, but voice-acting is a different ballgame, since your voice is all you have to convey the character. A lot of performances fell flat for me, but it wasn't 100% unbearable, just underwhelming. I have some people I'd recommend instead (both familiar to the role and otherwise), but I don't wanna start anything.

LOVED Harley (but not her costume)--Jamie Chung had one of the better performances in the group, and I really LOVED the angle they did for Harley; I feel like the media often flanderizes her as the goofy crazy chick, so seeing her actually utilize her psychology skills (like I've been asking for!) is so satisfying. That said, the outfit has GOT TO GO. Gold and black is gorgeous, but it ples in comparison to her black and red look. And a weird nit-pick; when I first saw the stills, I was under the impression she was wearing a carnival-esque mask rather than face paint, and I find that idea a lot creepier. I wish we'd gotten more of Harley's antics--and even seeing her get close to Bruce in the way she did with Barbara and Renee--before revealing her as a big bad to the public. And I appreciate that she isn't 100% evil; she is doing what she believes is a noble cause, just doing it in an illegal and unethical way. I needed a backstory!

Not enough Batman--Maybe it's just me, but it definitely felt like there were some episodes where Bruce and Batman were supporting characters and more focus was on the GCPD. While I don't mind it too much, I enjoy superhero shows for the superheroes, not the heroes; this is why I had a love/hate relationship with "Gotham."

Batman (and Bruce) isn't quite likeable enough--In earlier incarnations, Batman was more kind and caring before becoming more emotionally closed off with time, but here he's that way from the get-go. Not to mention that Bruce Wayne puts on a facade around everyone, even people he trusts (he probably did that anyway; I can't remember), and his session with Harleen really frustrated me because I don't expect his walls to come down immediately, I don't expect them to be this high this early. I wanted him to be a bit warmer and transparent, rather than curt and cold like he's usually seen in the show. I feel like this is an issue often seen in comics, too; people prioritize Batman's "coolness" and thus push his feelings to the wayside.

Using underrated and familiar villains--I'm sure the real experts are gonna chew me out for this one, but as someone who got into comics in the 2010s and didn't catch up on the acclaimed 90s series, it was fun to see villains I loved and villains I didn't know; one of the best things a popular property can do is use underrated characters, since it helps the show feel original and fresh (thus why "Teen Titans" is so enjoyable; the whole franchise is underrated).

Too modern for the 1940s--I can't put my fingers on it exactly, but the vibes feel too modern; I assume the 1940s was for aesthetics, but since everything else feels updated (from the way people talk to Harley and Renee seemingly being open about their feelings for each other), I don't think it was a wise choice to have it both ways. I see no reason not to have it in modern-day, but I suppose you'd have to get more creative with technology.

Barbara and the Robins--First off, I should've gambled with someone that Jason would be a redhead; I'd have made SO MUCH money. Secondly, I'm not crazy about how all four kids are orphans; If I recall correctly, both Carrie and Stephanie's parents were alive when they joined the Batfamily. In any case, I'm confused on why Barbara is significantly older than them when they're all supposed to be within the same age bracket (I think; someone has told me otherwise since posting this, so I could be wrong). Not to mention, a part of me worries that because of the quartet's young ages and Barbara getting so much screentime as a lawyer, we won't get any of them as Robins or Batgirls unless something drastic happens, and/or we get a time jump.

Overall, I think my biggest gripes are the voice acting and how Batman/Bruce Wayne is written. That said, I enjoyed the show overall. IDK why HBO Max dropped it. Hopefully season 2 will introduce Poison Ivy, Catman, Tim Drake, Ghostmaker, and Gardener, since the finale already showed us a certain someone who IS coming to Gotham.

[chaifootsteps]

tbh one thing i liked about the instas that i dont think the series will bring back is him wearing casual clothes outside of work. the concept of a gay male sinner from the 1940s embracing modern day fashion from the current era because of how cute it is without anyone caring because its hell, (with the implication he mightve been doing this for decades beforehand before he came to the hotel,) is just really cool concept to me :3 it gave him a fashion identity outside of his sex work (something the show really doesnt do at all,) and it let him explore a more cutesty side to his character, but in a really natural way! i also just liked it because most of the sinners we saw tended to stick to dressing from their era, which made angel stand out more.

but this isnt present at all in the series, and even weirder, the one time he has a chance to put on pajamas in episode 2 like the girls have, where hes alone in his room with fat nuggets, he doesnt. maybe we wouldve had time for that if there wasn't a joke dedicated to showing how tone deaf and christian charlies morals are for the bisexual daughter of lucifer morningstar.

all the clothes he wears, there's more of a focus of his outfits from posion rather then anywhere else. i hardly see as much fanart of that stupid ugly ripped finale suit, as much as i see fanart of the latex suit angel wears while singing about being unable to help swallowing poison. either that, or the outfit he wears while dancing with val. love the fluffy spider butt, but cmon. we can get an angel dust design thats more spider in a natural way, but we can't see him wear casual clothes when he isnt working? or even see him in a full suit? (i really miss the purple suit from the instas, no stupid pink stripes, full suit for both arms, and his boobs were out w his tie instead of being hidden away like they are in the finale, which was perfect for his character </3)

him wearing clothes separate to his identity as a pornstar also helped him reclaim some of his freedom under his contract, obviously being unable to choose what val makes him wear on set. that's what angel dusts actions reflected in the instas and the comics too. (the "work shit" box comes to mind, i hate that borderline on screen rape is fine for an amazon funded show, but a box of dildos is too much,) even the addict mv shows this, with angel wearing just a pink sweater and some purple shorts when laying with cherri. or even just the casual, but cute outfit he wears when he blows up that club with her.

its just one of the few things that made him feel human, especially when fashion is bound to change in so many ways when youve been in hell for 77 years like he has. this part of his character being missing (along with the implication he even has a life outside of his work in the series; pilot ad was coping with work with hard drugs, being an teasing asshole as a defensive mechanism, getting into turf wars and murdering mafia goons. but still dresses cute and gets to be cute w his friends in his own time! series ad is coping by self destructing and letting people drug and fuck him so he'll be "broken" but then gets better by going out once after being waterboarded at work, only to not relax and be a mom to a joke character at a club called fucking consent,) is one of the reasons im still bitter about the instas being nuked. but not the only reason.

viv will always takes the credit for them anyway, no matter if she feels they do or not, because her fanbase isn't smart enough to realize someone else wrote these stories they still love. even if theyll be the first one to remind you they arent canon, because the creator said they arent. but my honest to god confession is that sometimes the instagrams feel more like the canon hazbin hotel to me, even months after s1 dropped, simply due to the nuance and detail it has compared to the actual series. it wasnt perfect, but you could tell there was passion there- passion that now, only the leads are allowed to put in hazbin so their favorite character can get more screentime and attention.

Thank you, Anon, for this absolutely beautiful writeup. It was true, seeing the difference between the outfits Val forced him into versus the outfits he chose to wear on his own time was one of the most interesting aspects of Instagram Angel Dust. It was a more safe-for-work extension of the "work shit" dildoes that didn't make it to Amazon Prime (while his graphic on-screen gang rape did) and it was powerful.

Of course, there are practical logistical reasons why cartoon characters wear the same outfit, but if only one character in HH was going to have a big wardrobe, it absolutely should have been Angel. But of course it wasn't, because as far as Viv and Raph were concerned, the only Angel outfits that mattered were the ones that fed into their shared fetish.

[nightwings-robin]

Some of y'all act like Tim hated Jason when Tim was Robin and Jason was still dead but I disagree.

Not a lot of people do this but I've seen it enough times that it's gotten to bother me a little bit.

Let's take a look at some early Tim opinions on Jason.

Detective Comics (1937) #618

"Just a boy like me... One day I'll be as good as Jason."

This issue came out in 1990, so it's rather soon after Jason died and Tim was introduced (which happened in 1988 and 1989 respectfully). This is what Tim thinks about Jason very early on. This doesn't read as even remotely like hatred to me.

But wait, there's more!

The very next issue shows Tim having sympathy for Jason.

Detective Comics (1937) #619

Tim is noting the similarities between Dick, Jason, and himself. This issue is in the same arc when Tim's parents get kidnapped and his mom is killed. He has sympathy for Dick AND Jason, who both lost their parents. Tim is faced with the same pain and it shows his compassion for Jason.

