#his real name is literally richard

[arichtelus]

i couldn't help but draw my oc Hedon like this

he's such an izzy-s2-like character. almost a pirate, first mate and done with this sht

consider this as a oc_tober day 15: meme

[deadsetobsessions]

Damian Wayne was like a duckling. A violent, stab-happy, danger-prone duckling, yes, but a duckling all the same. Which means when Danny almost got stabbed by a sleepy, instinct driven Damian, he was able to wave it off with a laugh. Damian, on the other hand, stared in horror at the butter knife firmly lodged in Danny’s arm.

“PENNYWORTH!” Danny jerked back at Damian’s scream. “RICHARD! FATHER!”

God damn, the kid had a pair of lungs on him. Danny’s wince was interpreted as pain to Damian, who gently grabbed his injured arm and started to pull him towards the kitchen’s marble island.

Danny blinked, non plussed as his hearing picked up a thundering of feet as the present family members scrambled towards Damian’s distress call.

“Wait, Damian, I’m fine. It’s-”

“You have been impaled, you imbecile! Had it been any of the other simpletons, they would have-!”

“Ouch.” Danny put his other hand in mock hurt over his slow-beating heart. He literally doesn’t care about the butter knife. He’s just impressed there was enough force in there to impale him. “Are you calling me names now? After- gasp- stabbing me?”

Before Damian could reply, the beginnings of regret, remorse, and guilt on his face, Alfred, Dick, and Bruce burst into the kitchen.

“What happened?!”

“My word, master Danny!”

“What is it?!”

“I’m fine. It’s like a small stab. Not even a big stab. I’m good.”

Dick paled, seeing Danny’s arm clutched in Damian’s hand.

“That’s- that’s a knife. In your arm. How is that ‘fine’?!”

“What happened.” Bruce asked Damian, gently removing Danny’s arm from Damian’s death clutch.

“I- I did not mean to,” Damian starts, guilt coloring his voice.

“He didn’t,” Danny cuts in. “I startled him and got stabbed for being dumb. I won’t fault him for having a defense mechanism like that, ancient knows what I might do if you guys startled me.”

The awkward silence that settled at his words made Danny twitch awkwardly.

“Uh, so, can I add this knife to my collection? Even if I didn’t get mugged?”

“Danny.”

“Bruce.” Danny stared stubbornly back. With his uninsured hand, he patted Damian on the head. He was going to enjoy the fluffiness before Damian’s guilt was no longer enough to hold him back from snapping at Danny’s hand like a grumpy alligator. Bruce loses, obviously. He’s a teenager who was also an ex-vigilante. Batman’s got nothing on a determined halfa.

“Master Danny, I must insist you refrain from getting stabbed. There is only so much gauze and antiseptic cream in the house.” Alfred returned- huh, when did he leave?- with a med kit.

Danny called bullshit because he knows there’s a whole ass medical bay beneath the manor.

“Sorry.”

“No need to apologize.” Alfred said, promptly beginning the extraction of the butter knife.

“Are you okay?” Dick asked, hovering worriedly. “He- are you…?”

Damian was allowing Danny to ruffle his hair, so…

“Yep, I’m good. This isn’t even on my top thirty most painful stabbings,” and it really wasn’t. That honor was given to the GIW and that one time Jazz accidentally stabbed him with her earrings. “That was pretty impressive, actually. It’s like, a butter knife. The other ones had pointy ends.”

“Do not clump me with those pathetic wastes of spaces. I am naturally superior and would… would never harm you on purpose.” Damian said, getting quiet at the end like he was trying to plead to Danny to believe him.

“Of course not. But- if you want help me keep the knife, you can hit me with a mug, it would technically be a mugging.”

The pun got the desired effect. Damian leaned away with a disgruntled look and Dick stopped hovering as close in order to let out a small cackle.

“Done.”

“You should go get changed, kiddo. We’re going to see Tim’s photography at the Gotham Gallery today.”

“Oh, for real?” Danny patted Damian’s fluffy hair one last time, pushing away from the counter. “Oh, I’ll clean up here first and-”

“That will not be necessary,” Alfred scolded, a mop somehow already in his hands. “Please see to it you are prepared for the day.”

“Thanks, Alfred. Can I keep the knife.”

“Very well.”

“Sweet. See you guys later?” Danny pranced off after seeing the nods.

——

“He’s… he got stabbed a lot. Before us, I mean.” Dick tapped a furious rhythm onto the counter. “Not that we’ve stabbed him until now but even once is concerning for a civilian.”

“He was used to it.” Bruce replied.

“Perhaps we should join Todd in his endeavor and ensure that his worthless tormentors are permanently out of the picture.”

“God, he said top thirty. He was counting.”

Damian silently withdrew a kitchen knife.

“No murder with my quality chef’s knives, Master Damian.”

“Tt.”

“Master Jason follows the same rules. Now, out of the kitchen. I may be old, but I remember the last time master Bruce and master Dick stepped foot in here and I will not have a repeat.”

[riot-of-robins]

Lots of jokes get made in modern comics and fandom about the pejorative double entendre of Dick Grayson’s given/chosen nickname for Richard, and it IS funny, but I want to give a moment of appreciation for the other, kind of brilliant, double meaning that’s unfortunately fallen out of common modern usage, but would have been way more common when he was first named in 1940.

He’s literally named “detective” you guys, there is no way the World’s Greatest Detective’s partner wasn’t named this way on purpose.

Add to this the way the fandom loves to explore the 21st century reveal/retcon of Dick Grayson’s Romani heritage, and the possible etymology of the word, and you have a goldmine of largely untapped, to my knowledge, discussion of thoughts from Dick Grayson and the people around him about the relationship between his identity, the life he chose, the things he chooses to honor/remember, and the persistence of a nickname that has fallen increasingly out of favor in most other modern contexts.

I love when it’s as simple as “it’s his name and there’s no reason to change it”, but I also think there’s just lots of room for him to also have Real Thoughts about it throughout his life.

[meguchi512]

assigning behaviors I've noticed in people to pjsk characters:

tsukasa: writes his name EVERYWHERE. his desk at school has "tsukasa" "tsukasa" "tsukasa" "tsukasa" written all over it, his notebooks too and even his classmates' notebooks (from a classmate)

shizuku: says "oh, madonna!" instead of "oh god" (from my italian grandpa)

saki: tsukasa rides a bike and saki sits on the handlebar & every time they have to stop they fall off but they just get up and go on like nothing's happened (from an old friend)

mizuki: accidentally sends "penis shaped messages" and immediately points it out (me)

ena: is so fucking done with mizuki's penis messages (my friends)

kanade: "uhh i think I'm forgetting something? oh well it probably wasn't important" hasn't drank water since yesterday (me again)

rui: extremely verbose, to the point where everyone around him thinks he's some sort of philosophical genius but in reality he's just saying dumb shit and articulating it intelligently (my italian grandpa again so sorry)

an: sends her friends "hot milfs in your area" messages pretending to be a bot because silly and immediately gets banned ( @robinoullea literally)

airi: wants to be supportive but types way too quickly ( @robinoullea trying to say "10/10")

emu: says the most deranged things in roblox chats and manages to not get censored while her friend (nene) can't even go one sentence without "########" ( @harukaisu )

nene, trying to tell tsukasa to reset his roblox avatar because he got stuck: uhhh kill yourself (me) (I'M SO SORRY)

minori: tries to download a pin and accidentally sends it to a random person and dies of embarrassment (everyone. no one is safe from Pinterest's AWFUL interface)

ichika: goes into a store. gets an ingredient. goes back home. goes back. gets an ingredient. goes back home. repeat until she's got everything to make dinner when it's already 11pm (my forgetful mom)

mafuyu: has the most DERANGED dreams I'm not even kidding ( @robinoullea when he had that one dream where he sent me a tiktok meme of Richard Watterson saying the names of popular pornstars with them flashing on screen for a second each. I've cried real tears about this btw)

kohane: has a chicken farm in minecraft but she's so attached to them that she can't kill any of them for food so they just keep reproducing and in turn the server keeps getting laggier. eventually a creeper explodes right next to it and she throws herself off a mountain (me)

haruka: uses the default pfp which is also the pfp that shows when you get blocked by someone. she also turns her phone off often (which causes messages to not get sent until it's on) so minori always panics and sends her messages to make sure she's not blocked (classmate)

akito: makes gagging noises on purpose because it makes ena gag too and get VERY annoyed and he finds it funny (classmate)

toya: unintentionally causes a lot of fights in vbs regarding what the best way to make coffee is (my whole friend group) (except me i do it on purpose)

honami: whenever someone tags her in l/n's group chat she heroically says "who calls for my help?" ( @robinoullea )

shiho: doesn't have the heart to tell honami how funny it is when she does that (not me i always make sure to mention it)

[igotanidea]

Lollipop: Dick Grayson x kid!sister!reader

(part 1 of 4 for the batboys x sister!reader)

This was not supposed to end up like this.

