#like no! it’s not! and tim knows that! and he’s too high strung to be pissed or scared about it!

[starlooove]

Ppl will say fanon v canon doesn’t matter and it’s all jokes and I’m sooooo close to going sure sometimes and then I remember y’all removed a major role of one of the if not THEE most prominent black character in Bruce’s story who was created a whole decade before tim and gave it to tim based off a run where he literally handed the role back! Like IN THE COMIC Tim was CEO in name only and handed it back to Lucius relieved when he didn’t need to front anymore like.

[suzukiblu]

Excerpt from the one where Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it.

(The read-more is definitely necessary, length-wise. I . . . got very into this idea and frankly this is barely a third of it so far, lol.)

"So, uh . . ." Kon says, skeptically eyeing the softly glowing rock in his hand. Metallo, like, threw it at his head. He has no idea why. "Is this supposed to do something or . . . ?"

"It's pink," Kara says leerily, staying very firmly back. Like, unexpectedly far back, in fact.

"Yeah, I'm not actually blind, thanks," Kon says, turning the rock over and squinting at it. It continues not to do anything, aside from the glowing thing.

"No, it's pink kryptonite," she stresses.

". . . it literally doesn't hurt at all, though?" Kon says. Though he probably should've figured it was some kind of kryptonite, given that Metallo had it and had apparently thought he could hurt him with it.

Seriously, though, his gloves are fingerless and he's got it right in his hand. It should be hurting him, if it's actually kryptonite.

"Pink kryptonite doesn't work like that," Kara says, edging a little farther back. They're floating a few hundred feet in the air right now, but from the way she's acting Kon's vaguely concerned that he might be about to explode or something. "It just affects our sexual . . . urges."

"Oh," Kon says, frowning in confusion. Weird, but . . . "Is that all?"

"I don't mean like it makes you horny, Kon, I mean like it makes you homosexual," Kara hisses, looking mortified. "And don't ask how I know, alright?!"

Kon . . . blinks.

"What the literal fuck?" he asks incredulously, just staring at her. "How does that even–are you telling me Metallo went and chucked gay kryptonite at me in the middle of a fight?"

"Yes!" Kara says, still clearly mortified. "So just–just stay over there with it until somebody shows up with a lead box, okay?! The effects will stop after we get it contained."

"Alright, alright. So then do you think the dude was flirting with me or is he just a fucking idiot?" Kon jokes, balancing the kryptonite on his index finger with his TTK. "Although I really don't think he'd be my type either way. Like, nothing against cyborgs in general, obviously, just the whole thing with him being a murderous supervillain who literally runs on kryptonite seems like it'd make us totally star-crossed. I want somebody I can actually commit to, you know?"

"Sure," Kara says, still eyeing the kryptonite with serious trepidation. It's really not helping Kon feel less like a time bomb, to be honest. Is there like some other side effect that he should be worrying about right now or something? Like, is he missing something here?

"You seem kinda high-strung about this," he observes, raising an eyebrow at her.

"Look, you'd have avoided it too if you'd dealt with it before!" she says protestingly. "So stay over there and definitely keep it away from Kal, I don't know if Jimmy ever really recovered from the last time."

"Oh, well, congrats to Jimmy, I guess," Kon says, since he can't really see a downside to scoring a one-night stand with Superman. Like, a downside for somebody who isn't literally his clone, he means. The clone thing would definitely make it weird.

Just it's also Clark, though, so he'd probably be the generous type in bed. Like, the sort to really take care of somebody. Be as gentle as happened to be appropriate but also be down if his partner maybe wanted it a little rough for whatever reason. And he'd definitely be able to go all night. Again, Kon isn't gonna go there himself, it really would be too weird, but he can make a logical conclusion. Extrapolate one. Whatever.

Then again he'd be down with Power Girl absolutely destroying him whenever the fuck she wanted to and she's genetically his . . . some form of cousin or something, he guesses. His half-cousin from another reality. So really, Clark's not even that weird an option. And like, all appearances aside Kon's a binary clone anyway, not even a one-for-one match, sooooo . . .

Actually it's probably weirder that he thinks Power Girl is so unspeakably hot but comparatively Kara is just . . . fine? Like, that's a little odd, isn't it?

Maybe it's an attitude thing. Or the costume.

Might be safe to blame the costume, yeah.

It's just such a good costume. Like, Kon aspires to reach that level of costume.

But really, all that aside he still doesn't even know what the big deal about temporarily going gay is, although to be fair he's also currently talking to Supergirl and not, like . . . literally any dude whatsoever. So like, who knows how weird this stuff might actually make him under those circumstances. Maybe it like fucks with inhibitions and stuff too?

Yeah, hell if he knows. He's really only dealt with green kryptonite before. He was vaguely aware that other colors existed and apparently did different stuff, but . . . this just seems very different, put it that way.

Maybe best to avoid Jimmy Olsen for a little while, Kon decides privately. The guy probably doesn't need that.

Besides, Clark apparently got there first anyway and Kon just really doesn't want to be worrying about measuring up. Miss him with that, thanks.

. . . although maybe he'll go visit Tim later.

Eh, no, Kara made it sound like the pink K's gonna stop affecting him pretty quick once they box it up, so not much point in bothering. Though maybe he'll visit just to hang, come to think of it; they haven't seen each other in almost a whole week. Well, he hasn't seen Tim, at least–who knows how much Bat-surveillance Tim's seen him through.

Kon should maybe sweep his room for bugs again. Note to self.

Although would it be weird to just like . . . keep the pink kryptonite, maybe? Since it apparently doesn't actually hurt anyone or anything? Because that could be, well . . . just interesting, that's all. Like, Kon is open to exploring that experience. Just–as an experience.

"Actually, you're surprisingly not high-strung about this," Kara says.

"Am I?" Kon asks. "I mean, it's not that big a deal, is it?"

She stares at him.

"Kon," she says slowly. "Pink kryptonite affects your sexuality. It makes you attracted to people you're not normally attracted to. It confuses you and everyone around you and it is really freaking embarrassing to explain afterwards."

"I've been mind-controlled into shaving my head and breaking my best friend's arm," Kon says, continuing to not really see what the big deal is. "That was embarrassing. And fucking traumatic. This? This is just kinda weird."

"Only kinda?" Kara asks incredulously. "You're one of the straightest guys I know! How are you just fine with this?!"

"I mean to be fair, that's probably making some unfair generalizations about straight guys," Kon points out. Kara stares at him. "What?"

"I don't even know how to respond to that," she says.

"Sorry?" Kon says, then tucks the pink kryptonite into his jacket pocket with a shrug. He's not trying to hide it or anything; just getting kinda sick of holding it. And it's that or he either ditches it somewhere or starts tossing it around and that'd probably be . . . just, well, absolutely epically stupid of him.

Or it seems like it would be, anyway. Whatever color it is, it's still kryptonite.

"I mentioned keeping that away from Kal, right?" Kara says.

"Yeah, on that note, are they like . . . done down there yet?" Kon asks, glancing down towards the mess of the street that Clark's standing on a few hundred feet below with a whole bunch of randos from S.T.A.R. Labs, for some reason. Somebody mentioned something about neutralizing Metallo's kryptonite heart without actually killing him, but mostly it was science talk and clearly theoretical anyway so to be honest Kon'd kinda tuned it all out as "not currently relevant", and that's all he knows.

"Definitely not," Kara says.

"I'm gonna call Robin while we're killing time, then," Kon says, pulling out his phone.

"You're going to call your closest male friend," Kara says. "Right now. While you've got pink kryptonite in your pocket."

"Yup," Kon says, already pulling up Tim's contact.

"Can you not see how that might be a bad idea at the moment?" Kara asks. "Not in any way whatsoever?"

"Well I'm not calling Impulse," Kon replies reasonably. Kara stares at him again, for some reason.

Eh, whatever.

He calls Tim.

"Hey, Conner, what's up?" Tim answers distractedly, which Kon doesn't hold against him because when isn't Tim distracted, really. Dude's got too much going on in that head of his, for real. He's just glad the guy ever picks up the phone at all.

"So apparently I'm gay right now," Kon greets conversationally, figuring he should lead with that just in case he actually is about to do something embarrassing to explain. "Pink kryptonite is fucking weird, man."

". . . uh," Tim says as Kara covers her face with her hands. "What?"

"Pink kryptonite makes you gay, Kara says," Kon says. "And we're both just kind of chilling above downtown Metropolis waiting for Kal to finish up with the science-y people so we can get said pink K locked up, so I'm bored out of my mind right now and calling you to complain about it."

"You're calling me," Tim says slowly. "While you're . . . gay."

"What, is he asking to come over?" another voice asks from the phone, sounding amused. It takes Kon a second to recognize it, but–oh yeah, that's the mysterious Bernard, isn't it?

Right, Tim has a boyfriend now. Kon's never actually met him on account of being the worst at secret identities and the whole thing that is Bernard living very firmly in Gotham, land of "no metas allowed unless you're either a supervillain or Batman's too dead to stop you", but he's heard him over the phone a couple times now, although they've never actually personally talked. So maybe thinking about Tim while being high on pink kryptonite isn't actually, like, kosher? Or polite. Or whatever.

. . . then again, Bernard did ask.

"I don't know, maybe?" Kon says thoughtfully, considering the idea. "Are you open to me coming over?"

"Yes," Bernard says.

"Bernard," Tim says.

"Babe, I know we're pretending I don't know you're an ass-kicking vigilante and all but come on, don't make me turn down Superboy," Bernard says wryly.

"We're–wait, pretending?!" Tim sputters.

"Pretending so, so hard," Bernard confirms, sounding nothing but fond. Kon's actually a little jealous of that tone of voice, he's gotta admit. Like–it's been a bit since anybody's talked to him that way, is all. "But like, if you actually thought you were being subtle maybe you shouldn't talk about kryptonite on the phone right in front of me or put themed emojis next to all your superfriends' civilian names in your contacts list?"

"Oh my god, you do that?!" Kon asks with a gleeful cackle, immediately forgetting everything else in favor of that absolutely delightful piece of information. "You're the worst! Batman just rolled over in his grave and Oracle is absolutely losing her shit on the other end of her wiretap!"

"B's not even dead right now," Tim says in exasperation. "And if O cared she'd have already hacked my phone and changed them. And for the record plenty of people put random superhero emojis next to their friends' names, that's a totally normal thing to do!"

"Usually the random superhero emojis aren't associated with contact pics that are dead fucking ringers for said superheroes," Bernard says, sounding amused again. "Just as a thing and all."

". . . anyway so you're gay today, how's that going for you, Conner?" Tim says as Bernard laughs gleefully in the background. "Triggering any unfortunate mental health crisises or anything? Making you worry about the validity of your masculinity? Because I can safely assure you that's all bullshit and you're fine."