Now this isn't to say that Tim was unaware of some of Jason's problems and maybe did blame him for his own death a bit, as shown with this panel:

Batman (1940) #455

Tim knew that Jason had times of anger and says he won't let that happen to himself. I don't think Tim is being quite fair here in claiming that he won't let his anger get the better of him like Jason's did, but Tim is hardly the only character to think this way about Jason and, again, this doesn't read as hatred to me. If anything, to me this reads as a character with preconceived notions about how another person died and not wanting to make the same preconceived mistakes as that person.

Is he being a bit harsh and 'holier-than-thou' here? Yes. Do I think this is hatred or some other malicious view of Jason? No.

There is also that time Tim hallucinated Dick and Jason, and they gave a sort of "pep-talk" to him about being Robin.

Batman (1940) #456

These are Tim's own thoughts manifesting through Dick and Jason. I do dislike that he imagines Jason blaming himself for his own death but think about why Tim would think this about Jason. Tim never met Jason. Wasn't there when he died. He only knows what he read and what he was told about Jason from other people. People like Bruce, Dick, and Alfred. And while those three loved and cared for Jason, they also unfortunately reinforced the belief that Jason was responsible for the Joker murdering him. It's not great but it does stand to reason that Tim would think this about Jason.

But it's not all bad stuff. Tim imagines Jason cheering him on alongside Dick:

Batman (1940) #456

Tim imagines not just Dick but also Jason telling him he can do it. That he can figure it out and be a good Robin. I feel like if Tim really did hate Jason, he wouldn't imagine Jason rooting for him.

Tim goes on to imagine Dick and Jason later helping him out with a fight:

Batman (1940) #457

Again, Tim imagines both Dick AND Jason encouraging him during a battle. He imagines that they both want him to succeed as a hero. Why would Tim want Jason's approval if he dislikes Jason? Because he doesn't dislike Jason. Tim respects him enough as Robin to think that he wants Jason's encouragement.

and then at the end when he officially becomes Robin:

Batman (1940) #457

"Dick made it a symbol... Jason gave his life for it. Failing them... what they fought so hard to build... worries me."

Tim sees being Robin as not just carrying on Dick's legacy, but also Jason's. He wants to live up to Jason just as much as he wants to live up to Dick. He wants to be a Robin that both of them can be proud of.

Like none of this says to me that Tim hated Jason. Did he look up to and idolize Jason the way he did with Dick? No, but that also doesn't mean that Tim hated him.

I get the feeling that Tim viewed Jason's death as a tragedy but since they never met, he didn't have any personal feelings about him, only wanting to live up to the Robin name that Jason left behind.

Now I DO think that Tim did eventually end up hating Jason after Jason came back and tried to kill Tim and others multiple times but this post is specifically referring to the time before Jason returned from the grave.

And I guess I should make it clear that I've not read every single comic issue of Tim Drake ever so maybe there are moments that refute my claim that I just don't know about. I'm simply going off of issues that I have read and I've only read Tim's very early days as Robin.

Feel free to disagree and add on if you want.

[autisticalastor]

the privilege of being born to be a man

Pairing: Alastor/Lucifer

Rating: G

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Genderfluid Alastor (his egg is cracking), Demiromantic Asexual Alastor, Colorblind Alastor, snippets of human!Alastor, slight TWs for internalized transphobia

A/N: Honestly, I just wanted to write Alastor trying on a dress and starting to realize he's Not Cis, but then I got Emotional about it. I like to headcanon Lucifer is agender and just plays fast and loose with femininity and mascuilinity, and this is just the perfect catalyst for Alastor's own little gender journey. Anyways, enjoy some snippets from Alastor's life as a human here as well! Title is from I / Me / Myself by Will Wood!

On his more feminine days, Lucifer takes forever to get ready. Alastor's fairly certain most of the time is spent just picking out an outfit, as if he can't just summon the perfect pieces with the wave of a hand. It can be a bit irritating when they have somewhere they need to be, especially since Lucifer never seems to know in advance when he's going to want to spend an hour or two trying to be the prettiest man in Hell. As if he wasn't already.

Today was one of those days, and Alastor was busying himself with some light reading as he waited for Lucifer to be ready. At least they didn't have anywhere important to be for a while.

“Alastor,” Lucifer calls, finally emerging from the bathroom. “What do you think? I haven't tried this style before, but I thought it looked nice in those old catalogues.”

Alastor looks up, and he must say, he's impressed. The dress Lucifer has picked is a vintage 1940s-style dress, mostly white, but patterned with small yellow flowers. It does look rather stunning on him, and as Lucifer gives a little twirl to make the skirt spin out around him, Alastor can't help but think he was made for outfits like this. Some part of him idly wishes, not for the first time, that he had the same freedom Lucifer did in that regard.

“Absolutely stunning, dear,” Alastor responds. “I do so envy your ability to pull off such lovely outfits.”

Lucifer gives him a warm smile. “Y'know, you could always join me. Bet I could whip up the perfect dress for you.”

Alastor looks away, a bit conflicted. In his time, it was rather unheard of for men to dress in women's clothing. Those who did were certainly not treated well. Part of him had always wanted to try it, envying his mother and the ladies from their church in all their pretty dresses and skirts. But he had pushed the feeling down, the shame of how he'd be perceived enough to keep him off the idea.

Now, of course, there isn't really anything stopping him. Except for this odd feeling that it's perfectly fine for someone like Lucifer or Angel Dust to play fast and loose with masculinity and femininity, but not for him to do the same.

“No, I don’t think so!” he replies, voice a bit tight. “I don't doubt your design skills, but I do doubt I'd make quite as pretty a picture as you do.” He's deflecting, and he's certain Lucifer can tell.

“Aw, c'mon! It's really fun! Plus, it can be just for us. You don't have to go out in it if you don't feel comfortable. I just think you might like it if you tried it.”

“I don't know…”

“We can design the dress however you want! I'm sure there's a style out there you'd just die to get your hands on.”

And there is. Alastor can picture the dress he'd ask for perfectly in his head, as if he's already got it in front of him. If nothing else, I could at least keep it as a memento…

“All right,” he agrees with a sigh. “You truly do live up to your reputation as the master of temptation, don't you?”

Keep Reading

[teslapunk3327]

In "Another Life", when Jack lets Ianto wear his Captain's hat from 'The Empty Child', and when Ianto asks him where he bought it from, Jack replies honestly, that it was from a store which closed in the 1940s.

Ianto thought he was teasing when Jack was actually just being truthful about his immortality. And trusted Ianto enough to be honest with him.

And this was before 'Cyberwoman'. With Jack mentioning how Ianto was allowed to live in the Hub with him, and how Jack probably started to develop a small crush on him.

I: "Whatever I say, you'll always want to top me."

J: "Yeah, you wish."

Jack's anger in 'Cyberwoman' wasn't because of hatred for Torchwood One, but, instead, because he trusted Ianto the most.

[oliveroctavius]

I got this ask on main but thought I'd pick it up here, my comics history/fashion ramble blog. I'd been wondering this exact same thing recently, and Google initially wasn't much help—Rocketeer replica jackets describe themselves only as "Rocketeer jackets" and the one Lobster Johnson cosplay thread just suggested ordering one of those.

The most curious part is the double seam and horizonal row of buttons that mark out the entire front as possibly being an unbuttonable "bib", like a plastron front. (Please don't ask how late in the game I worked out that "plastron" is the right word for that.)

The closest genuine Golden Age example of a plastron jacket I found was the military tunic style uniform of Blackhawk, created in 1941.

(Pics from the '52 movie serial (right) really show how awkward it is to combine open lapels + plastron. On a double breasted coat, that chest panel IS the bottom lapel, folded shut.)

Here's the thing: This outfit mirrors that of the Nazi ace pilot he fights in the origin issue, von Tepp (middle). And compare further to the far right: real life WWI flying ace Manfred von Richthofen, AKA the Red Baron, in imperial German Uhlan (lance cavalry) uniform.