At least at first, cause it was showing signs of impending tragedy.

He was only going to be gone for like 15 minutes with the best intentions of getting his little sister the biggest lollipop available at the fair shop.

And the fact that this beautiful girl was standing there casually, throwing glances his way had absolutely nothing to do with it.

Yes, he was flirty chatty, I mean – can you seriously blame a man with his look and charm? No right? No, of course not.

But, being the responsible older brother, he grabbed his sister and carried her piggyback straight to the shop, while cracking jokes and making the five-year old laugh softly, in the way only little kids can. Literally lighting up his entire world and having a great brother-sister bonding.

„So. Which one of the lollipops would you like Y/N?”

„That one!” she pointed her little fingers to the red and yellow piece of Candy on the display.

„Sure thing, little one, let me handle it for you.”

„Your daughter is so cute…” the girl Dick had an eye on, appeared next to him, flipping her hair flirtatiously, flashing him a bright smile.

Daughter?!

Shit.

Did he look that old that someone might take Y/N for his daughter?!

Was his hair going grey or something?

Did he have wrinkles?

He wasn’t even 30 yet and now he was appearing as a father figure?!

He loved that kiddo, he truly did, but this?

Too much.

„She;s actually my sister” he managed to say even though there was a whirlwind of emotions inside him.

WAS HE OLD NOW?!

„Oh, so cute. And you’re on the babysitter duties I guess?”

„Something like that.”

„Dick!” Y/N squirmed on his shoulders getting impatient and wanting her sweet.

Under any other circumstances in any other company that little word coming out of the word of a five year old would be completely Innocent and harmless, however Y/N had no idea what kind of reaction it may get from a – well- stranger.

“Did you teach her such language?!” the girl frowned in rebuke.

“What?” Dick chuckled nervously “No, no, you don’t understand, this is not a curse, it’s—”

“It sounds like one to me.”

“No!” Dick grinned “It’s actually my name!”

“Your name?” the girl raised an eyebrow “Are you for real right now?”

“Dick!” Y/N cried out again, wriggling so hard she almost fell from his shoulders, but due to some miracle he caught her safely, torn between wanting to smooch her cute little face and hiding her somewhere so she wouldn’t embarrass him even more. “Shh, kiddo. The adults are talking.”

“But I want –”

“I know little one, but if you could just give me five minutes—” Dick held his sister tight to his chest, whispering in his ear but she was not going to take his mysteriousness.

“Hi!” she turned around in her brother’s arms and called upon the girl “you’re pretty.” Her words were only as honest as a kid can be. No filter, no hesitation, no embarrassment and no overthinking.

“Well thank you. I’m Elle.”

“I’m Y/N.” the little girl reached her hand to the older one, squeezing it with the most stern face she could produce still being the cutest human being to walk the earth. “And that’s my brother, Dick. Dick! Come say hi to Elle!”

“That really is your name?”

“It’s Richard actually. But everyone just call me Dick. No subtext, I swear!” he laughed seeing Elle’s sceptic face expression.

“He’s my favorite brother!” Y/N clung to his legs, wrapping those tiny arms around them “yesterday he braided my hair and all the girls in the kindergarten were looking at me with jealousy!”

It was more likely shock, cause “braided” in Dick’s dictionary meant doing so many complex swirls that the complicated hairstyle seemed to stay on the head only by a miracle.

“And he watched all episodes of Dora the explorer with me! He even learned the song, come on Dickie!!” Y/N pulled his trouser leg “come on, sing with me! Jump in! ¡Vámonos! You can lead the way! Hey! Hey!” every exclamation mark was highlighted by the girl's joyful jump.

“Hey! Hey!” Dick grinned getting carried away by the cheerful melody and only after a while realizing that he must be making a fool of himself. “Yeah… um….”

“My brothers love that cartoon too.” Ellie smiled

“Oh, you have brothers?” now that was something the resident flirt could pursue “may it be that they are Y/N’s age?”

“Five and three. Do you think maybe they could hang out?”

“Oh, I absolutely think they could hang out.” Right, because it was all about the younger siblings. “Care to give me your phone number so we can arrange the da--… I mean the acknowledgement?”

Five minutes later Ellie said her goodbye and Dick was left with the very valuable number saved safely in his phone.

“Great job Y/N.” he put his hand up (not too high) so the girl could high (again- not too high) five him.

“Duh!” she scoffed with the face of a girl boss. “But seriously, you should up your game Dick!”

“Up my--? WHAT?! Where did you heard that?!”

“Uncle Wally—”

“Uncle Wally will not get fast enough to run from me now.” Dick hissed

“Hey, Dick?”

“Yeah, Yeah, I know, let’s get you that lollipop first, my little diva. You deserve it.”

He picked her up from the ground and spun joyfully in the air.

Who would have thought that he would actually be the oldest brother to such a tiny precious human, serving perfect role as her guardian angel.

[mysterycitrus]

Hiii can i ask ur thoughts abt damian... lately ive been a little obsessed and u have such a great grasp on dc canon... id love to hear what u think abt him !!!

for damian, a huge part of his motivation is (both real and imagined) disrespect. there’s this pervasive interpretation of him where he’s a swing the sword first, ask questions later kinda guy, but the truth is that he gets provoked, interprets this as someone being condescending, then acts.

tim is kind of an asshole when they first meet, and damian has no context for when he’s joking or not. dick is an adopted child, who threatens damian’s place in the hierarchy. tim put him on a list of people he specifically doesn’t trust, etc. he can definitely be very rude, absolutely, and a lot of that ties into how addresses people (“grayson” to “richard,” as an example, from his surname to his first name as dick earns his trust). he’s very rude to steph, and ironically damian is also very condescending depending on who he’s talking to, but again he has a high opinion of himself and how he should be treated by others. the biggest change is that he learns that others are also owed respect, regardless of their birthright or status.

a lot of this ties into bad faith interpretations of him as a literal feral baby, when that just isn’t reflected in canon at all. he’s talia’s kid, he was raised as literal royalty, and he does not need etiquette lessons from alfred pennyworth. he doesn’t bite people at galas, he doesn’t need help to do his math homework, and he respects u when u prove urself to him. he starts out with a very distinct black and white idea of the world, and slowly learns otherwise.

im a big fan of steph and damian’s friendship in particular, because like dick she exists in opposition to his worldview. she isn’t a wayne or an al ghul, she’s just a person who independently decided to do good. she was also mistrusted to the point where it led to her death, but she is still kind, still loving, and still motivated by empathy. the same as dick being batman, that’s confronting. she looks past what everyone else sees (the al ghul heir, a murderer, etc) and acknowledges that he’s a little kid who’s never learnt to play.

because he’s prickly, it’s easy to misinterpret his intentions. the same as bruce, even when he’s being respectful, people can assume the worst out of him. and that’s hard! he genuinely wants to do good. he has to unpack so much in his head about how to act, and what the idea of respect means in this new context. him being robin is a crucial part of that — it isn’t an insulting mantle as a placeholder for his eventual ascension into the bat, it’s simply something more.

[ohnomausey]

Okay, so I was asked (thank you @schafpudel for allowing me to talk about my favorite academic research field LMAO) to post my elaboration on how Mytho is a combination of and commentary on two hero archetypes, namely two opposing pre-existing Siegfried-characterizations and how that is referenced in the show (mainly through the music).

Sooo in the first half of the show Mytho is mostly characterized by being the prince that stands between the black swan and the white swan, Odile and Odette, Krähe and Tutu. The according scenes are accompanied by the music from the ballet „Swan Lake“. The prince of the ballet (he is called Siegfried) is notorious in the world of ballet for being extremely passive in his role as a prince, having his decisions made for him. All influence he has on the story itself is also by him NOT doing something (for example while hunting he chooses NOT to shoot the swan etc.). He’s kind of infamous for that and created the archetype of THE *ballet*-prince many others were modeled after.

