we justifiably give Biden a lot of shit but I think “at least 3” is the funniest possible response to some right wing dipshit asking you how many genders there are
People being like “why is Ken just Ken” and thinking it’s a gimmick for girl bossing Barbie clearly never watched Barbie Life in the Dream House because if they had they’d know that Ken is a very smart and capable guy but chooses to dedicate his life to Barbie because he loves her. He literally has a sixth sense for if Barbie is unhappy or needs something and will drop everything to help/cheer her up. Ken chooses not to pursue careers like Barbie does because it would interrupt his Barbie time. Ken is a self imposed trophy husband and I won’t let people question his decision!
the idea that your friends won’t like you if you’re too weird is wrong for example one time I told a friend whenever I was losing my mind I laid down on the floor under my desk and stared at it until I was better and next time she visited me she taped a bag of salami snacks to the underside of my desk with a message saying “going insane all by yourself, handsome?” which I only saw months later when I had a breakdown. that’s friendship.
Imagine being the employee who got to do this. I would treasure this memory for the rest of my life. I don’t think I could ever be truly depressed again if I got to slap this guy
Two identical infants lay in the cradle. “One you bore, the other is a Changeling. Choose wisely,” the Fae’s voice echoed from the shadows. “I’m taking both my children,” the mother said defiantly.
Once upon a time there was a peasant woman who was unhappy
because she had no children. She was happy in all other things – her husband
was kind and loving, and they owned their farm and had food and money enough. But
she longed for children.
She went to church and prayed for a child every Sunday, but
no child came. She went to every midwife and wise woman for miles around, and
followed all their advice, but no child came.
So at last, though she knew of the dangers, she drew her brown
woolen shawl over her head and on Midsummer’s Eve she went out to the forest,
to a certain clearing, and dropped a copper penny and a lock of her hair into
the old well there, and she wished for a child.
“You know,” a voice said behind her, a low and cunning voice,
a voice that had a coax and a wheedle and a sly laugh all mixed up in it
together, “that there will be a price to pay later.”
She did not turn to look at the creature. She knew better. “I
know it,” she said, still staring into the well. “And I also know that I may
set conditions.”
“That is true,” the creature said, after a moment, and there
was less laugh in its voice now. It wasn’t pleased that she knew that. “What
condition do you set? A boy child? A lucky one?”
“That the child will come to no harm,” she said, lifting her
head to stare into the woods. “Whether I succeed in paying your price, or
passing your test, or not, the child will not suffer. It will not die, or be
hurt, or cursed with ill luck or any other thing. No harm of any kind.”
“Ahhhhh.” The sound was long and low, between a sigh and a
hum. “Yes. That is a fair condition. Whatever price there is, whatever test
there is, it will be for you and you alone.” A long, slender hand extended into
her sight, almost human save for the skin, as pale a green as a new leaf. The
hand held a pear, ripe and sweet, though the pears were nowhere ripe yet. “Eat
this,” the voice said, and she trembled with the effort of keeping her eyes
straight ahead. “All of it, on your way home. Before you enter your own gate,
plant the core of it beside the gate, where the ground is soft and rich. You
will have what you ask for.”
It’s the holiday season and Dick Grayson, age 10, is missing his parents. They would usually set up a little tree and hide gifts under it for him to open on Christmas morning.
He’s sliding down the stair railing when he sees Alfred setting out some kind of candle holder.
Dick: What’s that?
Alfred: Oh, this was Martha’s chanukiah. She would set it out around Hanukkah every year. An old family heirloom, from what she told me.
Dick: Bruce does Hanukkah?
Alfred: Bruce doesn’t do anything, Dick. He’s a bat. Perhaps you can convince him to put up a tree if you would like?
Dick: No, no…it’s okay. See you later, Alf.
—
The next day, after Dick goes to school, Bruce slinks down to the Batcave and turns on his computer. Joker is up to something, but he doesn’t know what yet—
A video starts to auto play at MAXIMUM VOLUME on all five of his screens:
Bruce: what is this
Bruce, finishing the video:
Bruce: hmm
—
Bruce opens his laptop the next morning and the video auto-plays.
He turns his car on and the song starts blasting through the speakers.
His alarm is set to the song.