"Naw, I know all that, being gay is just a thing," Kon says with a shrug. "Kara's being a little weird about it but honestly it's going way better than, like, the times supervillains mind-controlled me into being into them. Like just as an overall experience, I mean."

"Wait, how many times has that come up?" Tim asks in bemusement.

"I dunno?" Kon shrugs again. "I mean you were there for the Poison Ivy incident, and then Gorgeous Gilly happened to me a while later, which was, uh, genuinely horrifying because she tried to literally marry me during all that, so . . . I think just the twice, probably? But don't quote me on that, I don't even remember what I had for breakfast."

"And how is Kara being weird, exactly?" Tim says in his very unsubtle "assessing my teammate's psychological condition" voice.

"Oh, she's mostly just avoiding me?" Kon says, as a guy who's personally not really all that concerned with his psychological condition at the moment. "Because I've got the rock in my pocket on account of not wanting to just leave it lying around somewhere and she doesn't want to get affected by it. I don't know why, I don't really get why it matters."

"I mean it matters, definitely," Bernard says. "Like it very strongly matters to a lot of people."

"Fair, but I think we're all too invulnerable to really have to worry about getting gay-bashed or anything," Kon reasons. "Like, at least not as a heat of the moment thing."

". . . god can you imagine the world we would live in if every piece of shit gay-basher had to deal with the consequences of punching fucking Superman?" Bernard says feelingly. "For real."

"Oh, pink K's temporary," Kon clarifies. "Kal's not gay anymore."

"Hold up, I'm sorry, are you saying that at some point he was?" Bernard demands in obvious delight. "Is that what you're telling me right now?"

"I guess he was into redheads?" Kon says, tilting his head. "Slightly twinky redheads, specifically. Which I don't blame him for, I'm gonna be honest."

"Well now I know that forever, thanks," Tim says dryly.

"Alternate option: he could've been into Batman," Kon points out.

"Redheads it is," Tim says. "You just . . . redhead away over there."

"I mean I thought about it, kinda," Kon admits.

"Ngh," Tim says, for some reason.

"No thinking about Batman, though?" Bernard asks with a snicker.

"Not so much," Kon says, making a face. "Did consider having some Superman thoughts but I'm apparently not that narcissistic, surprisingly enough."

"Kon!" Kara chokes.

"Tell me you've never considered having Superman thoughts and I'll tell you you're a fucking liar," Kon snorts, shooting her a dry look. "Weren't you like totally naked when you first showed up on Earth? And then he found you like that and wrapped you up in his cape all nice and gentlemanly and took you home with him?"

"He is my baby cousin and you're being affected by pink kryptonite poisoning!" Kara accuses, her face bright red.

"Wait, is it actually poisoning me?" Kon says with a frown. "I feel like you should've led with it actually poisoning me, if that's actually a thing."

"Well no, not actually, it's physically harmless," Kara says grudgingly, folding her arms. "But you're still being affected! You're having Superman thoughts, of all things!"

"He just seems like he'd be considerate," Kon says reasonably. "Like, you know. Biblically."

"Ngh," Tim says, again for no apparent reason. Bernard sounds like he might be laughing. Or choking? Or maybe both; it's unclear.

"Please don't hit on Kal," Kara says. "Especially don't hit on Kal with pink kryptonite in your pocket. I don't want to know how that situation would end up."

"Ideally with him being considerate," Kon says. Tim chokes. Kara covers her face again.

"Does pink kryptonite affect your inhibitions too or are you just always like this?" Bernard asks curiously.

"Eh, pretty sure I'm just always like this, going by the things I've definitely still not been forgiven for saying to Power Girl," Kon says, idly tapping a finger against the side of his phone case. "Like, pretty damn sure at this point."

"That is unfortunately accurate," Tim agrees resignedly.

"So you're saying it is ethically okay to have Superboy over while he's gay," Bernard says in a promisingly speculative tone. Kon grins. Just a little, but yeah–definitely he grins. Kara grimaces, because she is absolutely no fun whatsoever.

Spoilsport.

"I did not in any way say that," Tim retorts dubiously.

"I mean that's what I heard, man, and I'm the one with super-hearing in this conversation," Kon says with a wider grin. "My inhibitions are all inhibited and my personal opinions of people are all the same, I'm just currently batting for the other team."

"So your normal opinion of me is that if you were gay, you'd come over," Tim says dryly.

"Yeah?" Kon says, raising an eyebrow. "I mean, obviously."

"How is that obvious?" Tim says.

"Because I already come over every time you let me," Kon reminds him.

"Oh yeah?" Bernard says slyly. "And how often does he let you come, exactly?"

"Not often enough," Kon replies honestly, and doesn't even bite at the obvious dumb sex joke Bernard so thoughtfully set up for him even though it is frankly painful not to.

"Ngh," Tim says. Kon continues not to understand the reason for him repeatedly making that same weird little noise, but whatever, he guesses. It's Tim, maybe he's stitching his own bullet wounds again or something. Guy's a multi-tasker like that.

"You know this would probably make for a fascinating case study about sexuality, actually," Bernard says musingly. "I mean, all I intend to do is abuse the situation to get into your very tight tights, but seriously, maybe we should all be taking notes or something."

"Ugh, hell no, Rob'll go full Bat if we let him do that," Kon snorts, then smirks. "He can take pictures, though, I know he's into that."

"Ngh," Tim says yet again, accompanied by a weird random "thump". If Kon didn't know better, he'd think he'd just fallen off a chair or something.

"Aw dammit, dude, I think I actually like you as a person now," Bernard says, sniggering. "Are you keeping the kryptonite? Please keep the kryptonite. Like, just for Valentine's and Tim's birthday, that's all I ask."

"Honestly don't know if Superman's gonna let me but I do kinda wanna," Kon admits. It seems pretty convenient, really. And definitely fun.

". . . and you're sure his inhibitions and opinions aren't being influenced in any way, Kara?" Tim asks suspiciously.

"He's really just like this, yeah," Kara says resignedly. "Well admittedly Kal spontaneously developed opinions on window treatments and used the word 'smashing' in cold blood when it happened to him, but that might've just been him sucking at flirting. Because he really does suck at flirting."

"What about when it was you?" Kon asks curiously.

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara says.

"You kinda implied–"

"No one ever said it happened to me," Kara repeats, narrowing her eyes at him and doing an impressively bad job of acting like she's not blushing.

So it definitely happened to her, yeah.

"Okaaaaay, we'll pretend about that too then," Bernard says. "Well, what are your opinions on window treatments, Conner?"

"That I don't know what they are," Kon says.

"Sounds like he's in his right mind to me," Bernard says.

"He is absolutely not," Kara retorts dubiously.

"I really don't feel weird or anything, I swear," Kon tells her, since he still doesn't get the problem but also doesn't actually want to worry her either. "I don't even feel any different."

"Kon, you are hitting on your best friend and his boyfriend," Kara says. "Together. At once. Simultaneously, one might even say."

"You've met Wonder Girl and Arrowette before, right?" Kon says. "And both the Batgirls? And–"

"Oh my god, Kon," she cuts him off.

"Just saying," he says, then pauses for a moment and frowns consideringly. "Actually, question, how gay is this stuff making me, because while we're on the topic of threeways I kinda always wondered about what Starfire and Nightwing get up to together and if–"

"KON!" Kara yells, covering her ears.

"I'm just asking," he huffs.

"I don't know if it's actually possible to be gay enough to not be into Starfire," Bernard says musingly. "Like I can't imagine how it ever could be."

"Right?" Kon says.

"It's possible to not be into Starfire," Tim says. "Like, theoretically. Asexuals and aromantics both exist, for one."

"Do they?" Kon says doubtfully. "Like in general, sure, but when around specifically Starfire?"

". . . I can't technically prove you wrong due to a lack of reliable evidence but still," Tim says. "The possibility is there. If nothing else the multiverse is a thing."

"Last time I saw her she was wearing half a gold lamé bikini and I am not going to tell you which half or define how loosely I am using the term 'wearing'," Kon says.

"I said it's possible, not probable," Tim says.

"What about you, man, are you the gold lamé type?" Bernard asks with a teasing snicker. "Just while you're gay and all, of course. That's like, practically a cultural thing. Gotta be authentic to the experience, yeah?"

"That is in no way whatsoever a cultural thing, babe," Tim says dubiously.

"Please, like I've never worn freaking lamé," Kon scoffs. "I've worn collars and loincloths and leather and crop tops and enough unnecessary belts to tie up a Bat, lamé is nothing."

"Collars and . . . loincloths?" Bernard repeats, sounding confused.

"Yeah, this one time I crash-landed on a lost isle of beast-men and they kidnapped and enslaved me for a few months," Kon explains, waving a hand distractedly. "Frankly I count myself lucky they even let me have the collar, much less the loincloth."

". . . um," Bernard says.

"You, uh, never mentioned the collar part of that story before, Kon," Tim says, clearing his throat. "You very definitely never mentioned the collar part of that story before."

"Oh yeah, the prince kinda kept me as his pet for a little bit?" Kon tells him with an easy shrug. "Like he and all his buddies ganged up on me and then took me home with them, but I was kinda . . . feral, I guess? Technically? So like, collar and chain setup. But he was cool, he took real good care of me."

"Ngh," Tim says just barely faintly.

"Yeah you should definitely come over," Bernard says. "Tim, get the check. Conner, exactly how super is your super-speed?"

"You can just call me Kon," Kon says. "And . . . mach 3, last I clocked it?"

"Isn't that like two thousand miles per hour?" Bernard asks.

"Two thousand two hundred and twenty-three point three," Kon replies with a pleased smirk. "Faster than a speeding bullet. Or so they tell me."

"We'll just meet you at Tim's, how's that," Bernard says. "That work for you, Kon?"

"That works for me, Bernard," Kon confirms, smirking wider.

"Oh my god, Kon, you cannot possibly be serious right now," Kara says in exasperation, rubbing at her temples. "Just because you're temporarily gay doesn't mean you should do anything about it!"

"I mean, I'm feeling pretty serious?" Kon says, shrugging again. He still doesn't get why she's being so sensitive about this. "It's not like this is the weirdest thing I've ever done in pursuit of a good time. Like, holy hell, lemme tell you about the Ravers sometime."

"You're going to have to look Robin in the eye after this!" Kara says. "And work with him! And be a normal person in his presence! Normally!"

"I'm aware?" Kon says, vaguely bemused by her concern. Like he's never been normal around somebody he's slept with before, geez. "Tell Kal I ran off with the pink K, if he wants to lock it up in the Fortress or wherever I can bring it back tomorrow."

"Maybe Monday," Bernard says.

