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@mcgomega
MCG Omega's masterpost
My tags:
#mcg draws - for art
#mcg writes - for fanfics, headcanons and prompts
#mcg wips - for works in progress, be it art or writing
#mcg asks - for polls
#mcg answers - for when I’m answering asks (when the inbox is not closed)
And under the cut are links to all of my writings: prompts, headcanons, ideas, short fics and maybe links to future ao3 pages.
How about Danny is working at the last Waffle house in Gotham and just vibing with Rogues and hero's
“No you can’t have chocolate chips in your hashbrowns, please stop asking.”
“I didn’t even say my order yet!”
How May I Take Your Order?
For @egyptianghosts who asked me to fill this prompt, hope you enjoy
Danny didn’t know how he ended up working in a Waffle House in Gotham, but here he was.
To be fair, it was the only legal establishment in Gotham that didn’t ask questions when Danny presented his clearly fake ID—hey, there was only so much Tucker could do on such short notice. Besides, he’d rather take orders or fling hashbrowns than end up a goon and get beaten up by Batman and his crew.
“So, I kidnap people and hold them hostage while Batman finds the clues to my riddles!”
“Welcome to Waffle House. How may I take your order?” Danny primed his pen, ready to write.
“Riddle me this—”
“No.”
The Riddler stopped and tensed.
“No?”
“No. This is a Waffle House, sir, not a gameshow. Either let me know your order, or I’ll go to the next table. I don’t have time for this bullshit. I get paid $2.50 an hour and get lousy tips, and the last thing I need is a third-rate villain—”
“Third-rate?!”
“Making my life more miserable. Especially since you seem like the type to leave no tip.” Danny finished.
Everyone at the table fell silent, their eyes going from the Riddler to the scrawny teenage server who had just told their boss off.
Danny kept his pen primed for writing in case the Riddler wanted to place an order. If he wanted to fight, well, it was a Waffle House after all. One of the job interview questions was whether Danny was afraid to throw hands or not. Besides, he knew his coworkers would be happy to help if it came down to a fight.
The Riddler laughed, instead—laughed—at the kid.
“You have moxie, kid. Why don’t you come work for me? I would pay you way better than this place ever would.”
“No thanks,” Danny replied as if he wasn’t talking to a supervillain. “Now, how about we try this again? How may I take your order tonight?”
Danny left his shift with a $200 tip from the Riddler and a phone number so he could ‘keep his options open.’
The following night, Riddler was arrested and sent to Arkham.
____
Danny tried to wipe away the grease from his ever-present notepad as he walked toward his favorite customer.
“The usual,” came the mechanized voice.
“Two cheeseburgers, extra onions, large fries, four pieces of bacon on the side, and a large coffee, black, coming right up.”
Red Hood took off his helmet, though he still had on a mask underneath it, and grinned at Danny.
“You know it, kid.”
Danny grinned back and went to place the order. He knew this wouldn’t be the last thing Red Hood would order—seriously, the guy could really pack it up—and he always left a huge tip.
Besides, the guy was funny. Oh, and he was death-touched, making Danny feel a type of kinship with the guy. Once again, Danny wondered if Hood knew he had died and come back to life. Well, better not to ask. It wasn’t polite.
Danny took the order out to Hood.
“Enjoy.”
“Anyone giving you guys any trouble, kid? I know how the rogues like to show up here from time to time.”
“Nah, no one has caused trouble since the Joker.”
That’s how they had met. The Joker had shown up to cause his usual bullshit havoc, and Danny had hit him upside the head with a plate. Hood had been following the clown and didn’t kill him because of ‘daddy bats shitty rules’ and had arrested Joker after roughing him up a bit.
After that, he became a regular at Waffle House and always asked Danny to be his server.
Leaving that night with $400 and Red Hood trying to follow him home discreetly, Danny was okay with that.
____
“Hey Harley, hey Pamela!”
Danny couldn’t help but greet the two women enthusiastically. He heard Sam rave about Poison Ivy so often that Danny couldn’t help but admire the woman. Besides, Harley was a riot to be around. Danny was glad she was away from an asshole like the Joker.
“Hello, Danny. Did your friend enjoy the autograph?”
