I think it’d be funny if Dick and Jason, due to wearing bright yellow capes on the job for years, are capable of stealth to a frankly unhinged degree. They barely have to try anymore it’s so second nature. Dick can just completely disappear while in the loudest neon clothes imaginable. Jason is constantly startling people who don’t understand how they missed a guy the size of a fridge standing right there. Bruce is extremely grateful for his unbreakable poker face because they have both startled him by accident and would never ever let him live it down if they knew.
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how could you like the colour yellow
see a therapist immediately
I actually used to hate it! Like, actually despise it! Yellow was too bright, too loud, discordant, unruly, and clashed with everything. Nothing like what I wanted in my life, nothing I wanted to be.
When I first moved away from home, everything I owned was black. Jet back. As black as I could get. Smooth, cool, sleek, discrete, calm, unassuming. Flexible, cohesive, agreeable black. Fashionable black.
I had a really, really bad time. Unrelated to the decor. It was my first year out of a toxic place I'd grown used to my whole life, my first year acknowledging a mental illness I'd believed to be normal, my first year fending for myself with very little money or sleep or companionship.
I'd grown up on instant white rice and unseasoned ground beef. One day I realized that everything I'd been raised on tasted like cardboard. While out on an assignment, I passed a tent with a woman selling spices, and bought myself some turmeric. I went home and tried making curry with it. It was so yellow.
Another time, my professor took us out to a modern art gallery. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but when we got there, the whole building had been painted bright sunshine yellow.
The artist's theme was "happiness".
What it is. How we make it. How to share it.
All bright, lovely yellow.
The house I grew up in was beige. The walls were white. The appliances were post 9/11 stainless steel. My job was to be quiet, compliant, presentable and agreeable.
Black goes with everything. Black is neutral. Black is quiet, reserved, elegant and mysterious.
Yellow is warm. Yellow does what it wants. Yellow tastes sweet and spicy and hot and cool, like a summer breeze, like sunflower petals, powdery like dust on a long dirt road and soothing like well-worn linen.
I still like the look of black. I like the look of most colors. But I like the way that Yellow makes me feel.
Do you understand?
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I got my hair cut the other day and of course I had to draw the dca boys running a hair salon:
Sun would be so effortlessly charming. Always chatting away with customers, explaining each product he uses and how to best maintain and style their hair.
Moon I can see being popular with the less chattier customers (like me) but over time they begin to open up. I imagine he hums while working. Otherwise, he's all ears for the newest gossip.
(The clipped up hat idea came from @bamsara's solar lunacy doodles!)
Also I love the popular headcanon that the dca can speak other languages, so I can imagine them being a hit with the aunties.
The full sketch page under cut! And some of my other thoughts
Other thoughts about this... AU? Can I call it an AU? Feels kinda small for an AU, but whatever:
Eclipse works there too! Haven't decided if it would be canon or fanon Eclipse, though I really like the image of 4-armed Eclipse working on 2 clients at once (plus, the nickname Clip is perfect for this scenario)
of course they're great with kids! They'd be able to console kids that get scared of getting their hair cut. Sun would do a little trick and tell them how good and brave they are all the way through. Moon would console them and hum a soothing song (or hey maybe they notice the kid's wearing a disney shirt and starts humming some showtunes). Every kid gets a candydrop and a balloon on their way out.
y/n works at the hair salon as a part-timer and does tasks around the salon like sweeping, arranging bookings, washing hair, etc. They don't really care too much about their own hair, but the boys are always offering to style it, dye it, braid it. With y/n's permission, the boys always toy with their hair—patting it, combing their hands through it, brushing it over y/n's ear, ruffling it.
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