"Or maybe Monday," Kon amends.

"It's Thursday!" Kara sputters.

"So it's a long weekend," Bernard says.

"I'm not explaining this to Kal," Kara says. "I'm not explaining this to Batman."

"I really don't see why you'd have to," Kon says. "Rob, you cool with the long weekend thing? Not too much of an imposition?"

". . . I got the check," Tim mutters in obvious and absolute mortification.

Kon's gonna take that as a "yes".

"Cool," he says, grinning broadly. "See you soon, Boy Wonder."

He ends the call. Kara drags her hands down her face and continues to stay very far away from him and the pink kryptonite in his pocket.

"When you go back to normal and freak out and make everything weird with Robin and your team and even Robin's literal boyfriend, I'm going to say so many 'I told you so's," she swears vehemently. "So don't say I didn't warn you."

"Your objection is on the record," Kon says, then tosses her a lazy salute with another grin and takes off, kryptonite and all.

Best to just scarper while Clark's distracted, yeah?

Definitely best.

[meowmeowmeowmeow4x]

Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 32

MASTAPOST

Samson S. Skulker. Wealthy real estate owner, noted trophy hunter.  Been on safaris in Botswana, Indonesia, India, and other countries taking big game. Guy hunted just about everything. Elephants, rhinos, tigers, elk, only to come to Elmerton Bay, just an hour away by boat from Amity Island.

It didn’t take two brain cells to figure out why. The better question was why Phantom tried to point webbed fingers at him as to the whereabouts of Danny Fenton, a move that was transparently (goddammit Dick and your puns) a lie, according to Bruce. Tim Drake slipped into the man’s more private records without even trying.

Of course, getting the data out and parsing what it meant were two very different things. But he wasn’t trained by Batman for nothing. Skulker did make cursory attempts at hiding his electronic paper trail, but cursory was absolutely not enough to keep 13-year-old Tim out, let alone his current self.

Firstly, the man absolutely hunted more exotic, more illegal creatures. That much was clear. Borrowing some of Barbara’s programmes, Tim found the man travelling to much more remote countries. His little vacations coincided with missing persons reports around the same time.

Missing metas, to be exact. Each person with a power set dangerous to themselves and others. Each person having disappeared without a trace and then never to be found again. The picture Tim was building was getting grimmer.

Secondly, the man was buying parts. Robotics parts, to be exact. Engines, weapons systems, hydraulics. Many of them sourced from Vladco, the company founded by Vlad Masters, an old college friend of Jack and Maddie Fenton, who were the parents to the missing teenager of Tim’s current case.

But Danny Fenton did not have the meta-gene, a fact Tim confirmed after yet another concerning breach of privacy. He filed that detail away for later investigating.

Tim pressed a key, letting his programmes run while he got a coffee. Oh sweet delicious coffee. He had once distilled almost pure caffeine into a syrup. It was the most horrible thing he’d tasted in his life, but the buzz kept him up all night, that was until his heart started giving out. That was less enjoyable.

What was also less enjoyable was the revving motorcycle heading into the Batcave. Two motorcycles, in fact. Just as Tim’s afternoon was looking to be peaceful and quiet.

“Don’t fucking give me that, Dickwing!” Jason called out.

“I’m fine, Jay, maybe you need to stop hovering over me like some mama bear.” Dick put down his helmet with maybe a little too much force.

Jason hopped off his own bike. “That’s bullshit and even Timbit knows it.”

Tim shrunk into the Batcomputer’s chair. He so did not want to be a part of this. He just waited for his older brothers to carry their argument out of earshot, like they had been doing regularly now. The men traded strong words with every footstep across the cave.

“Maybe I’m just a little high strung. It’s honestly nothing.”

“You literally cannot fucking say that when I saw you going full-ass Punisher five minutes ago. Like the traffickers yesterday were one thing. Those guys suck. This dude was literally just a mugger. Are you going out of your fucking mind?”

“Jason, I thought you were supposed to be the one who’s all for going full Punisher style?”

Jason groaned loudly, and then transitioned into a frustrated scream. “Do you even hear yourself?!”

The changing room door slammed shut.

That was the second argument in the last two days. If you told Tim that Mr Heads-in-a-Duffle would be lecturing the Golden Child over excessive force, he’d start working on a machine to send you back to the topsy-turvy alternate dimension you’d come from, but apparently his dimension was the topsy-turvy one the whole time. And he hated it.

Turns out Dick inherited more from Bruce than he liked to admit, including his awful coping mechanisms. And to be honest, he was way too tired to even begin to breach this subject.

He should be happy that his literal attempted murderer was going to be out of his hair for a good while, maybe even forever. But even entertaining the thought made him sick enough to avoid the topic in his head for hours, only to think about it again, and get himself sick again.

So back to Skulker it was. Joy.

It turned out his new friend Skulker had made himself a fucking Iron Man rip-off suit, capable of flight, diving, and packed to the gills with fuck-you bazookas, machine guns, and hydroplasm weapons. Hydroplasm guns that he’d sourced from the Fentons themselves, through a long and complicated chain of buyoffs.

And happy day, the man was kind enough to install cameras and microphones, and kept logs from both.

In a surprising twist, it was fiendishly difficult to hack into those logs. Tim was honestly beginning to sweat. He suspected Skulker’s friends at Vladco (namely Vlad Masters, the sleezeball. Tim never liked him at galas and this only cemented his low opinion) had some secrets that they didn’t want out.

No matter, it was only a matter of time. Tim continued typing.

And typing.

And typing.

What the hell was this firewall?! Tim pinched his arm just to make sure this wasn’t a sleep-deprivation hallucination. He could’ve sworn he’d gotten through that layer of security. It was like it was shifting itself to cover up his progress and force him to start over. Almost like it was alive.

Against the thunderous backdrop of his brothers’ clashing voices, Tim set himself on overdrive. If he could just act faster than it could correct itself, then maybe, maybe.

A plain error message informed him of the results long after he’d already seen them. Tim kicked the table for good measure. The only thing he could extract was two frames of video footage. They showed, respectively, a T-shirt and pair of sneakers that matched what one of the missing metas was wearing when they were last seen.

Was it damning evidence? Absolutely. But it also proved to him absolutely nothing that he wasn’t already suspecting, nothing that could point him in a new direction. Still, it made his stomach churn. He hoped those people would get a better second chance beyond the grave.

Maybe the fact that the data was this well-hidden at all proved something.

The locker room door swung open, his brothers in civvies and glaring at each other, trying to appear civil in front of (right behind) Tim, even though they’d literally just been shouting at each other ten minutes ago.

“Timmy!” Dick called out. “How long have you been awake?”

Tim gestured offhanded to his pile of only two used mugs. “Not long enough. I’m still working. Can you take it upstairs please?”

Jason huffed, and stalked off upstairs without a word, probably too disgusted to be in his and Dick’s presence much longer.

Dick clasped his hands. “It’s fine, Tim. Honestly. Jason and I are just having a little, err, disagreement, is all.”

“Hm.” Tim inputted another set of commands. He was starting to see why Bruce liked to say that now. Avoiding painful emotions felt so good. Dick made a pained noise.

“Well, ok. I’m just gonna head back to Bludhaven now. Say hi to Alfred for me! And contact me if you need anything!” And then he sped off.

Tim shook off the awkwardness like old clothes. Thank goodness for some peace and quiet again. Maybe that was why he was working so hard to help Bruce get the demon child back, so he could return to the status quo, and not this. This hell reality where Dick was as emotionally constipated as Bruce and Jason was the one acting as the voice of reason.

The first night when Bruce called home, the entire family was in an uproar. Dick got a pale look on his face, and was halfway about to take the Batplane and go searching for Damian himself, only for Bruce to remind him that they were all still needed in Gotham and Bludhaven, and whatever few leads there were, Bruce would pursue. It was effortlessly logical, but it was clear Dick hated it. He stormed off in a rage that Tim had only seen when Ethiopia was fresh, when he and Bruce were at their lowest.

And Jason? He got this look on his face that he’d never, ever seen before. Tim had laid awake one night just contemplating it for ages.

Actually, no. He had seen it once before. It was Tim caught Jason looking into what Bruce was doing in the months after Ethiopia. Tim had subtly hacked the phone camera, and the look Jason had then was the same as how he looked when Damian was declared missing.

Tim shook his head. It was a gruesome image, what Bruce had sent them. Damian’s clothes ripped to shreds. The ground stained with his blood. No body in sight.

A little brother who may or may not be dead, something he may or may not be glad or sick to his stomach about. Brothers who were acting like completely different people, and a monster of a man who had to be connected somehow.

A ping appeared in the corner of the screen. The government siren hunting branch appearing in Panama?

Sam Manson sat up in her bed, her body finding some way to release the dread and tension. She looked on at her phone in horror and macabre fascination in equal parts.

This had Danny written all over it. She didn’t even need to hear the anchor confirming it to know.

On the one hand, she really wanted to applaud him for fucking them up this bad. The comment section was ripping into the GiW for their actions in Panama, treating the country like it was some vassal state they could romp around in. She personally screenshotted the fucking beautiful mass car crash the GiW had gotten into trying to catch him, and saved it into her favourites folder.

On the other hand, she really wanted to slap him for fucking up this bad. This could’ve easily gone wrong. Danny what were you thinking?! They could’ve got him that time!

And finally, she wanted to yell in frustration, because they had a radio communicator there. Goddammit! If only Tucker had known, they he could’ve hacked in and they could’ve talked to their best friend and actually got an update on what the fuck was going on.

And finally, finally for real, she was so glad, because the GiW would’ve announced it on every news channel if they’d actually managed to catch him. Thank fucking goodness.

Ugh, this headache. She really needed to lie down again.

Knock, knock knock knock knock, knock knock.

Dread pooled in her stomach. “Come in,” she said, resigned to her fate.

Grandma Ida, the person she least wanted to see right now, opened the door. She was the kind of woman who never carried herself very seriously, except for in matters of sorcery, and especially when warning Sam on the dangers of her craft. Dangers that Sam had ignored in order to go all out. Now she marched into Sam’s bedroom like an executioner.

Grandma stood at the foot of Sam’s bed, scanning her closely. “I knew I smelled tinged blood.” She went up to the side, and palmed Sam’s forehead. Her hand was freezing cold to the touch. “You should’ve called me immediately.”

Sam averted her eyes. She should’ve, but she didn’t.

Her parents never failed to get a rise out of her; she rejected their notions of female beauty and social etiquette in every way, their attempts to hook her up with Tim Drake-Wayne, then Damian Wayne, and she hadn’t cowed to them or submitted since she was ten. But with Grandma’s withering disapproval, she couldn’t feel more like a child if she tried.

“I’m sorry.” She whispered.