Officially Mytho's character theme is from another Tchaikovsky ballet suite: the Dance of the Sugar Plum Fairy from „The Nutcracker“. The reference falls kinda flat and i am not 100% sure what it means but the Sugar Plum Fairy is not much more than a kind, soft, benevolent princess-fairy. It sounds the part too and i think the softness fits season one Mytho regardless.

The Siegfried-references that are a lot more interesting however come from the Wagner operas being referenced. WHENEVER (and by this I really mean every single scene) where the main focus of discussion is Mytho’s identity of the prince from Prinz und Rabe, or his returning emotions and agency, the music that plays in the background is Richard Wagner’s “Siegfried Idyll” which isn’t directly from any of Wagner’s „Ring of the Nibelungen“ Operas, but stands in close relation to them! It plays when he is waiting for Rue in the „On the Evening of the Fire Festival“ episode and dances with Duck instead and she notes how “this must be the real prince” and also „he danced with me because HE chose to do so!“, it also plays in a lot of scenes in between, e.g. one where Mytho himself talks about wanting his heart back in episode 14 and then most importantly during his transformation into Prinz Siegfried in episode 25, shortly after which he calls himself “Siegfried”.

Wagner’s Siegfried is the hero of the composers biggest work. He is also the “ideal man of the future” as coined by Wagner in his more sociological, revolutionary writings. He stands for heroism, revolution, standing up to the gods and bringing with him literally a new era of time (Wagner literally named his SON „Siegfried“ and wrote the „Siegfried Idyll“ for him when he was born. That is how much faith he had in the idea of this very masculine hero figure that will lead us all to peace and the future…). Wagner’s Siegfried is the ideal hero archetype as we still reference in stories today. He is fearless, strong, intuitive and reckless as he slays the dragon and gets the girl but also oblivious and easy to manipulate. He is also not much of an empath…

Raven!Mytho is characterized by „Siegfried's Death March“ from the last opera in Wagner's cycle („Götterdämmerung“) — the work that plays when Siegfried dies in the opera. Raven!Mytho is the subversion of the ideal hero, the prince that is confused by his ideals and twists them around: "If i am supposed to love the entire world, then everyone should love me in return". So the second season is Mytho being super close to reaching this ideal state of himself, but being corrupted before he can which as some kind of silver lining leads to him questioning the expectations that come with being a hero, or a prince and why he even wants this for himself in the first place. At least, that is what I think.

At the end, we look back on Mytho having grown from a passive, emotionless puppet that still held an almost intuitive protectiveness over those weaker than him (jumping out of windows and running into burning houses to save birds…) into the hero he is supposed to be: He becomes strong, assertive, forges the sword and slays the dragon (the Raven) like Siegfried does in Wagner's operas. But he is not fearless, or brash or wild like Wagner's Siegfried. He keeps the emotional, compassionate, even tormented ("feminine") side that the swan lake prince Siegfried carried. He cries when he finds out that a small, fragile bird was the one who brought him his heart back all this time and kneels in front of Duck RIGHT before he transforms in episode 25. And he also knows that there is a part of himself that will differ from the hero he is supposed to be, the selfish Raven-blood side that makes him more human than his existence as a sort of archetype would usually suggest.

So, long story short: Mytho is a wandering hero-subversion and commentary on the archetype and, in true Princess Tutu fashion, challenges traditional roles and gender norms while he is at it. The music has A LOT to do with this but it becomes evident even just in the story itself. Understanding the Wagner references just makes it evident beyond ANY doubt. It‘s a shame that a lot of it gets pushed back if you do not get the Wagner references (and to be fair, they are even more extensive than they should be — not everyone is going to understand them because they are so. goddamn. obscure.). It makes Mytho seem like a lot more of wasted potential than he really is. He should have had more time to develop in the series, directly. But giving him that would have led to other characters being pushed back. I think an additional one or two episodes to kind of stretch the second half of the series would have done the narrative a service, but that is critique on a really high level. I still think Princess Tutu is one of the best pieces of narrative media ever created.

[literary-motif]

I Don't Forgive You

Asirel Cain x Reader

Warnings: misogyny and profanities (you get to kill the guy that does it)

His sister's despicable ex shows up at Asriel's home. You get dinner.

“What?” Asirel asked curtly, picking up the phone.

His employee stammered, clearly taken aback by his harshness. Asirel was not usually this brash with the people working for him — being calm, collected, and polite fed his image better — but today his schedule was rather busy and he did not care to be inconvenienced by frivolous things. 

“There uh,” the employee cleared their throat nervously. He rolled his eyes, clicking his tongue impatiently. “There is a ‘Richard’ here to see you, sir.”

Asirel frowned, his eyes darting to his calendar. He had no meeting scheduled for today, least of all at his own home. “A what?” he huffed, distantly recalling the name being dropped in conversation before. 

Richard. It sounded familiar. His sister had talked about a Richard when they had last met.

“Send him up,” he said, placing down the telephone.

“Oh and Richard, that jock-type bad boy I was seeing?” she had said, waving her fork in the air between them as she got excited about spilling some tea. “He’s history. Never met a man that entitled in my life and that’s saying something considering the dudes I’ve met. Anyways—”

He had smiled fondly at her, continuing to eat the spaghetti as he listened to her talk about the cute woman she had met at the butcher shop. 

How had his sister’s ex found his way here?

The door to his study was thrown open violently, bouncing off the wall with a loud bang. A disheveled man stepped inside, not bothering with an introduction as he barged in.

He rubbed his forehead, already feeling a headache forming. He did not have time for this nonsense or whatever the hell this Richard wanted. He could see you standing in the doorway, silently hovering by Richard’s shoulder as you took in the scene before you and gave Asirel a raised eyebrow. 

You looked both incredulous and amused. ‘Who’s he?’ you mouthed, pointing to the guy and chuckling quietly at his behavior. Most of all, you were shocked at Asirel for allowing it. 

He rolled his eyes at your question.

“Listen, man,” Richard said, slamming his hands down on Asirel’s desk and looming over him in an effort to appear threatening. Out of the corner of his eyes, Asirel could see you slap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing. Impassively, he continued to look at the Buffon in front of him as you licked your lips in anticipation. 

Oh, today you would have a feast.

“Listen, I don’t know what that bitch told you” — Asirel blinked, expression unreadable — “but I didn’t do shit to her, alright? She can come off her fucking high horse and call me back, yeah? Damn man, tell a woman to suck you off once and she gets all pissy, right?”

Your mouth hung open in shock, eyes wide as you looked at the Richard guy. Shit, the tea was real. Shit, oh that guy was dead. 

“That whore can’t tell me anything, yeah? Fucking slapped me when I pushed her to her knees, you hear me? Can’t believe I took her out for dinner for that. See, I’m a nice guy, but sometimes sluts just piss me off.”

Asirel did not betray his thoughts. 

The silence in the study was thick, laden with tension that the guy only now seemed to catch up on. His slight panting was the only thing breaking the silence as Asirel pinned him in place with a look. 

Richard suddenly grew uncomfortable as he took in the room around him, catching up to the fact that he was standing in Asirel’s quiet but threatening presence, whose aura seemed to darken with every second he breathed in his company.

He chuckled nervously. “Right, man?”

You could not contain your laughter anymore, snorting as you heard the guy’s heartbeat pick up in a sudden surge of fear. “Can I?” you asked, giddy with excitement as you tried your best to give Asirel convincing puppy eyes. “Oh please, I am literally begging you.”

“Just one moment,” Asirel said, slowly rising and taking one of his overflowing binders to slap it down on the guy’s hands, successfully getting them off his desk as Richard jumped back. He stared into the confused and fearful gaze of the scum sullying the peacefulness of his study.

For a moment, he contemplated ending Richard himself. 

It would be an easy thing. Asirel could beat him to death with one of the iron rods he used to tend to the fireplace beside him. He could probably beat him to death with his bare fists as well, watch as the life left his eyes and the useless jerk went limp in his grip for daring to talk about his sister in such a way.

He could kill Richard. Draw it out and have his screams of pain echo through the mansion until he tore his throat to shreds and all he could muster would be a strangled plea for mercy that Asirel longed to deny him.

He could do all that if he wanted to. 

Taking a breath, Asirel sat down again. “You’re not worth the effort,” he said, returning to his papers. “Don’t make too much of a mess,” he added as you stepped up to the guy, making him jump as he felt your breath on his neck. 

“What the fuck?” he exclaimed, trying to take a step back. You took hold of him, pushing him to the ground with no effort. 

His death was quicker than you’d liked, but Asirel did say not to make too much of a mess and the screaming and desperate pleading was annoying both of you. 

