#weird fawcett city
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windybluebelles · 16 hours ago
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More people should play around with what time the Fawcett City time bubble thing happened.
The most often ones I’ve seen are, 1960s, 1950s or 1930s.
Yeah, we love those. They’re the most canon compliant and have good comedy potential already.
Id like to propose some other years that would be funny.
Early 2000s, just early enough that the kids would have understood technology and know they don’t and they’re really annoyed.
1970s, not much different but it gives Billy the chance to meet some people’s parents and do some wild stuff.
“Oh Martha Wayne? I remember her, we smoked crack together.” (Drugs can’t effect him as Captain Marvel it’s fine guys)
1940s, I’m talking early 40s, I want them kids growing up on RATIONS.
1915ish, guys i want them to catch the Spanish Flu. Because I hate them.
Anytime before the 20th Century, it can be the literal end of the 1800s, it can be Ancient Greece. Idgaf, it would be hilarious. Cap just starts talking about the actual plague or some shit, AWSOME.
Listen, I believe that Fawcett is weird enough that we can get away with saying that it wasn’t even originally in America. Put them fuckers is Wales and have them be close friends with Merlin, have them be ancient Romans, Egyptian would be funny with the whole Black Adam shit, let them be from like the middle of fucking Asia or some shit.
Guys please it’s so funny to imagine geographers trying to explain why a random town actually just appears in Philadelphia and none of them speak English.
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megamindsupremacy · 6 months ago
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anyone have any resources/media recs for Fawcett city specifically? I got a comment on ao3 asking about where I got the idea to make Fawcett a timeless city from and to be honest i,,,, don't really know where it started
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wolfsbanesparks · 1 year ago
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How come the weirdest things happen in Fawcett? Gotham is definitely cursed if they still have all those maniacs and bad crimes happening. They are the Florida of the DC universe. but Fawcett is just
Weird. Why? I like it weird, although!
In a word: Magic
Fawcett City is directly connected to the Rock of Eternity which is basically the center of the universe where all magic comes from. There are doors to other dimensions and strange magical realms. All the weird just sort of leaks out from there into the city until anthropomorphic animals and demons and wizards are just daily occurrences. When your city's superhero is a 10 year old who was given the power of 6 gods by a wizard he met on the subway, you shouldn't really expect anything less.
Another reason (in some versions) is that the whole city was frozen in time for a few decades and are playing catch up! That's bound to make things a little wonky, especially with technology! Fawcett is filled with brilliant scientists (only some of which are evil supervillains) but none of them have ever used a computer. Everyone listens to the radio even though they all have cell phones that connect to the internet. They have a nice grab bag of old school and new school tech that makes them a little odd to everyone else.
Meta-textually? Fawcett City is largely a reflection of golden age comics in all their weird and whacky glory. Around the time of the epic copyright battle that stopped the production of new Captain Marvel comics, a lot of comics started leaning into more serious/realistic storylines. So when DC started making new Captain Marvel comics they kept the fun golden age stuff which made Fawcett City a much weirder place than other places in the DC universe.
Also meta-textually, our beloved Billy is a kid! His adventures are fantastical because those are the types of adventures kids want to have. As such Fawcett City had to be a place where anything could happen.
I totally agree, I also love it when Fawcett City is a weird little place! It's part of the charm!
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gr1555 · 1 year ago
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One of my favorite fandom depictions of Fawcett was when they treated the city like Night Vale. IDK, I could always just imagine the city having that same vibe paired with over the top characters and settings as ASOUE (the visual depiction of it all).
Combine this with other heroes like Batman visiting Fawcett to try and figure out more about Captain Marvel and his family/team only for his brain to short circuit mintues after arriving from all the chaos and impossibility of everything.
Billy could have his own podcast or Radio show that's super popular even outside the city with him reporting on everything. He has an "odd things that happened this week" segment but it's all like normal stuff for everyone else but completely weird for citizens of Fawcett. The city could have a feud with both Gotham and/or Metropolis citizens.
The entire city could know about the Marvel Family identities but just delete and deny any evidence acting confused or refuse to acknowledge it whenever asked.
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batboyblog · 2 years ago
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Personally I always like to think of Billy Batson's hometown Fawcett City, is magically cursed. It's stuck sometime between 1947 and 1953. By which I mean everyone is aware it's 2023, and they still get news from the outside and they can leave, but everyone dresses, and talks like it's 70 years ago. If you move to Fawcett City your clothes will slowly transform themselves into 1950s versions of themselves, by the end of the month big ticket things like your car will have transformed, your TV will become a radio, your computer and cell phone just gone. Now everyone is magicked to just not mind and indeed think this is all very normal in fact the whole world is magicked to not think Fawcett is anything other than "a little odd" so people move there or away etc. Though people from Fawcett (like say Billy Batson) sometimes struggle with the oddest of our modern world. Also no one can explain how emails still manage to get in and out of Fawcett even though there are no computers (or texts for that matter) but again everyone is magicked to not question it too much
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bongo-clash · 2 years ago
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Okay scribbled this out Super Fast and my justifications for this are in the tags BUT-
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Short DPXDC Prompts #658
very powerful spectral entities serve on the Ghost Kings council to advise and assist the king in his duties. Some commonly powerful entities are collectives. Usually the collective consciousness of a city, a concept, or an ideology.
