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Batman gives each of his Robins a different code to use when they’re in trouble and need immediate extraction. He promises that when they call, he’ll drop everything just to get to them, come hell or high water.

Jason, during his time with the League, shares his code with Damian, to be used “only in the direst of circumstances, when you have exhausted all other options.” He doesn’t know if Bruce will answer, given how fractured their relationship was before he died, but it is better than nothing. Every tool counts when they live such dangerous lives.

Damian uses it exactly once, and Bruce, who still feels the loss of his son like a yawning chasm in his chest, responds to it even though he knows it can’t be Jason because Jason’s dead. What he finds, instead of Jason, is a boy in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-small feet, with a face that Bruce sees himself and Talia in, requesting asylum from a grandfather who wishes to possess his body. Bruce doesn’t question how this boy who is so clearly his son knew the code. Talia al Ghul is resourceful and places family above all; the code is not beyond her abilities to discover, and she is not above using Bruce’s desperate love for his dead son to ensure that hers does not meet the same fate.

Bruce takes Damian in, because of course he does, and since Jason is dead he allows Damian to keep using the code. After all, it’s not like Jason is alive to use it, right? If someone uses the code, there’s no one it could be but Damian, right?

The next time the code is used, Bruce traces the location to Gotham even though Damian was supposed to be in Bludhaven visiting Dick. But whatever happened that resulted in Damian being in Gotham can wait, because he has already failed one son and he will not fail another, his son is in trouble and he needs to get to him, he needs to—

What he finds, instead of Damian, is a boy (just eighteen, too young, but also too old, but also he will always be a boy to him) in League garbs, drenched in blood from the tips of his midnight-black hair to his too-large feet (when had he gotten so big), wearing the face of his dead son.

(Who, maybe, just maybe, may no longer be so dead.)

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honestly the idea that the gotham public don't really understand or know the players in the wayne family makes a lot more sense to me upon realising that we, a terminally online public, do not know how many children elon musk has and the number he publicly acknowledges seems to change every time he provides one, often going down instead of up. no one is discussing this except the insane bitches of conservative women's talk television. bruce wayne's bizarre family in the public eye is a writing non-issue for your fanfics in a world where one of the most publicly recognisable people on the planet is such a goddamn freak. thank u mr musk

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Some small details for a character learning sword fighting for the first time:

- sore wrists

- blisters on hands

- every movement opens you up to be hit

- they will hit the tops of their arm and own sides with the sword while learning

- there is a primal sixth sense when you know you’re being toyed with

And, for your typically nonviolent characters.

You don’t aim for the swords. You aim for the person holding the sword.

It sounds so obvious but needs to be accepted. Actively. When holding a sword you have to understand you’re attacking another person. Even to block you have to aim your blocks at the other person or they won’t be strong enough to actually protect yourself.

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It's not just erasure of queer characters. It's disrespect of Wilde's memory in the worst way. Oscar Wilde went to JAIL for being gay and his book was used as evidence against him. This was his only novel and they censored it to make it less queer even back then.

This is a crime.

Anyway boycott the modern adaptation of Dorian Gray.

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Poor Zuko

He just wanted to join the Gaang but now the blind girl is moving metal, the sweet watergirl is bending blood and the kid is talking to spirits

At least he can count on Sokka to be normal. Oh, where did you say that sword was from?

Yeah, that’s right, fucking outer space

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Selina has the seal of approval from both Bruce's fathers. Now we need Selina and Martha to meet.

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Dick*doing a magic trick* pick a card, any card.

Jason: Okay

Dick:

Dick: Jason, give me back my credit card.

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I want a JL fic that borrows from X-Men where Clark gets hit on the head a little too hard with something imbued by Kryptonite and suddenly he can’t turn off his heat vision. Cue angsty fic where he’s stumbling around with his eyes clenched shut trying not to get too upset/angry because emotion seems to make it worse, and then suddenly Bruce’s hands land on his shoulders. Calm settles over him. Someone’s talking in his ear, low and reassuring, asking him to open his eyes, that it’s safe, nothing will happen.

Clark opens his eyes, feeling the last of the heat vision fade away. Bruce’s face is inches away from his own. He never doubted Clark for a second. He never feared death, the awful kind of brain-boiling death that awaited him, should Clark fail.

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All the robins: Sometimes, I don’t realize an event was traumatic until I tell it as a funny story and notice everyone is staring at me weird.

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Dick, sighing: it’s hard being the only emotionally adjusted one in this family

Tim: LOUDDDD incorrect buzzer

Jason: you’re the most like Bruce out of all of us, and that man isnt exactly the poster child for emotional stability

Damian: I concur, while Timothy and Jason see their feelings as afterthoughts, and fear mine underminded - you, Richard, brood and suppress until the miscommunication blows up in your face, just like father.

Tim: exactly, the most expressive and normal one of our colony are the Batgirls… and that’s saying something