"The Germans had designed such great costumes, we decided to use them ourselves," co-creator Cuidera is quoted as saying in Steranko's History of Comics, which (more dubiously, in my opinion) compares the look to the Gestapo or SS. Breeches or jodhpurs weren't strictly a Nazi thing at the time, but they do add to the overall effect.

Compare two other military tunic themed costumes from 1940, on Captain Marvel and Bucky Barnes. These are asymmetrically buttoned, and switch to a more classic circus strongman look below the waist.

But somewhere around 1975, with the Invaders book, Bucky gets a buttoned bib! There's something infectious about it—the symmetry, maybe. (Even re: the characters we started with; Mignola didn't draw Lobster Johnson with buttons down the right side, but every artist after does. And Spider-Noir wore a sweater under his coat until Shattered Dimensions introduced the double-breasted vest.)

If it didn't reach his belt, Barnes' button-on front + shirt collar combo would resemble a bib-front western shirt, like the one that became the Rawhide Kid's signature look in '56. (Or Texas Twister's in '76.)

This shirt entered the old-West-obsessed public imagination in the 1940s/50s largely because John Wayne wore it in several cowboy movies. In reality it was rare among cowboys, more common with firefighters and civil war era militia.

Military tunics, Western shirts, alright, but does anything match the style and material and era, or are these jackets a total anachronism? I tried looking into 1930s leather flight jackets and was surprised when the closest-looking results were marked as Luftwaffe.

It took me a bit to work out why: USAF and RAF issued standard flight jackets with a center closure. The Luftwaffe instead let their pilots buy non-standardized ones. The 'weird' double-breasted black German flight jackets were in fact fairly normal (but repurposed) motorcycle racing jackets.

Far left is an English biker's jacket that dates back to the 1920s. Even without the bib, this may be as close as you'll get to an authentic Rocketeer. The jodhpurs were pretty common to complete the look. (What was an early motorcycle anyways, if not a weird metal horse?) The first biker jacket with the now iconic off-center diagonal zip was designed in America in 1928 and yet as far as I can tell, not a single actual pre-war pulp hero wore one.

The greatest weakness of this post is that I haven't been able to find any of these artists' notes on how, exactly, they arrived at similar versions of this iconic Pulp Front Panel Jacket. I'm sure I've missed some things. But as far as I can tell, this jacket is an odd bit of convergent stylistic evolution from the above influences that's picked up enough momentum to now be self-perpetuating.

The problem with pulp heroes is that for the most part, they just wore clothes. The appeal of this jacket is actually very similar to what the 1940s thought the appeal of the bib-front shirt in westerns was: It's alien enough to feel "old". It looks like something invented before zippers or synthetic fabrics. It looks formal and militant but also renegade, rebellious. It also looks a little mad-sciencey*. It's a costume, but you can nearly fool yourself into thinking the past was weird enough that you could find something this cool on the rack.

If I wanted to end on some grand point, I could try to argue that there's a thematic throughline between fascist fashion, John Wayne movies, and throwback pulp. A manufactured aesthetic valorizing the violence of a fictional golden age... but I think the noir stylings of the post-Rocketeer comics in this lineup mean that, at least on some level, they know the "good guys" didn't dress like this.

*If I had another couple weeks of time to burn, I'd try to trace the visual history of the Howie coat in popular culture and investigate its possible connections to this. Alas, I do actually have a life.

[northoftheroad]

Ten-ish panels to sum up Dick Grayson

@roma107 challenged me some time back: “10 Nightwing Panels That Perfectly Sum Up His Character. Your turn. Go.” It’s been hard to even get close, and in the end I couldn't quite keep it to ten panels... But, enjoy disagreeing with me all the same. 😉

1. Robin vol 2 # 13 (1995)

Dick has issues with Bruce – they have had occasional problems with communication since the early 1940s – but he is loyal to a fault.

2. Teen Titans vol 3 # 6 (2004)

Just about every one of DC’s heroes respects, trusts and is prepared to listen to Dick. Obviously, that's not because he's a nice guy – which he is, don't get me wrong – or because he puts in the work with relationships – which he does. That may make people like you, but it's not enough to get them to follow you into battle...

No, that's because he's smart, professional and competent. As you see here, he can also be intense and knows how to make a dramatic entrance...

3. World's Finest Comics vol 1 # 200 (1971)

Dick is (often, but not always) ready with a smile and a joke. He loved being Robin as a kid, he wanted to do it forever (see, for instance, Nightwing vol 2 # 75). As Batman after Final Crisis, he smiled enough to convince Two-Face it wasn't the old Batman.

To what extent Dick jokes because he's in a good mood, he’s trying to keep his spirits up or he wants to annoy criminals enough to gaude them into sloppy mistakes – it varies between creators and Dick’s mood at the time😉

However, there have certainly been periods when Dick has not put on his best behaviour. He snaps at Alfred, he's unpleasant to close friends in the Titans, etc. I'd argue this is a sign he's not in a good place, mentally. Most of the panels of short fuse/asshole Dick Grayson you will find floating around are either from when he was leading The Outsiders (vol 3), and was struggling after the death of Donna Troy. Or from the almost five years' worth of New Teen Titans comics where his behaviour is influenced by being tortured and brainwashed by Brother Blood (New Teen Titans vol 1 # 22, August 1982, to New Teen Titans # 31, May 1987).

Alternate panel: Teen Titans vol 2 # 12 (1997)

4. Battle for the Cowl # 3 (2009)

Dick is prepared to change. Whether it's about a new mantle, getting a new job to pay the bills, or moving to a new city.

5. The New Teen Titans vol 2 # 6 (1985)

Dick might drop everything when somebody asks for help, and he is open to asking for help and working with teams better than Batman. But he does have his own set of control issues. He wants to have a job instead of living on Bruce’s money; he wants to know how to cook etc so he can take care of himself. You could argue it's a response to being orphaned and losing his home at a young age, and then having several episodes when he doesn't feel secure about his place with Bruce Wayne (see, for instance Robin Year One, Batman plays a lone hand in Batman vol 1 # 13, Partner to Batman in Batman vol 1 # 65)

6. Action comics weekly # 613 (1988)

Dick is uncomfortable with casual relationships/sex. When he had a fling with Huntress (Nightwing/Huntress, 1988–1989), he tried to start a relationship. It took him a long time to accept that he could live with Kory after she had gone through with a marriage of state on her home planet, and he felt strange living with her because they weren't married (see NTT vol 2 #48).

7. Detective Comics vol 1 # 881 (2011)

Dick is a nice guy who chooses to be kind, optimistic and to give people the benefit of a doubt – but he's still sneaky and definitely not stupid.

8. Titans vol 1 # 3 (1999)

Yes, Dick jokes a lot, and he enjoys hanging out with his friends. But he's also a workaholic and holds himself to a very high standard.

Alternate panel: New Teen Titans vol 1 # 29 (1983)

9. Nightwing vol 4 # 41 (2018)

He has a tendency to self-blame - and he is also very stubborn! Presumably, the tendency to feel guilty over things outside his control is partly survivor's guilt, but also related to the very high standards he holds himself to, and the very high expectations others have on him. And, I would argue, this tendency is a reason he sometimes lets friends an family punish him without fighting back.

Bonus panel: sometimes, he can admit he has a problem with self-blame. The New Titans vol 1 # 57 (1989)

10. Nightwing vol 3 # 29 (2014)

He wants to be a safety net for everyone. That's a good summary of Nightwing as a character, in my opinion.

And... Nightwing vol 4 # 43 (2018)

Bonus. This one-shot is a good Nightwing story, but very unfair on Roy Harper/Arsenal. It touches on several things – how Dick is always ready to help, that he does not want to be like Batman, his tendency to blame himself...

[smytherines]

Fuck it, here's an Owen Carvour dissertation

We don't have canon ages for Curt & Owen, but personally I headcanon Owen as being born in 1928, making him 29 when the banana incident happens. This leads to a lot of thoughts that are fascinating to me, because growing up in London during WWII could inform so much of his character.

Personally, I believe DMA's accent is much closer to Owen's natural accent. I think the Owen Carvour accent is something he puts on to make himself sound neutrally British while working abroad, because he grew up working class. RP is how most people (at least in the US) assume British people speak. This also works with the Texan agent mega headcanon, like they both have to put on an act to be spies, just like they have to put on an act with their relationship.