Two of those collectives that serve the Ghost Kings Council is Metropolis and Gotham.
#Obviously it's based off the superman suit BUT#I made the upper half black for Two Reasons#1) To make it look like a suit jacket (metropolis business-y whatever???)#2) With the red cape and the yellow decal in it it looks a bit like the suit Clark wore to honour Jor-El#I put the yellow diamond there to represent the El house crest too but left the actual space for the crest blank#To represent that- although Metropolis connects to the house of El through its chosen protector- it can never truly be a part of it#Just as much as Clark can never really know his home planet either#Thought having the star/supernova head would be cool to represent the solar energy that Superman gets his powers from#But also because it parallels what I think Gotham would be like as a spirit#Very human looking but carrying this sense of Otherness and the weight of an ancient curse#Whereas Metropolis is very visibly ethereal and alien but so alive in a way that's almost weird for a spirit#Just utterly teeming with warmth and explosive hope#One seeming human but feeling Other and one looking Other but seeming human you know??#The glowing green at the back is for Kryptonite#As a remnant of Krypton- the grief at its back#& a reminder of the desire to never have to grieve a whole world that way again being the foundations of Metropolis' existence#Idk I think it'd be Super Fun if the spirit of Metropolis was actually the old spirit of Krypton as a whole#Weak and barely existing for years after the planet's destruction but just waiting and waiting for its last little star to settle#And allow the Earth to thread itself through with these new alien roots#Which would be why despite being such a new city spirit Metropolis would already be so powerful#Also would it not be So Good if Danny was talking about his council to the JL#And Superman found out that the ancient spirit of his home planet had been rooting for him this whole time#To the point where it'd taken the name of his new home and tried to protect it like he did#Would that not be So Sweet#I have more thoughts but the tags are becoming a novel so!!! HSDJFGDSJ#Hopefully this makes sense I did not get enough sleep LMAO#Honestly I've been thinking about Clark recently I might write something for this at some point#(Also Do Not ask me about my opinions of what the spirit of Fawcett would be like and their dynamic with the Gotham+Metropolis spirits are)#(Because we will be here for A Year)#dpxdc
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imnotditzy · 2 months ago
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So when Billy from “Frozen in time Fawcett” gets inducted to the Justice League I cannot imagine how hard it was for him to get used to the new technology.
Like he’s used to television sets being wider than his head, and all of a sudden he’s in a building that’s in space. He sees flat screen televisions and absolutely freaks out in the middle of the conference room.
What do you mean there’s no phone booths in Central City or anywhere? You just take the phone ‘with you?’ How does that work?
Why’s everything so small now? What do you mean Jarts are banned? Why do cars look like that?
Billy must’ve been so confused leaving Fawcett.
Everyone must think Captain’s so weird until they get to Fawcett and EVERYTHING makes sense.
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wonderjanga · 29 days ago
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Marilyn Gets Revived
In this AU, the time bubble was formed in 62, Billy got his powers in 59, and the twin’s parents died in 58. There was also the fact that her body was found, but C.C.’s never was. So, as for how this works, I don’t particularly know. Maybe, since Fawcett is weird, the magic of the city revived her? You decide.
The point is, Marilyn Batson crawls out of her grave, Jason Todd style, and wanders the streets in the funeral dress she was buried in.
Marvel: *patrolling when he sees a woman, dirtied with bloodied hands* (from both crawling out of the grave and breaking the coffin)
Marilyn: *walking down the street, trying to get to get to Ebenezer’s house to ask what the hell is going on*
Marvel: *flies down* “Miss? Are you alright?”
Marilyn: “Oh uhm
 Yes, I’m fine.” *looks up to Marvel and literally freezes when she sees her husband*
Marvel: “Are you sure? I can take you to the hospital. Your hands are bleeding heavily.” *doesn’t recognize her*
Marilyn: “C.C.?”
Marvel: “Huh?” *confused as to if she either said his dad’s name, or if she said ‘see see’*
Marilyn: “C.C. it’s me. What’s going on? Why’re you dressed like that?” *happy to see her husband even though she doesn’t know he’s not her husband*
Marvel: *computing* “Mo-” *looks around before leaning in to whisper* “You’re Marilyn Batson??” *sounds completely baffled* “Are you real?”
Marilyn: “Wha- Clarence Charles Batson, of course I’m real!”
Being called by his dad’s name made Billy’s mind blank. He didn’t really know what to do except take her to the Watchtower’s medbay because he isn’t going to take his mom to just any hospital. His mom deserves the best. And so, the JL were graced with the image of the eight foot five Cap, with a seven foot ten woman who looks like she’s been through hell and back. And yes, Marilyn is 7’10 because if Captain Marvel is a copy of C.C. Batson, he would’ve been 8’5 so he needs an almost equally as tall wife.
