#but Damian Wayne is definitely a sitcom kid

[jasontoddsgaythoughts]

Okay back to our regularly unscheduled programming of “The Batfamily as a Sitcom” part two. *end commercial break*

After Cass’ and Jason’s plan fails they enter a four person group chat where they plan a way for Jason and Cass to sneak into the guest rooms without seeing Bruce. Cass tries first but is stopped by Alfred when he knocks on her door to deliver the ballet shoes she left in another room, and to tell her how proud she is that she’s putting herself out there romantically. Jason tries second but Alfred shows up to request they cook breakfast together the next morning, so Jason can show off to Rose and so Alfred can spend quality time with his grandson. As Alfred leaves he notifies Jason that he will be checking in with the rest of the family before going to bed, so Jason texts the group chat that they’ll probably have to wait until Alfred’s done before they can sneak out.

Ten or so minutes later, like a true sitcom, the plan changes to Rose and Kyle sneaking out for a minimal reason like Cass and Jason are too comfortable to move now. Rose tries sneaking out first, but is interrupted when Alfred walks in to offer more blankets and/or a tea before going to bed. Rose appreciates the hospitality but tries her best to get rid of the older man. When Alfred does leave she texts the group chat that it might take a while because Alfred’s still not in bed, and she assumes he’ll check on Kyle next. Kyle doesn’t try to even leave the room, instead he tucks himself into bed believing playing along with Alfred’s nightly visit and looking less suspicious would get him to leave faster. When Alfred enters he raises a brow at Kyle’s relaxed attitude. Instead of being warm like he was with the Batkids and Rose, Alfred gives Kyle the most intense shovel talk of his life and takes the blankets Kyle is already using under the excuse of them being dirty so Kyle will probably need new ones. Needless to say after thirty minutes of waiting Alfred just never returns.

When Kyle complains about his lack of covers to the group chat, the girls ignore him and suggest now is the perfect time to sneak out. With none of them planning anything solid now, they all sneak out at the same time, only for all four to run into Alfred who was waiting patiently for this moment. Instead of trying to lie to him, they come clean about their plans, and this is the cheesy sitcom moment of “You gotta tell your father the truth yada yada, master Jason and miss Cassandra you’re college students now you should be able to talk to your dad yada yada, yes he can be stubborn but he cares about you yada.”

And next morning when they confess at breakfast Bruce is upset, but he understands where they’re coming from after Alfred intervenes by bringing up Bruce’s own sleep over experiences. Bruce agrees to give them more freedom and trust, but the moment comes to a halt when Tim, who is still in a half sleep state, says he thought B was cool with that considering Dick is dating a red head and they sleep over all the time. And as if on cue Dick comes down for breakfast followed by Barbara, Kori, Roy, and Wally who all slept over last night. Cass, Rose, Jason, and Kyle decide they should get breakfast somewhere else as soon as Bruce’s eye starts to twitch… and end of the episode! This episode was not filmed in front of a live studio audience.

follow up to this post here

[alicepooryorick]

I'm just wanting to ramble based off what Sporks saying here BC I'm in line somewhere, bored.

WFA is great for people who, like me, like the Batfamily but like them being a family. It's great for established fans! It's a wonderful comic for us who read the graphic novels and ongoings.

However, it's like DKR or the White Knight. It's for the fans. But it's also one of the most common entry points now. As such, much as with the live action movies or the DKR, it's become a definitive version of Batman. Do I think that's bad? I think a definite version of any character is bad for comics as that kinda defeats the point of the medium. Comics are the way they are because Frank Miller, Geoff Johns, and Neil Gaiman can all write the same character and interpret that character differently. That parts great.

What goes wrong is when we decide someone has the right opinion on a character, we destroy the reason comics are a medium unto their own. Do I think that it's also important to respect core traits of the character (Spiderman and his great responsibility, batman and his hope, Superman and his small town goodness)? Yes. A hopeless batman makes for a very different character (one Geoff Johns took a look at in Flashpoint: Beyond quite well) comics is all about this duality of new authors bringing new ideas to characters that have established traits that are inherent to them.

WFA does a great job of taking the sitcom concept to a fairly obvious target: a dysfunctional family of superheroes. This gives us the space to see them in downtime doing real family things. This also makes it far more accessible. Sadly, this leads to DC wanting to make their main comics more like WFA whilst, and I'm gonna be honest, not understanding why it's good.