And class is really really important to how you conceptualize this character, because your experience of the war could be radically different depending on how much money you had. Food rationing began in 1940, which in this case would make Owen 12. Rationing isn't fully lifted until 1954.

At Elizabeth II's wedding in 1947, the palace made a big deal about how she was saving ration coupons for the material for her wedding- a full two years after WWII ended.

Here's WWII London:

This is the city Owen would've grown up in. This is a war zone. A city where food is tightly rationed, where sirens were constantly going off and you had to draw down the blackout curtains and go sleep in the tube station with bombs dropping constantly overhead:

If Owen were upper middle class, he might have had a shelter at home, some people did. But I imagine him sleeping in dark, cramped, noisy stations. And he learns to keep his cool. He starts to enjoy the danger because he has to to survive it.

Maybe he has lost loved ones to the bombings. Maybe one morning he comes home from the tube station and half of his house is in rubble on the ground. Maybe he's used to hand me down clothes and simple homemade toys and not having enough to eat. He's used to having nothing, having nobody. That's a headcanon a lot of folks have, and I think it makes a lot of sense for his character.

Even if Owen were one of the kids evacuated to the countryside, maybe that happens when he's 15 or so, it wasn't a Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe situation. For a lot of those kids they were leaving their parents behind in a war zone, sleeping in barns or basements, and most importantly working almost non-stop on British farms because all the regular farmhands were fighting.

I think, if this happened, Owen would be itching to go off and fight in the war. My personal headcanon is that he's an intelligent guy, and he figures out how to forge some basic paperwork to claim he is older than he actually is, so he can go fight in WWII.

But by some fluke he couldn't account for, he gets discovered. And because of his skill and his ability to keep his cool under interrogation, he gets recruited to MI6. A lot of MI6 operatives are upper class men, recruited young from the top schools. He mimicks them.

I think many years later, when he and Curt are escaping a Russian weapons facility, Owen loves Curt and trusts in his capabilities (maybe a bit too much- especially when he's been drinking), but he also feels frustrated that Curt is impulsive and cocky and thinks he is untouchable.

Because Curt didn't grow up the way Owen did. He didn't grow up waiting for the bottom to fall out over and over again. He's certainly got his own shit from adolescence, but he doesn't have that survival impulse hardwired into him the way Owen does. So Owen is careful and cautious for the both of them, trying to keep them both safe and alive.

I think about Owen being trapped in the rubble a lot. He would almost certainly be critically injured. Maybe he has PTSD from the WWII bombings, and he's just trapped in an exploded building, trapped with his own memories of childhood until he's almost feral from it.

This also, btw, is why the AU of Owen as Eurydice from Hadestown is so so poignant to me. Someone who grew up cold and hungry and turned their collar to the world, and then suddenly they fall in love and everything is sunlight all around them. All I've Ever Known is such an important owen!Eurydice song to me

I could keep going from here, but I'll stop for now. This isn't as neat and concise as I wanted to present these thoughts, but I can't stop thinking them

[rapha-reads]

IWTV rewatch

(s1 finale… Ready for pain and blood? Let's do this. *grabs tissues*)

Season 1 episode 7 [The Thing Lay Still] - part 1/3

- Oof, opening with the Moonlight Sonata, how to put you right in the mood.

- Daniel side-eyeing Rashid/Armand…

- [Daniel] "Can an immortal meet mortality?" - weeeell, to paraphrase our favourite rockstar, "the sun or the fire might kill me, but then again, it might not".

- [Louis] "Decapitation. He confided that to me one blood-drunken night in Bâton Rouge." - and then Louis proceeded to never forget it. I want to know more about their nights of hunting and partying. There's like, 80 miles (is that roughly 100km? I'm French, I don't know miles) between NOLA and Bâton Rouge, even if they're vampires, that's still a little trip that could be special when they have all of New Orleans to hunt (an anniversary? A date? A special performance of Macbeth or Puccini? Someone needs to write a fic)…

- [Louis] "Add to the toxic air a new ever-present paranoia, and now, you are with us." - kinda wish I wasn't tbh. "The toxicity, in my city"… Ahem.

- [Louis] "Lestat de Lioncourt. 179 years in the Savage Garden. 148 years the blood-drinker, the bringer of death… the deer come up the trail." - ooof, first point, Lestat, or at least, Louis' version of Lestat in this recollection, oozes danger and predator. He looks, feels and moves dangerously. And acts unhinged. His words heavily accented. Go figure if he really was that scattered and angry at that time, or if Louis' anxiety, trauma and guilt color the scene that way.

Second point, another mention of the Savage Garden! Made by Louis this time, so one could imagine that Lestat told him about it, that they had a conversation or more about the subject during those 30 years together, given that the theme is a Lestat special.

- Ooooh, the unholy family moving and acting together as one, totally in synch! Say what you want about how toxic they are for each other, it can't be denied that they are a family that knows each other by heart.

- Hey, who turned off Moonlight Sonata? Now I'm left wondering if it was extra or intradiegetic music. A disk playing in NOLA in 1940 or in Dubai in 2022? Can't decide.

- [Lestat] "Enough! Two in one night. Dolls, Bibles, letters become torches and pitchforks. We have to leave this place. We have to leave New Orleans." - should have left 10 years ago when Grace decided to kill off Louis… I wanna say better late than never but given that people are actually openly seeking your house to ask for healing and whatnot… Y'all are in danger. And obviously it's Lestat so there's no leaving discreetly. Gotta make a show out of it.

- Looooove Daniel getting distracted by Armand's presence. Cannot wait for some more Devil's Minion.

- Hello social commentary, segregated tramway, another slight to Louis and Claudia. I love the layers.

- [Claudia] "'You share a coffin with him.' [Louis] 'I don't talk in my sleep.' [Claudia] 'You share a heart with him.' [Louis] 'I can cut it off!' [Claudia] 'No, Louis. You can't. You spend an hour with him and you're breathing in sync together.'"

Thank you for confirming that they've still got it bad for each other, Claudia. Love the way the heartbeat starts getting louder, love the way Lestat can feel Louis looking at him and immediately looks back.

[Claudia] "'He'll know. It'll only work if you give in. Give him all your heart and I'll do the rest.' [Louis] 'I can't do that. I'll lose myself in him.' [Claudia] 'Leave a little shelf inside there for me. I'll jump back in and pull you out before I kill him. Can you do that for us, Louis? Louis?' [Louis] 'Yeah, I can do it.'"

*screams* First the wink and Lestat obviously seeking Louis' attention. Then Claudia directly asking Louis to keep a part of his heart for her, all that she's ever wanted, to be put first. Then her overestimating her pull on Louis and underestimating the intensity of Lestat and Louis' relationship. And then Louis very clearly knowing he cannot resist his feelings for Lestat no matter what. And finally Louis outright lying to Claudia saying he can pull it through while already knowing it will destroy him, have you seen his face in the last shot before leaving the tram? He knows he can't but he'll still try and maybe do it, but he'll lose a part of himself, and he's already grieving for it.

Then again. That's 2022 Louis describing the scene and the conversation, with the hindsight of 80 years or more (I'm bad at maths) of knowing what he's lost and how he lost it and how much of himself he's lost. Maybe 1940 Louis wasn't thinking of that at all.

*screams a little bit more* Maybe if y'all learn to openly communicate, we wouldn't be currently plotting a murder. Maybe.

- [Louis] "'What about Greece? Cradle of Western civilisation.' [Lestat] 'Sun worshippers, hot springs…. Those Who Must Be Kept.' [Louis] 'What was that?' [Lestat] 'Nothing.'"

Yeah, absolutely nothing. Don't mind that. It's really not important. Not at all about to come back and bite you all in the neck.

Things that mean nothing for show-only and everything for book readers… *jumps around the room in excitement*

Do we think Marius is still in Greece in 1940? If Lestat still meets him around 1789-1790, it's been a century and a half, he's definitely moved them somewhere else.

Love how Lestat's face goes vacant and momentarily dreamy when he starts thinking about Akasha. You can tell she still lingers in his mind.