“Think I need an aspirin after that one,” you said, wiping the remnants of blood from your mouth. You were quite proud of yourself. Not a single drop of it had stained the carpet. 

“Agreed,” Asirel said, shuffling his papers.

“On a scale of one to ten though, he was maybe like a three?” you said, snatching some papers from his desk and disinterestedly leafing through them. “Tell your sister to get in touch with tastier people next time.”

“I’ll pass on the request.”

You laughed, tossing the papers back to him. Asirel reassembled the stack with a groan. “He had some balls showing up here.”

“He had no brain,” he said, resting his head on his hand and looking up at you sitting on the edge of his desk. “What kind of idiot thinks it is a good idea to seek out me to insult my sister? That is insane.”

“People are insane sometimes,” you said, stretching. “So, any crazy ex I need to be worried about when it comes to you?”

“Certainly not.” 

He fished out an aspirin, passing you the container. You took it in amusement, relishing that Asirel had not caught up on your joke. He would grunt at his absentmindedness come morning when you reminded him that drugs did not work on vampires. 

“I’ve never had the time for a relationship. You see how work takes up most of my life.” 

You hummed, running a hand through his hair, which he quickly batted away. “Good thing you’ve got me then, boss.”

“That’s not what you should call me.”

“Oh, I meant to tell you, but then I totally forgot. Sorry about that,” his sister would say the next time he called to check up on her, “I gave Richard your address. He wouldn’t stop bothering me and I honestly couldn’t take it anymore. Also, I thought your little pet would appreciate a home delivery, my treat.”

“They told me his blood left something to be desired and that you should choose your partners more carefully from now on.”

“Really? Well they’re not one to talk.”

“Play nice.”

[zeestarfishalien]

I Am Your Dad But Also Not?

[DPxDC Week 2023 Day 7: Clockwork // Accidental Baby Acquisition // Misunderstanding]

• In which, Danny is Richard Grayson from an alternate universe (the dna matches even if all the names and history don’t)

“Papa, hold me!” The words were Danny’s only warning before the bundle of flying child plowed into him. He spun with the momentum, hands quickly gripping the little girl so she didn’t go tumbling away.

Despite her sure and enthusiastic greeting, she was not in fact Danny’s child. Or maybe she is now? He’s starting to get really confused. Apparently he looks and feels like her dad since she’s so clearly attached herself to him. Clockwork’s cryptic smiling is not helpful so he takes his newly acquired magical toddler and leaves.

At least he’s assuming her powers are magic or something. The last time he tried asking something that “obviously papa knows already” she got a look not dissimilar to a sad baby seal. Sad baby seals are not something Danny can resist evidently.

So, asking Clockwork is out and asking the child in question is out. Danny is running out of options and he has half a mind to just assume she’s his child from the future.

Luckily Danny is a genius, maybe not literally but his point still stands.

His idea? Brilliant.

Implementation? Flawless.

Hotel? Trivago.

The little one is outgoing enough that when Danny prompts her to introduce herself to Sam and Tucker (visiting on holiday), she goes off into a rambling of questions and information without even pausing for anyone to answer her questions.

That’s how they learn that she’s Mar’i Grayson and she lives in Blüdhaven most of the time, except when her Papa and Mama go on trips, then she’s stays with Grandpa Alfie and Grandpa B and Uncle Damian, but also sometimes Uncle Damian comes to stay with her and Mama and Papa because he sometimes gets into disagreements with Grandpa B.

She says disagreements in such a careful and proud way that Danny makes sure Sam and Tucker compliment her on her awesome vocabulary.

That just leaves them with the problem of getting Mar’i back to her own home dimension and parents, who are probably worried sick by her disappearance.

Danny really really hopes that Mar’i’s actual dad and mom have such an abnormal life that they might be able to find the infinite realms because trying to find her exact universe from his side of things without Clockwork’s help will be nigh on impossible

He really hopes she’ll recognize her real dad. Danny is not equipped for parenthood.

Or at least not equipped for a toddler. He was able to skip the whole toddler part with Ellie.

Speaking of Ellie and her horrible timing, she has chosen this exact time to get back from her grand adventure aka traveling the worlds and she proceeds to laugh so hard she can’t even stay on her feet. She resorts to floating along behind Danny and Mar’i cackling and occasionally heaving non great gasps of air only to fall back into the laughing cycle once more.

Danny’s shooing motions are ineffective and he’s not about to show a five-year-old the violence or language necessary to get Ellie to go away.

When she finally does stop laughing, she starts snapping pictures at every angle she can imagine. Which is a lot given that she’s a half ghost like Danny. She has yet to let her feet touch the ground but that doesn’t bother Mar’i who seems to have similar ideas about gravity. Her own feet rarely touching the floor as soon as she realized that beings work differently in the zone.

~•~

In the end Danny can only keep the ruse of fatherhood up for a couple of days. Mar’i is no fool even if she is five. She figures him out and she’s not even mad when he explains that he didn’t want her to be scared if she knew she was alone with strangers in a new place like this. Her magnanimous forgiveness is one of the best things Danny has ever experienced. He understands why people have kids now.

At the end of a week with no news from Clockwork and an increasingly homesick Mar’i, Danny takes her back to Clockwork’s tower to demand some action himself or at least get some ridiculous riddle to keep him and Mar’i occupied until the “time is right.”

Clockwork’s smile upon their arrival is bordering on deranged in Danny’s eyes and he hugs Mar’i closer as though to protect her from Time’s hands.

“It is time,” the god says and bangs his staff on the metal flooring of the tower.

Before Danny can demand an answer about that, a portal opens beneath him and both he and Mar’i go tumbling through.

YOOOO by my time, I am not late on any of these prompts (even though they are a lot shorter and more vague than I’d like. Can’t help it with the thumbs being the way they are). But like legit I am proud of myself. Deadlines are a thing I struggle with especially when it comes to writing. But I’m finally getting better with it. Middle school and high school me would both be crying tears of joy rn.

I love that we started with found family fluff and ended with it. Danny and Mar’i are going to have a very lovely and entertaining adventure together. It’ll be great.

[sockiepuppetry]

Silver age Supergirl character AU (because I love obscure characters)

Richard "Dick" Malverne

Richard Malverne (formerly known as Richard Wilson before his adoption, first appeared in 1959 ) was one of Kara's first real human friends with a "boy next door" personality. In the comics he was an orphan like Kara, he was described as Supergirl's "Lana Lang" and was a recurring character throughout her highschool and early adult days. When he first met Supergirl he quickly deduced that she was his friend Linda (Supergirl's earth name back then) and set up many elaborate schemes to prove it (he literally made a life size dummy that looked exactly like himself that would explode if Linda/kara used her xray vision on it, like bro that's dedication) he didn't have malicious intentions mind you, it's just that everyone in the silver age was insane. After a few failed attempts he eventually let the "i know you're Supergirl" thing go.

As an adult he later got cancer and told Kara on his deathbed that he always knew she was Supergirl but just let it go for her sake.

Calling him "Richie" in this AU

He's a positive, sweet lad who's a bit clumsy so people underestimate him, but he's a lot smarter than he seems.

[disappointingcabbage]

TMAGP 22 thoughts, spoilers under the cut

Lena what the fuck why is your reaction to Gwen almost getting killed “ok but why didn’t you get their contact info”

Also I love that she referred to [ERROR] as the “watching figure” like I know the transcript last week initially called them Archivist but it’s nice to have confirmation that wasn’t immediately backtracked on lmao

I don’t know how to feel about Gwen getting demoted for this one, I think she did the right thing when she ran away, and that’s what Lena seems upset about. However, the real reason she should be getting demoted is the classism and condescension that pissed off ink5oul in the first place tbh.

Also I’m sure Gwen retaining her title in order to not look bad on the inspection totally won’t force her to have to go back to actually talking to externals ever /s

Also, Mrs. Kelley? She’s MARRIED? She’s either Elias-style repeatedly divorced or her partner is equally cold and autistic there is no other option

ooh Augustus time

Shejdjrjdiejdi Hans Berger is such a name teehee hamburger

Oh no, they’re experimenting on dogs :(

and people

is this a case of Hans going “hey dude your recipe’s fucked up” *proceeds to describe how exactly he did not follow the instructions* because it sure sounds like it.

Unless I’m misinterpreting and the instructions he received from the guy he’s corresponding with said to do the silver replacement thing bc I thought he got the silver idea from someone else

Okay now he’s using methods from ANOTHER guy. Dude how in the fuck are you blaming Richard for this?

