Queer Is A Gender, Sexuality, Romantic Orientation, Political Alignment, And Mission Statement, Babey

Sometimes I think about Tim having trust issues after Bruce's 16th birthday gift fiasco, just him wanting so hard to trust in his family, but never being fully able to do so.

Imagine Tim sitting at the table during dinner suddenly wondering if maybe Alfred poisoned his food because maybe today, Bruce decided he wanted to test Tim's tolerance to them. Or Tim chucking a gift from Bruce into his closet just in case it's another doomsday message. Tim adding stuff into his family and friends' schedules on his birthday so everyone will be too busy to remember and he can pretend it's just another normal day. Tim preparing for the worst case scenario in every mission and patrol, surprised every time someone backs him up or comes to help him because he was genuinely not expecting it.

“You won’t stick around too long, sweetheart. Not when you find out what he’s really like. Everyone leaves him in the end.” LOCKWOOD & CO. | 1.02

you know what i want? i want some more of that time when jack drake benched tim after he found out tim was robin. specifically, i want jack drake having to deal with the fact that his son is robin.

oh he’s angry. his son goes around beating up criminals and breaking the law and he knows batman. but the thing is, batman and robin have been these distant, almost mythological figures for so long. gotham thinks of the duo as heroes, as not as people. and jack drake didn’t realize what exactly constitutes as being robin.

jack can’t hear his son anymore, not unless he wants to. granted, he had always been a quiet child. but now, his footsteps were completely silent. his breathing was almost nonexistent. his voice could carry across a room if he wanted, then shroud itself in fog, muffling it instantly. tim would just suddenly appear, at the kitchen counter, in the office, next to or behind jack. jack never saw him coming. and when jack reminded his son of these things, albeit a little shakily, tim blinked in surprise, as if he wasn’t even aware he was doing these things.

there are scars all over his body. objectively, jack knew that. batman and robin fought brutally, of course they would be injured. seeing the marks littered all over tim’s skin, however, is another matter. there are slashes and stabs. puckered skin that looks like a bullet hole. clean lines with little hashes, a nicely healed and well-taken-care-of injury. ugly, jagged streaks that scream pain, that jack felt nauseous seeing, let alone having the strength to bear it. tim acts like they’re normal, acts like assimilating all these scars were a mark of progress, a mark of strength. he rubs lotion on them a couple nights a week, falling into a routine. there’s a story behind each and every one of them, a life saved behind each and every one of them. jack doesn’t know whether to be somber or relieved at the fact that tim will never tell them to him.

tim’s reflexes are catlike, his instincts sharp, his mind always working a split-second faster than anyone else’s in the room. jack will accidentally drop something, and tim will catch it out of the air, easy as breathing, and hand it to him. as a test, jack dropped a ceramic mug filled with coffee on purpose. it landed in tim’s perfectly outstretched palm, not a drop of the drink spilled. tim was still on his phone with the other hand, but he looked away enough to raise an eyebrow at jack. jack didn’t question how tim knew he had done it on purpose. tim knows things, things that he has no reason to know, until he explained how he knew them. he had all of jack’s nervous tics memorized, apparently, and picked up things from other people uncannily accurately. dana poured acceptance and affection into the kid, and jack loved her for that, but he knew that tim scared her, just a little. jack was left wondering when his son had become the modern-day sherlock holmes.

and tim knew people. he’d casually reference batman or nightwing in a conversation, acting as if he knew them personally. which. well. apparently he did know them personally. but it wasn’t just the heroes from gotham, no. someone had once called tim while he, jack, and dana were cooking dinner together, sort of a bonding activity. tim had answered, then put the call on speaker, then continuing to chop a couple vegetables. (he looked far too comfortable with a knife in his hand. tim flipped it between his fingers and in the air with an ease and grace that made it impossible to tear his eyes from. and he wasn’t even trying.) then the sounds of an explosion came in, causing jack and dana to flinch, but tim didn’t even more. apparently, the flash was calling him, all the way from central city, where he was fighting killer robots, and asking for advice because apparently, someone named ‘bart’ had told the flash (the! actual! flash!) that tim had worked out a way to defeat them once before. tim advised them on how to get under armour platings and where the weak spots were while mashing potatoes with a fork. then tim said goodbye and good luck with a cheerful tone before hanging up. because apparently the flash calling him was something that didn’t faze him anymore. jack never said anything about the pictures hanging up in tim’s room, of a too-small kid in a robin suit, a boy in a leather jacket and an earring, someone more hair and goggles than boy, a girl with a confident smirk flexing her biceps, a girl with a bow and arrow, and a literal ghost. he also didn’t say anything about the photos of tim and that boy in the leather jacket, just to two of them. in those pictures, tim was laughing harder than jack had ever seen in his life.

tim was still his son, but he wasn’t entirely himself. jack couldn’t get rid of robin, no matter how hard he tried. tim moved like a predator when he was just walking down the stairs, a new grace in his movements. his eyes flicked to all possible exits any time he entered a room. he was no longer afraid to walk the streets of gotham at night, treading calm and sure even as jack and dana hurried quickly home with their shoulders bent. 

his son was important. his son was powerful. his son walked and talked and laughed amongst gods, and they showered him with respect. jack was beginning to think he was foolish for ever believing he could take robin away. 

