Tiny Tim: all i want is for someone with a monster cock to fuck my brains out until im drooling, is that too much to ask? He sets his phone down and makes it about 5 seconds into reorganizing the granola bar shelf before realizing his fatal error. With a feeling like ice water being poured down his back, Tim snatches his phone back up and has to input his password 3 separate times before he calms down enough to type it correctly. Oh. Fuck. Tim is mentally adding this whole situation to the Top 10 List of Worst Things That Have Happened to Him Ever when he sees a new notification come in, not from one of the group chats this time. Jason Todd: wanna fuck? Or, Tim accidentally sends a text message to the wrong group chat, but it all works out in the end.

The news that Timothy Drake, Gotham’s cryptid millionaire, has shot the Joker dead during a public live-stream hits the world like a freight train—and that is just the opening salvo of his bugfuck plan. Maybe there exists, in the multiverse, a configuration of Jason Todd who will weather this with decorum, dignity and self-respect. This version of Jason Todd decides that the life of an academic is not, really, all that rewarding. In contrast, the life of Timothy Drake’s live-in house-husband is looking more appealing by the second.

Tim gets tired of constantly having to remove all the bugs Batman and Oracle plant in his apartment, so he cooks up a scheme to make them regret ever listening in. But he'll need some help, of course.

Maybe it was because he didn’t have time to read the gossip columns; maybe it was because he seriously underestimated the audience’s power to “Ship It”, but Bruce didn’t *immediately* cotton onto the fact that his scheme made half the country think that his son was in love with, well, his *other* son.