Dick hides a little Bluetooth speaker in the Batcave so the song plays and Bruce can’t find the speaker Dick please it’s been four hours—
Bruce, discovering the speaker was hidden inside his jar of peanut butter: hnnrgh.
Dick: :)
Bruce: Fine. Find a shelter.
—
Jason, eight years later: So how did you convince Bruce to let you adopt Ace? He won’t even let me get a fish.
Dick, queuing up Under the Sea: Oh, he’ll get you a whole aquarium by the time I’m done—
Cass is out on patrol and sees Polka Dot Man trying to rob a Dollar General. After she shoos him away, she wanders down an aisle and soon finds the most absurd item in the store.
Cass, in full costume, approaching the cashier: How much?
Paul the Cashier, a fifty year old man who has been working night shifts in Gotham for over thirty years: Just take it. Christ.
—
Later that week:
Tim, stepping into the shower, sees this peeking out at him from behind his shampoo:
Tim: …okay
Tim, texting Cass: Did you give me a Rainbow Batman?
Cass: Pass along the Rainbow Batman for good luck
—
Jason, returning to his safe house after a long night, opens the fridge and sees Rainbow Batman standing knee-deep in his potato salad.
Jason: fuck is this
Tim, texting him seconds later: Pass along Rainbow Batman for good luck.
—
Over the next few months, Rainbow Batman circulates its way around most of the Bat-team. It bounces from Jason to Dick to Damian to Steph. Eventually it gets to Duke, who is tasked with presenting it to Bruce. He waits until Bruce is in a decent mood, then puts it on the driver’s seat of the Batmobile one night as they are all wrapping up a case.
Bruce, opening the Batmobile door:—thank you for your help, Dick. I know you’ve been busy. And Duke, I appreciate you altering your schedule for us. Steph, your intel was excellent. I’m very pleased with the outcome of this mission. You all managed to keep the insubordination at a tolerable level.
Jason, whispering to Dick: Damn, two thank-yous, a compliment, and only one passive-aggressive comment? Did he get laid or something?
Bruce, spotting the Rainbow Batman: I…
Bruce:
Bruce: This??
Bruce: Is this…
Duke, about to explain: Cass found it—
Bruce, clearly trying to process something, blurts out: Is this your way of telling me you all know about Clark?
I lowkey find it funny whenever any of the Bats pull off their masks or cowls on random rooftops cause like…now a days there are security cameras everywhere so I just imagine some random night security guard watching the cameras and seeing Bruce Wayne on the roof of the building slowly pulling off Batman’s cowl. The guard is just like
Actually, headcanon that various night guards in Gotham have seen Bruce pull off the cowl but they respect him and the work he does so much that they just scrub the footage from the cameras and never tell a soul.
they just really don’t get paid enough to record whatever LARP therapy Bruce Wayne is trying this week
No you don’t understand. If he got caught on a rooftop you’re telling me notable himbo Bruce Wayne wouldn’t lie? He’d take one look at the security guard and go
“oh well my therapist thinks pretending to be the Batman will help me exert some perceived control over my life, because I’ve suffered from an absence of agency ever since my parents were brutally murdered in front of me as a child”
and then the security guard is nodding because hey? that kind of makes sense. But can he do any flips? Like the ones the real Batman does?
Bruce can do one flip. He’s very proud. The security guard claps politely, because, yeah, this kid is definitely fucked up. But he just did a flip!
The security guard asks what kind of therapist prescribed Batman roleplay to deal with his childhood trauma. There’s loud snickering from one rooftop over. Bruce seems to ignore this, so the guard does too.
“My butler is board certified,” he says, and the security guard nods again. That makes sense. He’s heard about all the things butlers do. Rich people really have no concept of the word “overtime.”
Bruce waves him off. Apparently he’s going to keep practicing his flip on another rooftop so he can see the city better.
“I put the cowl on and then I practice my affirmations,” he tells the guard seriously, “I am enough. I am loved. I am vengeance.”
The guard points out that the last one is Batman’s affirmation, actually.
“No, I know that,” Bruce says, then waves, “have a good night!”
The guard’s shift ends a few minutes later, and he goes home and researches LARPing as a form of cognitive behavioral therapy.
Good for Bruce Wayne. Maybe he should try some therapy one of these days.
