Bernard is maybe not doing all that great at his first gala but Tim Drake is nothing if not a problem-solver and Conner Luthor . . . well, he's here too?

Bernard laughed. A beautiful sound Tim treasured more than gold. “You want to get us into a cheating scandal?” “Correct. If we all get spotted on obviously romantic dates with each other then we have a chance to spread the stories across a few weeks and keep up public interest. It’s exactly what B needs, and we get to have a bit of fun in the process.” Or; 4 times Tim and his boyfriends screwed with the public and 1 time they told the truth.

And, well. He gets impatient when he’s already in pain. He’s still got fifteen minutes until the meeting is set to begin, and the chances of him slapping Mr. Smith-Harguson so hard that the man’s toupee flies off are rising exponentially by the second. Yeah, that settles it. He needs an excuse to get out of here, and he needs it fast. - for the prompt 'jason todd, lover of fake kidnappings, meets tim drake, lover of chaos', but it... got out of hand. happy pride

Bernard pops the top off his water bottle, a roll of his wrist at the perfect angle and it comes right off, and pops the faucet in Tim’s very nice kitchen to cold. Tim presses a kiss to the back of Bernard’s neck before Tim moves to the fridge to get his own water. Bernard used to not drink as much water, but Tim drinks enough water for three people a day so Bernard naturally has followed- and now Bernard has no acne so he’s sort of mad about it actually. “The main character has two hands.” Bernard chimes easy and teasing. “Polygamy is the awnser here babe.” Tim peaks over the door of the fridge. “Oh? Is this you telling me something?” — Tim Drake, Bernard Dowd, and Kon-El have two hands each. They use them to hold onto each other.

So listen, Danny knew going into this PA job that it was a bad idea to work directly under Tim Drake-Wayne. He knows himself, and unfortunately that means he knows his type, which Tim was practically tailor made for. It's like whatever ghost is in charge of the cycle of reincarnation sat down with clockwork to pick out the perfect soul and genetic donors for his future King to fall in love with. He knows for a fact that didn't happen; Clockwork is too much a smug bastard to NOT have poked the two of them into each other's lives yet if that was the case.

“You wouldn’t say no to a woman with bread in her skirt, would you?” the bard says.

“Repeat that,” Tim says slowly. Kon gives him a defensive look. “I panicked, okay?” he repeats. “And ‘panicking’ meant you decided to kidnap . . . how many kids, exactly?”

"Crap!" the food truck worker shrieks in alarm. "Don't hurt him, Superman, he's just a kid!" Clark . . . pauses, then looks up from the kid that he is currently pinning into the street as said kid struggles underneath him. "'Hurt him'?" he asks in reflexive confusion, and then realizes how batting a teenager around like a person-shaped cat toy and pinning him to the street hard enough to crack it probably actually looks to an outside observer. . . . um. Whoops. "Um," he starts awkwardly, and then the kid slips his pin while he's distracted and throws his arms around his neck with a gleeful laugh and a bright grin. "Dad!" he crows triumphantly, and hugs Clark harder than literally anyone has ever hugged him before.

“I need you,” Tucker blurts immediately as he bursts into the living room where he left Kon half an hour ago. Or maybe two hours ago. Hopefully not more than three . . . ? “Like in a sexy way?” Kon asks, sounding halfheartedly hopeful as he looks up from his position draped across the couch with one of Tucker’s mom’s blander gossip magazines, where he’s clearly been bored out of his mind. Tucker will make that up to him later, definitely, but right now– “Like in a rogue attack way,” he says, and Kon makes a face.

Look, the Batman may be an eldritch inhuman cryptid, but he still needs an emotional support sidekick, and Tim Drake still doesn't have any consistent adult supervision in his life. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ A cryptid!Batman AU where Superman has explained to newly-cloned Superboy that the Batman is a terrifying eldritch horror given human(-ish) form and Superboy is therefore under the impression that Robin is going to be into weird shit like being brought damning evidence and deadly criminals and dangerous problems to solve and will appreciate being slightly stalked. The Bat-cryptids stalk everybody, right? So it’s like their love language, Superboy figures as he’s collecting a bunch of random shiny trinkets to leave out for Robin like he thinks he's a magpie or a crow or something, and maybe also some nice pebbles to cover the penguin angle just in case. Just stuff he might like to decorate the cryptid-nest Superboy is assuming he has with. Superboy is fully correct about Robin appreciating the weird shit and shiny trinkets and being reciprocally stalked, actually, but now Tim has to figure out how to explain that he's actually just a normal human teenager who just decided that his local protection spirit needed an emotional support sidekick before it could get corrupted into a local vengeance spirit. Though he does like the shinies, please don’t assume this means he doesn’t like the shinies or wants a normal relationship with, god forbid, boundaries about not stalking each other or whatever.

"There's no point in killing Superboy," Match says reasonably. "It's not like you'd care if he died." "The Agenda thinks I wouldn't care if Superboy died?" Superman asks incredulously, just staring at him. "Why, because he's a clone?" "Because I reported back my interactions with you when I was pretending to be him," Match corrects, puzzled by the vehemence of the response. "And also the lack thereof." "What?" Superman says, still just staring.

It’s probably a bad sign that Cad Bane, of all people, is judging his life choices.

Neil thinks sex with someone you care deeply about is great. But sometimes, something else is just more interesting, you know? Five times Neil gets distracted from sex and one time Andrew does.

This is so not Hawks's day. Rumi is getting antsy with his stalling, frowning as the faint light that filters up to them puts a gleam in her eye. Hawks needs a plan fast, and one that will convince the League he's at least tried to play their side when they inevitably show up to see him and Rumi wrecking the absolute shit out of their pet monster. "Okay," Hawks says, "This is gonna sound real weird, but I need you to punch me in the face. It's for - " CRACK!

Itachi and Madara massacre the clan, but they miss one member. Obito, loyal Konoha ANBU and disowned Uchiha, suddenly finds himself out of the organization that’s been his life for eight years and raising a traumatized, orphaned child. Kakashi helps. Or watches and plays the smartass, it’s a bit of a tossup.

It’s been a long time since Gojou Satoru last celebrated his birthday. Or, Gojou gets surprised by his cute students and has a revelation. Resting his arm on the table, Satoru props his chin up, watching the kids bickering between themselves. They’re filled with such innocence, despite being sorcerers, and maybe Ijichi is right— Satoru should let them enjoy their youth where they can. He’d never had that himself, as the target of assassins from the moment of his birth. “Oh, almost forgot!” Nobara says, grabbing a paper bag from the worktop and dropping it in front of Satoru. “We also got you this.” Satoru raises his eyebrow and grins. “You got me a paper bag? How wonderful!”

For most people, dying and waking up in your eight-year-old body is a second chance at life. For Dabi, it is a chance to make his shitty father’s life a living hell. Or: Dabi sucks at this whole time travelling thing. In his defence though, there’s really not much a kid can do in the grand scheme of things… or so he thought.