Okay now he’s just pulling a new technique out of his ass. Of course your findings were weird, you didn’t use Richard’s technique, just something very vaguely similar

Bro’s really trying to create Jekyll and Hyde right now. Has he not read the book? Shouldn’t he know how terrible of an idea that is???

Ah yes, the standard 1920s activity of insulting your wife’s work speed while she’s working with a completely new configuration of equipment. Prick.

Also love the fact that the Hyde part of this dude can only communicate through Hans’s equipment

“Can you hear it?” Jesus Ursula that’s literally the most ominous thing you could say right now

Of course Hans assumes that she’s talking about the obvious equipment noise

Oh shit, Doctor Malpractice over here gave this poor dude a grand mal seizure

oh no this poor dude HANS YOU MADE HIS BRAIN MALFORMATION BURST WHAT THE FUCK YOU KILLED HIM

…are we ever gonna find out what Ursula was hearing?

you didn’t think to look over your data until weeks after the fact? are you shitting me? the data wasn’t even part of the investigation into this poor dude’s death?

Oh she was hearing exactly what this guy was saying via the telegraph. That’s really fucking cool, actually.

Well, Jesus. The second consciousness was not having a good time, apparently.

Oh this is the same night as the last episode

Sam catching onto Alice deleting his files immediately is peak comedy

Obviously he’s pissed about this

“You just want to control me again” oh that’s why they broke up

“That if I showed you the ropes we could” YOU COULD WHAT ALICE

ooh Celia has Magnus info?

JONATHAN SIMS AND MARTIN BLACKWOOD??????

FUCK YOU JONNY AND ALEX YOU CANT JUST END THE EPISODE THERE

[weinerundcognac45]

🪖Headcanons / Fanons about a Soldier:

Headcanon:

• Homophobia – TF2's actions take place in the 60s and 70s, so homophobia is completely normal in those realities.

• Supports the Vietnam War, literally dreams of fighting, because this is an actual combat action at the time of the comics – this is indicated by the accessories "Soldier's Stash" and "Shellmet" – "We've hit the top of the mountain, son! Now let's defend this pile of rocks!" – a possible reference to the combat action on Hamburger Hill, cutting off ears, as "Tiger Force" did in Vietnam, of course, a scene from the comics:

• The Soldier is well versed in the history of war: weapons, helmets, uniforms, planes, ships, tanks... Attack strategy and tactics. The whole history of the United States from George Washington to Lyndon Johnson / Richard Nixon...

• ... But because of the eternal paranoia against the background of the Cold War, he began to get confused about the facts, literally rewriting history in his head, considering everyone to be enemies of the United States.

I wrote about the paranoia of a Soldier in another post.

• The Soldier likes to use insults related to gender (calls other mercenaries "girls" and calls them to fight like real men) and nationality ("Stalingrad" and "Ivan" in relation to a Heavy, "boche/kraut" and "Fritz" to a Medic, etc.), loves political jokes. He has a nickname for every mercenary, and not only for enemy mercenaries.

Fanon:

• Survived Prohibition in the USA, made wine and other light alcoholic beverages, sold them underground.

• As a true American, he loves baseball (and American football), so he can often play baseball with a Scout. It resembles a scene from movies where father and son also play.

• Has a good relationship with the Scout, I would even say "parental", because both are hyperactive Americans who love sports and battle. The soldier likes to call the Scout different names – "shorty", "rascal", "wit" and "son".

• Can imitate different animal sounds, especially the cry of an eagle and the chirping of raccoons. This unusual skill appeared as a result of working as a "ranger" – a reference to the comic book Doom-Mates.

• Denies many diseases, believing that this is an excuse to leave the army. He hates long-term treatment, because this is a "manifestation of weakness" that goes against the image of a real warrior. A broken leg is no reason to shirk the army!

[sundry-whovengerslocked]

Snow and Dirty Rain (Merlin)

Richard Silken, "Snow and Dirty Rain" // BBC Merlin

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

-

it's finally here! the fourth and final part!!!

this one was hard, I had the most trouble with the last three pictures. I really wanted to include Elena and Mithian as well as Geoffrey, but they just... didn't really fit. it was objectively awful. sorry for that. so I reached out to @shana-rosee , and they threw me a few ideas! it was their call to have Geoffrey last - and they might not have realized it, but it turned out great for the symbolism, as I'll point out below. so thank you for that! (/gen) but yeah, today it was just bugging me and I NEEDED to get it done, and I think it turned out pretty good!

so the first image is alluding to part 3, where the line "if this isn't a kingdom, i don't know what is" is assigned to Arthur. for "the hunter's heart" I had the unicorn horn, because it showed that Arthur was pure of heart. for "the hunter's mouth" I had Leon, (yay! Leon!) because he's Arthur's advisor, and speaks for him.

I was DETERMINED to get Leon, Hunith, and Gaius in this one, and I'm so glad I did.

Tristan and Isolde have their line to represent, honestly, what they did in the show - a reflection of Merlin and Arthur, and how their great love (filled with magic, secrets, and war), ends in tragedy.

Hunith and Gaius are there to represent "the space between the trees", as they are Merlin's sanctuary, his parental figures, the ones who know about his magic and love him - not in spite of, but for it. and of course I had to have Gaius casting a spell for the gold line!

for the last three, it got a little complicated, but I figured it out.

for "the words frozen," I did the moment that Arthur and Merlin became officially forever connected - when Uther assigned Merlin as Arthur's servant after he saved his life. the knife in the throne, the speechless moment that followed.

for "the creatures frozen.", I had the most difficult time with. Shana suggested the Lamia, which was a great idea, but I didn't think that it quite fit with the rest. so instead, I did Dragoon at Camlann. that lightning is the moment that even a fraction of Merlin's true power is shown. Dragoon is representative of Merlin being allowed to be his true self, and the consequences that come with it. Merlin can literally freeze creatures using his words - a la spells, or, more fitting, dragonspeak. people also freeze in terror or awe at the very mention of the name Emrys. so yeah, I think it worked out quite well!

and lastly, for "Explaining will get us nowhere." as i said, Shana suggested Geoffrey here, likely because of his love of the library. that reason was actually why I considered putting him under "the words frozen," but I realized putting him last was much better. why?

well, because Geoffrey of Monmouth was a real person. who, you ask, exactly is he? well, just "one of the major figures in the development of British historiography and the popularity of tales of King Arthur." yeah, in case you didn't know, Geoffrey the record keeper in BBC Merlin was an allusion to the man who helped carry Arthur's tale throughout the years.

so, why "explaining will get us nowhere?" well, because, if you accept BBC's Merlin as the true canon, then Geoffrey recorded it wrong! lol.

(in line with this, if you haven't read it already, go read @katherynefromphilly 's We Begin Again series. it's absolutely incredible, well worth the long read, and will leave you wanting more! in a good way, I promise. in it, Merlin in the present day goes out of his way to fix everything history got wrong, and it's incredible. also I distinctly remember there being fish in little pond things indoors, which was a super cute detail.)

-

so, that's the last of my Snow and Dirty Rain/Merlin series. I went a little overboard explaining things, but it was just so fun finding and linking the symbolism!! I hope you all enjoyed!

(p.s. I'm planning to make more of Snow and Dirty Rain, but with twelveclara/whouffaldi from Doctor Who. if you're interested in that or other things I make, check out my richard siken or original post tags in my blog.)

[sweetiebean00]

Hey Bartender

I love my angsty boys as much as the next guy, but I feel like it's Dick Grayson's time in the moonlight! Hope you enjoy!

Dick didn't tell anyone what he did when he wasn't patrolling, when he wasn't in uniform. When being Richard "Dick" Grayson got to be too much. His family didn't need to know, Bruce and Alfred had dealt with a literal demon. Not that anyone else knew it. He pretended far too well at that, he was used to it. To pretending. To playing up the smiles, and the bad jokes. The care that was real for his family, but none quite understood why Nightwing was feared in Bludhaven, in any of the cities they went to. Not that they noticed, not if Dick could help it.

Still, as he walked through the doors of the same old club that hadn't quite been shut down yet. No evidence of any illicit dealings, he did check before arriving. Especially in case he was recognized by being Bruce Wayne's adopted son, his ward. He's been coming to this place for months, wanting to be lost. To be forgotten. It was easy too, gave them his name, his last name as his first. He hated lying, it was part of the job but he hated it at times. Made it easy when everyone who saw him, who got used to the twenty something year old looking like a child soldier (because that's what he was) coming in and sitting at the counter. 

