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I'll count the points in the end, so I don't even know who'll win (lose?).
place your bets folks
Dick
Jason
Tim
Stephanie
Damian
Voting ended onJul 12, 2024
Disclaimer: i'm not asking 'who eats the most apples' i ask who eats apples in the most similiar number to batman. Also it's who's similiar to batman not to bruce. I think it's a big dufference. I'm also not calculating who should be Batman, who would be Batman. I just take Batman as a line and mesure up the rest.
Fighting style (hand to hand):
Jason
Damian
Stephanie
Tim
Dick
Emotional capacity:
Tim
Dick
Stephanie
Jason
Damian
Communication skillz: (tough one)
Jason (Tim?)
Tim (Jason?)
Damian
Stephanie (Dick?)
Dick (Stephanie?)
The Code: (it's Cass they all suck at it)
Dick
Tim
Stephanie
Damian
Jason
Being in a team:
Dick
Jason
Tim (cough yj 1998 cough)
Stephanie
Damian
Kids skills:
Damian (suprisingly)
Stephanie
Jason
Dick
Tim
Greatest Detective: (loser nickname)
Tim
Dick (Stephanie?)
Stephanie (Dick?)
Damian
Jason
Gotham obsession:
Jason
Damian
Steph
Dick
Tim
Execution:
Dick
Jason
Damian
Tim
Stephanie
Motivations:
Dick
Stephanie (Jason?)
Jason (Stephanie?)
Tim
Damian (srr little dude)
I am justice I am night yada yada:
Jason
Damian
Tim
Stephanie
Dick
Sidekicks:
Dick
Jason
Damian
Stephanie
Tim
Final ranking:
Jason, 42 points. Solid. A little suprising.
Dick, 40 p. More than i thought tbh
Damian, 34 p. He's little. He'll grow.
Stephanie, 33 p. One point from D???
Tim, 28 p. Huh?! I didn't think he'd win, but... that's like... very little...
Edit 1. @aliteralchicken made a good point
Combat not hand to hand
Stephanie
Tim
Damian
Dick
Jason
Jason/Dick, 42
Also some edits up there in original
After edit 1.
In conclusion: it is Damian who is a loser now (or a winner. But not really. Bc Damian actually wants to be like Bruce...)
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pirate au fic; i’ll tell you a tale of a pirate queen (1/ )
pirate au | multi-chapter | au | multiple parts | historical au | 18th century | currently no msr (if i continue, comes later) | i’ll post to ao3 tomorrow | wc: 1,123 |
A tale of a Pirate Queen.
I’m gonna try my best to continue and complete this though I can’t say when the next chapter(s) will be cause I think I want to write some more before I post again. Anyway, this hit me and wouldn’t leave me alone. I hope you like it :)
@today-in-fic
- - -
Chapter One: Bound To The Sea Below
She pulls out the tie, shakes out her hair, the wind blowing freely through the strands, tangling the red curls around each other. Her mother would be grabbing the hairbrush and telling her to sit.
But Mother isn’t here right now. Nobody is. Dana can hear chatter behind her, the occasional yell, but she is oblivious to it all. Just the wind in her ears and against her face, her eyes shut as she inhales the salty air.
This was where she belonged, without any rhyme or reason, sailing along the sea, bringing goods to other cities and countries. It just felt right to be here. It felt like home.
She grips the rope tighter, holding on as she adjusts her feet on the rails. One accidental step and she’s falling into the water below, it doesn’t scare her, though. Since she was eight years old, she had been climbing the railings such to everyone’s concern, but not once has she fell off. She even got brave enough to close her eyes and fly.
When she reopens them, her heart sinks a little at the sight of Charles Town Port coming into view. That was it, the adventure was over. It could be months, maybe even years, till she got to come along again.
Being on land, trapped in that house could be tortured some days. Dana couldn’t wait till she was free, until she could sail a ship of her own.
“You need to get down Dana,” she hears Billy, her brother, say to her. “Pa said we’re docking soon.”