Marilyn: *hands bandaged* “So
 What happened to archeology?”
Marvel: *awkward* “Oh right, uh
 I’m not da-” *slowly looks over to see Flash and GL spying from the doorway*
Marilyn: *also looks over to them*
GL: *clears throat and walks over* “Who’s this lovely lady, hmm?”
Marvel: “This is Marilyn. Marilyn, that’s Green Lantern. The guy over there still lurking and stalking is Flash.”
Marilyn: *bright ahh smile* “It’s lovely to meet you. When did you become friends with my husband?”
Flash: *zooms over* “Husband?” *jaw is on the floor*
Marvel: “Mari-”
GL: *summons a metal clamp to shut Billy’s mouth* “Sooooo how long have you two been married?”
Marilyn: “Since we were nineteen. So twenty years!”
Flash: “Twenty years
?” *looks between Marilyn and Marvel* “Dude. How do you just forget to tell us that?!”
Marvel: “Uh
” *just grabs Marilyn, and dips out, dragging her to the zeta tubes*
Marilyn: “C.C. what’s wrong?”
Marvel: “Nothing at all. We just need to talk. Not here.”
Marilyn: “Okay
?”
So, Billy drags them to one of the buildings Billy and Mary live in. When Marilyn saw Mary she immediately hugged her baby.
Marilyn: “You’re so big, yet so tiny! You haven’t been eating enough have you?!” *hugging the life out of Mary*
Mary: *getting suffocated while crying*
Marilyn: “Has your father not been feeding you enough?” *glares over at Marvel*
Mary: “What? No, dad’s
 dead.”
Marilyn: *slowly looks confused* “Then who
?”
Marvel: “Shazam.”
Billy: “Surprise
?”
Yeah, Marilyn spoiled your two with lots and lots and lots of motherly affection after this. The twins were just happy to have their mommy back.
Bonus:
Billy: “Shazam!”
Marilyn: *standing nearby, gets hit by stray lightning* “Huh
?”
Marilyn Batson now has a Marvel form and she gets to fight with her babies.
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upsidedownwithsteve · 1 year ago
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Simmer #1
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CH1. Home Style | The Menu [3.7K] Eddie Munson x shy fem!reader: a line cook au.
Jim’s Midnight Grill wasn’t the magical place the name made it sound like.
In fact, it was worse at night. Hawkins' only diner sat on the outskirts of town, just before the road that took you out alongside the cornfields. In the height of a sunny day, the water tower cast a shadow over the old building and the gas station next door only had one working pump.
The leather booths were constantly sticky, the table tops grainy with spilled salt, but if you made your visit on a Thursday night after nine, milkshakes were two for one. The back alley was littered with cigarette butts, graffiti on the walls telling you who to call for a good time— and someone called King Steve used Farah Fawcett hairspray? The regulars were permanent fixtures on the bar stools, coffee stains on the counter in front of them, stolen sugar packets in their pockets, frowns on their faces.
The staff didn’t want to be there, the owner refused to replace the flickering lights and the cook had a bad attitude and liked to communicate with heavy sighs and eye rolls. But he made a mean grilled cheese. The walk in freezer was reserved for the pitiful weekly deliveries and breakdowns, a stolen kiss or two. Or three, or four. But no one liked to tackle the clogged sink and god forbid anyone change the TV channel— Mr Creel always had something to say about it.
—————
Honestly, Hawkins wasn’t your first choice when you decided to move to a smaller place. The idea of a big city was all fine and well until you lived a year in Chicago, the dream of a brownstone apartment quickly disappearing when you realised jobs were hard to come by and finding friends was even harder. Living alone wasn’t all that fun, especially when your landlord hinted at sexual favours to justify late payments and he didn’t care to fix the leaking radiator in your bedroom. The nights were never quiet and the city hardly slept, but instead of neon lights and late night bodega runs, you lay awake on the broken spring in your bed and flinched at the sound of backfiring cars and people arguing on the street below.
It was lonely, living somewhere so big and busy and always eating dinner by yourself. So you sold the old car you didn’t really use and cried enough that your landlord eventually gave in and ripped up your lease that still had four months to go. Packing your stuff was an easy enough job, hardly enough belongings to fill the duffel bag you’d dragged with you. You dug into the back of your freezer for the wad of cash your grandma gave you, threw it into the bag and grabbed your greyhound ticket and decided you’d get off the bus when the skyline turned a little more green. When the buildings shrunk, when the smog lifted and when wildflowers sprouted from between the cracks in the sidewalk.
So you rolled into Hawkins before the day broke, way before the sun crept up over the quarry, before the small town came alive. The apartment you’d found was the same tiny size as the one you’d had in Chicago but it was cleaner and the carpet was new. Nothing leaked. Nothing smelled weird. The parking lot was filled with cars and none of them had bullet holes in the side, your trash can wasn’t on fire and god, god, the first neighbour you saw - an elderly woman who was walking with a yorkie on a leash - smiled at you.