It's the interpretation of the Wayne's as a FAMILY. This is batman, one of the famously most over powered heroes out there, taking care of kids and struggling with being a single mom. That's a piece of Batman a lot of people like. (Citation needed) at least for me, it's my favorite aspect of his character. It humanizes Bruce in a way he really wasn't before. Older fans can relate to Bruce as a father, us youth can relate to the family issues. It's like if marvel had seen the original popularity of Peter Parker as a loner looser highschool student and made him a 40 year old loser who's only a superhero. It doesn't work.

Then DC pulls Gotham War which is all about making the Batfamily hate Bruce. You know, the Batfam. The reason Bruce and the greater DC universe have been having somewhat of a popularity boost. Instead we see characters begin to be shifted to be more like how they are in WFA individually without tripling down in them being a family.

Idk. It'll pass. We have Batman and Robin coming up and I hope that focuses well on the family or at least Bruce and Damian (and maybe good mom!Talia?) And the familiar relationships that intersect with their roles as Superhero and Sidekick.

I dont even think the webtoon is like… bad. Its jusg not for me but lordd it makes conversations about bat comics hell

[disasterbatfamily]

Mystery of the Batgirl: The Cookie Caper

Good evening. We interrupt your regularly scheduled toxic Batfamily content in order to bring you wholesome Batfamily.

Recently, a new webcomic titled Wayne Family Adventures has taken the Batfamily fandom by storm. WFA is a lighthearted spin-off series chronicling the domestic shenanigans of the Wayne household in the vein of a family sitcom. Like Tiny Titans, WFA borrows loosely from the canon source with regard to characterization and other established details. Additionally, WFA generously incorporates some popular fan interpretations of canon (fanon), such as Tim Drake's addiction to coffee and Jason Todd's love of Wonder Woman-themed apparel.

All this is to say that Wayne Family Adventures is no definitive source of canon lore, nor does it intend to be, nor do I presume it to be.

However, I cannot help but take notice of one particularly egregious discrepancy with core canon:

Cassandra Cain, known as Batgirl and by DC as Orphan, has not won the cookie fight, despite her particular skill set lending itself perfectly to this mission.

To my knowledge, Cassandra Cain should, by all means, be capable of launching herself at top human speed, twisting midair to snap up the cookie with her powerful jaws, and consuming the treat in one terrible mouthful—all before the rest of her family members can react. Neither Damian nor Jason possess the reflexes required to intercept the cookie before their big sister.

Thusly, I find myself ruminating upon possible in-universe explanations as to why she has not claimed the cookie. I have already discussed the matter at length with my fellows, and I am happy to share my musings with the world-wide web.

Theory #1: Cass is legitimately struggling to win the cookie fight.

Um, no.

We can safely discard this theory. The cookie fight appears to take place within the exact circumstances that favor Cass' skill set. Cass has well-earned confidence in her physical abilities and immediate spatial awareness. She possesses perfect control over her own movements and can perfectly anticipate the movements of her opponents.

Theory #2: Cass isn't going all out because she is afraid of someone getting hurt while roughhousing.

Another theory with a weak basis. Her aforementioned skills, particularly in this low-stakes dispute and this familiar environment, would ensure zero casualties.

Theory #3: Cass is feeling generous, and intends for the cookie to go to a certain target, whom—for reasons unknown—she feels to be particularly deserving of Alfred's baking.

Wrestling the other kids is part of a calculated ploy to manipulate the cookie to her intended recipient.

However, we are still missing critical details: whom and why.

...Finally, the most compelling of my theories—

Theory #4: Cassie is a good big sister.

She intentionally makes a show of fighting for the cookie as this is the natural affectionate behavior found in Chiroptera fursonae (common name: Batkids).

Also, she has already inhaled a frankly inhuman amount of pastries in short order, thoroughly sating her appetite for sweets.

Thank you for your time.

[headcans-oneshots-and-stuff]

Reality check

Fandom: DC Pairing: Damian Wayne x reader Word count: 4.1k Summary: It was a normal day for you when the sidewalk literally opens up and swallows you whole only to spit you back out into a world that you thought only existed in comics before. There you meet a certain Vigilante and things get more complicated very, very quickly... Warning: I think this classifies as angst, not sure though, Definitly almost drowning tho, also multiple instances of unconciousness, lil bit of fluff if you squint, also me trying to be funny and failing Requested by the incredibly, amazing, breathtaking @dudeidkwhattoputformyusername: Hi! I love your work! is it possible for u to do a Damian Wayne x reader one shot, where reader comes from reality and bumps into Damian in Robin form. Then u can develop from there anyway u like! preferably fluff tho. thank u!!!!!!!!!!