“I warned you many times of the risks, Sammy. You’re lucky to be here, and not in the hospital or worse.”

“I know.”

Sam moved to lie on her side, facing away from Granny. Granny had questioned her decision to fight alongside Danny, but allowed it under the condition that she did so safely, and turning your body into a popping water balloon, but with blood, was so not the definition of safe.

And Danny’s fate was still in question regardless. He wasn’t able to cross Panama, and who knows what Damian was doing. What if it was all for naught?

A hand was put on her shoulder. “Did you accomplish what you were set out to do?”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“And was it worth it?” Yes. Absolutely yes. Danny bled every day for this god-forsaken town of ingrates. He’d bled for her mistake six months ago.

Granny seemed to understand her feelings. She nodded, and ruffled Sam’s hair, and the tension in Sam’s body drained away.

“Then I trust your judgement. Can you sit up? I’ve brought some more medicine for you.”

Sam pushed herself against the bunched-up pillows at the headboard. Her head spun from the motion, but she was never one to let her body’s limits confine her. “Thank you, Bubbe. I love you.”

Granny passed her a brew of herbal medicine, dozens of dried spices and mushrooms brewed together into a blackened sludge that felt like knives into your tongue, but which never failed to get her feeling better. It was a leg up from what big pharma tried to pedal for ten-fold the price.

Sam lifted up the mug to her face. And, oh yeah. Nothing like bitter liquid pain to help with a migraine. She let the hot tea flow over her taste buds, pathing them in cinnamon, star anise and a million other things.

She finished her tea in one satisfying gulp, running her tongue over her teeth and scratching out the lingering aftertaste. As she put the mug down, it revealed Grandma’s face hovering right in front of her. Sam yelped in shock. “Bubbe! You gave me a heart attack!”

Bubbe smiled devilishly. “So what did you do?”

Sam’s mouth gaped open. Leave it to her Grandma to almost kill her from emotional whiplash.

“Now come on, this is a monumental moment for a budding young sorceress like yourself. Why, when I was twenty-two, I used to run with some heroic types myself. We had all sorts of hijinks together.” Bubbe cackled and clasped her hands, eyes going wispy. “My friends got a heart attack when I pulled off my own hare-brained scheme to topple the evil overlord of the week’s central command. Hah!”

“What?!” Then Sam coughed, and lowered her volume. “What do you mean ‘heroic types.’ You just told me you went to some stuffy academy and eloped.”

Bubbe shrugged. “I did do that. Must have forgotten the extra stuff.”

Sam blinked.

She moved to sit beside Sam on the bed. “We got up to a lot of fun back in the day, and a lot of pain too. I did what I did to protect those I cared for. Did you, bubbeleh?”

She held Sam’s hand with a look that reminded her just how many years Grandma had lived, and how many adventures or stories she had yet to tell, how much heartache she’d had to endure to become the woman she was now. “I projected an illusion all the way off the coast of Panama. It hurt like nothing else in my entire life, but…” She paused. “We got Phantom out. He’s safe now, I think.”

Grandma Ida nodded solemnly, the kind of understanding that Sam craved from her parents every waking moment of her teenage career.

“I don’t want this to be a regular occurrence, ok?”

“Yes, I promise. This was an extreme circumstance.”

“Good. Now, are you well enough for some meditation? It would do well to keep your soul energy flowing.”

Ok, but you have to tell me what you got up to back in the day.”

Granny chuckled, and agreed to it. Sam kicked off her covers, letting her legs get some fresh air. She was probably pushing it, but she needed to recover as quickly as possible. Who knew when she would be needed again?

Maddie Fenton kneeled in the sand. Her hands clamped down on her gun. Her knees shook. Tears prickled in her goggles.

Her baby was right there. He was so close. So fucking close. She could almost touch him, even now.

And he ran away from her. And at first her heart shattered into a million pieces, just like it had when he’d come home after his first disappearance and flinched when she hugged him.

Then she realised. He was protecting her. Some metal menace was shooting at her defenseless son like it was some kind of sick game. The monster of a man had laid fucking landmines on a public beach.

It should’ve been her protecting him.

Bruce Wayne returned to her side, empty handed. They’d scoured this entire beach. Danny couldn’t have gone far, she had thought, only for their search to turn up with nothing.

That left only one option. That her enemy doubled back after fleeing, and snatched Danny up without either her or Bruce noticing. Maddie’s heart sank. She should’ve aimed for the head.

A name pinged in her mind. Phantom had whispered it to her. Skulker.

With nary but nod, she and Bruce mounted their jet skis again.

[radioactive-earthshine]

Wait.

Conner was homeless and Cassie didn't help him?

Weren't they dating at the time?

Where was Clark?

Tim?

Bart?

I have so many questions.

I avoided reading all of Superboy because of the unforgivable sexism but now I'm figuring that might have been a mistake.

1.) Conner was homeless and Cassie didn't help him?

Nope. Dan Didio did her extremely dirty.

Superboy #94 I don't even want to show the whole page of this because it is severely gross, but Cassie basically tells Kon to leave, despite Young Justice's HQs being more than large enough to accommodate him, and for some reason he was sharing a room with Slo-bo.... when it was more than large enough to house him.... idk.

"Stop depending on others" when you are BOTH sixteen and are in a TEAM where you HAVE to depend on each other to me sounds out of character for her, or at least in poor taste as it strips the compassion from her.

Didio decided this was the route to go with her, I'm not sure if he forgot these were sixteen year olds, or if he just didn't care, because either way it's not fair of a move to pull. You can argue that it's definitely something a teenager would pull but I think Cassie would at least have compassion here for Kon, even if she is a little high strung at this time and also dealing with PTSD (likely).

Cassie did recognize later in the issue that she was "rough" on him and it ends on a hopeful note that a new start for Kon would be good, but it doesn't bode to be a positive experience. His move was done on a sinking raft.

In a hypothetical situation where things go better and Cassie recognizes that it is unfair to demand that Kon leave when she herself has a home, a mother, and a large support system to protect her, I feel like she would allow Kon to stay at Young Justice like she allowed Slo-bo to stay.

2.) Weren't they dating at the time?

Nope. They didn't get together until later, they were flirting at this time in varying intensity. They both clearly liked each other but neither really made the push to make it anything more than being friends and annoying the hell out each other.

3. ) Where was Clark?

When Kon was actually homeless and looking for a place to live he was not present. A relator thought Superman was logically Kon's father but Kon quickly corrected that assumption and it cost him a place to live.

In issue #100 Clark reveals that sometime during the time Kon took up residency in Metropolis in the apartment complex he was working/living at, he had Jimmy filling him in on the chaotic events going on, but other than that he was not involved.

Clark did here what he should have done a long, long time ago. You can write a lot of meta, analysis and critiques for why it took Clark so long to act in this moment, and it would all be fair, but in the end he did finally help Kon.

Clark does eventually involve himself and save Kon from exploitation and a second homeless situation, thus ending Kon's comic series. He was too late, but he did solve the issue.

4.) Tim?

He had taken a leave of absence from Young Justice directly after the Our World at War story arc that preceded Kon's homelessness, so it's likely he didn't even KNOW this was going on.

Kon and Tim got into a huge fight as well, and it contributed to Tim's motivation for quitting because he didn't want to stay where he wasn't trusted (PTSD thanks to Granny Goodness as well).

Kon also did not know Tim's identity at this time, and he doesn't find it out until after The World Without Young Justice arc that takes place around Superboy #99. They're not really on speaking terms here from issues #94-#98, and in the majority of Young Justice they have more of a peer-based relationship than a friendly one. They do CARE about each other, but it's not this deep wholesome best friend relationship that Geoff John's made it into in TTv3 right out of the gate. They're not there, yet.

Tim comes back on the team AFTER the World Without Young Justice arc when his identity is revealed via Matt Stewart's meddling with events, by this time Kon is in Kansas with Ma and Pa Kent and the situation is over, his series is over.

In the hypothetical situation where Tim did know that Kon was homeless, I'd think he'd probably reach out to Dick over Bruce at this time and ask what they should do. Tim more often sought Dick out for these sorts of things than he did Bruce, and I feel like it would remind Dick of when Donna was homeless during his time as a Titan.

It would go from there I think, and Kon might have actually had a swifter response from Clark or maybe Kara or someone else with Dick sounding the alarm, but that's just one angle and all a "what if" and we cannot hold this as fact because... it's hypothetical.

It would make a GREAT premise for a fix-it fanfic.

TLDR: He just likely didn't know and they weren't close enough for Tim to know, but if he did he'd most likely ask Dick "WHAT DO?"

5.) Bart?

Bart left Young Justice at the same time as Tim did due to PTSD, however Kon knew exactly who Bart was at this time and they were very close friends. Out of everyone on Young Justice, they were the closest. Even so, Bart (likely) would not have known that this was going on with Kon as he had distanced himself from his teammates.

There was a point during one of the Impulse comics that Bart needed help for one of his cases, and he briefly considered reaching out to Young Justice but STOPPED because he had quit, he felt it was not a viable option, therefore it is logical to assume he was not communicating with anyone from his team.

Also to note, during this period of time of 2002, cellphones were not readily available (yet) and email, instant messaging and direct (expensive!) phone calls would have been the primary way to keep in touch over long distance, for them they of course could just meet up and chat but the comics don't show this happening when Bart left the team.

Kon likely never reached out for help, because Cassie told him to "stop depending on others" and it pushed a button for Kon to be stubborn and try to fix his own situation so he probably didn't even think to say "Oh hey btw I'm homeless!" (in fact the word 'homeless' doesn't even come up).

Had Bart known Kon was homeless and needed help, he might have asked Max for advice on what to do like Tim might with Dick, and Max has shown that when children are in peril (like with Cissie being abused by her mother) he will act.

I feel like Max would probably pull what Bruce did with Clark in YJA and tell him that he NEEDS to be there for him, NOW. It would likely be a push to get a more prompt reaction. Again though, this did not happen and is speculative.

Also, Max's 'death' almost overlaps Kon's homeless situation so another factor that can contribute to Bart not being able to help, or knowing, was that Bart himself was in crisis and in a full new transition from one household to another.

TLDR: Bart and Kon were extremely close at this time, but due to personal circumstances they likely just did not communicate well enough to convey the situation.

6.) I have so many questions.

Me too, why was Didio allowed to write anything, why couldn't he just remain a producer? He produced the Orion solo and that was amazing.

7.) I avoided reading all of Superboy because of the unforgivable sexism but now I'm figuring that might have been a mistake.

No, not a mistake. Not wanting to come across a lot of the more gross and unsavory themes that are depicted all throughout Kon's comics are a valid reason to skip it, however it is unfortunate that in order to really grasp him it would be extremely advisable to read it. If you are really deeply triggered by those gross themes, then don't hurt yourself, but if it is something you can consume to glean the rest of the events that are formative to Kon, I would suggest it.