Avoiding looking in the mirror behind the bar, the club danced and pulsed with light. With energy. Men and women, teenagers and adults, and everything in between was allowed in and they danced. Had fun in a safe space to forget. Those who didn't take no, received a shot in the head. At least that was the first thing Dick encountered. The girl behind the counter, her hair pinned up and eyes narrowed as she put the gun on the bar. The warning was silent to the man who had been reaching for an abandoned drink. Her threat was clear, and when the gun was fired off at someone who had been trying something fishy, a butcher's knife slammed into the counter. Inches from the hand trying to tamper with the drink inside. 

She had looked to Dick, looked at him through the lenses of her glasses that hung on the end of her nose. She nodded once, as if understanding something Dick himself hadn't understood. Only poured him a baby shot, with a half-smile. A silent taunt, a test to see if he could handle the liquor properly and not like the morons about the club. After the next five, she had given him a proper glass, and three more in she looked at him. His hands clasped on the top, his fingers interlocked and told him the rules. Had him sign a contract that was legitimate and he wondered if she drew it up herself. When asked for a name, he gave her his full name and she didn't bat an eye. 

That night he woke up slumped on the counter, and the bartender, who he learned was Angel, was shaking him awake. Asking if he wanted her to call someone because they were closing up. He didn't have the conscious thought to respond, and when he woke again he was on a couch. A blanket thrown over him and a bucket by his head, a glass of water and an unopened bottle of ibuprofen next to him on the floor. What was important was that his clothes were still on, there was nothing arrayed with him, his senses. His phone was plugged in, and a sticky note was taped telling him to turn the sound off next time he wanted to pass out else he'd find it broken by a bullet. 

"Watch yourself tonight Grayson," The bouncer, Brutus, broke him from his thoughts. He blinked, turning to look at him. He was tall, large. Bald and sporting tattoos from the eyebrows down over every inch of his skin but his back. "Angel's in a mood tonight."

Angel's in a mood? Dick swallowed, brows furrowed as he side stepped those entering the club next. It was a little out of the way place, nothing fancy and apparently the only way people find it is by needing an escape, a safety net to catch them in life. Angel called it Haven for a reason, after all. Brutus nodded his head at the sign by the door, easily missed but Dick knew what it was. There was a tally mark for every scumbag that entered and didn't leave the way they came. In a body bag, missing a finger, etc. His eyes widened, it must be a bad night for it to be hitting ten marks. The sound of a gunshot rang, and he watched as Brutus sighed. Adding another mark to the chalkboard.

Dick turned, turned into the crowd and part of him so badly wanted to fix it. To help. But that's not why he came here, and when old habits kicked. When he tried being the hero once, he had been stopped right in his tracks by Angel. She handled the situation, and when he woke up on that shitty couch she was at the bar. Head in her hands, and he had seen just her back. Seen silvery blonde hair that fell about her shoulders messily, had seen that her skin was sunkissed and golden. That she was covered in ink, with an entire sleeve on her right arm that ended at her elbow on the left. She had what looked like wings on the nape of her neck, and she spoke without her voice being hidden by the base drum. She spoke soft, cool, and calm. There wasn't an edge, there wasn't anger, or anything. Just quiet facts in a soft, but raspy voice. Probably from all the yelling she needed to do in the club at night, but it was.. it shocked him. She didn't look at him once that morning, and when he saw himself out he saw her face hidden by a cup of coffee and fogged up glasses.

This time, he took a deep breath. Side stepping the regulars and the new ones, teenagers and adults wanting to forget. He swears he saw Roy Harper in here once, but like Angel had said. This was the club people came to be forgotten, to forget. To get lost. He promised himself to never approach anyone he recognized in the club outside of it, never bring it up. And despite the detective inside being curious, he didn't investigate it. Didn't even put it in the search engine, didn't look up a blonde woman named Angel. Not even when his fingers twitched, and he burned with wonder. 

His shot was waiting for him when he looked down, and he looked up to see a fire in her eyes. She watched the crowd like a hawk, her glasses pushed up her nose and he wondered if they were for show. Babs hated it when her glasses hung too low, got in the way. He didn't ask, instead knocking it back like he had been for months, weeks, days now. A knife left her fingertips in a split second, and he watched it soar through the crowd. Her aim was never off, never wrong, and he wondered how she did that every time. 

"Gray." She greeted with a nod, the music was changing to something slower. More somber, but still a rapid beat. He listened to it for a moment, before knocking back the shot again. Sometimes he wondered if this was magic, if it was magic that kept the glasses refilling. If he was in some fevered dream. If Angel was a meta, or a magic user that Batman hadn't sniffed out.

"Angel." 

"Why do you come here, Gray?" Angel questioned, taking the glass from him and adding another one next to it. He blinked, she grabbed a bottle from the back pouring it without breaking her gaze from the dancing and the drinking. "To forget, to be forgotten? Maybe both? Maybe neither?"

He swallowed, hands twitching. He caught the glass that slid along the bar top, watching her people watch. What was her aim? What was to gain by breaking her own number one rule? Never address the elephants in the room. She sighed, knocking her glass lightly against his. He heard her muttering, heard the voice blend with the music and he noted it was low enough he could make out the solemn tone of her voice. Was it on purpose or was the music just rigged to some playlist and shuffling?

Dick cleared his throat, mind scrambling for an answer besides 'um'. He didn't know if he wanted to share with her the truth, the reason for his hiding. The way his mind was getting too loud, the eternal battle for Gotham's people growing heavy on his shoulders. He swallowed as she filled her glass again, as she tapped it with her finger until he downed his own and then refilled it.

"I- I want to forget, and not be remembered." He finally admitted, quietly. In the same notes she had spoken in, as if they were sharing their dark secrets. His skin itched and it took him everything to not start clawing at his arm to scratch the itch inside his bones. He downed the shot and then swiped hers, downing it too. "I-"

"Grayson, stop." She said, softly, no room for argument but it wasn't firm. She reached her hand out, palm up to him on the table. "I'm not asking for the story, not even sure I know why I was asking. It's just, you've been coming here for months now. Late, like two in the morning late, you stay until you can barely think straight, talk even. I just, I've seen that kind of thing before. I know how it ends."

He didn't know how to respond, a lump forming in his throat and now he understood what Brutus meant. She was in a mood, a mood for the deep gritty pain of others. Not to cause it, not to revel in it. He's seen her approach customers before, seen her offer her hand and a way to help. Watching those that took it seem as if they became... lighter. Lighter than the traumas and stress, watched as she fixed them with another kind of drink. Watched as one of the people, her helpers, put a blanket over their shoulders and led them outside. He didn't see them again, but he'd notice that she would seem more tired. More run down, and out of it. Like the weight of the world was on her shoulders now... Dick swallowed the lump.

"You need help, Gray, and not the kind of help the glass can provide." 

"I-" His voice cracked, and he couldn't bring his gaze from the table. Not as she slowly retracted her hand, offering him another glass. "Thanks, Angel, but-"

"I'm not offering you the help, I've offered others." She said quickly, and he looked up. Ignoring the sting in his eyes as she ran a hand through her hair. "I was just stating, have you considered therapy?"

He laughed. The sound wet, watery, but it was a laugh better than the fake one that has been grating on his nerves. On his ears. He took the shot slower this round, savoring the bitterness that coated his tongue. The burn that followed the drink down his throat. She smiled, it wasn't the same smirk she gave everyone else. It wasn't the same half-smile he's seen her sport when she's snickering at one of his shitty jokes, or Brutus’ begrudging groans. The smile is soft, gentle and almost sad. As if she knows what he's feeling, as if she can feel it, understand it. He didn't know how to feel about that, what to think, or even what to say. Instead, just kept drinking from the glass that kept refilling as the music changed, the dancers returning to their wild carefree behavior as she kept an eye on the crowd and on him. As if worried he would break if she looked away.

He wanted to tell her not to worry, that everything would be fine. That she could do what she did best, make drinks and help her patrons. He wouldn't break if she looked away, if she stopped filling his glass or paying attention. He smiled bitterly; Richard "Dick" Grayson was already broken. She just didn't know it yet. It's okay, his family didn't know either.