She smiled at you.
So despite the lack of twenty four hour stores and pizza parlours, Hawkins was already looking up. There wasn’t much on the Main Street, a library, a tiny bakery run by a couple who offered you a free croissant as a welcome to town gift. There was an outdoor pool with sun bleached bunting across its chain link fence, an arcade next to a video store, a high school that was derelict due to the summer months. The larger houses across from the park were lined with cherry trees, neat lawns with white mailboxes and flowers under the windows and suddenly Hawkins was a million miles away from Chicago and the buzz of traffic and car horns.
The librarian let you print out some resumes the day after you’d settled in, and you found your way around town by asking kind strangers, buying a coffee and a breakfast sandwich in exchange for directions out of your neighbourhood. It was easy to stroll along the sidewalk with an iced latte and your headphones around your neck, blue skies above you and the sound of sprinklers in their yards, breathing in air that didn’t smell like diesel. You found a man by a rundown garage, white haired and tired looking, mechanic scrubs tied around his waist as he smoked a cigarette.
You took a deep breath, and then another one, smiling politely - warily - as you approached. The man lifted a brow at you, a little suspicious, but he held the burning stub away from you, smoke billowing in the opposite direction.
“You lost, kid?”
You were. Just a little.
“I’m looking for Jim’s, uh,” you glanced down at the pink flyer that had been pinned on the library's notice board. “Jim’s Midnight Grill? I got told it was out this way, but—”
You looked around, noting that there wasn’t much out this way. The busiest part of Hawkins was behind you, tidy sidewalks giving way to long roads out of town, a lone bus stop by the garage, a farm in the distance across the street. You squinted against the sun and shrugged.
“You wanna keep going for ‘nother mile or so, it’s just before the town sign,” the man pointed further out where the cornfields were overgrown and the sun faded billboard told everyone ‘thanks for visiting Hawkins!’ You weren’t sure the bus ran that far out. “Jim should be there, but if he’s not, jus’ ask for Eddie, he’ll sort you out.”
“Eddie,” you nodded, peering into the distance. You couldn’t see another building, but this man didn’t seem like he was lying. “Right, okay. Just keep to the road?”
The man nodded and he cracked a smile, small but soft. He stubbed out the end of his cigarette and gestured to an old pick up that looked like it had seen better days. “You needin’ a ride?”
The urge to say yes was strong, especially after walking all the way from your apartment as the heat soared. It snuck up on you like a slow roll, going from pleasant to warm to too hot, far too quickly. Beads of sweat clung to your skin underneath your sundress but you shook your head, shyness crawling up the back of your neck. Accepting a ride from a stranger didn’t seem the wisest idea, no matter how kind he seemed.
“It’s okay,” you told him. “Thank you, though. I appreciate the help.”
The man smiled again, a little bigger this time, crows feet crinkling, the sunlight catching the white of his five o’clock shadow. “That’s alright, kid. Jus’ tell ‘em Wayne sent you, yeah? Follow the road, you’ll see Forest Hills - the trailer park - keep going a lil’ ways and it’s right across the road.”
It turned out Wayne was right.
You kept walking, the heat soaring, the fields on either side of you growing taller but you bit back a smile at the sight of the wildflowers that snuck through the cracks in the concrete. Eventually they gave way to a trailer park, just as Wayne side, a quaint place that hummed with generators and had lines of laundry between each mobile home. Across the road sat a sandy lot, a diner in the middle, a neon sign letting passer-bys know they’d arrived at Jim’s Midnight Grill. Except the ‘r’ was loose, hanging from its wire and buzzing blue and purple.
Cats patrolled along the roadside, going from trailer doorsteps to the back alley of the diner, hoping and waiting for a free meal that they all knew would eventually come. You stopped to pet an orange kitten, a little scruffy looking thing but cute all the same, your CV clutched in one hand as you peered suspiciously at the front of the restaurant. It looked too quiet, like it wasn’t open yet. But there was a black van parked along the side of the building and some steam leaked from a vent on the roof, so you opened the front door.
The bell jingled but the patrons at the dining bar who sat on their stools didn’t move, didn’t turn to look. The place was nearly empty, some people nursing a coffee, some staring blankly at the buzzing television screen that was mounted in the corner. No one stood at the host desk, the menus stacked messily, the phone off the hook. In fact, there wasn’t a server to be seen as you made your way to the counter. You grimaced as you leaned on the surface, elbows sticky, avoiding spilled coffee the best you could. You waited, resume still in your hand, patience on your features.
No one came.
So you rang the bell that was on the bar top for the very purpose of gaining attention, but the man beside you glared at the noise. Still, no one came. The fans overhead squeaked and whirred, the TV fizzed with bad signal and from somewhere behind the open serving hatch, you heard the clatter of pots and pans. You tried to crane your neck to see through the window, steam and smoke billowing from it, the slight shadow of maybe a person moving through it.
