Jason is getting ready to start his reign as the Red Hood when he overhears a conversation that will change his life. He ends up giving up his plans for revenge and taking on a new identity so he can raise the son he never thought he'd have. When his safety and anonymity are threatened by the Wayne Foundation 's representative, Tim Drake-Wayne, all Jason can do is keep his head down and hope for the best - but he may have to redefine "best" in order for that to work out.

There's a pup in Jason's nest. He's here, covered in blood and guts after a long night spent, uh, clearing up some misunderstandings with the drug smugglers over at the docks, and there's a fucking strange pup conked out in his nest. Fuck his body for presenting omega, fuck omega hormones for being catnip for kids, and fuck him for being too soft to kick the brat out.

When Bernard finds out there have been sightings of Mothman in 'the most haunted place on earth' how could he not want to investigate? (and drag his superhero boyfriends along with him.)

There were a lot of things Bernard knew. He knew how to disinfect a wound, he knew the proper stance to take when punching someone, he even knew who both of his boyfriends were without them having actually told him yet. What he didn't know was how to break the news to his alien boyfriend that their vigilante boyfriend might've knocked him up. Rated mature for descriptions of reproductive biology, discussions of unprotected sex, implied sexual content and mention of nudity.

When Bernard first started making YouTube videos about vigilantes and rogues, he did it under the assumption that his viewers would uphold the Sacred Oath of RPF. As in, his viewers would not share his videos with the less-than-discerning public, anyone featured in the video would ignore the existence of such videos, and the world would go on. No such luck. “I like the part where you say that Superman’s love for Bruce Wayne was so pure that I sprang from his head like Athena from Zeus, but it simply isn’t true. Also, according to Alexa, a blatant misinterpretation of Greek mythology," Superboy says. In which Bernard is an avid member of the Superman and Batman RPF side of tumblr, Kon thinks convincing his favorite RPF writer and video essayist to post weird stories about Superman is the only way to avoid murdering him, and Tim is definitely not alvin-and-the-chipmen, a popular fanart blog for Batman and co.

Talia meant for Jason to realize that Tim had no business being Robin, that he needed to be removed from the position. Jason watched the videos over and over.

“That one doesn’t have a home,” this time the doctor who had disconnected the alien’s IVs was the one who spoke. “From the pod she crash landed in, it looks like she came from a world on the verge of destruction.” The baby started crying again and both Tim and Kon shot a glare at him. Kon shushed the baby again, “It’s okay, you can stay with us until we find you a new home. I’m Kon, do you have a name?” Tim glared at him for exposing his name in front of Lexcorp employees, but Kon ignored him. The kid snuffled and nodded, “Adeen’a.” - OR the accidental baby acquisition fic literally no one asked for.

Bernard has Tim beta his fanfiction. It's get awkward. Meanwhile, Tim adored the self-insert/Red Robin fics Bernard's been writing and hiding from him.

"You're..." The kid trails off, seeming to collect his thoughts. "You are bisexual, correct?" Tim stills. That's what this is about, huh? "...Yeah, I am." He's tempted to ask why, but he's sure that question will be answered soon, and he doesn't want to seem like he's pushing too far. "So... how did you know? That you were not..." "Straight?" Tim supplies, and Damian nods. --- Damian Wayne realizes he may not be straight. He consults the only person he thinks will understand, which happens to be one Tim Drake.

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.

Damian has never experienced sexual attraction in the way a majority of the populace does, but he's never been one to let himself miss out on anything. He's also not someone who has any interest in having another person touch him. The solution? Simply doing it himself.

“Hey, I do I... Do I know you?” Danny asks, a hand coming up to brush something off Tim’s cheek. “No,” Tim says. “We haven’t met.” “Oh, no, I do.” Danny says, and he smiles, teeth white and sharp. “You’re that guy who rearranged my guts!” Rearranged his- Tim glances at the knotted scars on the boy’s abdomen. He can see the shine and shadow of haphazard stitches that weren’t meant to hold forever, that tore and healed over. His- This- “WHAT!?” Nightwing shouts, equal parts confused and delighted. Tim’s fucked. OR Danny Fenton's been in GIW captivity for 4 months. Tim Drake gets kidnapped by the GIW one Tuesday evening in May. Considering how many of the Bats and the Birds have died and come back to life, it was only a matter of time for some people interested in the afterlife to come poking around. The detectives can't seem to uncover any information about the mysterious white vans, however. And they keep losing the mysterious boy who seems to be the one person in Gotham to know anything at all.

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.

Everyone knows Robin is the only out teenage superhero. or- The one where Young Justice is made up of gay people.