Everything was blurry and your head was throbbing like someone was working on it with a jackhammer. The pain was the first thing that you felt during the process of waking up, no other sense quiet activated yet. Next was the realization that your body was shivering uncontrollably and wherever you were laying definitely wasn’t a bed for as far as you remembered, beds weren’t usually wet, cold and stone-hard. Following was your eyesight that finally returned to you, alongside with your smell and hearing, and as if they were high-school bullies who were teaming up against the local geek in a 90’s sitcom, they all came crashing up upon you like a train. Now theoretically seen, you were able to see, hear and smell again, but practically seen, asking you to do either of the three was like asking someone to find a needle in a needlestack, or a single straw of hay in a haystack. It was just too much, definite sensory overload. A few minutes you couldn’t do anything but lay there, shivering and cold and miserable, before slowly your brain started to work through all the input and sort through it until you were able to comprehend it. The first thing you noticed was the smell. It wasn’t a very pleasant one, it smelled like you fish, water and something rotten and if you had any more control over your body you probably would have thrown up. The sounds that you could hear now put the smells a little bit more into perspective. What sounded like screams and the end of the world before was now identifiable as the screeching of seagulls, the honking of boats and the soft crashing of waves. So you were near a harbor or port? The last puzzle piece was the view you got when you opened your eyes. The cold, wet, stone-hard ‘not-bed’ that you had been lying on was in fact a concrete jetty. Only a few feet away from you was the cold dark sea and above you was the night sky. How long have you been lying here? What happened? How did you get there? As you were staring up into the sky something about it made you uneasy, the way the stars were shining, the darkness of the universe, the fullness of the moon- Wait, wasn’t it a new moon just a few days ago? You sat up suddenly, immediately regretting it when the pain shook through your head again, re-starting the throbbin at 100%, and - after you could open your eyes again - looked down at your body. You were wearing a soaked through sweater that you had bought a few days prior and just as soaked through jeans and socks, your shoes nowhere in sight. The sea was restless and splashed against the sides of the jetty, dops landing on your sleeves and face. For some reason, the sensation of the liquid against your skin brought forth a flashback that completely blinded you. It was like you were watching from above as you relieved the last thing you remembered, how you had been going home after your part-time job at the library when the floor had literally peeled open below you and you fell into a cold nothingless, only for water to come crashing down at you from all sides. When you finally realized that you were not on the sidewalk a few blocks away from your home anymore, but in raging water, somewhere below the surface you were already only seconds away from drowning. With all the power you could muster and adrenaline rushing through your veins you managed to fight your way upwards and upwards until your hand finally broke through the water’s surface. The breath that you took when you made it up completely must have been the best and somehow worst gulp of air you had ever taken in. The adrenaline was ebbing off and the exhaustion made its way through all your muscles, but when you saw the lights in the distance you managed to keep on going until you had managed to pull yourself up a concrete jetty where you finally blacked out. Your mind made its way back into your body and you grasped the situation, even though believing it still wasn’t the easiest task. I mean the earth quite literally swallowing you up? That doesn't sound reasonable. And yet, it was the thing you remembered so you would have to live with that truth until someone could prove you otherwise. More and more questions started to swirl through your mind - an unreasonable amount of them quite honestly - but you knew you had to take things one step at a time. Okay, what did you know? You were in an unknown location so there was no new there, but your former question of ‘how long have you been there’ was now answered. Given the state of your clothes and the fact that it was still deep, dark night you couldn’t have been unconscious for long. But that didn’t help you much - you were still sitting there freezing cold and soaked with no idea where you actually were. What would you do usually when you were lost? Phone, ah, right. You patted over your pockets and actually found it, only to be very unsurprised when it only gave you a black void to stare into. Sadly you didn’t have a bag of rice to put it into in the other pocket, instead only a set of keys that you didn’t recognize along with something that looked like a keychain in form of a piece of polished wood with the letters D and (Your first initial) with a plus in between engraved into it. “Great, I can open some doors now, too bad I don’t know which,” you spoke aloud to yourself, only for the worlds to come out stuttered thanks to your teeth that were shaking just as much as the rest of you. You stuffed the keys and the broken phone back into your pockets and managed to pull yourself up and stand, even though all your muscles were screaming in despair. The thing you really wanted to do was lie back down and fall asleep again, wait for the sun to rise and dry your clothes, but you knew that with the coldness and the water all around you, you’d probably be dead or at least deadly sick by morning, so you had to find shelter, warmth and - maybe most importantly - answers. With slow, little steps you walked down the jetty, towards the buildings that looked unoccupied at that time of day, with an unknown city stretching out behind it that promised life and warmth. For what felt like hours, but was probably just minutes, you managed to walk a few feet until you were a safe distance away from the water and near a bench that must have been put there for people who wanted to watch the water or have a break from work or similar things. It looked at you so invitingly, so comfortably, so perfect. Deep inside you knew that you should probably not sit down, even if you told yourself it would be just for a few minutes, but your exhaustion took over and you sunk down onto it, falling to the side and rolling as good as it was possible together into a little roll. You’d take a nap, just a quick one, only a few minutes, then you’d get up with new energy and find the warmth you were looking for. The longer you sat there the heavier your eyelids got until you couldn’t take it anymore and the darkness enveloped you into its safety again.