The person swore, dropped a skillet and swore again.
You leaned in further, elbows on spilled salt grains and drops of ketchup, trying to gain a better view into the kitchen from the bar top. “Hey, ‘scuse me? Can I— can someone—”
You huffed as the figure moved out of sight, falling back onto the stool that squeaked and the man next to you snorted into his coffee cup. You frowned and took further action, sundress falling back around your thighs as you hopped off the chair and made your way to the side of the counter that lifted up. No one paid you any mind, no one at all, but you still hesitated before ducking under the bar and hovering by the hatch. You could smell garlic and sage and something a little sweet now you were closer, the scents of the kitchen winning over the stale coffee, cigarette smoke and engine oil that clung to the patrons clothes behind you.
You peered into the kitchen, your paperwork still clutched to your chest. It wasn’t much cooler in here than it was outside, the AC unit broken and the fans working overtime to combat the heat. The kitchen seemed empty now, a stovetop still on despite no one to supervise it, flames licking high up the sides of a steel pot, big enough for you to fit both feet in. There was something inside bubbling, foam rising to the top and chopped courgette and red onions sat on the workbench beside it, abandoned. A radio played, staticky and fuzzy, an old sixties tune floating out to mix with the smoke.
“Come a little bit closer, you’re my kind of man. So big and so strong, come a little bit closer, I’m all alone.”
“H-hello?” You cleared your throat and braced yourself to speak a little louder. Stronger. Braver. “Hello?”
No one answered. In fact, it seemed like the entire diner was run by ghosts, no waiting staff, hosts or cooks to be seen. Maybe you’d imagined the silhouette in the smoke, maybe the heat was finally getting to you.
“No customers back here, what d’you think you’re doin’?”
You startled, jumping back a little only to knock an elbow into a half filled coffee pot, the brown liquid thankfully lukewarm but it still spilled across the countertop, soaking into stray packets of sugar and scattered napkins.
“Oh, fuck, uh—” you grabbed at whatever dry napkins were left, hurriedly mopping up the spill before it dripped to the floor. Old coffee dotted the red and cream tiles, into the gaps between your sandals. You grimaced and looked up, only half paying attention. “Shit, I’m really sorry, I just— there was no one there and—”
You stopped, swallowing hard, cheeks hot, eyes wide. The person in front of you was half hidden behind the serving hatch, but he was scowling through the window with a ladle in his hand. Big brown eyes, unnervingly expressive and dark hair to match, unruly looking curls that were pulled back with an elastic band in a bun that wouldn’t have passed a health inspection.
A boy, unfairly pretty, and annoyed looking with tattoos peeking out from his chef whites, a black paisley printed bandana knotted around his neck. There was a furrow between his brow, lines etched there so deep that it made you think they were a permanent fixture on his handsome face.
“—no customers behind the cash desk, sweetheart, you look bright enough to understand that.”
Your mouth fell open, a burn creeping across your cheeks. Annoyance settled in your chest but you realised you weren’t quite brave enough to do anything about it. So you lifted your resume and slapped it on the hot steel ledge that separated the kitchen from the coffee bar. “No one’s working,” you tried to explain, gesturing with one hand to the empty diner behind you. “I rang the bell—”
“What does it look like I’m doing?” The boy scoffed, raising a tattooed forearm to wipe away the sheer layer of sweat from his brow. “Havin’ a spa day? Shit, no one rings the damn bell, don’t you know that?”
You scrambled for a response, the burn on your face growing hotter, an awful clawing feeling coming across your chest. You swallowed, your throat tight, but you pointed at your CV once more. “I’m here for the job opening. I need to speak to Jim? About the kitchen porter role?”
The stranger laughed, a breathy thing that you didn’t think was supposed to come across as mean as it did, but it stung all the same. You shrunk a little, a hardly seen thing as the boy turned his head to check on whatever was bubbling in the big pot. “Look, sweetheart, I don’t wanna be a dick about it, but uh, I don’t think you’re cut out for the kitchen - sorry.” He turned back to you, a slightly more apologetic look on his face instead of the frown. “You understand, right?”
You were speechless, just for a second. Blinking away the confusion, you made noise of protest as the boy started to move away. Your hand touched his bicep and he swivelled back, scowling once more. You snatched your hand away, glancing at your fingertips as if the ink from his tattoos would have stained them black.
“Sorry— it’s just, I, I need a job.” You swallowed, hoping none of the customers could hear your desperate plea. “I just moved into town and honestly, I’ll take anything, like anything. I’m supposed to talk to Jim— or Eddie?”
The boy seemed to mull over your words for a second or two, a passing of sympathy or something just as kind coming over his features. He sighed and shrugged, turning away to stir the pot before it boiled over and he shouted at you through the smoke and steam. Not meanly, just enough for his voice to be heard over the music, the hissing of the stove, the hum of the freezer. “I dunno where Jim is, sorry.”
