I'm Not Aware How They Come To Know Each Other's True Id

For some reason I truly fully believe that Kuina’s death wasn’t an accident. We know her dad was misogynistic and thought she would never become the world’s greatest swordsman. And that she was a skilled martial artist who could win fights against adults in the dojo with ease. We hear gossip amongst people at the funeral that she “fell down the storehouse steps apparently” which is just hearsay.

You expect me to believe such a talented young martial artist just slipped down the stairs and died?? No. I suspect foul play.

I refuse to accept that the canon is supposed to be an accident.

Dick, on the phone with Roy: I just think that Bruce actually hates me and doesn’t stand to be around me ever

Bruce, standing behind him wearing nightwing socks, nightwing cap, nightwing pants, “father to worlds best son” t-shirt, trying to hide a huge reprint of a picture of him and Dick he brought for Dicks new apartment behind his back:

Batman (2016) #16

I was rewatching Young Justice and the fact that all versions of Robin are the only one forced to keep their secret identity even with their teammates and friends is usually written off as Batman being paranoid. I think it's more than that, that it's his way of giving the kids an 'out'. If they ever decide they don't want to fight crime anyone they have a safe identity to return to, no obligations.

They are children first, soldiers second. Bruce knows better than anyone the loneliness his job brings and of course he would want better for anyone, especially his kids.

Wip of flashpoint Martha Wayne on a date. Haven’t drawn her date yet because I fear letting go of my batblob cheat code and actually drawing Batman.

Feel free to give me tips on how to improve my art :)) I’m new to this

Also, guess the song I’m drawing this to!

If you see a younger sibling dying in one piece rest assured there’s an older sibling running to sacrifice themselves somewhere. You might have to wait like 10 episodes but trust the younger sibling never dies first.

I read somewhere that its common in Arab culture to refer to someone close to you as your organs, implying you can’t live without them. Like how in english someone would say “my heart” (qalbi), in Arabic someone would also use “my liver” (kabidi) “my lungs” (riati). Notably, “my blood” is “Dami” which is funny bc it’s Damian’s shortened nickname.

Damian’s brothers have been using the nickname for years with or without knowing. I propose that as Damian gets closer to them, and Tim in particular, he responds in kind.

He starts to refer to Tim as “tuhali.”

…it means “my spleen.”

(Edit: this has now been confirmed by several Arabic speakers! Except the pronunciation of Dami (as in my blood) and Dami (shortened) are different which is sad. But my spleen idea works! So I’m happy!)

Duke and Jason Being Hood Kids - Part 10

Dick is dreaming. He has to be dreaming. The scene in front of him is a nightmare, but the operative verb is ‘dreaming’ and oh my fucking God.

“My brother, Roy?” He knows he’s shrieking at octaves that probably trigger dogs, but he can’t help it. “My baby brother!”

Jason throws a t-shirt at him. A shirt that he should be wearing, because who gave him permission to be half naked with anyone, much less with Roy Harper?

“You don’t know how to knock?” The younger man’s pissed, but Dick’s so far beyond caring. “Ring a doorbell? Send a text? Jesus, Dick, what if I’d been—“

“Naked?” Dick is pulling at his hair and gesturing wildly, completely ignoring the bleeding wound on his arm that led him to break into his brother’s apartment in the first place. “Or—don’t you fucking move, Roy!”

The disheveled redhead freezes. His hair’s a mess, he’s got a bruise—oh God, a hickey—blooming on his neck, and he’s holding his unzipped pants up with one hand while reaching for the front door with the other.

In retrospect, Dick absolutely could’ve knocked. Or rung the doorbell. Or texted, even. Hell, a quick ‘bullet grazed my arm on patrol, need a stitch or two and a bandaid’ wouldn’t have hurt. In fact, it likely would’ve saved him from tumbling through Jason’s living room window to find his brother pinned to the wall, held up by his thighs with legs wrapped around Roy’s waist, one hand buried in red hair and the other dipping into the other man’s—

Oh my God, Jason’s having sex. The thought rings in his head like a church bell on Sunday morning. My little brother’s been deflowered.

“How long has this been going on?” Dick’s switched to his Nightwing’s Asking The Fucking Questions Now, Asshole voice. “Who—“

Roy steps between Jason and Dick. “Dickie, that’s not—“

“How long have you been defiling my baby brother?”

“Defiling? Jesus, we’re consenting adults!”

“And we’ve been dating for over a year,” Jason interjects. “No defiling…Well, there’s been defiling, but it’s been mutual.”

Dick feels his soul leave his body momentarily. It comes back, but it’s forever scarred by this knowledge now.

“Did anyone else…” His voice is hoarse from all the shrieking. He’s barely holding it together and wants to do some more screaming very soon. “Who knows?”

Jason sighs in exasperation and grabs the shirt he threw Dick’s way. He puts it on and grabs the first aid kit by the coffee table before pushing his older brother onto the couch.

“Duke,” he answers. He pops the kit open and retrieves a set of gloves to check the wound on Dick’s arm. “He’s the only one I told. Tim knows I’m dating someone, but he doesn’t know who. Pretty sure Bruce knows via osmosis or some shit, because he’s Bruce.”

Dick’s not sure if it’s blood loss or shock, or maybe a combination of both, but he’s suddenly reeling and lightheaded.

“Duke?” Jason’s cleaned the wound already. He’s threading a needle for stitches now. “You told Duke? Why not me? Why didn’t Duke tell me?”

Roy, who’s keeping a safe distance from the brothers across the room, snorts incredulously. “Gee, I wonder why. Couldn’t be because you might overreact.”

Dick glares at his friend—possibly murder victim by the end of the night, but he hasn’t decided yet—while Jason completes the first stitch. “I just walked in on you trying to—“

“Engage in perfectly consensual adult activities?” Jason tugs at the thread with more force than is necessary and is satisfied when Dick winces in pain. “In the privacy of my own home? I’m 22, asshole. I can’t get dicked down in peace?”

Soul leaving body again. Might not come back this time.

Jason finishes a third stitch and nods, satisfied that the wound is closed. “And Duke knows that snitches get stitches. He wouldn’t blab without good reason.”

“True that.”

Dick almost jumps out of his skin when Duke, who absolutely wasn’t here a second ago, joins the conversation.

“Chill out, Big Bird,” the teen laughs as he tosses a backpack onto the couch. “Roy texted. Apparently you saw something you weren’t supposed to see and need a ride home. Civvies in the bag, change and we’ll go.”

Dick feels like he’s losing his mind. “You knew! You never said anything!”

Duke shrugs. “First rule of surviving in Gotham, my dude—snitches get stitches. Not my business, not my news. But also, fuck I look like outing people?”

Jason fist-bumps their younger brother and smirks. This is unacceptable. A travesty. A hate crime. Not actually a crime, but it feels like one and Dick hates it.

Oda always does this man he introduces some annoying pervert that’s supposed to be comedic relief except the comedy is just creep behavior. And just as I open my mouth about how I don’t like them, he hits me with the most tragic, heart wrenching, soul sucking back story I have ever seen. And it starts clicking, I see the self loathing behind every word they say, start thinking maybe the pervertedness is an act to keep the serious questions away. Maybe they will never act on these words because they don’t think themselves deserving of anything, much less love.

Then I have to look back and think wtf happened to me?? How did I get here? Why am I crying. Why am I ordering a poster of the pervert? When did I make a million posts about how much I love the pervert?

Bruce saves people because a long time ago on the worst night of his life, no one was there to save him. Cassandra stops killers because a long time ago on the worst night of her life, no one was there to stop her.