The next time you woke up, things weren’t so bad anymore, it wasn’t all that blurry and the throbbing had dialed down a bit, but your body was shaking worse than before. In fact, it was shaking so bad that your shoulder thumbed against the backrest of the bench before being pulled forward again and repeating the circle, the only weird thing was that it was just your shoulder. And there was this weird pressure around it. Wait! You weren’t shaking worse, someone else was shaking you as if they were trying to wake you up. You peeled your eyes completely opened and looked into white voids surrounded by black and like your eyes were the camera of a 2000’ kids-camera they slowly zoomed out and revealed the white voids to be the eye-parts of a mask sitting on the face of a masked (duh) boy who was wearing a very, very colorful and bright outfit. It seemed familiar and the gears in your head started turning. “Habibti, you’re okay,” the boy said in a relieved tone and while he helped you sit up you mustered him with a confused look. “That’s not my name, it’s Y/N.” The way his mask contorted gave off a sense of confusion that mirrored yours, just with a little bit more worry in it, but before he could say anything else you motioned to his outfit. “What is it with the outfit? It isn’t Halloween yet, is it?” “You don’t recognize me?” he asked you and the tone of voice he used almost made you feel sorry for him, but given that you had no idea what he was talking about you would probably be able to cope. “No, sorry…” you started before the gears finally fell into place and you recognized it, “Oh, wait, I think I do, you’re playing Batman’s sidekick right? I think it was Robin. That’s so cool, I myself was always more of a Marvel fan - you know with Black Widow and all that - but both are super valid so cool hobby dude. It looks pretty rad too.” Even with the mask you could see the complete bedazzlement in his face and you wondered if your weird world-swallowing-experience had magically changed the language you spoke from English to Mandarine. “What- What do you mean?” “You’re Cosplaying right? Dressing up as a Comic Character?” you tried to explain and you could feel a slight anger building up at how stupid he made you feel without even being able to see his eyes. “I’m not Cosplaying a comic character?” he said in a questioning manner. “Yes, you are. You’re wearing the outfit and everything, like the guy in the Comics who works with Batman. I think his name was Richard or something, but you should know better, you’re cosplaying him after all,” you tried to explain yet again, seriously questioning your sanity. Now he really didn’t need the mask to hide the fact that he was seriously triggered by what you had said - even though you weren’t quite sure why. Had Robin been cancelled over twitter while you were unconscious? “I think it’d be better if I bring you to safety and get you checked out,” he averted the topic of the conversation and started to position his hands like he wanted to pick you up, but you put a stop to it when you pressed him away. “Listen, I appreciate the help, but I’ll definitely not be going with a complete stranger in a comic costume, so if you could just give me your phone so that I can call my parents or my friends that’d be great.” For a few seconds he just sat there straight, as if unsure of the best course of action, before he sight and pulled a phone out, unlocking it and handing it to you. Your fingers hovered over the keyboard as you thought about who to call, thankful that your mum had made you learn her number by heart, but when you went to dial it your whole body stopped working, like there was a physical restriction keeping you from typing. Suddenly you realized it. You didn’t know the number - you knew you should, that you had been using it for years upon years and that you definitely should know it - and your eyes grew wide. You scavenged through your head searching for more numbers, but then you realized another thing. There were none. How was that possible? You didn’t even know the area code from where you lived. “I- I don’t- what?” you looked up at the boy with tearful eyes, the reality of the situation just too much for you. “It’s okay, I’m sure it will come back to you,” he tried to sooth you, but you were too frustrated and sad to be happy about soothing from some creepy geek. “Would you please finally tell me why you’re in costume?” you asked exasperated and moved further away from him. “I-” The answer of the boy was cut short when a ‘whooshing’ sound echoed around the area and a booming voice called out: “Robin”. The boy shot you another look before shouting back. “I’m here, I’ve-” he obviously wanted to add something, but he cut himself off this time and just looked at you. A man in a black, leather suit with a black cowl over his face that you noticed to be definitely inspired by Batman and very well done came rushing towards you. Again, you couldn’t see his eyes, but you recognized the same worried look that the boy already had. “Oh no, not another one,” you sighed and pushed your hair back, “Is there some kind of Comic Convention here? Or is this a weird sexual thing?” Now the man looked at the boy even more confused, and the boy just shrugged, but instead of answering you, he brought his hand up to where his ear was under the cowl and spoke to himself: “I’ve found Robin, he’s found her, we’re going to come back now.” If it had only been the first and last part of that sentence you would have made a joke about them being into LRPG or something, but the ‘her’ part scared you for some reason. You stood up and backed away, happy that the boy didn’t keep the grip on even though his eyes were following your every move. “This was fun and all, but I’m still soaked and really cold, and I had a nice swim earlier which I want to calm down from again, so I think I’ll just go back home now, call myself a cab or something,” you turned around, more than ready to strain your muscles yet again with running away, but it never got to that point, because a second later you were ripped up from the ground and sizzled through the air. It was so surprising that you didn’t even manage to scream before you found yourself with hard ground under your feet again. You looked up at what had pulled you through the skies and found the boys face yet again and - may it have been from the scare of everything finally becoming to much - the last thing you could say before you blacked out for the third time that night was: “That’s some on point cosplay dude.”