You deflated, sliding your stack of papers off of the ledge and back to your chest. You tried not to appear too frustrated as you asked, “what about Eddie? Someone - a guy, at the garage - he told me to ask for Eddie.”
The ladle clanged against the pot, some soup - or maybe stew - spilling out the sides. The boy frowned at the mess, dragging a rag over the spots before he glanced up at you. You tried to smile, tried to tamp down the watery doe eyes you knew you couldn’t help but have on show, but you felt desperate. Leaving Chicago with nothing more than the bag on your back and no plans was suddenly seeming like an awful idea.
“Sorry,” the stranger said again. “I dunno an Eddie.”
—————
Sitting in a sticky leather booth in the corner of Jim’s Midnight Grill for another hour turned out to be worth it.
Just before two o’clock, a man walked in, greeting the same customers who were still nursing their coffees with a muttered ‘hello,’ a familiar thing that everyone grunted back at. He was a tall man, broad shouldered with a moustache and a shaved head that was covered with a battered wide brimmed hat. He looked more cowboy than business owner, checked shirt dirt covered boots and all, but you heard someone call him Jim and you were up and running after him.
Your sneakers stuck to the linoleum tiles, the ‘shtick shtick shtick’ of your soles pattering between the aisles of empty tables until you caught up with the man just before he disappeared into the kitchen. He raised his brows at your sudden appearance at his elbow, wide eyed and hopeful as you clutched the same resume you’d tried to hand the cook, the pieces of paper stained with coffee now.
The man lifted his chin to a small table before you could speak, gesturing to two chairs by the window. You startled, wondering what was happening as he pulled out a seat and pointed at you to sit in the other one.
“You’re new, right?” The man - Jim - fumbled with a packet of cigarettes, most of them crushed and bent, but he found a good one to lift to his lips. He lit it and blew smoke upwards, staining the already yellowing ceiling. “Here, in town?”
You nodded, unsure how he knew that. You guessed that news travelled fast in a place as small as Hawkins, so you decided to elaborate for the sake of talking. “Uh, yeah. From Chicago. I’m inquiring about the, um, the porter job?”
“What’s your name?” Jim leaned forward in his chair and poked gently at your forearms. “You don’t got a lot of scars, you done soft jobs? No kitchen stuff before?”
The AC unit kicked in and rattled a vent above you as you stared at the man, trying to work out what he meant. Stammering, you told him your name and passed over a resume, pointing out your last few jobs, doing your best to try and make them sound more professional than they actually were.
Librarian's assistant.
Barista. For two weeks.
Cashier at a knock off Chuck E. Cheese.
“I guess they’re what you could call, uh,” you squinted Jim, floundering for the word he’d used, “soft jobs. But I’ve got a scar on my knee from pulling a kid out of the ball pit. He’d come straight from little league, he still had his spikes on and there was a considerable amount of blood even th—”
Jim stopped your spiel by jamming a thumb back towards the kitchen hatch. You could still see the boy there, pretty and scowling all the same, a dark curl falling from his hair band to fall over his cheek. You watched him blow it away and flip something in a skillet, the sizzle of it just heard over the music, the bad TV in the corner of the bar.
“You ever worked a kitchen?”
You shook your head, stomach sinking. ‘Fake it til’ you make it,’ failed you once before, and the owner of the coffee shop in Lincoln Park quickly realised you were wasting both your times when she discovered you didn’t know the difference between a mocha and a latte. “No, sir.”
“Our line cook is real particular ‘bout who we put in his kitchen with him,” Jim pointed to the boy, who’d now been joined by someone else. Another male, one with even longer hair, sleek and dark and they seemed to be arguing over blocks of cheese. “Now I don’t think it’s a good idea to throw you in there—”
Dread bubbled in your stomach. If you didn’t manage to land this job, you weren’t sure where else to look. A small town brought on few opportunities, and you’d already exhausted most of the businesses on Main Street. “Sir, please, I—”
“—but there is a waitressing gig available.” Jim frowned as he tried to remember the details. “Full time, forty odd hours if you don’t mind doing lates.”
“Yes!” You blurted out the answer too loud, loud enough for the customers to turn away from the TV screen for a second or two. The boys in the kitchen peered out the hatch, one curious, one annoyed. “Yes, sorry, yes. I’ll take it, thank you.”
Jim nodded and stubbed out the amber end of his cigarette in an ashtray beside the sauce bottles. “Easy enough job, minimum wage, you keep any tips you make.” He listed off each point on his fingers. “You start tomorrow.”
You could only nod back, eager and grateful. “Of course, yeah, sure. Uh— do I need—?”
Jim waved you off, already standing as he lit up another cigarette. “Just come by for eight, Eddie’ll sort you out with a uniform, locker, that kinda stuff.”
You frowned, confused. Looking around the quiet diner, you wondered if there was someone you hadn’t noticed before, but the number of visible staff members remained the same. The two boys in the kitchen, the pretty cool who you’d spoken to back at the stove, tasting its contents with a teaspoon.
