Everyone thinks that dick was the golden child when in reality it was Jason.
Clark: Bruce who was your favourite robin?
Dick: obviously it’s me?
Tim: it’s dick
Damian: I am superior robin, it will be me.
Bruce: it’s Jason
Everyone: WHAT?!?!???
Bruce: why are you so surprised? He didn’t jump on too my chandeliers which I had to replace each week
*everyone looks at dick*
Bruce: he didn’t drop out of school
*everyone looks at tim*
Bruce: I didn’t have to stop him from killing everyone who annoyed him
*everyone looks at Damian*
Bruce: in fact, he enjoyed school and handed all his homework in on time, we would spend hours in the library reading his favourite classics. He even helped Alfred with most of the cooking, He was my little boy
Dani is tired of Danny and Dan always worrying about her.
"Oh, you're a homeless orphan runaway. Oh, you don't have a home. Oh, you don't have an identity. Oh woe, your education!"
Honestly, their mother-henning and Vlad's attempts to apologize to her are what's keeping her away.
She's perfectly happy where she is.
She does, in fact, have a family. She does, in fact, have a home. She does, as a matter of fucking fact, have a perfectly legal identity.
It's just not in America.
Dani has a lot of forms, just like her progenitor. One of them is a mermaid.
Dani is a registered citizen of Atlantis. She lives in a very well funded orphanage, and the other kids are her family. She actually gets an education, since public education is mandatory for all Atlanteans.
In fact, she's getting a better education than Danny or Dan.
tagged by @iite-cool (well vi tagged my main but i use this blog more LMAO) // no pressure tags: @whats-belay @stargirlrchive @oddityinthesky @tomiesdiet @dmitriene <33 mwah i love u all !!!
Jude in TCP was something else. Imagine poisoning yourself on the daily, still doing physically challenging missions while balancing the mental load of being bullied and harboring a secret life, sleep depriving yourself and STILL attending daily family dinners and classes.
the sliding door from the living room reveals dark, and the night, and the quiet.
i am sitting on my own, content in the silence,
reading a non-fiction book about the nature of stories.
but
my flatmate owns the loudest car i’ve ever heard.
it roars in, and the garage gate opens,
and almost immediately i get up
and head upstairs.
i am nearly thirty. i am the head tenant of this house
and i was the person to find him, and say yes to him moving in
after he was wondrous and amazed at the prospect of having
a garage and no longer having to be homeless and sleeping in his car.
(i’ve been homeless too. my mother didn’t understand, but i get it.)
he makes messes and doesn’t clean up after himself.
he argues about rent and tries to push it down.
he complains half the time and screams the other half,
but never at me.
all of these things would be manageable
if that exact trigger with the car
wasn’t identical
to
sitting in my childhood home, reading
a fantasy book, an escapism book
and the gate clicking open, the family car pulling in
and my parents getting out of the car
already screaming at each other
and me knowing
that the moment the front door opens
i’ll be in the fight too,
just as a convenient target.
and i dread it.
i dreaded being caught up in yet another fight
when i was already almost overwhelmed
from school and grades and expectations
comparisons to my better sister
fights which i could never win, because
my father was a monster of logic
and my mother a master of guilt-trips
i dread speaking to my flatmate,
a man i allowed into my home.
he complains half the time and screams the other
at his mother, at his friends,
and every time the gate lifts and his car roars in
i get up and leave the room.