He doesn't know how long he spent there, sitting at that countertop. On that old barstool with a cushion jimmy rigged to stay in place. He wonders if it was Angel or Brutus that had the idea to staple it on, and he snickered at the idea of Angel getting pissed and just taking a stapler to the thing. It wouldn't be out of character, not even close to it. He rested his head on the counter, the cold wood soothing to his heated skin. The music, the sounds, all drowning into one as colors merged and swirled into a mosaic. Angel's face, lit by strobe lights, was in his line of vision. A hand gently shaking his shoulder, and he watched her brows furrow. Lips pursed and eyes roll, before the world went dark. 

Dick woke to a mild headache, the world far too bright. He groaned, rolling over into his pillow and pulling the blanket over his head. He loved drinks from Angel, the hangover was always mild. He breathed, only to freeze as his brain caught up with his surroundings. He was in his room, in his apartment. He jerked up, hands grasping at his clothes and... he was still dressed. Still fully dressed, even his shoes were still on his feet. There was no glass of water next to him, no unopened bottle of ibuprofen or Tylenol. His phone was plugged into his charger next to his bed, and there was no sticky note reminding him of certain death if he didn't silence the phone, mute the calls, or stop whoever or whatever was pinging his phone despite the silent mode activated.

He frowned, swallowing at the lump forming in his throat as he climbed warily out of bed. Everything was how he left it the night before, his suit on the floor that he very quickly shoved under his bed with his foot. Hoping whoever brought him here, didn't see it. He pressed a hand to his chest, trying to ease his racing heart; and failing. Slipping from the room, he froze. 

There passed out on his couch, is Angel. Silvery blonde hair was all over the place, some hanging into her face. The rest pushed back, he saw freckles dusting her cheeks. This is the first time he has seen her properly, in the light no less. He looked away, avoiding the way her noted her lips were pink and pouty. She didn't want others to see her face in the light, in the dark of the club with nothing but neon strobe lights her hair was hidden. Her skin tone, her eyes. There was enough light to see others, to see the faces around him, see the clothing people wore. But the colors were so strong it was hard to tell if someone's hair was black or blonde, freckles, dimples, and moles were gone. Designs on clothes faded, only silver catching light, only the metal of piercings shined clearly. 

Dick moved to his kitchen, rubbing the back of his neck and combing through messy black hair. This is fine, he is fully dressed. Everything is intact, he could question how the hell she knew where he lived later. Question how they got in also, much later. Along with if she managed to carry him herself, or drag him, or did Brutus take care of it. He shook the thought off, he'll find out later. Probably when she woke up. 

In the meantime, breakfast. For two. Maybe some coffee as well. He could do this, he knows how to cook... ish. Okay, so he had received a ban from Alfred's kitchen, but he can cook! He sighed, really wishing he had asked Alfred for lessons now. It's fine. Scooping the grounds into the filter, he started the pot. Letting the warm smell heat his apartment and hoping it wouldn't attract a coffee addicted brother of his today. Not yet anyway. He loved his siblings, his family, and he normally didn't mind (too much) them crashing into his place whenever (especially when Bruce became too much for them). However, Dick had no idea how to go about explaining Angel, about why she was on the couch, not even how he met her. While he could try and play off another hook-up, her being on the couch bespeaks another story alone.

He took a deep breath, this was fine. This is fine. Everything is going to make sense. Dick heard a groan, heard a soft grunt and could see as the head of silver pushed up from behind the back of the couch. Angel shifted, stretching her arms over her head with a whine that had this mouth growing dry. He swallowed thickly, forcing his focus on the coffee pot still brewing. He could hear her getting up, could hear her moving. Her footsteps barely made a sound on the floorboards beneath her, and if he hadn't been trained by the Bat he was sure he wouldn't have even heard her. As it were, he heard her get closer. Felt her eyes as she shuffled her feet and sighed near silently. 

"Good morning," She greeted with a yawn. 

He glanced at her slowly. Waiting for her to either hide her face or something, but she did neither. Instead meeting his gaze head on, with a sleepy smile-grimace on her face. She had freckles dusting her nose and the apples of her cheeks. A scar ran from the center of her chin down and another was on the corner of her lips, she blinked green eyes slowly up at him. Running slender fingers through pale hair and waiting until he was done.

"Morning Angel..." There were so many questions, so many things he wanted to say and so little time. What to say first, how did he get here. How did she? What happened? Why were they here and not in her club with him waking on that shitty faded green couch with patches sewn into it where holes formed. "Coffee?"

She hummed, "Yes please, I'd have made some when I first got here but... that was an intrusion I refuse to make."

His lips twitched at the corner, nothing changed. Angel was still Angel, even if he now knew her eyes were framed with dark lashes. If he knew her eyes sparkled at the sight of caffeine. He poured some into a cup, one he was pretty sure had been left by Tim. But it was clean and it would do, even if it was covered in a skull and crossbones saying 'Death before Decaf'. He slid the sugar her way, watched as she dumped several packets into the black liquid. Watched as she gestured at the fridge and didn't open until receiving a nod, and watching as she grabbed his milk carton out to pour some in. He sipped his, long and slow as she stirred hers quietly. The only sound was the metal spoon clinking against the glass.

"So..."

"I know you have questions, but I need to say this first, Gray." She cut off, hand raised as she slowly brought the cup to her face and inhaled. "You are going to drown yourself in whatever sorrows and thoughts are inside your head? Fine, but if you do not deign to talk to a therapist, a friend, family, anyone even, for every shot you get from me? You have to talk."

He frowned, "Excuse me?"

"Did I stutter?" She raised a brow, meeting his narrow stare with another one back. He noticed her glasses missing, could see dark bags beneath her eyes. "Look, the club is there for a reason, and you are welcomed. But if you want help to forget, to be forgotten, I ask that you share it for every shot. Or you won't be drinking a shot, I'll give you shitty ass tap water."

He mock-gasped, hand clutched to his chest as if he had some fancy pearls on. Internally, his stomach was rolling. Twisting and knotting as ice started to build inside his fingertips, and he ignored the way his hands had started shaking. Downing a gulp like it was a shot of the coffee, feeling a different kind of burn. She didn't roll her eyes, like he expected. Didn't even bat one. He sighed, he didn't want to talk about himself. Not.... not like this, not like that to anyone. They didn't need the worry, the stress... the burden was his to carry.

"Grayson." 

She crossed her arms, brows furrowed now. Yet her tone never became demanding, never scolding. She was giving him choices, options, and yet... he didn't detect the threat. The warning of anger, the promise of demand. He didn't know how to feel about that. 

"I'm not saying you need to go walk out there and do it, to pick up a phone and jump the gun, and I don't know what your life is like outside the club. What I do know is you can't keep drinking yourself into a stupor, I can't help you with that."

He licked his lips, breaking from the intensity of her stare to look at the dark liquid sloshing in his glass cup. It was ceramic, a milk white color with flash symbols dancing all over it. A housewarming gift from Wally, and he knew there was a matching Robin one in there, another to match was Superboy, was Aquaman (they pretended it was Aqualad), and Artemis, and Miss Martian (technically Martian Manhunter). For their morning brunches, they had said when they brought it over. Even if Wally's was the most used. 

"What do you want me to do?" He hated how his voice sounded like a broken sound, just barely louder than a whisper. He saw her frown out of the corner of his eye, but not once did pity cross her features. Not once did she show a sign of being disappointed or anything. 

"All I ask is this, talk to someone. Maybe someone more licensed than some random bartender you met in a club for people who want to get lost." 

For the first time since he's met her, Dick heard the steady, even cool notes of her voice waver. They went higher, a lighter note that sounded... almost nervous, dare he say? He found himself breathing a short chuckle at her joke, her lips twitching at the sound. 

"Either you can talk to one of them, and if you do -I will know if you don't, keep that in mind- I won't bug you again. Otherwise, for every shot you get from my bar, from my club, from me? You need to spill something for me to keep spilling that liquor in your cup."

"Why do you care?" Dick blurted out after she had finished speaking, her brow raised. "It's not like me drowning myself is costing you anything."

"Oh, Mister Grayson, don't you get it?” She laughed, a short and bitter sound more akin to nails going down a chalkboard. “You will cost me everything."

He blinked, once, twice. Unsure how to respond to such a bold declaration. She didn't break, her eyes never wavering. Focus never splitting even as she blindly reaches for the cup of coffee on the island counter and brings it to her lips. He swallowed the lump in his throat, it wouldn't be hard to spin her some tall tales. To lie, to try and get out of this entire arrangement. 