Bernard opens the laptop, spinning it to face Tim with a flourish. It’s a powerpoint with a truly hideous red background, and Tim feels a moment of relief that Bernard isn’t breaking up with him before he registers the words on the slide. REASONS WHY TIMOTHY DRAKE-WAYNE IS A SUPERHERO, A STUDY BY BERNARD DOWD. - Based on my post on tumblr: "I’m obsessed with the idea that Bernard like. Figures out that Tim is a superhero but guesses the wrong one. Like he compiles all this evidence and makes a PowerPoint and presents it to Tim and is like “Tim. I figured it out. You’re Impulse.”"

Trapper sat down, datapad in hand. “Ok, ready to transcribe.” Wooley smoothed the scarf down one more time, then started inspecting the stitches.

Tim has plans to meet his boyfriend's sister. Jason has plans to meet his girlfriend's brother. These two things should not be related. But their respective partners certainly are. Alternatively: Tim is dating Danny, and Jason is dating Jazz. Neither of them realize this until they're at Jazz's place at the same time without telling each other where they were going. Well. Their evening just got a lot more interesting.

Peter finally has a day to himself, and he decides to relax, maybe take out a couple of toys. But then Deadpool comes by and finds this remote on the counter and oh God the vibrator's still inside of him.

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.

Danny is on the run. He wants nothing more than to see his family, but they're out of his reach at the moment. Then he sees a magazine article and accompanying photo of Damian Wayne. His long-lost twin brother. Maybe he does have some family he can check on. Just to spy from a distance, of course. Getting too close would only make his situation worse. But when he gets caught in the halls of Gotham Academy, he might not have a choice in the matter.

It’s not like the world is spilling over with clones, is the thing; especially not genetically stable super-powered hybrid clones with– Wait, Tucker thinks, and lifts his head to stare blankly at the poster on his bedroom wall. Well, there’s a lot of posters on all of his bedroom walls, admittedly, but a specific poster on a specific wall. “You’re a genetically stable super-powered hybrid clone,” Tucker says to his poster, still staring at the digitally-rendered face of a teen idol superhero. Superboy continues to grin cockily at him, because he’s a special edition poster and obviously isn’t gonna stop doing that. Tucker, very slowly, reaches for his phone and types something into Bing after all.

Bruce Wayne is kidnapped by Poison Ivy. Superman comes to the rescue.

Roy nodded. “I was wondering...you ever think about switching this up?” Jason’s brow furrowed. “Switching what up?” “This.” Roy’s lazy gesture looked like it might have indicated the two of them if he had bothered to lift his hand or move his wrist at all. “The little kinky thing we’re doing.” “You want to spank me?” Jason asked, smirking. Roy smiled back, half-hidden by the pillow. “There is nothing I don’t want to do to that fine ass of yours, Jaybird,” he said. “But not spanking necessarily, unless that’s what you want. There’s a lot of other stuff we could do. I guess I was just wondering if you ever thought about subbing in general. I think you might like it.” - Spoiler: He likes it.

Jazz meets her soulmate in, of all places, Park Row. Or as the locals call it, Crime Alley. Seems about right for her life, she decides as she kicks the shit out of the guy who was trying to stab him for his wallet fifteen seconds ago. Her soulmate watches her curiously, seeming unconcerned by the fuss, and takes a sip of his smoothie. Also seems about right, for her soulmate. A guy who got too nervous when necessary violence happened was not going to survive Thanksgiving in Amity Park, much less Christmas. Well, it is Gotham.

Danny’s looking at him like he’s crazy. His hair’s dried up into a mess of waves, and there’s some tomato seeds on the corner of his mouth. “You just bailed me out of jail. And you think this is a good idea?” “I don’t have bad ideas, Fenton. And like you’ve just said, I have collateral on you.” “So you’re blackmailing me into pretending to date you?” Tim shrugs. “Or you could just sign the NDA.” OR Danny's trying to recover all the shards to an entity's chalice so that it'll stop destroying the zone while tensions rise amongst his subjects- and trying to finish high school. Tim's juggling his case load, his work as CEO, and does not have time to be embroiled in a sex scandal right now. If that means he has to pretend to date a very suspicious heir to a rival company, then so be it. It's a mutually beneficial relationship. So what if Tim's becoming a little too intrigued by the illusive, powerful Phantom? So what if Danny can't stand the Justice League for leaving him to deal with all of Amity's problems when he was just 14? That's a superhero thing. And their fake boyfriend has no clue that they're a superhero.

He shouldn't be the one to explain this shit to him. It should be someone he trusts, someone who hasn't tried to fuck him up and fuck him over so many times, someone he actually likes. But he's here and he's asking Jason now and it occurs to Jason that Tim's lost so many people, maybe he really is the only one he can come to.

Tim didn't mean it, really. He misspoke, that was all, when he told Jason to fuck him. But maybe it was a bit of a happy accident, and maybe he meant it a little bit.