- [Claudia] "'Bach. Always back to Bach.' [Lestat] 'Bach is beyond you.' [Claudia] 'Yes, the music of the master race is… not made for these mongrel ears.' [Lestat] 'You irritate me. Your very presence irritates me.' [Claudia] 'I came to make peace with you, Uncle Les.' [Lestat] 'Mm. Sister, daughter, infant death, you must think me an idiot.' [Louis] 'Could you two please just…?' [Claudia] 'Musique française pour les mains françaises ?'"

Pleaaase I love them. Toxic mother-daughter relationship, it's like looking into a mirror. Love all of Claudia's punches. Bailey's French is really good. And love how Louis immediately moves in to turn the pages for them.

- Oooh, so the party idea is not Lestat's but part of Claudia's murder scheme? How delightful!! Like father like daughter I guess, how they resemble each other so much. And love how Lestat starts by being against it and then gets slowly seduced by the idea.

- Oh, goddamn fucking bloody Tom Anderson is still bloody fucking alive. Kill hiiiiiim, please kill him. Wonder why he hasn't led a mob to their doors yet, with how he literally has known them since 1910 and has a pic showing them still as they are. Too chicken, Tom? Or too New Orleans, rather not know and keep going as is? Oh, I see, tempted to make your own deal with the "Devil". Ha. Idiot.

- [Louis] "The weird brothers and their doll-like sister were coming out." - I just like this line. Tells about a whole story hidden behind the main story.

- "Let the flesh instruct the mind." - now that is one hell of a line.

- Lestat playing his bloody Marie-Antoinette fantasy is simultaneously so bad taste and so hilarious.

- Their outfits are GORGEOUS. And the white is making Louis' green eyes even greener.

- [Louis] "The blood was everywhere. The veins and arteries of a few hundred hearts ringing out like air sirens, drowning out the rhythm section of the hired band."

I love how Louis' narration is almost inaudible beneath the sounds of heartbeats.

- Lmao, Lestat has groupies everywhere he goes.

- [Louis] "A cascade of feelings came over me as I watched him sponge up the adoration. I wanted him dead. I wanted him all to myself. The fasting was a mistake. I wasn't thinking clearly. Something was off."

You never think clearly around Lestat, Lou babe. Case in point, the besotted face you were just making at him, that he was returning to you (where are Sam and Jacob's awards), and the fact that suddenly you can't even tell Claudia's mental voice from - oh, a wild Antoinette appears. Yeah, something is off.

- When can we get rid of Tom Anderson. Soon? "It's got to be one of those tricks that you and your fag pederast satanic trio got in your pocket." Ugh, he looks so proud of his dumb line. Please tell me we're draining him soon. Thank you Louis.

- Aaaah, a balcony scene, aaaaaah! Aaaah, the lightning of cigarettes, aaaaaaah! Aaaaah, Lestat being emotional and genuine, aaaaaah!

Time to sing Sam Reid's praises:

"I'm going to miss this place. There's not an inch of this city that wasn't built from the fierce wilderness that surrounds it. Hurricanes, floods, fevers. The damp climate on every painted sign, every stone facade. High windows, through which enamelled bits of civilisation glitter. Silhouettes emerging, wandering out to catch a silent flash of lightning. The silky warmth of summer rain. Desperately alive… and desperately fragile. The hunger has me too, it seems."

*pterodactyl screech*

It's the way his voice wavers with barely restrained emotion. It's the tears glittering in his eyes. It's the way he never stops looking at Louis. It's the way New Orleans was, is and continues to be a metaphor for him, for Louis and for their relationship, "I am she, she is me".

The way his voice breaks on "desperately alive", because at the end of it, that's what Lestat, little Wolfkiller, who refused Magnus' bite and was forced into the darkness, who rejected the idea of a coven, who gazed upon the Mother of all vampires, Lestat who is constantly struggling to run away from his pain, trauma and loneliness, that's what he is, desperate and alive and desperately alive. And so afraid to show his real self to Louis and be rejected for it that he immediately makes a joke out of his deeply genuine moment.

And the way Louis refuses to engage with this moment also says a lot about where Louis is at at this stage. Refusing to give in fully, rejecting the true emotions, running away from both Lestat's love (because that's what it's about) and his own love (the shame and the guilt and the fear)… Refusing to open up his heart and thus forcefully closing down any door that could be opened.

Imagine for a moment that Louis had answered Lestat's feelings in truth? What would it have changed, in what ways? Or would it not have changed anything, because neither he nor Lestat are in control of the narrative at that point and Claudia holds the power? And what would Louis responding in kind and giving in to Lestat's depth and his own emotions look like? It would be interesting to explore it…

ep1 | ep2 | ep3 | ep4 | ep5 | ep6 | part 2 | part 3

[heathersdesk]

I'm a Mixed Race Woman in Idaho and I'm Calling You Racist for Not Voting for Kamala Harris

It is a fact of life that most people don't actually say what they mean. And I've been struggling for almost 35 years to learn the lesson that this means, unavoidably, that most people don't actually mean what they say. They don't like being confronted on it, and will double down the second you reveal it. So I try—genuinely—not to point this out as often as I see it.

But I have to in this case. No, not have to. I get to. I get to do it in this case because it's racist. And I'm tired of pretending it's not.

I've been watching TFG and Kamala Harris are "basically the same" takes, especially when it comes to Israel, for over a year now. And now that we're less than a week out from Election Day, I'm willing to kick that hornets nest right over a fence with everything I've got.

Because that's not what you believe. Not really. At the core of that argument, you're trying to say two things, not one.

The first is that Donald Trump's only term and Joe Biden's second first term are "basically the same" when it comes to the Israeli/Palestinian conflict. That's what you mean to say. And if that's what you want to believe, I'm not going to stop you. If you want to compare those two time periods, badly, at the exclusion of all the other history since the 1940s, knock yourself out.

But that comparison (Trump 1 v. Biden 2 1) is a stupid thing to bring up in a discussion about Kamala Harris unless you also mean to say a second thing: that she and Joe Biden are "basically the same." They very much are not, and haven't ever been. And if you are uninformed enough to think that, let's take a tour through some recent history together.

Remember when she humiliated him in the 2020 debates when he bragged about being able to work with anyone, including segregationists, in Congress? And she called him out on national television for opposing school integration because he didn't support busing black kids to white schools?

She looked him and all of America right in the face and said, in accusation to him, "there was a little girl in California who was part of the second class to integrate her public schools, and she was bused to school every day. And that little girl was me."

She throat punched him in front of God and everyone. Go back and watch it. It was in the second debate of 2020. You can see it in his face that she snatched the air right out of his lungs, and he couldn't do anything to defend himself because he knew he deserved it. That moment was decades in the making and his bill for being a "moderate" came due. It was an incredible thing to witness, and something more moderates need to learn from.

That moment was why I was genuinely shocked that he picked her as his running mate. I still don't believe he wanted to do it. And why I wasn't at all surprised when this was the reporting that was coming out. This example is from 2021.

Joe Biden attempted to prevent Kamala Harris from replacing him, in exactly the way she ended up doing, by giving her absolutely nothing to do as a Vice President. He chose the candidate who was the greatest threat to him as his Vice President so he could bury her. He let people gossip about her and humiliate her without ever coming to her defense in any meaningful way, for years. He gave her stupid and meaningless assignments where she never got to punch at her weight, let alone above it, when she was more than capable of doing that.

People made fun of her for how she sang "The Wheels on the Bus" wrong and her "love" of yellow school buses. They called her cringey. They made fun of her laugh. They made jokes about how they needed to find someone to love them as much as she loves yellow school buses. She doesn't love school buses, idiot! You might as well say that about Ruby Bridges while you're at it.

You did all that without ever questioning whether Joe Biden putting her on school bus duty (do you see the irony now?) was the best use of a former prosecuting attorney's talents and abilities. You've already forgotten that him doing this to her was an ongoing source of conflict between them that was poorly concealed the entire first term of his presidency.

Multiple people in my family say they don't like her because they're picking up on the fact that she has a very controlled, almost artificial demeanor.

Of course she does! Did you ever stop to ask yourself why?

She goes to work every day with a boss she fundamentally doesn't respect on many levels, day in and day out, because that's what it's going to take for her to get the promotion she deserves.