The soft sheets of your bed gave you a sense of relief as you woke up from that weird ass dream that you were having. You were unsure about why exactly your unconsciousness was making you see these things, but you made a mental note about checking the dream meaning of getting swallowed by the sidewalk later on. For now all you wanted was to go have some breakfast and call your mom to tell her about that dream. So you opened your eyes and threw the blanket back only to be surprised by the ceiling that was definitely not yours. There was a sound beside you and you looked over to see a boy about your age, black hair standing up from his head a little spiky and green eyes focused entirely on you. “Oh for fuck’s sake,” you cursed and moved as far away from the boy as possible, “Who are you?!” “What do you remember?” the boy asked you, completely ignoring your question. Your eyes flew to the door that was right behind him and you found that there was no way for you to get to it without having to overthrow the boy - but by the looks of him he’d knock you out easily. “I was on my way home from my job when the fucking ground opened up, swallowed me, thrw me back up into the ocean and then I met two werid ass cosplayers before I woke up here.” “You still think we’re cosplayers?” “We?” “Yes,” he just nodded with complete ease. “Well, I gotta admit that flying thing was pretty rad. What was that? Are you actors and you’re making a movie? Because if so then I’m sorry for bursting onto the shooting site.” “We’re not making a movie,” he stated, still completely chilled, even though there was something else lying under it. “What then? You telling me you’re actually Robin? Because if so I’m not the only one who needs to have her head checked out,” you scoffed and rolled your eyes, arms crossing in front of your chest. The boy just mirrored your look, completely stern and serious. “You’re not serious, are you?” you couldn’t help but let out an unbelieving chuckle. He kept silent and just observed you. “You fucking are, oh my gosh.” “How can I prove it to you?” he asked, still so incredibly serious that you felt like you were a clown walking in on a job interview. “Oh, I don’t know. Call Flash, Superman and the easter bunny over so we can have tea with the tooth fairy,” you answered ironically and made a ‘cray-cray’ gesture with your hand going in circles beside your temple, but instead of being offended by your comment, he just pulled out his phone - the same phone you had tried to use earlier you noted. “What are you doing?” you asked, but he just held his hand up to sush you and raised the phone to his ear. “Hello, it’s Damian Wayne,” he introduced himself to the other person -  and you noted that he was not a ‘Richard’ after all, “Yes, could you do me a favor? Could you come to the Manor real quick? Yes, yes I know, no it’s not an emergency. The suit would be great, yes. See you in a bit. You opened your mouth again when he hung up to ask who he called over, but he kept his hand up and motioned to you to wait, while he opened up the window, even though it was still cold out. A gust of wind filled the room and suddenly there was another boy standing besides the original boy - Damian as he had introduced himself - who was wearing a cape, a shirt with a logo that was definitely Supermans and ripped jeans. “H-How the fuck did he just? Was he here this whole time? What? How?” you stuttered and looked between Damian and the other boy who looked at you even more confused than you felt, but Damian waved him off and motioned for him to leave, which he promptly did. The new boy looked at Damian with question marks in his eyes, but he just waved him off. “You believe me now?” he asked, directed towards you and you had to admit it was pretty convincing. “But how? I’m in a comic?” “Y/N, this isn’t a comic, this is reality,” Damian told you with a soft voice, but your eyes just widened and you tried to move back even further. “How do you know my name?” “In your left pocket there is a set of keys and keychains. One of these keychains is a piece of wood with two letters engraved. A D and a (Your first initial), am I right?” Your heart stopped for a second and you patted the pocket where that exact thing was still lying. “H-How do you know my name?” “What do you remember about your life, about how you ended up in the water?” he avoided the question like a pro and you decided to play along, just