And then Hardison clicks to the next slide. "Of course, now the company had been bought by the Wayne Enterprises," he says slowly and pointedly, and all the others suddenly sit up, the focus of their attention shifting and narrowing. "No," Sophie says. Eliot nods once, sharply, and Parker does a rather good impression of one of those boggling-head-dolls, agreeing completely.

Krypto likes to take care of Kon as much as Kon likes to take care of Krypto. When Kon is hungry, Krypto fetches him food. When Kon is sleepy, Krypto fetches him blankets. And when Kon is horny, Krypto fetches him Tim. Which leaves Kon the not-so-fun job of awkwardly explaining to Red Robin why he's been dragged to Smallville in the middle of the night by a well-meaning superdog.

"On the bright side," Dick says as he shimmies down the building, "You didn't raise a group of homicidal, raging, vengeful killers and sociopaths so much as you raised a group of emotionally-volatile, obsessive, spiteful vigilantes and paper pushers."

"Why does Ra's know how old my piercings are?" Tim asks, and does he know where they are.

"You're fucking with me." Tim blinks up at his uncle – and he's never seen his uncle in full armor before, not in person. It's kind of daunting. "Please tell me you're fucking with me, spawn."

Jason has small, meaningless interactions with his family. The media outlets of Gotham disagree.

"I'd be doing humanity a favor." Tim grinds out, "And I would get away with it. I could totally get away with it. I've done worse."

Thanks for the spank bank material, replacement, but I’m pretty sure that wasn’t meant for me.

Tim gets off on getting off in public, and Jay happens to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. …Or, actually, maybe it's exactly the right place at the right time.

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.

"Timmers sucked me pregnant," Jason blurts, and Tim watches in morbid fascination as Bruce goes through the five stages of grief in a millisecond. "I thought you said you weren't… sleeping together," Bruce says reproachfully. "He means that I, uh, impregnated him with my teeth. When I drank his blood. No sex involved," Tim explains. "It was an accident. I didn't even know I could do that."

"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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

"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.

“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?”

"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.