We could've had her instead of him already! Israel's escalation in Palestine could've never happened if she had been president! But we'll never know now, will we? Y'all were too racist to vote for her in 2020 when she was running. You fell for the right wing nonsense that told you to call her a cop, when the exact opposite was true. But y'all don't want to talk about that now, do you. No question mark because it's not a question.

She has to watch an old man do a job she is more than capable of doing, while he's doing it very badly at times, without revealing how frustrated she is. And she had to learn the hard way to be careful who she showed that frustration to because they went directly to the press with it every time.

Could you do that? I've done my own version of that, in a very small way, with a sexist old white man. He was a mediocre veterinarian from Minnesota who loved polka music and pissing me off. I lasted a year. I was losing my mind by the end of it and quit my job when I couldn't take it anymore.

Have you ever had to do cleanup after an old white man who should've retired two decades ago? Because I have. It is some of the most humiliating work you can do. I was helping an ungrateful man make more money than I'll ever see keep his clients, despite being very bad with people, while I was being paid $12 an hour.

It's ridiculous we still make women do this. Have you ever had to do it, at a national level, with cameras pointed at you everywhere you go? No. You haven't. Shut up.

And by the way, it hasn't ended. It's still happening. He still can't get over himself, and neither can his staff. They're going to make podcasts about it one day and y'all are going to see how bad it was for her.

Kamala Harris has not put up with eight years of Joe Biden's inadequacies and petulance for you to say she's exactly like him. That's a deeply uneducated and racist thing for you to say. All it demonstrates is that you didn't see and recognize all of this when it was happening for what it was, either because you couldn't see it or didn't care. You never stopped to examine your own gender and racial biases to understand why you felt that way. A part of you somewhere genuinely believes that this was part of her job, to be a Mammy to Joe Biden, which is why you couldn't see the problem while it was happening. Those were the conditions under which you accepted her becoming Vice President.

You and Drew Barrymore both. Remember that? Drew Barrymore said what the rest of America was thinking, and has been thinking since Kamala Harris became Vice President. And now that she's been Mamala to Biden and to us for eight years, you don't want to promote her? And you want me to believe there's anything other than misogynoir behind that?

Get out of my face with that. Don't you ever say she's "basically the same" as Donald Trump or Joe Biden ever again. It makes you look incredibly ignorant and unkempt, like you've never had anyone who loves you enough to teach you how to act in public.

Kamala Harris is a Black Asian woman from California who grew up in segregation. She is more qualified to be President than Donald Trump, Ronald Reagan, and Joe Biden put together before she even wakes up in the morning. She deserves respect she doesn't get, and will continue not to get even as President, and she's still running anyway with a smile on her face.

Miraculous!

The least you can do is vote for her. But if doing the bare minimum is asking too much of you, you need to sit down and really look at yourself. Why do you let the people around you tell you to hate black women, to mistrust them even as they're actively taking care of you? Why do you feel like that's okay for you to do? And why do you only stop when everyone else collectively changes their mind about that black woman?

Especially y'all who want to constantly call out white cishet nonsense. What good does it do anyone to put your mama and daddy, your grandpa, and your uncle at Thanksgiving on blast for clout if you can't even see the ugly in yourself when it matters?

Fix your face. Do it now. You have until November 5th. Go vote for Kamala Harris.

And quit expecting strangers on the Internet to do the free labor of spoon-feeding you the things you should know already—especially if you were there. Do whatever you have to do to be smarter than that. As always, I suggest reading a book, preferably from your public library.

[captainsophiestark]

A Reverse Steve Rogers

Jack Thompson x Reader

Masterlist - Taglist

Requested by @hawaiianpizzaenjoyer !! Thanks for the request, and for being so patient while I got it done! I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it!

Fandom: Marvel

Summary: Y/N, an Avenger, friend of Tony Stark, and the one who helped Steve Rogers adjust to the 21st century after he came out of the ice, gets flung back into the 1940s when something goes wrong on a training mission. She has no idea how long her stay in the 40s might be, but one way or another, it's going to be interesting.

Word Count: 4,684

Category: Fluff, Humor

A/N: This doesn't follow any of the season 2 timeline lol, just some vague stuff put together for the sake of this story.

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"We could always just find another ticket for her and make up a reason for her to be there on her own..."

"Yeah? Like what? At this event, anybody with the slightest hole in their story is gonna stick out like a sore thumb.”

I looked between Peggy Carter and Daniel Sousa as they talked, frantically trying to figure out what to do with me tonight. They were currently in the middle of breaking up a secret society in Los Angeles, and they had a mission disguised as a date tonight where they'd be infiltrating a fancy party being thrown by said society.

Unfortunately for them, I'd landed in their laps (pretty literally) this afternoon, and accidentally thrown a wrench into their whole operation.

One minute, I'd been doing a training mission with the Avengers. The next, I'd been falling on top of  a desk in the SSR in 1947. I still didn't know exactly what had thrown me back in time, but no matter what the cause, the fact didn't change that I was here, and would be for the foreseeable future.

I'd almost had a heart attack when I'd looked up to see THE Peggy Carter, founder of SHIELD and total badass, standing in front of me. I think I freaked her and Daniel out a little by fangirling the minute I got up off the floor, but a stranger landing in the middle of their super high-level organization probably would've landed me in the interrogation room anyway.

Thankfully, I knew Steve Rogers pretty well, and so did Peggy. I'd mentioned his name briefly when trying to explain how I knew who she was, but then I'd been able to use what I knew about Steve and the stories he'd shared with me to convince her I was telling the truth about time travel.

Since then, we'd done some brief introductions and I'd been let out of the interrogation room. I'd been given the bare minimum details of the mission to understand the conversation, and now I sat on the edge of a desk watching Daniel and Peggy talk as they tried to adjust their plans.

"Perhaps Mr. Jarvis would be available on short notice to take her as a date..." mused Peggy.

"Whoa, Jarvis? Oh my gosh, the real person Jarvis is alive and walking around right now. That makes sense," I said, mostly talking to myself.

"That still doesn't solve the problem of them not being on the guest list," continued Daniel, he and Peggy only briefly glancing my way at the outburst.

"Maybe Howard could help us secure another two."

"He already wore out his welcome with these guys to get you in there the first time."

"Did you just say Howard? As in Howard Stark?"

Peggy and Daniel groaned in unison.

"Don't tell me you're a big fan of him too?" groaned Daniel.

"His ego's already big enough as it is," Peggy agreed.

"No, it's not that, I- uh... nevermind." I pushed off the desk, waving off thoughts of Tony. I still wasn't clear on how this time travel stuff worked, and I didn't want to go telling people about Howard Stark's currently nonexistent son without more assurance it wouldn't have any crazy impact first. "Look, you guys clearly don't have space for me in this mission. The best path is a small team, specifically a couple, who can enjoy the night like a regular date while still gathering intel and handling the mission."

Peggy and Daniel shared a look, and I could see an entire conversation passing between them. I continued.

"I might not know much about the forties, but I'm still a capable adult. I'm an Av- I was on a team with Steve to take on missions around the world. I'll be fine handling myself for a bit while you guys take care of business."

"Are you sure?" asked Peggy with a frown.

"We don't want to completely abandon you. Disappearing from your own time and reappearing in another can't be easy," added Daniel.

I gave them a faint smile, momentarily overwhelmed with memories. I'd first met Steve when he'd shown up in the future and needed someone to help him adjust. I'd been a SHIELD agent at the time, responsible for liaising with Tony Stark, so they figured helping a living legend adjust would be nothing compared to that.

They'd been right, and we'd hit it off the bat. When Tony eventually formed the team, I'd been on the roster. And now, I was the one being faced with adjusting to another time.

"It's not easy," I said to Daniel, the smile still on my face. "But I also don't need babysitters when those babysitters have important, world-saving duties to attend to. I actually have a little bit of an advantage, going back in time. I took history classes and whatnot, so I at least have some idea of how this world works."

"Well, if you're sure-"

"Alright! Sousa, Marge, fear not! The cavalry is here."

I turned at the sound of a new voice, but not before I caught Peggy and Daniel rolling their eyes so far back into their heads I couldn't see the pupils. A tall, blond man in a suit was striding across the room towards us, and a second after I started sizing him up he noticed me and did the same.