in hope he’d answer your question sooner or later. “I was born the daughter of Y/Parents/N in Y/H/T. I grew up normally and went to school, nothing special, got a job on the side and when I went home yesterday the sidewalk started to open up like there was an earthquake and I was suddenly in the water, I told you about that part already.” “And you have never met me in your life?” he asked and sounded almost disappointed. “No, an hour ago I thought you didn’t exist outside of paper, the internet and movies,” you huffed and tried to figure out what his endgame was with this, when he pulled his phone out again and tapped on it for a bit before shoving it in your direction. “How do you explain this then?” You moved forwards with caution until you could see the screen and your breath stopped. It was a picture of you. Of Damian and you to be precise. The two of you were sitting on a bench, laughing and smiling and obviously happy, a cute dog on the ground between the two of you where something else drew your attention. In the photograph your left hand was intertwined with his right one. “W-What is this? Some sick kind of joke?” “You really don’t remember? Not at all?” he asked flabbergasted. “Remember what? What is going on here?” you almost shouted, the frustration becoming just a little bit too much, “Please just give me some explanation, please.” “You’re Y/N Y/L/N, you really are the daughter of Y/Parents/N, but you didn’t grow up in Y/H/T, you grew up here in Gotham. You went to Gotham academy, where the two of us met and...became friends. You found out about me being Robin and my father being Batman rather quickly too,” Damian explained and even though it didn’t match up even slightly with what you remembered, it felt weirdly accurate. You went to the bed again and sucked down onto it, before thinking back to the picture and raised an eyebrow at Damian. “Not that I say it’s true what you’re saying, but if we hypothetically say it was, then we weren’t just friends, right? We’re together?” “Yes.” “Okay,” a sigh escaped you and everything was feeling blurry, but you had to continue asking, wanting to know the truth, “Then how do you explain me ending up in the ocean?” “That’s where things get a bit harsher,” Damian sight too, but obviously for other reasons, “Yesterday evening you accompanied me to a party - a family thing - on a yacht and things were going great, but something went wrong. No one had an idea that the weather would shift like that, but a storm came and the yacht was thrown around and you - you were thrown off, I thought you died, I was devastated, but- uhm...well… You remembered that keychain? I gave it to you for our first year anniversary and it may or may not have a tracker in it, so that I could find you in a worst case scenario and if that wasn’t a worst case scenario then I don’t know what is.” For a few minutes silence filled the room as you worked through all of the new information, but the sad look on Damian’s face, the seriousness in his voice, the entire situation in itself? They made it hard to doubt what he was telling you. Your gaze was stuck on your fidgeting hands when you asked the one underlying question. “Why can’t I remember?” “I don’t know, I think you must have hit your head when you fell off and your mind mixed things up - mixed reality into something else and took a few actual things and made them fiction,” Damian gave you his half-assed, definitely not medically appropriate explanation, but you couldn’t blame him for that, you had no idea either. You pulled your legs up and hugged your knees close as you looked at him, really trying to see this supposed boyfriend of yours, but your mind just turned up blank. “What if I’ll never remember? What if that’s the way it’ll be from now on?” “I’m positive that things will turn out fine, we have friends who have the best medical experience you can get, we even have mind readers who could probably help you and if not, we’ll help you make new memories, I’ll help you and I’ll wait for the memories to come back just in case.” “That’s not fair on you though, Right now I’m not the girl you’re with, you shouldn’t have to go through this,” tears were now welling up at your eyes, even though you weren’t completely sure why your emotions were so strong. “I don’t care, I really don’t, because no matter what you remember or don’t, I love you and I really hope you’ll remember that you love me too…”

