Bat-boys addict

Kara is at a crossroads, and one road leads towards Clark and one leads to Lobo. Or rather, one path leads to embracing the responsibility of the life and powers her parents gave her, and the other is continuing to drink her life away, not caring about anything or anyone but her and hers.

Lobo is immensely powerful, and the last of his planet. Just like Kara. And when we meet him, he’s passed out drunk in a bar, oblivious and uncaring of violence and exploitation around him. Just like Kara was trying to be when she first met Ruthye.

Lobo is Kara’s future if she gives up on trying to be good. Drunkenly stumbling through the galaxy not helping anyone or anything and only caring about herself. Maybe not mindlessly cruel, but not kind or good or caring of the pain of the people around her.

It’s why they both get Ruthye’s spiel, it’s why Lobo’s whole introduction mirrors what Kara was just doing demanding to know about the Brigands, it’s why they’re both “the ditz from the bar”, it’s why they both have the gag with the space suit collar.

It’s why Lobo crops up each time Ruthye and Kara are faced with choices, sometimes acting as a devil on their shoulders, sometimes just a big lurking ominous warning of their bleak future if they make the wrong choices. It’s why Lobo says “let Ruthye have her revenge”, uncaring of how the violence might haunt Ruthye for the rest of her life. He’s a big constant reminder why Kara cannot let this thirteen year old girl be consumed by violence, and of who her parents didn’t want her to be.

Lobo is Kara’s foil and shadow.

Jason: Hey demon brat and co what hell hole did you two crawl out of?

Jon: Stop calling him that

*Tim and Dick in the standing next to them*

Jason: And why should I

Jon: because non of you know what it means to actually redeem yourself. And try to be better than you are. And Damian has more love, kindness, and strength in his pinky finger than you have in your hole body.

Jason: chill out super dork it’s just a joke

Jon: is it

Little Dick is a complete meanance. He's running circles around his big brothers, getting them into trouble and running to Bruce whenever he gets upset

Is a complete spoiled brat. He gets whatever he wants, candy, toys, extra time on screens because he's totally a brothers' boy

Always climbs into bed with one of his brothers when he can't sleep and usually ends up asleep laying practically on 90% of the bed.

Bruce was like "new baby? 🥺" And Damian was already carrying the boy in his arms while screaming "MY BABY, MINE! 🤬"

Everytime he walks out of the house, he comes back with a new toy, sweet ot pet.

Bet during Dickies first christmas he mentioned to the family how he missed the circus and the next day woke up with a baby elephant on the backyard courtesy from "the best older brother in the whole world".

The only one Damian allows to share Dickie's custody with is Jon.

Krem didn't deserve to live. He was a pedophile, a murderer, and a sex trafficker

Kara Zor-El knew that he shouldn't be allowed to live bc he'd just keep doing what he was doing

But does her murdering him in place of Ruthye invalidate her teaching Ruthye "murder is wrong"?

Well, no bc i dont rlly think the message was "murder is wrong"

It was "dont let your grief and rage consume you"

If Ruthye had murdered Krem in her grief and anger it would've consumed her. Kara didnt want her to live with that. She sacrificed a part of herself to kill Krem, so Ruthye wouldn't have to be the one who did it

Yes, Krem was a piece of shit who deserved to die

Jon's phone: *playing thirst trap tiktoks set to Big Boy by Sza*

Kon: You've got it BAD man.

Jon: Shut up! Leave me alone! Like you're any better about Tim Conathan!

Kon: Whatever. Don't goon in shared spaces.

Jon: There's some for Tim too

Kon: SHOW ME!

Sample video:

Am I breathing?

Have I blinked?

Are my feet touching the floor?

Am I touching something typically fatal or painful?

Have I damaged the environment in some unexpected way?

Am I responding to sensory input not available to humans?

Oh … I’m not breathing…

Have some opening action scene where Superman shows up to stop crime and the robbers try to run him over at top speed.

Obviously it doesn’t work and Clark stops the car - wrecking it a bit and stunning the criminals inside but not harming them.

Then the scene repeats much later but this time Clark is distracted, stunned or suffering some phlebotinum effects - anything that causes him to not react.

So much of what he does, both as Clark AND and Superman, is for other people’s comfort.

The way he tilts his head to show he’s hearing something you can’t.

The way he dresses for weather he can’t feel.

The way his glasses obscure the too-intense blueness of his eyes.

The way he lifts his feet over cracks, and ducks under overhangs.

The way he eventually purchases oven mitts and other protective gear to wear before touching dangerous substances.

The way he leans into blows so people don’t shatter their hands.

The way he tries to only respond to words and tone, rather than heartbeat, increased/decreased sweating, breathing changes, ‘inaudible’ mumbles, and all the other things people don’t know they’re communicating.

A Clark that forgets to do those things is fascinating to observe.

(I’d also love to see more of various Karas and Kon dealing with similar things, because their perspectives are all so different.