“Uh,” you coughed awkwardly, feeling stupid. “I thought— I thought there wasn’t an Eddie who worked here?” You pointed warily to the boy with the messy curls, the black tattoos across his exposed forearms, he was staring at you, like he knew you were talking about him. He was scowling. “He said there wasn’t.”
The noise and heat of the diner and the summer outside didn’t do anything to diminish the embarrassment you felt at Jim’s next words. His gaze followed to where you were pointing and snorted. “Kid, that is Eddie.”
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im-not-buying-it-ether · 5 months ago
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Some other idea cause this is gold
Apparently the company who built my house used wood from a dryads tree so now she’s haunting me
Some asshole at my work cheered when Capt Nazi landed a blow on Captain Marvel and he got instantly fired (deserved)
I won the lottery but then was struck with the sudden urge to be kind and gave the ticket to some blond kid
I saw Dionysus sloppy drunk in a fountain
I’m working on a movie and one of the camera men is a robot
I was bagging a ladies groceries and her face kept changing non stop, like full on shapeshifter type stuff
I caught a leprechaun and it offered a wish for me to let it go, now I have a new car
Someone animated the dinosaur bones at the museum and now the whole block is feeding it treats
someone needs to make “only in fawcett” a thing. It’s kind of like “only in Gotham” but instead of talking about Robin casually stealing your cat and returning them neutered it’s about how you just saw a mob of angry people with pitchforks and torches talking about how Captain Marvel did something terrible (again. It always turns out to beby that sivannah guy or whatever framing him but everyone falls for it every time, including you.) and your not quite sure how the heck they plan to harm the indestructible man and you have nothing better to do so you grab a nearby pitchfork and join in.
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lady-ace · 2 months ago
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(inspired by Puppetmaster13u's Cryptid AU, please check it out, it's amazing)
(formating inspired by Wonderjanga since i'm extremely new to Tumblr and tought it looked neat)
Inside Fawcett city, creatures of any kind were welcomed and seen as normal. An walking, talking, crocodile? Yeah, that's just Peter. A minotaur sharing a lemonade with an vampire? That's just Jeff and Jasmine.
Captain Marvel, the city's hero, though, seemed human. (or Kryptonian.. but there are records of kryptonite being thrown at him and him being fine if not confused)
Now, imagine if Billy (and thus, Captain Marvel) were cryptids who use magic to make an illusion to fool others into thinking he's more human-like, in an effort to appear less threatening, scary or weird.
His cape? That's his wings. When up in the air, the illusion magic makes them look like they're floating, but they're actually beating to make sure Marvel stays up in the air. When not in use, they fold in his back to appear more like well.. an cape.
When he joins the Justice league, he's oblivious to the gossip mill his teammates created.
Hal: “Dude, i'm telling you, he's not human.”
Barry: “What else could he be, then? Like, it's a given he's at least some type of meta, but what exactly? Kryptonian? An regular human with powers that can rival superman's?”
Diana: (a bit distracted, not paying full attention to the gossip) “My guess would be that he has some connection to the greek gods. He does mention them often. Maybe he's an demi-god himself?”
Hal: (shocked) “You CANNOT just drop that into the conversation and not elaborate.”
//
Oliver: (a bit annoyed) “Batman, could you please tell Robin to keep his pets out of the watchtower? There are feathers everywhere!”
Bruce: “Hmm? I can't see how Robin could have sneaked into the watchtower any kind of bird without me knowing. Could you show me one of the feathers so i could ask him about it?”
(Oliver gets up, a big, white and golden feather in hands, and gives it to Batman)
Bruce: (looking the feather over, thinking how this is too big to have been from one of Damian's chickens or parakeets) “...”
(Marvel, who happened to be passing by, sees the feathers all scattered about, with Batman with one in hand, immediatly gets embarrased about how he forgot the illusion spell breaks when he transforms back into Billy, and thus leaves the feathers behind) “Hey.. sorry, those are mine. I'll clean them up.”
Oliver: “What do you m-”
(Both Oliver and Bruce look over, Oliver obviously very confused)
Oliver: “You own a bird and let it loose on the watchtower?”
Marvel: “Oh, no, no, those are mine. Like.. mine mine.”
(Billy breaks the spell, the illusion going off instantly)
Oliver: "OH! oh, i see what you mean.”
//
Hal: “So, he's an.. bird-like humanoid and uses an spell to look like what we're used to seeing him as?”
Oliver: “From what i saw, yeah, pretty much.”
Barry: “...i owe Cyborg 10 dollars.”
Hal: (sighing) “Same.”
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is-this-even-relatable · 4 months ago
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DC PROMPT #1:
So you know how Billy’s last name is Batson? Well think in terms of Norse naming schemes and it’s Bat son.
I want a fic where people think Billy is Batman’s son.
Batman knows who Captain Marvel is, and sometimes Billy has a tough day. Sometimes Batman comes to help out in Fawcett City and happens to run into scrawny kid Billy. So he helps/offers emotional or physical support.
