SO late, but I blame it on my unintentional hiatus from comics that it took me this long to come across this excellent preview from the upcoming Wonder Woman#58 (I picked my fave bits, but the whole thing is SO SO GOOD). G Willow Wilson and Cary Nord are giving me *exactly* what I want! Steve Trevor: Resident Mansel-in-Distress.
i realize i’m maybe like, the Nichest of markets here, but i really really really desperately want to watch further adventures of Diana Prince, Curator of Antiquities™
…like, imagine the interdepartmental meetings
Diana: we have recently acquired several exquisite pieces of very early minoan kamares ware. i feel a refresh of the gallery might encourage our visitors to–
some marketing dipshit: look, we can’t get people in the door for pottery. we need another big show, like can you get a vermeer or–
Diana of Themiscrya, Amazon, God-Killer, Daughter of Hippolyta: pottery is important
some marketing dipshit, lightly pissing himself: i agree
Not only will I join you in the Nichest of Markets, but I am suddenly stricken by the dismay that can only come from a depressing awareness of how niche this market is. Does anyone…like…have fic?
“Here you are, Ms. Prince,” says the mail currier. He grabs the tablet from his back pocket, presenting it to her. “If you’ll just sign right there…”
“Of course,” says Diana. She scrawls her name, and the currier dutifully passes over the package. It is reasonably sized, stocky, with the words FRAGILE, HANDLE WITH CARE written along the edges of the Wayne Enterprises logo. “Same time next week?”
The currier laughs. “More than likely, I’d wager. Weird that Mr. Wayne has taken a sudden interest in supplementing the Louvre with his own private collection, but hey. Billionaires, right? Who knows what they’re thinking.”
Diana thinks of the museums in Gotham, filled to the brim with some of the world’s most beautiful antiquities and artifacts, and about Bruce Wayne who cares not a lick about any one them but takes ownership of them anyway for the sole purpose of having free exhibitions open to the general public five days a week. She smiles, agrees, and waves the currier off, until the next time.
She is examining the dish (Uruk period, likely kiln production, as it is a strange almost-blue tint that suggests a high-temperature controlled oven), when Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts knocks lightly on her half-open door and lets herself in.
“New delivery?” she asks, nodding to the dish.
“Yes.” Carefully, Diana puts the dish back in its box. She makes a note to have one of her assistants come by later to pick it up and send it down to the lab for testing. “The meeting?”
“Oh, uh.” Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts clears her throat and looks briefly at the floor, embarrassed. Diana lets her have a moment, used to the reaction. “Yeah. Want to walk together?”
Diana is already walking around her, throwing her disposable gloves in the garbage as she passes. “Sure,” she says anyway and waits for Isabell by the door. Isabell jolts when she realizes Diana is already ahead of her. Diana politely chooses to ignore that.
It’s only when she is seated besides Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts and Haruki in charge of philanthropic outreach that she remembers: Timothy in charge of corporate marketing is going to be at this meeting as well.
She nearly groans aloud, already anticipating his tirade on diminishing returns this financial quarter and his chart predicting a downward trend of attendance among younger visitors.
Timothy in charge of corporate marketing does not disappoint. After the heads of every department say their piece and give the customary updates, Timothy in charge of corporate marketing has an assistant hold out a poster board detailing their declining revenue and inability to attract attention. For nearly half the appointed time for the meeting, he speaks, pointing back to his poster board at regular intervals with frothing enthusiasm.
“Well,” says Diana, when Timothy in charge of corporate marketing finally allows the department heads to speak. “We have recently acquired several exquisite pieces of Early Minoan Kamares ware. I feel a refresh of the gallery might encourage our visitors to—”
“Ms. Prince,” Timothy in charge of corporate marketing interrupts. He is smiling, not unkindly, in the way a headmaster might at a particularly rambunctious child. Diana feels her fist curl, despite herself. “We can’t get people in the door for pottery.” He laughs. “No, no, we’d need something bigger. Grander, you understand. Something that will hold our visitors’ attention. Perhaps if you could get a Vermeer, yes? I hear you’ve been receiving packages from Bruce Wayne himself, and he has a lovely piece, if I do remember correctly. Maybe try asking—”
The way Timothy in charge of corporate marketing says asking, Diana knows that is far from what he actually means. She is about as likely to follow through with that as she is to ask Timothy for anything.
