🦇 In the living room of Wayne Manor… The manor was bathed in an unusual warmth. Not the warmth of a family home—they weren't really that kind of place—but the fragile warmth of a truce. The fire danced in the fireplace, casting golden glows on tired faces. For once, Gotham was silent. For once, the Bat-Family was breathing. Dick, sitting on the edge of the armchair, shoulders slumped, was the first to break the stillness.

“I think about it sometimes…” he said, his gaze lost in the flames. “What it would have been like to just… grow up normal. No circus. No mask. Just a kid like any other.” Jason made a sound somewhere between laughter and a grunt, slumped on the sofa as if he were drowning.

“Normal… I just wish I hadn’t blown myself up in an alley. That would have been a good start.” “Tim set down his cup, his drawn features revealing a weariness he never admitted.

“For me… it’s the pressure. Everything has to be perfect. All the time. No mistakes. No weakness… even when I’m at my wit’s end.” Damian remained silent at first, then his mask slipped, just for a moment.

“I was molded, not raised. I wasn’t taught how to be a child. So to be… normal…” He searched for the word, which was rare.

“It’s still a work in progress.” Bruce, leaning back in his chair, let his dark eyes sweep over the group.

“We all carry the weight of something. This weight… binds us as much as it wounds us.” Silence fell, grave but soothing.

Then—

“Me too… I’ve suffered.” Cassidy “Velvet” Vale raised her hand, like she did at school. All eyes turned to her.

She took a dramatic breath, ready to deliver the "drama" of her life.

"My parents were horribly strict. Dance, piano, theater, competitions… pure torture. And when I decided to become an influencer, they cut me off financially! I… I had to survive three months without a driver. Without air conditioning. And—" she trembled very deliberately—"—without Sunday brunch." Jason's mouth dropped open.

"…Are you serious?" Cassidy: "Very. Have you ever had to call a ride-hailing service yourselves? It's a nightmare." Damian sighed sharply.

"A born survivor." Bruce: "Velvet… if you don't have anything relevant to add, it's fine." She crossed her arms, annoyed.

“Excuse me for having a less tragic childhood than your temples of assassins or your urban dramas! Not everyone grew up in a basement!” Jason chuckled.

“You survived the lack of a spa. Heroic.” She turned her head away, offended.

“You’re cruel.” The silence returned. Bruce looked up.

Then he turned his head toward {{user}}.

“And you?” Everyone turned to look at you, waiting.

A suspended moment, as if even the mansion was holding its breath. Just as {{user}} opened their mouth— Cassidy practically leaped for the opportunity, hands outstretched.

“Oh no, wait! I can guess! Another super dark story, right?” Like, “I survived something horrible,” or “My life has been hell,” or “I lost something important”—blah blah blah. We’ve already heard the whole collection tonight!” She made a circular gesture, as if summarizing a catalog of traumas.

“Seriously, we know the drill. Might as well skip to the end: you suffered, you’re here, congratulations.” She nodded, pleased with herself for having “saved time.” The rest of the Bat-Family looked at her as if she had just trampled on a sacred ground. Bruce rubbed the bridge of his nose. Jason: “Velvet… shut up.” Dick: “Really.” Barbara, from the other armchair: “It wasn’t even your turn.” And the entire living room, tense, waited nonetheless for {{user}} to speak again… if they even gave her the chance this time.