[starspray]

For the fanfic director’s cut: ⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ooh boy writer's choice! I'm gonna talk about Mysteries Too Marvelous, a Smith of Wootton-Major fic I wrote for this year's TRSB.

The art is of the Sea of Windless Storm, and the prompt asked for worldbuilding, about the Sea itself and the elven mariners, or also Faerie in general--I did my best to include both, and from the very first I wanted to write about Tim of Townsend, Smith's nephew who receives the star after him. He's got just enough characterization from the way Smith and Alf talk about him to build off of, and aside from his mom being Nell's sister, and his grandfather being Old Nokes, his family's Free Real Estate. So I gave him a sister.

The challenge for this fic was getting a balance between the Faery we know from Smith and adding new things--I wanted it to echo a little, and to rhyme, but not just be a repeat of Smith's experiences, and honestly I think I did pretty well. That's why I made Tim's father (and Tim, in his turn) a carpenter--they make things, but it's quite different from smithing. And why the people of Faery call Tim Star-child, as they called Smith Starbrow before.

I also added some little easter egg allusions that I'm rather fond of. Bombadil's distant cousin on the mountainside:

Once he met a very old man by one of those springs, seated on a stone, comfortable as a cat in the sunshine, with a wide-brimmed yellow hat and a long white beard into which were braided many flowers. He told Tim many tales, and sang many songs in a language that Tim didn’t know, but which felt ancient—ancient and filled with strange joys and sorrows.

Fairy folk having parties in the woods and vanishing without a trace in the blink of an eye:

Tim stopped at the edge of the trees, suddenly unsure. He did not want to intrude, but when he was noticed the fair folk all called out to him in glad greeting, welcoming him with open arms. “Come, join us Star-child!” they cried. “Welcome!” They drew him into their fold, and there was more laughter and much music, and Tim found himself feasting and dancing and never growing tired, and singing new songs that he hadn’t known before that night, and yet could find the words on the tip of his tongue. The night passed with amazing swiftness and yet seemed to stretch on forever, until at last he found himself alone in the meadow with no trace of any party to be seen around him—not even a crust of bread or a speck of ash from their fires—and the sky was brightening with the coming morning as he breathed deeply the crisp cool air, and felt the dew gather in his hair.

And I had both Arwen and Tolkien's simile of the "elf queen clad in living flowers" when I wrote this description of the Faery Queen:

His mariner companions drew him along with them until they came to one table set on a dais, where the most beautiful lady Tim had ever seen was seated on a chair that was more like a throne than anything else, with a canopy strung with silver and pearls above her. She was clad all in flowers, and gem-bright butterflies flitted about her shoulders. Her eyes were bright as stars beneath a diadem of gold and emerald, and her smile was blinding and very kind as she looked down at Tim from her high seat. He bowed along with his companions, feeling very clumsy and young and ridiculous.

And I happened to have The Lady Of Shalott on my writing playlist so this happened:

The road took him down out of the hills and along a wide river, upon which boats and barges drifted. The folk upon them called out merry greetings to Tim, and he stopped often to cool his feet in the shallows where tiny fish—silver and gold and copper—darted in to nibble at his toes. One morning he came upon a tower sitting at a bend in the river. A small boat was tied to a small dock at its base, but neither had seen use in a very long time, and were adorned with moss and cobwebs that glinted with morning dew. The morning mist drifted over the water and about the base of the tower, giving it a strange and ghostly look. From a high window he thought he heard a steady thump and clacking, as of someone busy at a loom. But no faces appeared in the windows, nor did any voice call a greeting to him, so he went on down the road. A group of elven knights in shining silver and golden armor passed by on great white horses, singing songs as their bright-colored banners fluttered in the wind of their passing.

[beloveddawn-blog]

Teleri sat up suddenly, and Nathanial groaned next to her. "Wha tim iz ih?" He slurred, turning himself back into the pillow.

She smiled at him, charmed by his very human mannerisms. "Early." She replied. "Probably too early." She ruffled his hair softly. "Or we were up too late last night. Either way."

He curled around her waist somewhat, still half asleep. "Worth it." He muttered, kissing her spine. She laughed and slid out of bed. He pouted into the sheets. "Come back here." He tried to cajole, but she simply laughed again.

"Not happening." She replied, pulling her dress over her head and looking for her boots. "I think Roza might actually murder me if you're late for another morning inspection. It's apparently 'a bad example' when the Captain shows up halfway through and with his surcoat on backwards."

"That was one time." He protested, shooting into a sitting position himself in outrage.

Teleri smirked at him. "Only for the surcoat." She finished pulling on her gloves and gave her husband a quick kiss before reaching for her headphones. "I'm off. I've got things to do, and I wanna drop by Nel'Vari and give Sera that warming baby blanket I made. I'm gonna have to make more of an effort to go there, since she's getting a bit too far along in the pregnancy to be watching my animals for me." Her eyes grew slightly distant. "Maybe I'll ask Iris to check in on them for me. She's at the pastures all the time anyway, and I can offer the farm for her to work with her experiments on. Wesley's been a bit high strung from all of this and it's showing in his discomfort with her work. This should help both of them."

"It's too early for plotting." Her husband insisted, getting up to find his pants. "You need to wait until I'm at least fed if you want sensible feedback."

She laughed again, gave him another quick kiss, and headed for the door, headphones sliding into place as she went. Nathanial quickly finished dressing himself (making sure his surcoat was the right direction this time) and grabbed both a cup of coffee and a meal out of the fridge on his way to lean in the doorway and watch his wife work (fried fish is absolutely the breakfast of champions and no, he is not taking criticism).

There he watched a sight he would never tire of: his wife, the most powerful mage he's ever seen (don't tell Lucia. She'd skin him, all while crying about 'traitors' not appreciating all she does) call upon the forces of heaven and earth... To water the seedlings and till the soil. For all she hadn't been able to access it before Elios awoke her latent ability, Teleri used magic like she breathed. It was a part of everything she did in a day.

And that was all by design.

She saw him watching her and pulled her headphones down, a slightly quizzical look on her face. Finally, on this unspecial day that was just like any other, he decided to ask.

"Why do you do that?"

"Do what?" She replied, tilting her head in confusion. Cute was all his brain supplied for a moment, but soon enough he regained enough of his original train of thought to continue.

"Use magic for everything." He replied. "I know you used every trick in the book to gain the power you have, but everything you do with it could be done by hand almost as well. You're somehow both the laziest person I know, as well as the most productive."

She threw her head back and laughed, and laughed, and laughed. He felt his one eyebrow raise as she slowly got herself under control, even wiping away a tear. "Really, Beloved? All those years getting to know me and you still don't understand the nature of water?" She had been walking towards him before, and now she was close enough to slide one arm around his waist (and how he wished he wasn't in his armour...) and boop his nose with the other one. "Water always takes the easiest path. Always. And if there isn't one? It will cut through anything to make one." Her smile was back to sly and knowing, and he couldn't help dropping a soft kiss on it. "But it's also never still. Even contained, stagnant water has movement within it. It's not in my nature to stay in one place."

"But you will for me." He answered back, knowing the truth of this. It was what he held to while everyone around him fell for his beloved, and he knew it was true.

"I will for you." She replied, honesty shining through her eyes. She would outlive him, they both knew, and eventually move on. But for now she was his to love and cherish, and it was the greatest accomplishment of his life. Then she smirked again and drew out a whistle. "But not now. For now," She blew a short tune, then swung herself up on the owlbear that manifested and held a hand out to him, "You're going to be late if we don't get a move on. Come on, I will drop you off at the barracks."

Nathanial grabbed her hand and let himself be hauled onto the beast, the one greatest truth of his life ringing in his mind: I'm so in love with this woman.

[hopetorun]

future considerations by daisysusan -- any!

okay as a title "future considerations" screams pwp (with feelings) to me. a swapping favors kind of thing, or maybe like ... encouragement? trading something, obviously. sexual favors, probably.

anyway i'm thinking brady and tim, and it starts with our poor little boy timmy getting into a bit of a scoring slump, and in his head about it. and obviously brady wants to help him get back into it, because he wants his team to succeed but mostly because he wants his boy timmy to be thriving! but he tries all the regular stuff and timmy's still just a little high-strung stress ball about it, so finally brady is like, here's the deal. i'm gonna blow you and then tomorrow night you're gonna score me a goal. that's the deal, yeah?

and it works. brady blows him, timmy scores a goal. perfect. except they have another game in two days and like, if it ain't broke don't fix it, right? so brady blows him again. timmy scores another goal. next game, brady blows him and timmy only gets an assist, so they mix it up. throw in a handjob.

timmy starts to think he should be offering something. you know. get him back. he could see that brady was hard after the last time he blew him, and brady on his knees, standing up with his mouth red and wet, tenting his basketball shorts? timmy's into it. but when he offers brady just shrugs and says that the setup they have going on seems to be working.

timmy doesn't get him to change his mind until he goes on a pointless streak, five games without so much as a secondary assist and it's definitely weighing on brady. timmy makes his most compelling argument (it involves licking his lips a lot) for why trading blowjobs is going to be better than brady just sucking tim off. and that works for a bit, too -- brady scores two in the next game, and tim assists on them both, and that's how it should be, right?

anyway, suffice to say, this fairly quickly develops into a "i get you off/i get to ask you for a favor" situation. mostly hockey stuff at first, but straying pretty far from the original score a goal parameters. brady jerks timmy off on the couch and asks him to set claude up for a goal, it's been a while since he lit the lamp. tim lets brady fuck his face a bit before he asks brady to go do some touristy shit with him in new york.

obviously, the sex is good. sometimes they just want to have sex, and the excuses wear a little thin. tim asks to use brady's shower because it's nicer. brady asks tim to buy him dinner the next time they go out, because he wants to get his hands on tim and now he needs to come up with a reason. (it does feel like a date, and tim does look so pleased with himself when he pulls his card out for both of them)

and then there's this time where they end up just snuggled together on the couch, kind of watching a movie but mostly nuzzling at each other and touching and eventually they both get off. all sleepy and warm and cozy in the afterglow, brady says, "so what do you want?" and timmy just freezes. he can't come with anything except that he'd kind of like brady to kiss him right now. kiss him and then take him to bed, not even for more sex, just to sleep there.

timmy, obviously, has never handled anything with grace so he just -- flees. leaves brady on the couch with his shorts shoved down under his ass and a bit of jizz on his hand and his sweatshirt rucked up but not actually taken off. there's something very vulnerable about being bare-assed on your own couch, you know? and now brady has this problem to solve. it would be easier to solve if tim would make eye contact.

the process takes some time, and some pathetic pleas, and a lot of stubbornness as he chases tim down, but eventually brady gets what he wants, which is to say he gets tim alone in a room so he can say what he wanted to say on the couch, which was that he would really like it if tim kissed him, and also maybe moved in.

and then they go to brady's and have a lot of sex and when they're done timmy says, "so what do you want from me?" and brady just kisses him and says, "nothing. you know, future considerations."