"Who's this?" he asked, coming to a stop in front of us. Peggy and Daniel didn't answer right away, apparently working together to gather mental strength before entering the conversation with this guy. I just leaned back a bit against the desk and watched.

Peggy and Daniel took a second to make significant eye contact, then sighed as one. Daniel turned to Jack, and Peggy subtly shifted closer to me.

"She's somebody who does a job like ours, but from the future," said Daniel. Jack just stared at him for a minute, then looked to me, and then back at Daniel.

"Sousa, despite what you might think, I'm not stupid."

"Jack, I get that it's hard to believe, but if you actually listen for two seconds-"

Jack huffed and crossed his arms while Daniel kept talking. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught Peggy leaning in towards me, and I blocked out the boys' argument as she whispered to me.

"Y/N, I have a favor to ask of you."

"Hit me," I whispered back. Peggy sighed.

"Jack has recently had a moral epiphany," she started. I took half a second to give her a curious glance, and she just rolled her eyes in response. "It's been mostly nice, both to have him on our side and to finally have him respecting me and Daniel and anyone that's not an older man already in power.

"That said, we don't have space for him on this mission. All he's going to do is be a nuisance, and he's far less likely to agree to being benched than you."

"And I take it you have a solution for this?"

"Yes. But it would require throwing you under the bus to keep him occupied tonight."

I paused for a second, giving Jack another good look. He and Sousa were still in the middle of a heated argument while Sousa tried to convince him I was actually a time traveler, and even though they both seemed exasperated, Jack also seemed to be enjoying the back and forth. A smile tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"Peggy Carter, it would be an absolute honor to assist you on a mission," I said, turning to her with a smile. "Even if it means spending the evening learning about the forties from a slightly questionable teacher."

"You're a lifesaver," she said, giving me a smile back. She pushed off the desk, moving towards Daniel and Jack to interrupt them but shooting me a wink first. "And don't worry, I'll give you an actual introduction to the decade after this mission is over."

I nodded, then Peggy got Jack and Daniel's attention to put their argument to rest and explain the situation. Jack raised an eyebrow when Peggy told him his job would be keeping me company, but she phrased it well enough that it didn't quite sound like babysitting for either of us. Finally, he agreed, and Peggy and Daniel headed out for their event, leaving me and Jack Thompson alone in the bullpen of the LA SSR.

He stood by the windows, staring out at the traffic below as I spun around in a swivel chair. I kept looking at him, but he didn't look over at me once, at least not that I could catch. Finally, after a few more rotations, I huffed a sigh and pushed myself up. I put my hands on my hips, but Jack still didn't look over.

"Alright, I'm bored out of my mind, which should not be a possibility less than three hours after I suddenly appeared in a different time period," I said. Jack finally looked over at me, raising an unimpressed eyebrow as he did. I continued. "You're supposed to be helping me adjust to this place, since I don't know how long I'm gonna be here. Believe it or not, it didn't take me that long to adjust to this office."

He sighed heavily, but stepped away from the window anyway, stopping a few feet in front of me with his arms across his chest. He stared at me for a few seconds without saying anything, and I just stared right back. I crossed my arms to mirror him and he snorted and rolled his eyes.

"You're really from the future?" he finally asked.

"Did the twenty minutes Peggy and Daniel spent convincing you not settle this matter?"

He grunted, then finally dropped his arms back to his sides.

"Fine. What do you want to do then?"

I grinned. "Any good places to grab a drink and a dance around here?”

****************

"This is only my first week in LA, so if this place ends up being terrible, it's the city's fault and not mine," said Jack as we stepped out of the cab together. I'd taken a second to find a dress to steal from Peggy's emergency disguise stash at the SSR, since my 21st century mission clothes would probably cause a riot if I went out in them, and then Jack and I had jumped in a cab to a spot in town he'd heard about.

"Boooo," I teased as he paid the driver and we headed in together. "You can't consider the possibility of the night being a failure before it's even started! It's a jinx."

"A jinx?"

"Yeah, you know. Like bad luck."

"I know the definition of the word jinx," he scoffed. "I just think it's ridiculous you believe in them."

"Oh, yeah, of course. Actually, I didn't want to tell Peggy and Daniel this, but in the future we've discovered that a lot of things people dismissed as superstitions or bad luck are actually true. Like jinxes. Oh, and breaking a mirror? That actually will mess you up! We didn't realize it until science advanced a little further, I think in the seventies, but it's true."

Jack stared at me for a few seconds, and I stared back with a perfectly neutral expression on my face. Then, he broke into a grin and nudged me with his shoulder.

"You're messing with me."

"I definitely am."

He scoffed and shook his head, but the smile didn't drop off his face. He sighed dramatically, looking up at the club in front of us, then held out his arm for me to take.

"C'mon. You're the one who wanted to experience the time period."

I smiled up at him, then looped my arm through his. He pulled me a little closer, and I'd be lying if I said my heart didn't speed up a bit as we walked into the club together.

Immediately I got hit with the music I associated with the swinging jazz of the 1940s as we stepped into a world of men in suits and women in old-style dresses, all twirling across the dancefloor together.

"Whoa," I breathed. Suddenly, it started to sink in that I was actually in the 1940s, more than 80 years from everything and everyone I knew. A new surge of sympathy for Steve welled up in my chest.

"You alright?" asked Jack, nudging me a little as we stood in the doorway. I took a deep breath in and out, then slowly nodded. "Okay, good. Let's go get a drink.”

I huffed a laugh as he pulled me through the crowd and towards the bar. We managed to find two stools, and Jack pulled my seat out for me before I sat down. I couldn't help giving him a slightly bemused look, which he grunted about as he took the seat next to me.

"What?" he asked.

"Nothing," I said, waving him off. "Just, you know... forties."

He turned to stare at me, his eyebrows knit together, but the bartender appeared before he could question what I was talking about.

"What can I get the two of you?" asked the bartender. Jack turned to me, letting me go first.

"I'll have an old fashioned, please."

Both he and Jack looked at me for a second, but I looked right back at both of them like they were crazy for questioning it (because they were). After a second, Jack shrugged and turned back to the bartender.

"I'll do the same."

The bartender nodded, then moved away to make the drinks. I turned and gave Jack a smile.

"Thanks for buying," I said. "I didn't have my wallet on me when I got sucked back in time, and even if I did, I don't think the bartender would be able to accept the kind of bills I carry. I'm not trying to get arrested for counterfeiting a few hours into being in the past."

Jack chuckled. "Sure thing. So, an old fashion, huh?"

"Yeah. It's Ton- uh, it's my friend's favorite drink. He got me drinking them, too."

"Hm. Future sounds like a wild place."

"Honestly, I'd say 1940 is a little wilder."

The bartender set down our drinks, and Jack put a few bills on the table. Then, once he was out of earshot again, I turned to Jack with a smile.

"Cheers," I said, raising my glass in toast. "To new experiences and getting to know each other and this weird ass trip back to the past."

Jack smiled, although I could tell he was fighting it, and clinked his glass with mine before we both took a sip.

"So, Jack Thompson... tell me about the forties."

Jack and I spent the next hour talking about everything from foods that hadn't been invented yet (ranch dressing!) to the weird, national popularity of baseball and how I couldn't wait to see people start getting the memo about the NBA. Some of it was informative, even helpful, but for the most part we just... talked. Laughed. Joked around and enjoyed each other's company like people who'd known each other much longer than a few hours.

For some reason, it just felt easy. Going into this, heading out with someone who was clearly a confident, if not arrogant, man from the 1940s, with Peggy's warnings on top of everything else? Well, let's just say I didn't have the highest of hopes. But by some miracle, whether it was our equally loud and teasing personalities or that fact that I proudly didn't know anything about baseball beyond the fact that games took way too long, rather than the ignorance or indifference he had been expecting... Jack Thompson and I got on like wildfire.

"I'm just saying, when you're watching a legend play, that's the only part of the game that matters!" Jack continued, defending his baseball stance. "And DiMaggio's a legend."

"Yeah, no shit," I scoffed, rolling my eyes to go with it. Jack snorted at my language, but I caught him grinning at me all the same as he took a sip from his drink. "But, unlike in other sports, your legend's only playing for like fifteen minutes out of every hour. Still boring!"