As calmly as she can, she places both hands atop the table and uncurls her fists. Below her fingers, a minuscule part of the grained wood chips. She extends her spine, sitting straight, and beside her, Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts swallows.
“Tim,” she cuts in. “For how many quarters have our returns, as you keep reminding us, diminished?”
Timothy in charge of corporate marketing blinks. He squints. “Well, I would say for nearly six quarters now.”
“Hm. And remind me, how long have you been with us here?”
The room has the same quality of quiet that Diana is intimately familiar with, bordering on dangerous.
“Nearly six quarters, if memory serves,” says Diana.
“Now, Ms. Prince,” Timothy in charge of corporate marketing blusters, “if you are implying that somehow I am responsible for the state of our returns—”
“I am not implying anything. Just perhaps that big shows and singular centerpieces are not the way for us to go. Isabell?”
Isabell in charge of Eastern Eurasian arts jolts and looks up at her, wide-eyed. “Yes?”
“Didn’t you recently acquire some newly discovered Jomon pieces?”
“Yes.”
“Of course, it’s a matter of opinion, but if we were to redesign the gallery to incorporate the different wares from different eras and locales, it might encourage our visitors to learn more about them and could even encourage repeat visits.”
“I suppose…” allows Timothy in charge of corporate marketing.
Diana stares at him, the same way she might have once stared down her own mother to let her leave Themyscira or even looked down on Ares as he tried to tempt her to his side. She stares at him, and remembers with a certainty that has been granted to her after years in man’s world that he is but a man and like any man, he is fragile and breakable, when she is not.
“Pottery is important, Tim,” she says.
Trembling, unable to meet her eye, Timothy in charge of corporate marketing agrees.
YOU DID THE THING YOU WENT FORTH AND DID IT I SALUTE YOU !!!!!!!!!!!!!
Random Headcanon: Wonder Woman can break both curses that require the kiss of a princess and curses that require the kiss of a prince; the former because she’s officially a princess of Themyscira, and the latter because, since her civilian alias is Diana Prince, she is, in fact, technically “a Prince”, and curses love puns.
The League was introduced to Dick indirectly. For sure, they knew Batman had a kid — but they thought it was more of a “mentor- protege” type situation than a “father-son” thing like what they had witnessed in the conference room.
No one knew that Batman could be so…sweet and attentive. They knew he was caring and protective, but not sweet. Not attentive.
Flash didn’t even know Batman’s voice could go higher than the monotonous, raspy voice he always had.
It was cute. Odd, but cute.
They had been discussing budgets for the upcoming year and Batman was about to speak his piece when his phone rang. It was a loud buzzing sound that made him pause and stand up from the table.
Batman: Excuse me.
Flash, Wonder Woman, Superman and Green Lantern watched Batman as he walked to the corner and turned away from them.
Batman: Hello? Why aren’t you sleeping?
Was that Batman’s voice? Barry thought. Could he sound so…gentle?
Batman: You have to go to bed or you’re gonna be grumpy in the morning.
Flash looked at Wonder Woman, who was smiling to herself as she watched.
Batman: You’re waiting for me? I won’t be home till late, though. I know I have to tuck you in, baby.
Baby?Baby?
Batman put his hand on his hip and if Flash craned his neck far enough he could see a smile on Batman’s face.
Batman: Can you at least put on your pajamas and brush your teeth? You know how to brush your teeth.
Flash heard a high, childish voice whine through the phone.
Dick:I want you to do it! Please!
Batman: If I brush your teeth you’re going straight to bed, you know that right?
Dick:No!
Batman: Yes! No stories, no nothing. Straight to bed!
Dick:Okay I’ll do it myself but you have to tuck me in!