[kittsfics]

Birds Always Find Home

Read on AO3

Only two people have ever seen Jason’s wings.

He has vague memories of them before he was thrown in the Lazarus pits, great skeletal shapes over his shoulders, held together simply by magic. Nothing like they are now; powerful and beautiful, all muscle and dark feathers. Bands of browns and reds so deep they barely show among the black. But in the right light they're dazzling.

It takes him months to learn control, changing them from flickers at the edge of his consciousness to manifesting physically in the sanctuary of his bedroom. Always alert, never feeling safe, he never considered the league's compound a home. He longs to see if he can fly, if feeling the wind beneath his feathers can possibly feel as good as he imagines; but the complex is in no way a safe place for experiments. He has dreams occasionally, or memories perhaps, of Superman carrying him through the air, their hair blowing everywhere, both of them laughing. He longs to find out if flying under his own power is better.

He can’t wait to fly away.

--

Jason knows what the league expects him to do when he is finally returned to Gotham, what Talia trained him for, but he's always prided himself on being contrary. He's been wound up tight, then pointed straight at the Bats; Bruce himself of course, and Dick, but mainly the new Robin. Tim. Talia called him a replacement, said that he didn't deserve the place at Batman's side.

But the thing is, he knows Tim. Their quiet neighbour, always willing to escape to an out of way corner at society functions, with plates stacked high from the buffet, hiding a brain that Jason had been sure would rival Bruce's. Maybe he does now. But he also knows the stubborn kid with a camera, the one he'd never told Batman about, the one that had worked out their patrol routes and identities both. That could climb almost as well as Jason despite his tiny size, that Jason had offered to teach how to throw a punch, dodge hits, and eventually use a grapple.

All that it seems to him, when Talia calls Tim replacement, is that he's succeeded in becoming what Jason always knew he'd be.

Talia always emphasises Batman over Bruce, the fact that he had a new sidekick rather than a new son. Which Jason reckons is smart, because he's seen the kid that trails after her occasionally, the one that looks too much like Bruce, and knows she's counting on the fact that Bruce will always accept more children. Jason's always known he'd never be the last.

So when he reaches Gotham, he instead goes straight after Joker, the thick walls of Arkham still not enough to hold him. Batman gets between them, of fucking course, and the Lazarus rage in his veins screams at him to kill them both for what they did. Or for what Talia claimed they did? He's hazy on the details, and honestly in general, clarity striking him the same time a batarang does, catching him across his collarbone, too close to his throat. Jason does the only thing he can, he runs.

He lies low after that, no one seemed to have recognised him, and why would they, he's dead after all.

--

Staking out a claim in Crime Alley is easier than he'd thought; once he drove out Black Mask's men, most others fell in line. He slowly learns how to look after himself. Between the rage, ptsd and depression it's a miracle he has good days at all. But on those rare days, he finds out that flying is exactly as amazing as he always imagined.

Batman comes after him eventually, dragging Nightwing and Robin into the mess. But Jason stands tall, helmet off but domino over his eyes, and argues for himself. Makes a promise that is both easy and hard to keep, all depending on how close he is to the clown. He tells them about a boy with Bruce's eyes, Talia's smile, and knives never far from his hands. Too young to be involved in this war of theirs, but weren't they all once? The Bats are all snarling and suspicion, and that's fair, he's just revealed he knows who they are after all.

But they still don't recognise him, and he still doesn't blame them, but they fall into a balance anyway. He hates the way it feels like both an act and coming home.