And Billy is a little shit, and also magical as fuck so he’s got Weird-Vibes (TM)
People see this strange, obviously not normal child. People see Batman, the cryptid, whom shadows cling to and is quieter than the night he dwells in.
Yeah that black haired kid is obviously some magical spawn of batman.
And then they learn his name is Billy Batson? Yeah, that’s definitely Batman’s son, didn’t know Batman was norse though?
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wolfsbanesparks · 10 months ago
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Oh shit, are the JL gonna be like, prepared to deal with his rogues???? RIP Fawcett
Prepared? Not at all. They don't know nearly as much about Fawcett as they think they do and that includes a lack of knowledge on the city's rogues. The fact that Cap isn't the type to talk up his villains has definitely left them with the impression that most of his rogues aren't that difficult to deal with.
Can they handle it? With a learning curve, probably. If Fawcett is in danger then they will step up to save the day, but it will be a bit messy.
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discocandles · 4 months ago
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i feel like billy flashbangs anyone in roughly a half a mile radius of him when transforming. or maybe its more like when you see the sky light up and start counting until you hear the thunder. "oh so captain marvel was about 2 miles away this time."
You know, you’d think people would eventually put together the random lightning strikes and Shazam’s sudden appearances.
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kenandeliza · 7 months ago
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a collection of ideas of a post-suspendium Golden Age comics Billy Batson if he ended up in the 21st century (pick any comic continuity
EDIT: IF YOU SEE THIS POST HAVING A WEIRD/REPEATING PARAGRAPH/FORMAT, LET ME KNOW BECAUSE TUMBLR ISNT WORKING FOR MY MOBILE
1.adoption scenario
(If a leaguer wanted to adopt Billy, he’d just show them his birth certificate)
Billy smirking:” Sorry, you can’t legally adopt a grandpa”
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2. Billy teasing with a smug boomer voice: “Back in my day, we used to play with atomic machines!”
3. youtube
Billy:thanks for showing me how to use a modern phone (insert friend from 21st century)! But I wonder, where is the tv remote for changing the youtube channel? And Where is the news?
(Friend from the 21st century):*sighs* it’s so over
4. Old friends
Aside from the fawcett city heroes, Billy in this case probably relates more to the older heroes like wildcat, Alan scott or Jay Garrick, maybe they have multiple team ups in the past and would reminiscent over it (the rest having their favorite drinks while Billy preferring his hot chocolate ice cream)
5. Teasing
The younger hero teams who know his identity would teasingly call him a “boomer”, Billy wanted to protest that he technically was born before boomers but they ignored it and still teased him about it.
to the rest of the heroes who didn’t know about his identity, they assume captain marvel is more than centuries old, and thinks this is the reason the kid heroes calls him a boomer.
6. Jokes
Billy: “oh so these memes are like what replaces comic strips i used to read, how nice”
Some of these ideas are taken from the fanfics i’ve written, some just came to me inside my head, but it’s fun to think about it.
(Edited: added more scenarios)
7. Caprisuns
Caprisuns werent invented yet when Billy was in suspendium. After getting out of suspendium, He really likes caprisun.
Other leaguers would be confused, Marvel's liking of caprisun is comparable to Martian Manhunter's love of oreos. When asked about when his capri sun addiction started, Marvel shrugged, "They weren't made before I was born, so it was only recent"
The league is now confused as to how old marvel is. Wonder Woman relates to this with her fascination of ice cream flavors.
8. Billy automatically put on a Mid-atlantic accent whenever he is near a microphone due to his habit and work with Whiz station for his TV segments as well as radio programs.
Whenever Captain Marvel uses a communicator, he unintentionally uses a mid-atlantic accent (this confuses the leaguers, "who is this guy!?"). Some of the leaguers enjoyed listening to his voice
Marvel would occasionally file an audio JL report (yes, with the same mid-atlantic accent) when he's on a hurry and couldn't type it out with his typewriter (he still finds it difficult to use a computer) : "And there you have it, folks! In a nutshell, I managed to handle the There was an outbreak of imps but Mary and I already took care of it, Junior apprehend the acrobat after a terible case of Moonitis, the three of us thwarted Mr. Mind's dastardly scheme to seize control of the sun, and we all prevented Sivana from being promoted to "King of Earth" by hurling his atomic bomb straight into the heart of the sun itself! That's the latest from me, This is Captain Marvel, signing off!"
Leaguer: "Why does he sound like a radio host commenting on a football game?"
Other leaguer:*shrugs*
9. Billy watches a cgi lion movie for the first time
..and thought innocently that there are other talking tigers like tawky tawny.
Some of these ideas are taken from the fanfics i’ve written, some just came to me inside my head, but it’s fun to think about it.
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hermesserpent-stuff · 9 days ago
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made some audio edits for my au thing where billy is the host for whizz radio and talks about all the weirdness of fawcett city like its very normal. inspired by welcome to nightvale.
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