“Oh, yeah, she absolutely freaked.”
Danny had to use a fake address to send Sam the autographed paper, but Sam had texted him the night she received it through their secure phone and had gushed the whole time, thanking Danny.
“I’m glad I was able to make a fellow lover of the environment happy.”
“How you’ve been, hon?” Harley asked.
“Exhausted, but alive. I’ve been getting good tips lately.”
“Glad to hear it. Now, I want onion rings with marinara sauce, and Pam here will take a black coffee with five sugars.”
“Got it,” Danny said, and went to place the order.
____
“No, you can’t have chocolate chips in your hash browns. Please stop asking.”
“I didn’t even say my order yet!”
It was 3 AM, and Danny had to wrangle hash brown orders from Nightwing. And he always asked, every single time, if Danny could add chocolate chips to his hash browns, the freak.
Of all his customers, Nightwing and Robin were the most annoying ones. Well, Robin wasn’t too bad. If only he would stop calling Danny ‘Daniel,’ he wouldn’t even mind the little twerp even if he had the habit of pointing a sword at Danny.
Better a sword than an ectoblaster.
Nightwing, though, always got on Danny’s nerves. He would order the strangest combo of food and would pout every time Danny denied him. But who ordered pancakes with hot sauce and ketchup? Freaks, that’s who.
At least Robin stuck to waffles and orange juice.
“Gee, can’t help but wonder to ask myself why I would think that,” Danny deadpanned.
Nightwing, the asshole, smiled brightly at him. Robin’s scowl deepened at Danny’s tone.
“Well, can you add chocolate chips this time?”
“That’s it, get out,” he said in a serious tone and walked away.
“Aw, don’t be like that. I’m just joking. Danny, come back!”
Eventually, he went back, after taking three orders before theirs.
Beyoncé, P!nk and Britney Spears appearing in Pepsi's Gladiator inspired commercial (2004)
Showing up to The Odyssey in IMAX like
happy the moon landing july 20 :)
Friends in different Time Zones
did you know its national moth week? Happy national moth week!
happy bday timmy!!
I don’t care if Monday’s yuck
Tuesday, Wednesday tread through muck
Thursday maybe eat a duck
It’s Friday, Flat as Fuck
Instead of saying motherfucker you can just say Oedipus
Half our generation wouldn’t even understand that
yes you are right the thousands of notes on this post prove how ignorant our generation is. only you are intelligent. you are the chosen one.
only real Ancient Greek kids would understand
reblog if ur a tru 650BC kid
please behold the 24 Hours of Lemons race, in which you can only spend $500 total on a car to cross country race for 24 hours
named after the legendary 24 hour Le Mans race, Lemons rallies barely legal cars in an endurance race across America. had the privilege of sharing the freeway with this race and seeing the absolute art od this event
This is so American I could CRY
oh this is nothing. some of my favorite lemons entries are:
an airplane stuck on a toyota minivan
this miata built by rocket scientists
the mr2 boat
the nyan cat bmw that i think actually played the song at all times
the homer simpson car built by uranium workers
this limo whose brakes caught on fire
the dumbest corolla and supra wearing funny hats
and so much more. 24 hours of lemons my beloved
im laughing so hard because no matter what song you listen to
spiderman dances to the beat
no matter what song ive been testing it and lauing my ass off for an hour
hey guys do you want to circulate the heirloom dancing spiderman again i feel like we could stand to do that
“ugh these characters just feel like someone’s OCs :///”
buddy i have some news about all of fiction
Adolf von Becker (1831 - 1909) - The Cat on the Pillow. Oil on canvas.
if i don’t reblog this, assume I’m dead.
Wh-what do you mean it’s from a birthday cake
We could have been eating him
You know that whatever character did those problematic things isn't like. Real, right?
You are aware that a fictional character is just a rhetorical construct designed to fulfill a narrative/thematic purpose right? That their actions are written by an author who wants to use them to explore complex ideas and moral gray areas within the safe confines of fiction right? That they aren't a real person who has killed real people right?
source
People are like “it’s so beautiful no clouds at all” it could use a little clouds if I had to be honest.
it literally could use a little clouds if i had to be honest
awww, that so cute, you must have worked so- OH.