--

Tim's the only Bat that's seen his wings, a result of a shared case, rain across the metal of a bridge tower and a small army of somebody's henchman coming after the two of them. One slip and a brightly coloured figure falling towards the rock speckled water below, grapple missing the support bars by inches.

Jason just reacts instinctively, throwing himself after, wings manifesting with a half formed thought, and he sees Tim's eyes widen under his mask. He catches the smaller figure, tucking him against his chest and spreads his wings, almost screaming at the pain in his shoulders as they take the unfamiliar weight. He manages to get them to shore, collapsing in an unlit alley. Then Tim's tugging at his helmet, Jason unable to make sense of what he's trying to say, and his wings feel like they're on fire.

Everything gets a little blurry after that.

--

He somehow ends up with the Outlaws on an actual real life fucking spaceship. The exact details are kind of hazy; when, where, that sort of thing. He's definitely not been as in control as he used to be, and memory hadn't been his friend since before his death anyway. Too many gaps, too many things he wasn't sure were real, too many nightmares he hoped had just been that.

But now he's in a spaceship with Roy and Kori, both in some ways as broken as him, and who understood more than he would ever admit. They fit, the three of them. And home becomes metal walls, Kori's excited shouts and Roy's quiet laughter. They fall into a rhythm of research and fighting and film nights and evenings on deserted islands.

He starts to find himself again. No that's not quite right, he'll never be that Jason again; the bright eyed Robin, the teenager with dreams of an English degree, maybe not even the Gotham street rat. But there are still fragments of those boys, he just needs to build around them.

Pit rage comes less often now, although through time or distance from the Bats he's not sure. They have a numerical system for all of them, where a six is a bad day and a ten is something they're all terrified off but they’ve never quite reached. Jason doesn't like to think of the days that come close. His memories start to settle, but there's no one he can ask to check they're settling right, he can only hope. Things start to feel less syrupy somehow, the dull edges of his life starts to sharpen, everything gains more clarity. His head, his heart, the world around him. He starts cooking again, picks up a book for the first time in years, joins Roy in tinkering with gadgets and Kori in watching those awful sitcoms from her home planet.

Somewhere along the line he starts feeling like a person again.

--

Roy claims he almost gave him a heart attack the first time he sees his wings, and maybe Jason will admit it's not his finest moment either. A desperate kiss on a rooftop then nothing but the archer's shout in his ear as Jason grabs him round the waist and throws them off the edge, the explosion behind them close enough to singe the edges of his feathers. Been there, done that, no thanks.

It takes him a few weeks to ask if he could see them again, voice hesitant, reverent even. And Jason learns exactly how much trust he has in Roy, in the two of them together. He also learns it feel incredible to have someone else's fingers run through them, light at first but quickly gaining confidence. Jason’s never been complimented so much in his life, Roy presses kisses across his body and promises to do better.

He stops counting how many times the archer sees them after a couple of months. How many times he buries his hands in them, how many times his knuckles brush across them where they hang over the back of the sofa, how many times they wrap around the two of them, blocking out the rest of the world.

--

He returns to Gotham as often as he can between missions, making sure the people he protects stay safe. He never tells the Bats, although Tim texts him ever so often. Just updates on what’s happening with the major players, how Damian’s settling into their mess of a family and pictures of Dick falling off things. He wonders how Tim knows he would appreciate them. It starts to feel less like a chore, and more like speaking to one of his best friends again. It hits him one night, curled up against Roy’s side, exactly how much he’d missed him.

The second time Tim sees his wings the two of them are sitting on the edge Wayne tower, ironically. Jason knows the cameras are off and Tim is dying to ask, so he manifests them, pulling off his domino; entirely unprepared for the choked whisper of his name and a little bird, a little brother, slamming against his chest, fingers frantically tangling in his clothes. All he can do is wrap him in his arms around Tim and hold him as tight as he can, pressing his face into dark hair, and eventually answer everything he can.

--

After that, home becomes Roy's arms around him, face tucked against his shoulder and drooling on his shirt, fingers that build bombs gently running through his feathers. It becomes Tim's voice over the phone, arguing with him about his newest case or telling him about his lunch with Alfred, making something in his chest ache. It becomes safehouses in Gotham, his brother sprawled out on the sofa, tapping away on a laptop or talking a mile a minute, drastically over caffeinated. But most of all it's lazy kisses and whatever bed he and Roy curl up in to catch a few hours sleep.

Home has always been the people he loved.

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