Except, he knows he's never been the best when it comes to expressing himself. To share his inner bits, the vulnerabilities, insecurities, the fears and memories that plague him. He had unfortunately, after a month of being cooped up in his shitty apartment in Bludhaven, had learned to mask it. The face of Dick Grayson becoming a mask as strong as the domino he wore at night, it... it sucked. Feeling too much and too little all at once. There were times he considered calling up Dinah, asking if she was willing... but then the demons in his head would get to him. Too loud, too nasty, and he'd wind up bottling it all up. Caging everything in once again come sunrise. 

"You don't have to give me names, give me details." She said softly, back to that somber tone of voice. To the softness and lowness of an alto with a slight rasp. "Give me anything that can clue me in to who you are when you just want to forget. But, I think you need someone to listen. And if you're going to drown yourself in my establishment, I ask that you let me listen."

"I..." He cleared his throat, tipping back his cup. "I'll think about it."

She smiled, it wasn't like the half-smiles or the smirks, not like that rare grin that lightly curled her lips. It was... It almost looked sad, accepting. As if she knew his answer before it even came to his lips, as if she knew how this would end. As if she could see the train coming off its tracks heading right her way. Or is it his way? He didn't know, and a glance at the microwave showed it’s far too early for that line of thoughts. It's only ten in the morning, way too early for that. Far far earlier for an awkward silence by his standard.

"Do you like cereal?"

She blinked at him, and her smile twitched. In five minutes, they were sporting two bowls of cereal. Her apple jacks floating atop the milk, while lucky charms filled his to the brim. She was seated on a barstool, her eyes crinkling with mirth at the corners as he sat atop the island itself ("You fucking heathen!"). The talk was quiet, the awkward silence having disrupted a debate on what cereal is obviously the best. On whether sitting on the counter is in fact something sophisticated adults did ("I'm not a hoodlum, Grayson!"). 

She explained that Brutus is the one that helped her get him home, that he had signed the legal document with his address for any tab problems that would arise if he walked out without paying. Apparently, it happened enough times for her to make it a legal thing, and he wants to say he's surprised. Honestly, he's not. This is Gotham for crying out loud. 

As time began to near noon, their bowls, cups, and silverware washed in the sink. He snickered at the way her eye twitched at the way he left them to dry on a towel, her glasses being plucked off the coffee table and shoved up her nose with a finger. She stretched, the black leather tank-top-corset thing riding high on her stomach to show off a glittering purple-blue gemstone on her belly button. He ignored the heat that burned at his cheeks when he saw it, immediately directing his eyes to the ceiling. She wore hip hugging blue jeans, the knees worn enough to show her knees and he noticed she was wearing heels. Raising her to his chin, he had to resist making a short joke as rustled her hands through her hair. 

The silence returned, suffocating and awkward. It made him want to make a joke, say something or another to make her green eyes roll. To make her snort again. Instead, she beat him to the punch, tugging a tie from her jeans and throwing her hair into a messy bun.

"Hey Grayson, have you considered dancing?"

[xkeyon]

Luna Maximoff Marvel Future

So Luna is a pretty popular character, reaching most of the Marvel fan base thanks to the many connections she has, even though she doesn't get used that much. Marvel loves to bring out the next young hero so why not have one who is known yet can also be developed, letting her have a shot at something and there are 2 paths that come to mind.

That would be the Avengers path, first the Young Avengers later on joining a different Avengers group most likely Uncanny. The other would be the Magic path, as it is revealed one per-generation of the Maximoff line takes on Witchcraft powers and holds a Scarlet Title, so have her be the next inheritor going to Strange Academy while getting private lessons from Wanda.

Ok now that 2 paths are out there what about a costume, most superheroes wear some kind of costume and she has a family full of them. Well I would put costume in 3 sections. Design, Colour, and Attributes. The design would be leaning to the Inhumans, she is a literal Princess for them. Plus her mother's family seems to have a theme that she could follow

A prime colour, with black trim, and a given name symbol on the waist

Crystal = Diamond Medusa = M So Luna could be a Crescent, as for colours I would look to her father for this

Switching out the Black trim for white, as for the Prime I think it should depend on the path she would be on. I would go green for the Avengers, and Blue for Magic. Now Attributes to really scream Avengers or Magic.

If Avengers then wear her mother's Avenger's jacket, a real passing of the torch moment.

If Magic, then Red/Scarlet like Romani articles of clothing. She would adopt these not just with her costume but also everyday clothing as well. Since she would be at Strange Academy and while they have a uniform it does look to have some customization.

So powers, as an Inhuman who has gone through Terrigenesis she has gained powers that in the form of empathic aura reading and control.

But this has given also some precog abilities. It has not been explained how this is, but I think it might be she sees the future someone is leaning to the most based on their emotional state.

She holds a high amount of Inhuman DNA so will have their advanced bodies even before Terrigenesis, as well has received martial training from the likes of Karnak. Of course if she goes the magic path then Witchcraft will be a birthright as much as her Inhuman gifts. Witchcraft a magic that connects to a Goddess and the Earth.

Now while all of these are good things for a hero path to have she doesn't feel at least right now a solo act. Teams and Companions will be important part to her, and how she will act with either the Young Avengers and Strange Academy will depend on who could/should/will be there, but I do know someone who could get added to these Franklin Richards.

Currently depowered him getting his own new path could work here. For the Young Avengers give him a suit like the Thing Suit + Thing Rings, but make it something that connects to the other three Fantastic Four members letting him take on their powers though it being weaker. Each of the main members of the Fantastic Four have been part of the Avengers so he captures still the Young Avengers theme. If magic, well Agatha Harkness was his nanny maybe her recommendation to try plus get into the academy could work here, him learning Quantum Magic, still leaning into the F4's more science connections but looking at it another way.

Their families are close so they know each other and depending on who is on the teams they would most likely have the closest connections with each other, perhaps even moving from friendship to romance.

[dertaglichedan]

Who is D.B. Cooper? New Evidence May Crack One Of America’s Greatest Mysteries

A parachute found in an outbuilding in North Carolina could be the new evidence that may crack the 53-year-old D.B Cooper case. It could lead investigators to the identity the man who jumped out of a hijacked plane carrying $200,000.

This is the first of a two-part series. Tomorrow, how new evidence could possibly identify the real D.B. Cooper and solve America's only unsolved hijacking more than a half century later.

More than five decades ago, a mild-mannered passenger in a business suit boarded a Seattle-bound flight in Oregon under the name Dan Cooper on Nov. 24, 1971. He ordered a bourbon and soda, and once in the air, handed a stewardess a handwritten note demanding $200,000 in cash and four parachutes under the threat of what appeared to be a bomb in his ratty briefcase.

The plane landed in Seattle, and authorities complied with the hijacker’s demand. After refueling, the airliner took off again. 

Somewhere between takeoff and Portland, the mysterious man jumped out of the plane and into the dark sky, attempting to hold onto the freshly acquired satchel of cash. 

He was never seen or heard from again, nor was the money ever found except for $5,800 in $20 bills that washed up on the banks of the Columbia River years later.

The only unsolved hijacking in U.S. history would lead to one of the most exhaustive investigations in FBI history as the agency vetted more than 800 suspects in one of the country’s most puzzling unsolved mysteries.

Learning the identity of the notorious hijacker who some consider a folk hero further inspired a cult-like following of hundreds of amateur detectives, all clamoring to ID the culprit while generating dozens of books, movies and even a 2022 Netflix series.

In 2016, after turning over every credible lead and suspect, the FBI seemingly threw up its hands and declared in a statement that it was rerouting resources to other investigative priorities pending any new information, particularly physical evidence such as parachutes or money.

Now the agency might have gotten a new break in the case for the first time in decades.

The Real McCoy

Retired pilot, skydiver and YouTuber, Dan Gryder told Cowboy State Daily that he may have found the missing link after uncovering the modified military surplus bailout rig he believes wasused by D.B. Cooper in the heist. It belonged to Richard Floyd McCoy II, and was carefully stored in his deceased mother’s storage stash until very recently.

McCoy has long been one of the FBI’s leading suspects after successfully pulling off an identical, butbetter-executed, hijacking in Utah just five months later.

“That rig is literally one in a billion,” Gryder said of the distinct parachute.

McCoy’s children, Chanté and Richard III, or “Rick,” agree with Gryder thatthey believe their father was D.B. Cooper, a secret that shrouded the family but wasn’t overtly discussed.

*** Side note, I use to follow Gryder on YT, but he kept getting in trouble for things he said. He did put out a YT a year or so ago, about this story, that was pretty interesting.

You can find them here on his YT Channel