[greenlikethesea]

actually i’m gonna start rotisserie chickening my thoughts about this here ( i have too many wips but i’m thinking about this right now)

a bit about the teens! i’ve detailed some of this to the lovely @dallae but i am gathering it here.

hawkins i think has two different avenues for popularity. if you’re a guy, you play basketball or you’re on the swim team. if you’re a girl, you’re on the swim team or you are a cheerleader. when steph hit her growth spurt in 8th grade, she knew that cheer was not an option for her -- at 13, she already weight more in muscle than the seniors did. she wanted to play basketball with the boys, went to sleepaway camp during the summers to play tennis and swim, so she figured she’d swim.

but steph is, while not booksmart, incredibly socially intelligent. (steph has both math and language dyslexia, and needs new glasses but she’s a bit scared to go to the doctor by herself.) her extremely petite mother regularly laments that “oh stephanie, when i was your age, i could fit into a size double zero!” nevermind that diane married a college linebacker who is 6′5″ and she was never going to get a daughter who was 95 lbs. but whatever, she’s observant and can play her mother’s games and high school? it’s just like tennis. it’s just like all the sports she can’t play because of what’s between her legs. it’s a fucking game.

and dating guys? that’s also a game. it’s fun. you always have a boyfriend, play the field, but date a guy just long enough so no one thinks you’re easy. and sex is whatever -- it’s great exercise. she likes how into it guys get. no guy has ever told her no before nathan. but no one has ever asked her what she’s thinking about either, or what she wants to do, or has ever seemed interested in what she had to say before. and so losing him, and his huge blue eyes and that lithe body and that sweet smile, to joan fucking byers, who’s scrappy and tiny and fights dirty and steph knows she doesn’t wear a bra because she looks for her nipples every time she sees her. just to check, another point against her. she wonders if she doesn’t wear underwear either.

there’s robin at scoops, and he’s a douche, but he’s so fucking smart, and fun, and caring and silly and maybe she could love a guy like him. maybe he could be her boyfriend. but they’re strung out on russian drugs and he’s rambling about how much he used to hate her because tim travers was fucking obsessed with her (god, the guy who thinks he’s george michael? as if!) and oh, he’s gay. he likes boys. that’s...that’s fine. he’s got shit taste in guys, but like. whatever. they’re friends. they’re friends.

and this whole time, this whole fucking time, emmy munson has been in her periphery, on her radar. she’s like a wild animal, with the biggest, brownest eyes she’s ever fucking seen, and she’s so tiny, five foot nothing, freewheeling and jumping on tables in her reeboks and raglan every fucking friday. but debbie thinks she’s amazing, wants to be just like her, and that...that sucks. because the way emmy speaks, she’s smarter than steph will ever be. and debbie of course is smarter than steph, and steph works at a video store and couldn’t get into college. her social smarts have failed her.

and then emmy munson emerges from the tarp and tackles her in the boat house. and when she’s straddling steph’s hips, broken bottle pointed down and her throat, steph’s hands squeeze her hips possessively and oh. maybe it hasn’t been boys all along.

[devilwearsgreen]

DP x DC AU: Extra Notes

More concept pieces that I didn't want to put in the main post:

[Concept] [Age Chart]

~~~~~

When Danny got to Gotham he chose to go by the last name Gale. When Jason decided he wasn't going back to Bruce, he started going by Jay Gale, and dyed his hair the same colour as the twins. I'm thinking the red hair of his earlier character design.

After taking the three newly resurrected back to his apartment, they spent the first night on his couch (the only comfortable furniture he had) and soaked up the calming ectoplasm Danny was emitting. When he was able to, Danny went out to steal two single mattresses; but continued to sleep on the couch. When Jason was coherent enough he felt guilty about it and insisted Danny take the bed. They argue for a bit before deciding to just share. One for them and one for the twins. This is a habit they don't bother breaking even when they get better apartments. 

Danny chose Gotham because the amount of curses in such a relatively small area hid his presence in plain sight. And the Lazarus Pit under the city provided him with the exoplasm he needed to survive. But some of those curses are really nasty… and surely not all of those curses are necessary right? He can't just leave them there when he can do something about it right?? So Danny also becomes the local supernatural expert, making the city a better place one curse at a time. 

Danny doesn't have much time to think about schooling for the first few years in Gotham, But when Jason  gets well enough and established enough to really contribute to their income, maybe he gets his GED and gives college a try. 

I don't know what happened to Danny’s friends and family in this au, but maybe he does a psychology major as an honour to Jazz.  (Being the older sibling is hard! No wonder she was so high strung!) Danny as the Arkham Psychologist anyone? It's one of my favourite concepts!

Danny and Tim Frequent the same coffee shop. Tim hears the things the baristas say about this regular that's been coming in for a few years before him, and becomes immensely curious about the one guy in Gotham that orders more espresso shots than him. Whenever they are in the store at the same time, they get to talking. 

The twins are only a year younger than Damian, and are a lot more carefree and adventurous. At first Damian takes this as a personal affront; what's so special about these immature brats?? But they grow on him and actually get him to loosen up and act his age sometimes. The three of them add Jon to make a quartet and cause nightmares for the faint of heart.

Although the twins do receive training, they never pick up the vigilante lifestyle. Reasons being 1) They have already died once and don't feel like inviting it, and 2) they have seen how worried Danny can get about Jason and how Worked up Jason can get about Danny, and they don't want to worry either of their big brothers. Although I do like the idea of them apprenticing under Dr Leslie in the future.

In place of getting training from the League of Ass (sorry,  Assassins), Danny teaches Jay the sword fighting he learned from Pandora, the hand to hand from Frostbite, the weapons training from his parents, and everything he can think of from his own years of desperate fighting. This changes Jason's fighting style just enough that no one that knew him before would recognize it. (Remember that the LoA trained Bruce too)

Danny could have sold Ice Sculptures for a few years, and it was a good source of money; but once certain villains start taking interest and its unmelting nature starts piquing curiosity, he stops. This, however, introduces scarcity, and his few sculptures become some of the most valuable things in the city. When he eventually starts making them again, he's not expecting the ferver, to hilarious effect.

Danny doesn't kill the Joker. He doesn't even hurt the Joker. That's not his place and not his thing. But there is no way in hell he wants that man to be roaming the streets while he has little brothers to protect. So he takes measures to prevent the Joker, specifically, from escaping Arkham. Very successfully. The Joker goes even more insane seeing others escape when he Can't. But he never manages to hurt anyone. Danny makes sure of it. 

Because Danny is now watching over the Batfamily, he prevents Damian's death entirely. And If/ When Dick goes undercover at spyral, Danny makes sure he can keep in touch with the family.

I also believe that the reason Bruce doesn't notice that Jason's grave becomes empty in cannon, is because the League of Assassins goes back to fill it in. Danny doesn't  even think about doing that. So Bruce knows that someone Robbed his son's Grave. Crime drops a bit while Bruce is on that warpath. But of course he doesn't find anything, all of the footage is blurry or nonexistent. I think it would be funny if he thought the LoA was responsible for it, even though he's in the exact wrong dimension to be correct. 

[incorrectbatfam]

What vibe does the batfam give off?

Dick: Eldest Daughter Syndrome™

Jason: #"they killed someone" like what are you protestant

Tim: if he’s your favorite character you’re not straight

Damian: "Let me see what you have" "A knife!" "NO!"

Duke: the kid whose name is always floating around but you never really know who they are

Cullen: too young for Full House, too old for Charli D'Amelio, just the right age to remember Salad Fingers

Stephanie: this specific 2000s chick-flick end credits

Cassandra: look behind you

Barbara: the adopted daughter of a chill lesbian librarian and her high-strung substitute teacher wife

Harper: takes driving tips from the Fast & Furious franchise

Carrie: who let a literal child in here

Kate: "I'm having relationship problems" "Dump them"

Alfred: the only valid old white British man

Selina: probably responsible for the Isabella Gardner Museum Heist

Bruce: I know I'm getting old when I understand how fucking exhausted he is

[f4nd0m-fun]

SQUEEEEEEE

Oh gods, she DOES. And, although they don't know it, the Batfam are technically supernatural and she's been slipping some of that care into her regimen for them. ESPECIALLY for Jason, hangry 'baby' needs help.

Yes it's toddler fighting but then it ends up with Sam trying to tie him up in vines and then crying when he burns them and now they're both upset.

Pariah gets summoned, isn't even held by the binding circle, ignores pretty much everyone but the Batfam members in the league, hands the kids over, and tells them they better not be late for dinner. Then proceeds to slightly eviscerate JLD verbally before letting them ask questions (he's not asking everything).

Oh lawdy the pearls. But I can see that. She strung it herself and, every so often, she seems to pluck a new pearl from midair and adds it to the string. They're black pearls though, instead of her original white, but they shine almost red in the right light. And Thomas definitely has that 'gay single earring' (half joking but also not) and probably gets teased about it from his partners. And ooo that's interesting. Which, adding to my theory about how the King/Queen/High Royal HAS to be a Halfa for various 'without your human half the relics would overpower you', what if the relics have to have some tie to your human side? The ring is the wedding with Martha, and the earring was something Alfred got him since they couldn't get married (maybe he gave the other half to Martha). They're still not sure when it merged with the Royal crown but at this point it doesn't really matter.

Imagine being a Batkid or even Bruce and Alfred takes it that ancient pocket watch he never lets anyone touch. He clicks it and it turns into a staff like nothing you've ever seen before, and as the bottom strikes the floor time seems to slow around you all (meanwhile Tim, upon finding out Alfred is the time ancient, wonders why he didn't help with Bruce being stuck in time).

Oh my gods Bruce is gonna be the best big brother. And I'm going to stick to your Ancient of Family (after he dies) idea. Which, what's funny is Pariah is Protection(?) Ancient Shadow Core Family Obsession but Bruce is Family Ancient Shadow Core Protection Obsession (truly his father's son). And yeah he definitely gives more hugs, they all do.

I just had an interesting thought of Alfred not being able to mimic some of the finer points of being human. Sure he been around a while, but changing biology on a whim or even over time isn't easy for someone who isn't naturally a shapeshifter. So, while he almost seems to have a normal heart, if someone listens too hard for too long they can hear the tiks and toks and the clinking of gears.

@wisecloudnightmare even more ramble

Prompt 153

 Pariah Dark, Ghost King, warrior, tyrant, world-breaker, Ancient of Darkness, is utterly gobsmacked. The sarcophagus had been opened- something he wasn’t honestly expecting seeing as it was supposed to be for eternity- and he had honestly just been blinking awake. It took a minute or few to properly wake up, but who could blame him? It wasn’t like there was anyone before him who could have opened his prison. 

 Though that wasn’t what had him utterly befuddled. He was rather certain that he had not gotten locked into the Sarcophagus of Sleep with several literal ghost infants. 

Well mostly infants, one is more like the equivalent of a three or four year old but still. And he has a rather panicked sort of feeling breaking through his usual bloodlust, because they all look really similar to his not-exactly ex. Same white hair, same wispy ghost-tail, same tiny fangs and claws currently being bared at him and each other. But they also kind of look like him, what with two having hair aflame- one even had black hair like he once did before his insanity- and even having red eyes. Most even had his own corpse-pale skin, though he could see a more blue tint on a couple and one more similar to his brother’s. 

So yes, Pariah Dark is very much panicking and trying to do the math in his head. A visit to Clockwork might be in his best interest…

[whaleofatjme1920]

Masky/Tim with a S.O sfw and nsfw headcanons?👀

Masky with an SO

I already did something immensely similar to this a while ago with Tim, this is for Masky as I write them as entirely different people. Here's Tim. If you are a minor, DNI

SFW

Masky is a bit of a bastard? Like, he's not mean or anything, but he's high strung because he's a proxy group leader. He knows he's good, just needs to get reminded about it.

He's a really, really protective partner.

Doesn't want you knowing about his work.

I'm serious, he will hide this shit from you as best as he can.

He's rough around the edges and a little prickly?

Masky is a bit cocky ngl.

That's gonna show in how he treats you. He wants to show you off when it's safe to do so.

You're his and no one else's.

Masky is a bit controlling?? It's only natural because he's a proxy group leader. It's a tad overbearing in how he treats you tbh.

However, devotion from Masky is devotion unlike any other.

Masky smokes a lot.

He also is kinda crude? He doesn't have that soft energy Tim does. With Masky, it's just a storm that lightens every so slightly because it's you that he's dealing with.

He loves you and shows it primarily through action.

Dating him is kinda shady in itself.

The two of you never do anything normal.

NSFW

Masky is rough and unforgiving when it comes to sex.

He's literally never gentle, it's just hard and fast.

He will mark you, bruise you and make you his and make you know that you're his.

Masky might burn cigarettes on your thighs of your back from time to time if you really, really act up.

He likes brats, people who give him a bit of a fight.

Masky is a dom and you can't tell me otherwise.

He probably spits on you at least once.

Makes you look in his eye as he fucks you in front of other people.

Forces your head down when you're sucking his cock.

Will edge you until you're crying out of frustration.

Masky is big on hair pulling.

Don't be afraid to be mean to him as well. He likes it that way <3

Masky is a bit into weaponplay. Just a bit.

Likes to play is risky.

He always creampies that's how it goes.

If he cums in your mouth, he will make you swallow every single drop.

Honestly he fucks you so hard and fast you can't even speak or think right while it's happening.

Degradation is BIG here. Condescending praise too.

He loves you, but you don't feel like, love during sex with Masky.

It's literally just rough fucking like he hates you.

Masky is kinda eh with aftercare?

That's more of TIm's thing tbh.

[radioactive-earthshine]

I have many thoughts about Tim and Slobo talking when they're older. Like, Slobo gets freed from the statue and manages to control his cell death (because as much as I love death angst I also love meeting after years apart angst). But like, he hasn't seen Tim in years. And then they meet up and it's sad and amazing. And then Slobo expresses his surprise at Tim still being a Robin. Tim is confused. Slobo says: "I mean, I'm a clone 'a Lobo, but I ain't been a bounty hunter since I came back. I work on ships n stuff. I'm my own person. Yer one, too."

Tim thinks about that conversation the rest of the week.

I really like this concept.

Slo-Bo becoming a mechanic, and a damn good one, is a headcanon I very strongly favor and in a what-if scenario I imagine that one of his public nick-names would be "Titan Mechanic" and is one of the few people that actually understands how New Genesian tech even works.

As for their conversation I feel Slo-Bo would be a little surprised at him still wearing the mantle (considering Tim only said it would be for a short time, and now he's 19-20 and still Robin). But I think he would be glad that Tim is more sure of who he is now, and is less high-strung and NOT Batman 2.

Tim also talks to him about how he forgot about him and how guilty he feels about it, but ultimately knows it's not his fault.

Tim reflects back on the conversation and it brings up all sorts of thoughts about who he is and what he wants to do really; is it time to hang up Robin and be someone else or is him being Robin as himself enough? He was the Robin that BEGGED for the job and campaigned for it, he wanted to be Robin and felt like it was his personal obligation to take up that role to serve a very distinct purpose.

Is that purpose fulfilled now? What does HE want?

There's a lot that could be done just with Tim now, adding his teammate that threw everything he had in a few short months is something that could be very interesting.

I just desperately want Slo-Bo addressed in the comics. I'm hoping Meghan will go that route but we just have to wait and see what she does.

They didn't even mourn him in the comics, and no one found out what happened to him. We didn't even get Anita's reaction which honestly she probably mourned him the most.

Just have to see what happens and until then play around with what ifs.

[voiceless-terror]

a little ficlet for @jonsimsandcats day! set in season one.

“Once again, there’s really no need to buy me tea-”

“And once again, it’s the least I can do,” Martin replies, happy to just be out of the archives. His living situation is not ideal and the dust in Document Storage is not helping his allergies. Still, it’s better than being worm food, so he’s trying to be grateful. And it is, after all, the least he can do, after sneezing and spilling a mug of tea all over Jon’s latest report. “Besides, the fresh air will do us both some good.”

“I suppose,” Jon grumbles, eyes trained ahead as he keeps a surprisingly brisk pace for someone of his stature. “But only for a moment.”

“Of course.” Martin’s shocked he actually agreed to it, considering how high-strung he’s been lately with all the worms, and the deadlines, and the general mess. But Jon had just stared at the slowly-soaking papers and sighed, getting to his feet when Martin offered. And he’s not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It’s a nice day, anyway, and the blessed moments outside are worth Jon’s grumbles. Jon’s been...nicer, lately. Well, maybe not nice, but softer -  he’ll occasionally let out a sarcastic remark and glance towards Martin, as if to check if he smiled, and will tell him goodnight when he deigns to leave the archives. Martin logically knows this is the bare minimum for polite interaction, but he’ll take what he can get. Tim once told him Jon needs time to warm up to people, and that he can actually be quite fun. Martin’s warming up period seems to have lasted half a year, and he’s still running a bit cool.

“Stop!” Martin lets out a grunt as Jon throws an arm out, hitting him directly in the stomach. He’s looking from left to right with a sudden intensity, his eyes wild. Martin’s mind immediately pivots to worst-case scenarios- worms, Prentiss-

But there are no worms, and certainly no Jane. There’s just Martin and Jon, stopped in the middle of the sidewalk like idiots. He opens his mouth to speak when he hears a tiny, mewling sound coming from somewhere to his right.

Jon’s head perks up, a rare smile gracing his features. It makes him look impossibly young. “Martin, did you hear that?”

Martin blinks. “Uh, the-”

He’s once again interrupted by the tiniest of meows and watches as Jon immediately crouches where he stands, tiptoeing over to a tiny alleyway. It’s almost comical, and Martin would laugh if he weren’t so dumbfounded by this turn of events. Jon starts to make a strange little whispery noise, holding out his hand, and that’s when Martin starts to worry for his mental state.

“Jon, are you-”