Kara grew up without powers, but not around humans, and so her blind spots would be really different.

and one day superman is in trouble. he's been tied up and tortured at knifepoint. batman infiltrates the warehouse and takes out all the hired muscle, his teeth aching with this much adrenaline-infused blood so close. he forges on to the room where superman is being kept, finds him strung up against the wall, his wounds already healing.

bruce has already incapacitated the doctor who'd been hurting superman, so his only objective is to free him and escape.

he moves closer. superman's face blooms with relief, but before batman reaches him, something on the table catches his eye.

he stops dead. there, on the table, lies a long knife, gleaming with superman's blood.

batman knows he's doomed the moment he spots it. he's been starving himself for days already, and that blood is right there. it's not—it doesn't count if blood is already—but no, it's kal's blood. blood on a knife he's been tortured with. bruce couldn't possibly—

a sharp pang of pure agony lances through his teeth. batman has the knife in his hands before he can think to stop himself. he brings it to his lips, saliva pooling on his tongue. he knows it's wrong, knows he should untie kal and not eat his blood in front of him, but he's so, so hungry, and the blood is here, in his hand, millimetres away from his mouth—

he darts his tongue out, lets it catch against the flat of the blade. kryptonian blood is sweet, sweeter than any batman has tasted before, smooth and filling and perfect. he licks the knife again. and again. he keeps his movement deliberate, delicate—careful not to nick his tongue on the sharp edge.

superman—still stuck against the wall, helpless to do anything but watch—can only stare, wide-eyed, as batman's perfect pink tongue touches the blood, his blood, and comes away red before disappearing back into his mouth. clark can smell the satisfaction on him, can see how wet his tongue is even before licking the knife.

superman's heart pounds against his ribs. he'd do anything to feel those teeth against his neck; he's already shivering at the thought of that rough tongue trailing along his pulse point. batman must be hungry—it's the only explanation for his behaviour, deviating from the mission—and superman can fix that. he can be a food source for batman, without any worry of injury or long-term effects because of his healing. it'd be perfect.

he watches batman come back to himself in real time. batman stills, the knife halfway to his mouth. his eyes flicker up to meet superman's. his pupils are dilated. slowly, so slowly, he returns the knife to the table, moving silently towards superman and deftly undoing his binds.

"i—apologize," he bites out. superman can smell the metallic tang on his breath. "i should not have done that."

superman can hear the regret in his voice, can see batman pulling away from him, building invisible walls in record time.

"don't do that," superman begs, reaching for him. batman jerks under his hand, but doesn't move away. "it's all right. how long has it been since you've eaten?"

batman shrugs, small enough it doesn't dislodge kal's hand. "i've been without food for longer," he says, his voice quiet with self-deprecation.

"that's not an answer," superman insists. he wets his lips and tries a different tack. "if—if you need a reliable...supply, i could—i'll be that for you."

batman's jaw goes slack in surprise. "i don't—i would never feed off people—"

"i know," superman cuts in. "i know you wouldn't. but i'm asking—" kal bites his lip, tries again, "i'm offering. i know you won't hurt me. and," he pauses, glancing over to the now-clean knife. batman tenses beneath his hand. "it tasted—good. didn't it?"

god, how desperate does he sound, how obvious—

Which works great, except the Damian Alfred ends up with is 15 years old not qualified to be a parent. He does, however, have a new appreciation for how freaked out his own father must have been when first presented with a strange kid calling themselves his son.

Damian does the DNA test, and Alfred really is his son. From another universe, of course, but still his son. It's a very weird thing to think about, because Damian is 15 and a virgin and should not have to think about children any time soon.

Alfred clings to him regardless. The kid is distraught about being sent away and what may be happening in his own universe, but his father told him he'll be safe with Damian, so he sticks close to him regardless of Bruce's and Dick's attempts to separate them for a bit for Damian's sake.

Weirdly, the only person that can coax Alfred away from Damian is Jon (who heard what was going on and of course needed to see Damian's son for himself). Alfred just runs up to him immediately and hugs him while crying, leaving all of them confused.

Tim: Oh no.

Steph: OH MY GOD IT'S STILL UP?

Jason: Wait, somebody made a wiki page?

Duke: There are seventeen pages. It has citations.

Damian: As it should. It was a historical event.

Cass: Very funny.

Duke: What happened?

Tim: Nothing happened.

Steph: Tim started a civil war.

Tim: That is a gross exaggeration.

Jason: No, that's pretty much exactly what happened.

Duke: Explain.

Dick: It started because Tim was sleep-deprived.

Tim: That's not relevant.

Everyone: It is.

Tim: Fine. I hadn't slept in three days.

Steph: Four.

Tim: Whatever.

Steph: Four.

Tim: Anyway, we were getting food after patrol—

Jason: Batburger.

Tim: Right. Batburger.

Steph: Trademark infringement is still hilarious.

Tim: And while we were eating, I casually said—

Duke: Uh oh.

Tim: I casually said that pickles are objectively the worst burger topping.

Duke: That's it?

Cass: Not it.

Jason: That's what he thinks started it.

Tim: That IS what started it.