The kid had to be about six — definitely no older than eight.
Batman: Okay, I promise. I’ll be home in thirty minutes.
Dick:Kay! I love you!
Batman: I love you more.
The kid’s voice got quieter and Flash couldn’t hear anymore.
Batman: Yes, I miss you too. Okay. Bye. Yes, I promise. The longer you keep me on the phone the longer it’s gonna take for me to get home. Okay, fine. So many hugs, I promise. Okay. Okay. Bye.
Batman slipped the phone back in his pocket and turned around.
Batman: What?
Flash looked around the table and couldn’t help but smile as everyone else smiled at Batman.
Wonder Woman: That was cute.
Batman: Let’s move on.
Green Lantern: No seriously. That was so cute.
Batman: Alright.
Superman: I didn’t know you could be so mushy.
Batman: Oh, please.
Flash: I just didn’t know your voice could go that high.
Jason, in full Red Hood gear: Hey mom, can I borrow one of those new Thanagarian guns you guys got?
Diana: Sure, sweetie.
The rest of the League:
Bruce: *sighs*
The rest of the League:
The rest of the League:
Hal:wtf
Could you imagine Hal is now convinced that Hood is. Deadly serious. And panics thinking Batman and WW are Hood’s parents. He’d be terrified of that kid
Bruce would be so torn between making Jason stop low key terrorizing the rest of the justice league and enjoying watching Hal squirm.
Dick: Are you going to do anything?
Bruce:Hrn.
*Both watching as Hal not so subtly scoots away from where Jason is standing*
Bruce:*smirks*
Dick: You’re enjoying this, aren’t you.
Okay random HC continuation of this, but imagine Red Hood showing up to help with something somewhere, and the Bad Guys™️ freak out and are cussing up a storm when they see him, and one of them goes, “That’s Wonder Woman’s kid!” and just runs away.
Can you imagine the look of joyful pride on Jason’s face? (Not that anyone else would see it. Helmet and all)
Can you see Bruce’s face doing that pained look of resignation thing as Red Hood is being recognized as Diana’s kid, not his?
Do you think Batman would subtly try to make it known that Red Hood was hischild?
Can you visualize Lois or Clark coming up to interview members of the Justice League and asking Batman with an entirely straight face if he’s mentoring Wonder Woman’s son, or maybe how they approach co-parenting?
Some magazine doing a spread on Wonder Woman and Batman’s “failed romance” and how that led to Red Hood terrorizing Gotham criminals for a bit.
Oliver framing it and sending it to Bruce for Christmas.
Donna claiming Jason as her little brother.
Dick protesting that.
Hal avoiding Red Hood, except now when confronted about it he says it’s because Red Hood is Diana’s kid.
Batman losing to mom!Diana in intimidation factor.
Jason enjoying every second of this.
Literally every gothamite now when they see Jason: Oh my god it’s Wonder Woman’s kid! How cool is it that we have an Amazon’s child protecting us!
Bruce vibrating on the spot and pointing aggressively at Red Hood: He’s literally wearing a BAT symbol! He’s MY kid >:(
Your tags too though
Diana is certainly the cooler parent and always will be, sorry Bruce
Jason, handing him a Justice League roster: Well, you’ve already got Supes. Who else were you thinking about?
Bruce: *internal screaming*
Imagine how Jason’s goon-children react to thinking their boss-dad is Wonder Woman’s son
Jason is now only the best dad, he’s the coolest dad.
Also, would that throw his age into question? Like would his goon-children look at him and be like, eh, he looks mid twenties, but his mom’s an Amazon, ya know? Could be twenty five. Could be a few hundred. Who knows.
So since the goon-children don’t actually know how old Jason is, this implies that who ever is in charge of decorations for his yearly birthday surprise party, gets to just pick a number and that’s what they go with.
After the first few years Jason says if they ever pick the right number he’ll tell them but so far all the goons have learned it’s that Jason isn’t 99, 75, 25, 201, 107, 69 (Ted thinks he’s the funny one) or 42.