“Shh!”

And suddenly the source of the tiny meow- an equally tiny cat - bounds out from behind a trash can, stopping hesitantly in front of Jon’s hand. It’s a dirty little tabby, almost pitiful looking, but that doesn’t deter Jon in the slightest, his entire face lighting up at its appearance. He smiles encouragingly, going still, and the cat creeps forward, moving to sniff at his fingers and then butt its head against his hand.

“Oh, look at this little man-” It’s not quite baby-talk, too serious and too Jonathan Sims to ever be described that way, but it’s a strange enough tone and it sort of does something to Martin in the vein of indigestion and heart palpitations. Here’s his stuffy boss, crouching in a dirty alleyway, petting a dirty cat, and whispering sweet nothings as if it were his own.

“I-I thought you didn’t like animals?” is all he manages to get out.

Jon’s smile doesn’t waver as he leans closer to give the cat a particularly good scritch as it rubs enthusiastically against his hand. “I don’t like them when they’re defecating in my archive.” Ah. Touche. “But you wouldn’t do that, would you? Would you?” The cat, unsurprisingly, responds only by purring as Jon scratches at it’s chin. “Of course. That’s what I thought.”

Martin crouches down beside him, the cat leaping back at the sudden movement, but Jon pays it no mind. “Oh, that’s just Martin,” he says to the cat, reaching towards it again. “He won’t hurt you. He’s very nice. Aren’t you, Martin?”

Martin nods seriously, as if he’s not being talked about like a well-behaved dog by his boss who barely tolerates him. He reaches his hand out, like Jon had, and watches as the cat butts up against it after a few sniffs. And Jon’s looking at it so fondly, that Martin almost forgets how to breathe. 

When the cat finally scurries off about ten minutes later (a car backfired, much to Jon’s chagrin), Martin’s joints are aching and Jon’s staring forlornly down the alleyway, like a wife watching her husband go off to war. He lets out a sigh before turning to Martin, suddenly all business. They say absolutely nothing as Martin gets their tea, and it’s as if the whole thing happened in some sort of fever dream.

That’s what he’d think, at least, if he didn’t have a few clandestine snapshots of Jon saved on his phone, to show to Tim and Sasha when he gets back. And if he didn’t have that funny, sinking feeling in his chest that meant yes, it did happen, and yes, he might just have a crush on his boss now.

Goddamnit.

ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30983480

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

I have one episode left in set 4 of No More Jockeys. I realize this isn’t supposed to be the most important thing; I just watched an absolutely lovely episode of them all sitting on a couch together in what I assume is Edinburgh and Alex taking apart a pineapple, and the comedy and chemistry and general sense of fun was at its absolute peak in that episode but at high points in many recent episodes, and I love all those things and have really enjoyed and appreciated them, but I have to say, the thing I’m most excited about is Mark Watson going on a four-game win streak at the end to take a come-from-behind victory in the set. I assume so, at least. He’s up 6-5-5 and there’s only one game left, so he must win the final one because if he didn’t then the set would continue until someone won by 2. Due to them using tennis scoring for reasons that, like most things about this, I’m pretty sure they’ve never explained.

They were 5-5-5 going into the second last game, so I knew whoever won that one would win the next one as well and the whole set, which means I have may spent that episode being a bit more focused on the competitive side than I should have been for a game that was so heavy on all the nice things. It’s just so good! He was down 5-5-3! And he shouldn’t have been! He was losing because he kept giving up too fast when challenged on things for which the others wouldn’t have given up, and probably more than that, because he was too quick to back down on his own challenges. I’ve spent the last couple of days wanting to yell at him for that, except my throat hurts so I can’t yell at the screen. But it turned out it was all building up to a 4-game comeback. The last of which I haven’t seen yet but it must go his way.

I mean, the rest of it was great. The Edinburgh episode (the one where they were all in a hotel together in August 2021, I mean, not any episodes they might have done live in Edinburgh, though they’ve probably done those and those were probably good too) may have been one of their best ones for the back-and-forth and the humour. Alex and his pineapple man. Alex not explaining anything about why he had a pineapple or why he was not wearing a shirt. Tim arguing about the lighting. Tim having his Perrier with him for no explained reason. Mark absolutely falling apart laughing at everything that happened. Tim hitting a nice balance between his usual very aggressive playing style and being more laid back. Normally I’m not a huge fan of balance, I like people who really go one way or the other, including when Tim goes to his usual extreme of very aggressive or his other extreme of not giving a shit. But I was surprised to see that actually, when it’s just an occasional thing as a contrast to all those other games, balance can be a good look on Tim Key.

It was an absolutely lovely game, and I enjoyed every aspect of it, I just feel like I’ll need to re-watch it while knowing the outcome already, so I can sit back and really take in all the nice things, instead of being distracted by a constant thought process of, “Come on, Watson, you were a little out of it in some early parts of this set but you’ve strung a few good ones together, keep your head in the game this time, you can keep it up to the end.” Is it obvious that I miss sports? I fucking miss sports. I was excited about them last week but then I got COVID and now I sort of think I should never leave my bedroom again. All sports should probably be replaced by Zoom games from separate rooms and put on YouTube.

What started me on this path was when I listened to Mark Watson’s episode of the Comedian’s Comedian podcast a few weeks ago, and it reminded me of how much I like him and how the amount of time I’ve spent seeking out his work doesn’t really match up with how much I like him, and I decided to take a short break from doing anything else so I could fix that. That was a very good podcast episode for many reasons, all of which have to do with Mark Watson being an intelligent, thoughtful person who has interesting answers to any question. I particularly enjoyed one discussion of how he evaluated his own stand-up, in which he said he admired other comedians who weren’t afraid to tackle tough subjects head on, while he would talk about tough subjects but then end it on a joke that would undercut his point, and he wished he could get better at not undercutting himself all the time.

He made a comment about wishing he had a better “killer instinct”, which stuck in my mind because I thought it was an interesting term to apply to stand-up comedy. It raises a lot of questions about what that means in a format where you are, of course, supposed to make jokes. There are people who would say it means being willing to just be an asshole and say something outrageously offensive for the sake of it, but that is definitely not what Mark meant when he said he wanted to develop that, and I’m glad because that’s a boring answer. Mark Watson was talking about something much more interesting, about having the guts to discuss serious topics, say difficult things about those topics, and not take away the power of what you’re saying by making it into a joke. Which is difficult, of course, because there are supposed to be jokes in a comedy show. But there are ways to say things that are funny and don’t undercut the larger point, there are ways to say things that are funny and actually highlight the larger point, and I feel like the ability to do that about a difficult point could be called a killer instinct.

This sparked such interesting thoughts for me about what that term means, how to know when you’re doing it right and when you’re doing a pale imitation, how to take a risk on something that will come off really badly if you do it wrong, what comedians should be striving to do if this is something they want to achieve, which of course isn’t the case for everyone. It is quite funny to me to go from that to watching No More Jockeys, where "killer instinct" has a much simpler meaning. To go from a sort of philosophical question about what does and what doesn’t take away from the important things you’re expressing, to saying to my screen: “What the fuck, Mark? You’re backing down on that? You’re letting Tim get away with that, even though you were clearly 100% right in your challenge and you bowed out for way less just last episode? Why do you have no killer instinct?” One time he started the episode by saying he’d decided he was too lenient and was going to try to be more of a dick in this game, and then later on agreed almost immediately to let Tim back in despite them having all agreed that by the rules he should be out.

Basically, according to the stand-up I’ve heard Mark do since that podcast episode was recorded in 2015, and particularly when I compare it to his stuff that I’ve heard from before 2015, I think he has succeeded in many ways at what he set out to do. I don’t think he’s 100% transformed himself into the comedian that he explained in 2015 he wanted to be, mainly because he set a very high bar for himself, but I think he’s closer to being that comedian now than he was then. His recent stand-up tackles difficult subjects with, I think, more of a killer instinct than he used to have. However, shit that matters in any way aside, he has clearly not developed a killer instinct in the field of parlour games played over Zoom. And that is why I am pleased to see him pull it together at the end and take another set. Come on, Mark. You’re better than that.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

Reverse batfam headcanons please centred on dickiee

i think about this entirely too often but yes yes of course.

languages were simultaneously the most simple and most complex thing dick had ever encountered in his long nine years of living. everyone in circ d’caleé spoke multiple different languages, and they'd lived in each other's shoes for so long that the travelling troupe developed their own little language, a mixture of everything and anything that could be understood. in addition to that, everywhere they went, dick picked up local dialects and accents with a tip of a hat and flip of his feet. of course, that made it a bit difficult to properly communicate when he had to live with the waynes. while bruce, tim, and jason could speak a smattering of other languages, english was what they defaulted to first and foremost. damian was fluent in both arabic and nepali first and formost, those just happened to be two languages that dick didn't speak very fluently. cassandra was just now getting the hang of spoken language with a bit of sign language thrown in. so the first few months of dick's shiny new home in wayne manor, everyone fumbled around words and phrases and vague gestures until they settled into hesitantly speaking french and attempting to convince dick to learn fluent english.

jason didn't like having a younger brother, he didn't. especially since that little brother was dick grayson. after all of the heartbreak and loss and weight of malediction bruce had lived with his entire life, jason could almost proudly say that he was one of the few people in the world to drive bruce out of his head, to get him to smile while taking jason out for ice cream, to sit him down and watch football with him, to make him laugh. and then here comes this upstart little brat who couldn't keep both feet on the ground for the life of him and thought football was actually soccer and who could make bruce laugh like it was fuckin' easy. who could so easily clamber up bruce's shoulders for a hug and beam as bruce ruffled his hair and sob into bruce's chest in the middle of the night when everyone was supposed to be asleep. jason had spent years coaxing bruce out of his shell, step by painful step, and dick made it happen with two backflips and a cheeky pun. it made jason's blood boil, the way dick never appreciated what he had, what he could do. the brat had taken to following him around, both in the cave, staring with awe as jason went through training routines, and in the manor, hopping into an armchair and asking jason to read a book aloud for him. it was irritating, just like it was irritating when dick popped jason's latest baking experiment into his mouth and loudly exclaimed how utterly delicious it was, just like it was irritating when dick dragged him to the aerial set bruce had installed in the batcave and asked him to watch his new routine. no matter what the rest of jason's stupid family said, dick was definitely not growing on jason. they could take their smiles and coos over the two "babies of the family" and shove them up their asses.

dick didn't understand why exactly bruce was so overprotective over the smallest things. he never let dick travel anywhere alone, regardless if it was as far away as france or as close as the one gelato place left in gotham. it was so unfair, because dick heard that bruce let jason run off to ethiopia of all places, and only went after him because cass had told bruce about it the minute jason left. he never let dick hang out with his friends, no matter how much dick asked to have a sleepover at wally's or go hang out with donna. on the rare occasions he said yes, they were only allowed to come to the manor. it was unreasonable, because bruce let tim run wild with young justice, despite the stories of tim going crazy after everyone in his team had died. tim wasn't crazy, as far as dick could tell, just a little paranoid and high-strung. also everyone on his team was alive, so dick didn't know what roy was talking about. cass didn't really want to go out anywhere, preferring to stick in gotham with her and tim's friend stephanie, but she had free reign over the city! and dick wasn't allowed to fight any major threats by himself at all. damian had battled deathstroke at his age, and dick was pretty sure damian was still in contact with the league of assassins, but dick couldn't even fight penguin with bruce insisting he be there for backup. he was so overprotective it made dick's blood boil.

being around dick physically hurt tim sometimes. not the crass (yet still somehow funny?) jokes jason made about dick jumping into body-slamming hugs and crash landing into laps so fiercely that even tim could feel it. but it hurt,,,,emotionally, so to speak. dick was just,,,,,dick was so much like stephanie, it ached. to be more specific, stephanie before. steph before she'd desperately bid for bruce's attention and landed herself at black mask's feet for her troubles. steph before the power tools dug her life away bit by bit until she was just gone. steph before she'd come back with green eyes and rage splitting at the seams of her scarred skin. steph before she realized that black mask had killed her and put tim in a wheelchair for the rest of his life for trying to avenge his best friend, and bruce had done next to nothing. tim would sit in his clocktower and force a smile onto his face as dick rambled on and on about the most meaningful of meaningless things, as dick shoved new foods he'd never tried before into his face, as dick laughed loud and bright and clear, trying to forget a time when steph would do the same. she smiles now, grabs lunch with him and cass, wakes up on days when there isn't any green in her vision, but she'll never be who she used to. and tim prays that there never comes a day when dick ends up like her.

dick feels,,,,,isolated sometimes, compared to the rest of his new family. or no, maybe isolated isn't the right word. set apart, maybe, or differentiated. both damian and cass had spent their lives being beat and broken and put back together supposedly stronger than before until they were almost wiped away entirely. steph and jason had both grown up poor and hungry and flinching back from their fathers, bending under gotham's merciless weight. (then steph had died, and come back worse than ever imagined.) tim had grown up lonely, had learned to fend for himself, had turned his name into a half-revered, half-feared whisper even when his legs were taken from him. maybe dick could have related a bit to bruce, but bruce had put himself through so much hardship and so much suffering in an attempt to keep himself from ever being hurt again. in contrast, dick hadn't gone through nearly as much. he'd been happy before the circus came to gotham, happy and cared for and loved. but that didn't mean he couldn't still help. he could sit and listen as they raged, because their anger couldn't touch him; he had no part in it. he could coax out smiles from their stone walls and laugh enough for all of them put together. he could take a name that had previously only been associated with death and heartache and turn it into the light and joy of gotham. he could dust the stillness from the curtains and breathe life back into wayne manor. and that, for him, was enough.

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