His footsteps grow quieter the further he walks away. Dana takes one good look at the water, says her goodbyes, and climbs down. She gathers her hair into a low ponytail and places her very own cocked-hat on her head, and runs towards the cabin.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.
“Can’t I come with you?”
Bags packed, ready to leave any moment, 11 year old Dana sits on the second to last stair watching as her father is about to set off to sea without her.
Her father kneels at the base of the stairs while her mother looks on. He places a hand atop of her clasped ones.
“I wish you could,” he tells her sincerely. “But the journey is too long. Even Billy isn’t going.”
Her brother is also with them, standing off to the side. His grunt tells her he is just as displeased with this arrangement as she is.
Dana pouts and looks towards the floor. It had been almost a year since her last trip, she was itching to go on another one.
“You’re going to miss my birthday.” The trip would last months, an order to be delivered to Spain.
“I will,” her father tells her, guilt laced in his voice. One of many birthdays missed. “But I promise I’ll bring you something back, okay?”
It would have to suffice. Her father had brought many things back with him for various missed birthdays, each gift different and better than the last, though her favourite was the snow globe he brought back from France. The thought of what he would bring her this time gives her a spark of excitement. A smile spreads across her face despite her disappointment. Dana nods.
“Good.” He flicks her nose and she giggles before launching herself into his arms. “I’ll miss you Ahab,” she says into his shoulder.
“I’ll miss you too, Starbuck.”
.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
On March 7th, there are no presents. There is no father.
Coldness drifts its way through the house, silence following in it’s steps. Soon, her mother’s cries taken silence’s place as it drags through the rooms of the house. March 7th is a cold and harsh day.
Sorrow turns itself into rage, rips through her tiny body as she claws at her bedding and curtains, barrels drawers over, launches objects off her shelves with her arm, they come crashing to the ground.
Her room is a mess and Dana falls against the wall, her hands covering her face as sobs tear themselves out of her, grief pouring out of her.
In the centre of it all lies the snow globe. It catches her eyes and Dana crawls towards it. It’s partially cracked but mostly intact. A ship riding the waves of an ocean. She closes her eyes and holds the globe to her body, flopping down onto the heap.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.
Billy takes over the orders, becomes Captain of The Lassie.
Dana knew that the death of her father meant no more trips, that for the next six or so years, she would never be able to set foot on one. Just as her father was taken before her far too soon, Dana hadn’t wanted that same thing to happen.
On the day Billy was set to make his first orders as Captain, Dana had come barrelling down the stairs, desperate to tag along one last time.
Dressed in her pants, her hair tied back, the disguise she always wore, she begged her brother to let her come along.
“You take up too much space,” her brother had told her.
Dana had shook her head. “I’ll stay out of the way, please.” Desperation in her voice and on her face, she needed to ride the sea. “Pa always let me, regardless.”
“Aye,” says Billy. “And Pa could’ve got in a lot of trouble, like I can now. Besides, girls bring bad luck and I don’t think we want anymore of that.” He goes to grab his bags, to leave her behind. Dana’s heart sinks. Just one last trip…
Billy stops before he leaves, his head against the doorframe and a loud sigh exiting his mouth. He looks towards his sister who fights to keep the tears from her eyes.
“This is the last one.”
A smile spreads across her lips, tears turning into joy.
.:.:.:.:.:.:.
Dana would capture the smell of the sea in a bottle if she could, would place it on the shelf. The sea killed her father but it was still home regardless of its danger.
This trip was her last trip, and was treated as such. She arrived home, a clearer memory of the water in her mind, a smile on her face.
Her sailing clothes are taken from her, locked with a chest in her mother’s room. She keeps her hat, however, hides it at the back of her closet but the day she can take it out and wear it again.
The next day, the corsets feels tighter, an anchor keeping her in place. Her hair is brushed until the tangles are free and it shines. The smell of the sea is nothing more than a distant memory. Dana becomes a vessel docked on the shore.