Damian: Incorrect. The true catalyst was Grayson.

Dick: Hey!

Damian: You gasped like someone had announced the death of a loved one.

Dick: Because pickles are amazing.

Tim: They're soggy.

Dick: They're crunchy!

Tim: They're wet.

Dick: Everything is wet, Tim!

Steph: See? This is exactly how it started.

Duke: You're all arguing about it right now.

Jason: We never stopped.

Duke: You never—

Cass: Two years.

Duke: TWO YEARS?

Steph: Dick got offended. Tim doubled down.

Tim: Because I was right.

Dick: Wrong.

Tim: Right.

Dick: Wrong.

Tim: Right.

Dick: Wrong.

Tim: See? This.

Jason: Then I said pineapple was worse.

Duke: Why would you do that?

Jason: Because I enjoy chaos.

Steph: Then Damian said anyone who voluntarily eats pineapple on a burger should be exiled from society.

Damian: A reasonable position.

Cass: Jason had pineapple.

Duke: Of course he did.

Jason: It was delicious.

Damian: Your taste buds are defective.

Jason: You eat dinosaur-shaped chicken nuggets.

Damian: Because they are shaped like dinosaurs.

Jason: That's not a defense.

Steph: Then Cass said she'd eat basically anything.

Cass: True.

Steph: And suddenly everyone was yelling.

Tim: It wasn't yelling.

Steph: Tim.

Tim: Fine. It was yelling.

Duke: Where does the "incident" part come in?

Everyone: …

Duke: Why is everyone quiet?

Jason: Because this is where it gets stupid.

Duke: More stupid?

Dick: We decided to settle it democratically.

Duke: That's not stupid.

Steph: We made brackets.

Duke: What?

Tim: Like a tournament.

Duke: For burger toppings?

Tim: For burger toppings.

Duke: Why?

Tim: We had resources.

Duke: WHAT RESOURCES?

Tim: A whiteboard.

Steph: Three laptops.

Cass: Projector.

Jason: Damian made graphs.

Damian: My graphs were excellent.

Duke: You made GRAPHS?

Damian: Statistical analysis is important.

Duke: For burger toppings?

Damian: Especially for burger toppings.

Dick: It got really competitive.

Steph: Really competitive.

Tim: In our defense—

Steph: No.

Tim: Fair.

Duke: How did Bruce react?

Jason: He didn't know.

Duke: Didn't know?

Jason: Until the finals.

Duke: There were FINALS?

Cass: Pickles versus bacon.

Duke: Of course there were.

Dick: The Batfam was divided.

Steph: Friendships were tested.

Jason: Allegiances shifted.

Damian: Weaknesses were exposed.

Tim: You're being dramatic.

Damian: Drake, you attempted voter fraud.

Duke: HE WHAT?

Tim: It was one extra vote.

Steph: Thirty-seven extra votes.

Tim: Details.

Dick: Then Bruce walked in.

Duke: And?

Cass: Silence.

Steph: Complete silence.

Jason: Like a horror movie.

Tim: Bruce looked at the giant tournament bracket.

Dick: Then at the spreadsheets.

Steph: Then at Damian's pie charts.

Cass: Then at the burger ranking manifesto.

Duke: The WHAT?

Jason: Thirty-two pages.

Tim: It was collaborative.

Duke: You wrote a thirty-two-page manifesto about burger toppings?

Damian: Thirty-four pages after revisions.

Duke: I don't know why I asked.

Dick: Bruce just stood there for a minute.

Steph: Looking disappointed.

Jason: Deeply disappointed.

Cass: Very deep.

Tim: Then he asked one question.

Duke: What question?

Everyone: "Why are there campaign posters?"

Duke: CAMPAIGN POSTERS?!

Steph: "A Vote For Bacon Is A Vote For The Future."

Jason: Mine was pretty good.

Damian: It was terrible.

Jason: You're just mad because pickles lost.

Dick: THEY WERE ROBBED.

Tim: They deserved it.

Dick: THEY MADE IT TO THE FINALS.

Tim: And then they lost.

Dick: CORRUPTION.

Duke: So that's why there's a wiki page?

Steph: No.

Duke: There's more?

Cass: Always more.

Jason: The wiki page exists because Alfred found the manifesto.

Tim: Oh no.

Steph: Oh yes.

Jason: And he corrected the grammar.

Duke: He what?

Dick: Every single typo.

Damian: Added footnotes.

Cass: Sources.

Steph: Citations.

Jason: Then he printed it.

Duke: WHY?

Tim: Nobody knows.

Steph: To shame us.

Dick: To preserve history.

Damian: To educate future generations.

Cass: Funny.

Duke: So somewhere in Wayne Manor there is a professionally edited document about burger toppings.

Jason: Multiple copies.

Duke: I hate all of you.

Bruce, walking into the room: Why is this conversation happening again?

Everyone: TIM STARTED IT.

Tim: HOW IS THIS MY FAULT?

Bruce: Because every conversation that ends with me finding campaign posters somehow traces back to you.