Jack opened his mouth, clearly ready with some other comeback that would do absolutely nothing to change my position, but before he could, the band started up with something I actually recognized.

"Oh my God!" I cried, setting down the now-empty glass that previously held my second old fashioned. "This song- we have to go dance!"

"You know this song?" asked Jack, only looking slightly bemused as he set down his glass and I dragged him towards the dance floor.

"Yeah. Steve plays it all. The damned. Time," I said, finally coming to a stop in the middle of the floor. I moved to drop Jack's hand now that I'd gotten him out here, but he just squeezed it tighter and pulled me closer. "It's one of the only songs from the forties he plays that I can actually stand."

Jack scoffed, wrapping an arm around my waist as we started twirling across the floor together. "You're actually friends with him? Sousa wasn't making that whole thing up?"

"What? No. Actually, I'm the one that helped him adjust to the future not long after he woke up in my time."

Jack nodded, looking thoughtful. "So that's why you recognized Carter? Sousa said you almost fainted from excitement when you first saw her."

"No. I mean, sort of, I guess. But I would've known her even without Steve. She's only the coolest, most badass woman and intelligence pioneer the world has ever known," I said. Jack snorted, and I scowled. "What? You disagree?"

He shrugged. "I mean, I'd probably argue there are some other intelligence pioneers that deserve mention. But... I guess no, I don't necessarily disagree. Just don't mention it to her, alright? I'll deny it, and I don't need her immortalization from a time traveler being thrown in my face every time I work a case with her for the rest of time."

I laughed, and Jack gave me a knowing smile before spinning me out and away from him. He twirled me across the floor before pulling me back to him quickly. We moved in perfect harmony, picking up our pace to match the band and putting the other couples to shame. We quickly got lost in our own little world, to the point that everyone and everything except the music disappeared. When Jack sped up, I sped up a little more, and we easily met each other's challenges, stupid smiles on our faces the whole time.

When a slower song started playing, Jack and I finally relaxed the pace, forgoing the elaborate dance moves to just sway in place and catch our breaths for a minute. I was still a little lost in our moment, enough so that I didn't notice someone else approaching us until he shoved himself part way between me and Jack.

"Hey doll. Mind if I cut in?" The guy leered over me, totally ignoring Jack as he reached for my hand without waiting for my answer. I scoffed, my tired-but-happy smile instantly turning into a scowl. Jack seemed equally frustrated and moved as if he was about to step in and do something about it, but I decided to just take care of it for the both of us.

"Actually, yeah, I do mind," I snapped, fixing the guy with an unimpressed look as I snatched my hand out of his reach. He seemed incredibly surprised by my response, but I plowed ahead anyway. "I'm dancing with someone already, and even if I weren't, I have no interest at all in dancing with you. So... scram. Or beat it. Or whatever people say now."

The man just stood there for a second, open-mouthed, blinking at me in stunned silence. Then, his expression shifted into a scowl and his face started to turn red.

"I- You- How dare you-!"

"Dude, get lost," I said, crossing my arms and staring him down as I talked over him. I glanced over his shoulder to Jack, who also looked shocked but in a pleasantly surprised way, and addressed him. "What's another good way to tell someone to go away?"

He shrugged, a delighted smile growing on his face. "Take a powder?"

"Really?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. Jack just nodded, so I looked back at the rude guy. "Alright, take a powder. Hit the bricks. Take a long walk off a short pier. Other creative ways to say leave. I want to dance to this lovely song with my dance partner here, who is not you, so... yeah. Take the blatant instructions."

The man whirled around to Jack, like he expected him to say or do something to reign me in. Jack just shrugged again.

"You heard the lady. I'm not gonna tell you anything she didn't already say."

The man scowled, whipping back to look at me again. I just met him with crossed arms and a look that told him I wouldn't be budging an inch. He spluttered a few more incoherent words in indignation, then stormed off the dance floor and out of sight. I sighed, then faced Jack again.

"How wildly out of place was that for the time period? Both him and me?" I asked. Jack grinned.

"Him? Not very. You? Insanely," he said, taking my hand again as we went back to gently swaying in place. He tugged me a little closer to his chest, and I smiled. "I gotta say though, I sure enjoyed watching it."

"Good. Because I don't actually care at all, and I had a lot of fun doing that."

Jack laughed, throwing his head back before fixing me with a brilliant smile. He twirled me out and away from him again, then pulled me right back into his chest. We swayed together, closer than we'd been all night, and to my surprise I started noticing more than a few butterflies squirming in my chest as I stared up at the SSR Chief. Hm, noted the more logical side of my brain as we moved across the crowded dance floor. Nice, my heart replied as Jack's strong hand laid firmly on my waist and my hand traveled to the collar of his shirt.

Jack and I spent the rest of the night at the club, enjoying the music, the dancing, and each other's company until the place turned on the lights and threw us out. A few times, other men came up to hit on me and "steal me away" from Jack. Each time, I dressed them down and sent them on their way, and each time Jack just grinned and watched me do it. I could still tell he was ready to jump in, that his instinct was to take care of it for me, but he seemed to enjoy watching the jerks splutter and babble in shock and surprise as much as I did.

Afterwards, when we wandered back out onto the LA street together, Jack insisted on escorting me back to Howard Stark's place, where I'd be staying with Peggy. It was going to be incredibly weird staying at Tony's dad's house, meeting him and the real-human Jarvis, but I could process that later. Right now, I wanted to focus on the amazing, less-weird parts of being in the 40s. Specifically Jack Thompson, who I'd just spent a wonderful night enjoying this new time period with.

Jack hailed us a cab, and I rested my head on his shoulder and watched the city go by as the taxi took us out of the city, to the massive Stark mansion. It was basically a 40s version of Tony's Malibu house, and a pang of sadness tightened in my chest when I realized I had no idea when–or if–I would see my friends again.

I took a deep breath and shook those thoughts out of my head as the car came to a stop. All of that was a problem for later, not now. Jack got out first, holding the door for me and offering a hand to help me out, which I took. Rather than dropping it once I stood, he wrapped it around his arm as he asked the cabbie to wait and escorted me towards the house. We stopped on the porch and turned to face each other, and I realized I actually really didn't want the night to end.

"Thanks for showing me around the forties," I said, giving Jack a small smile. "It was actually really fun."

"You don't have to sound so surprised," he griped, but a smile made its way onto his face all the same. "So... I don't know how long you're gonna be here, and obviously we've got a lot of other work to do with Carter and Sousa tomorrow, but... maybe I could take you out again sometime. There's still a lot of forties you haven't seen yet."

"I'd like that," I said, a warm feeling welling up in my chest. I hesitated a second as Jack and I stared at each other on the doorstep, then decided to say fuck it and keep doing what I'd been doing all night: following my impulses. "Quick question: in the forties, if I kiss you on the first date, is that going to scare you off or something?"

Jack grinned. "It might get a raised eyebrow from the cabbie, but I sure as shit won't be complaining."

"Good."

With that, I grabbed Jack's lapels and tugged him towards me, leaning up just a bit and giving him a kiss. It was short, really just a quick peck since we'd just met, but fireworks exploded in my chest at the sensation anyway.

Jack's grin stayed in place as we pulled apart, and his hand lingered on my waist an extra second before dropping to his side. He took a step backwards, towards the waiting car, even as his eyes stayed on mine. I rested my hand on the doorknob, watching Jack and trying to stay in the moment even as he walked away.

"Welcome to the forties, sweetheart," he called as he made it down the porch steps and into the driveway. "I'll see you at work tomorrow."

I waved, a smile on my own face to match his. "Can't wait."

Jack gave a short wave and one last grin before getting into the cab. I watched as he drove away, a smile still on my own face even after I knew he couldn't see it. Finally, after the lights of the cab faded back into the LA night, I turned on my heel and walked into the house.

I'd been in the 40s for less than twelve hours, and I knew for a fact that I hadn't even scratched the tip of the iceberg on exploring the time period, or what frustrations being eighty years removed from everything I knew would bring. But, despite all that, I'd had a blast tonight, and tomorrow I'd get to start working with THE Peggy Carter. Whether I was only here for another few hours or it turned into months or longer, I couldn't help being excited at the idea of everything that was yet to come for me, not least of all my next date with Jack Thompson.