When Danny gets a scholarship to Gotham University, it's a chance for a new life; a chance to do everything he never could back in Amity. One of those things is exploring his sexuality with whatever willing partners come his way. He honestly didn't mean to sleep his way through most of the Wayne family. Nor did he intend to fall in love with a vigilante crime lord, but hey, that's what happens in Gotham. It's all fine until he's invited to dinner at Wayne Manor.

Darcy thinks maybe her new intern is a slut. Like–a big one. Big ol’ slut. Both metaphorically and literally, since he's 6’3” of Kansas beefcake and maybe the literal only human being alive who has a build remotely comparable to Thor's. So like, a billion steroids or secretly an alien, Darcy’s assuming.

“He’s traumatized from being brainwashed and imprisoned and can’t submit to an alpha with combat training without either having a panic attack or straight up trying to kill them,” Sam says bluntly. “He’s detoxing off illegal suppressants before we can put him on new ones. Dr. Cho was going to cycle off hers for him, but he burned through faster than we expected.” “So . . . he’s in heat, and there’s nobody around he doesn’t see as a threat?” Darcy summarizes, frowning. “Long story short, yes,” Sam confirms. “. . . and long story long?” Darcy asks skeptically, genuinely unable to help herself. He tells them. “Jesus Christ!”

Geralt doesn’t wear his courting jewelry—the medallion is apparently a witcher thing, not an omega one—and Jaskier supposes that makes sense. Geralt leads a very active life, and probably saves the jewelry for situations it won’t run the constant risk of getting ruined in. Certainly a nice set of earrings would be a lot more fragile than the plain studs he wears instead. A lot of omegas don’t wear their courting jewelry day to day, anyway, or at least not most of it. Geralt’s hardly unusual in that. It’s a bit of a shame, though, because Jaskier’d like to see him in it.

Quinlan can’t take it anymore, and if he sticks around for one more minute, he’s going to have a reaction that’s entirely inappropriate given the discussion that’s happening above his head.

The bard is an omega, young and pretty but poorly received by the tavern crowd. He smells like a stray, is barely older than a pup, and isn’t very good at his work. Geralt isn't interested in him besides that, but for some unfathomable reason the other is interested in him. He lets the bard follow him mostly just because getting rid of him would be more annoying, and maybe because he pities him a bit. But it's not going to be that interesting a job, he's already sure. There's no harm in letting a human hang around. Of course, then they get kidnapped by vengeful elves. So . . . fuck.

“You’re sharing a room?” Yennefer says, eyebrows raising. Hm. There’s a surprise. She’d have expected Geralt to want privacy and Jaskier to end up staying up all night and up some farmgirl’s skirt. “It’s cheaper,” Jaskier says. “Or it’s a habit. I don’t know. What do you care?” “I’m just surprised,” Yennefer says. “I thought you two weren’t having sex.” Geralt chokes on his ale.

Jaskier’s just debating how much trouble he’s actually in when Geralt, marvelously, talks them out of it. After that, well . . . Jaskier still wants to eat him very badly, but he supposes it’d be a bit ungrateful of him. Geralt isn’t very impressed with the song he writes for him, unfortunately—which, rude—but doesn’t try to run off and leave him either, so . . . Well, Jaskier’s a bit smitten. A delicious-smelling witcher who can talk his way out of being murdered is very impressive. And he always has wanted a pet.

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

Jaskier falls in love with a witcher. It’s a bad idea, of course, but he falls in love with a lot of bad ideas.

"Superboy will be staying at Mount Justice for now," Bruce says. He doesn't look at Clark as he says it. Clark doesn't look at him either. ". . . Mount Justice is a cave," Captain Marvel says, clearly even more bewildered. "And Superboy is solar-powered. Isn't that kind of . . . I don't know . . . mean?" "'Mean'?" Clark repeats in disbelief before he can think better of it.

“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.

The wedding’s going to be tonight, presumably so no one involved has time to get cold feet, which gives Geralt just enough time to clean up and get the dirt off his armor and overthink every tiny little detail of this arrangement.

“That,” Quinlan says, faintly frazzled, “is not how the Force works.”

The armor is just making Jaster colder.

Despite the council's objections, Qui-Gon takes a new and promising padawan before Feemor is a made a Knight. Left adrift after failing his Trials, with nothing to do but wait and try to adjust to his new situation, Feemor makes the trip back to his homeworld, only to stumble over a strange old lightsaber in an ancient Mandalorian keep. Tarre Vizsla has spent a long time waiting for a Jedi to take up his blade again, but even with the Darksaber finally out of Mandalorian hands, the Mandalorian civil war is spiraling rapidly out of control. As a former Mand'alor, Tarre has an obligation to his people - one that Feemor is going to have to fulfill in his place.

“Those are some thick gloves you're wearing,” Quinlan observes, light. “And here I thought the weather was actually behaving today.”