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DC Twitter must have been INSANE when it got out that Superboy’s dads were Superman and Lex Luthor. Holy shit. The memes. The ship wars. The homophobes. The mpreg jokes. People would have lost their fucking minds. Lex Luthor releases a statement like “he’s a clone of me and Superman no birth was involved” and people are like KINDA GAY OF YOU TO HAVE A SON WITH ANOTHER MAN, LUTHOR. Lexcorp’s PR team locks themselves in a conference room and refuses to come out for love or money.

after dealing with the tunnels, steve takes all the kids back to the byers house to wait for any news about will or el or the lab. he's finally crashing from the adrenaline rush, and the concussion is making itself known now full force.

he's pretty much dead to the world and collapsed on the couch. dustin and lucas are sticking close by, worried he's gonna just up and die on them when hopper finally makes it back.

steve is only hearing every other word when he finally gets jostled to sit up, and he feels rough hands on his face, trying to open his eyelid.

"look alive, harrington. you know where you are?"

steve grumbles, annoyed that he's being woken up like this, "yeah, yeah. i'm at the byers."

his head was gently placed back on the couch, "heard you got your bell rung by that hargrove prick."

steve sighed, deep and heavy, already feeling himself slipping away to dreamland, "better me than the kids. take a plate to the dome, any day. "

there was a snort somewhere in front of him and he felt a hand ruffle his hair, firm yet careful, "good boy, don't do it again."

it took a moment for the words to settle in his rattled brain, but as soon as hopper was walking away, steve was suddenly feeling very awake. a heat crept up his neck as a mortifying wave of arousal swam in his gut.

"good boy."

"good boy."

"good boy."

oh no.

--

years later, after starcourt and russians and dual confessions of being not-so-heterosexual, steve and robin became friends.

months after, when they sat around steve's empty mansion, drinking his dad's expensive liquor, robin had to ask, "how did you find out?"

"hmm?"

"how did you find out you were, y'know...whatever you are. swing for both teams and such?"

steve snorted, " 'and such' she says. i think we both need to be drunker for that conversation."

robin poked steve's side, "come oon, i told you my crush. throw me a bone here, steve-o."

he relented because, of course he would. he may have only known robin for less than a year, but it was scary just how much he was willing to show his true self to her so quickly.

"this stays in the room. you tell absolutely no one, or you'll wish you were sucked up by the giant flesh monster when you had the chance. "

she does some complicated hand sign to convey her loyalty and waits.

".........hopper said i was a good boy for protecting the kids, and i got a boner."

silence.

steve kept his eyes shut as the moment grew longer when he flinched at the slightest intake of breath from his best friend and prepared for the worst.

"man, the daddy issues run deep, huh?"

steve choked on saliva and hit her with a pillow, "THAT'S all you have to say!?"

robin was in tears, weakly defending herself against the pillow assault, "i'm sorry! mercy! it's just that it makes soooo much sense!"

steve didn't stop hitting her until they were both out of breath, laying next to each other and panting.

"i'm sorry your first man crush died."

steve hit her face with a pillow.

".......joyce is actually kind of hot so i get it--"

"SHUT UP!"

--

the very next year, after the murder of innocent teens, a manhunt, and the final battle won against the upside down, found steve sitting in eddie's lap.

after weeks of dancing around each other, cautiously flirting and yearning from afar, steve and eddie got their act together.

eddie dragged a hand up steve's neck and into his hair, his fingernails scraping softly against his scalp. it sent shivers down steve's spine, causing him to moan and let eddie slip through and suck on his tongue. steve bucked his hips up against eddie's in pleasure.

they separated, a string of saliva still attached to their lips that only broke when steve leaned forward and let his body sag completely onto eddie's. they stayed like that for a while, just listening to the other breathe, not wanting their little bubble to pop, and for reality to reach them.

eddie adjusted steve a bit, so he sat properly in his lap. steve, pliant and malleable, let it happen. it made eddie huff in amusement, nosing steve's temple and kissing his cheek, "you're such a good boy for me, aren't you."

steve immediately tensed and then let out a bark of laughter, "oh, thank god!"

eddie, rightfully confused, just blinked, "uhhh. mind sharing with the class what the fuck that was, harrington?"

steve just beamed, "i don't have daddy issues!"

"........WHAT?"

--

(after steve forced himself to explain his queer awakening, now embarrassed for speaking with no impulse control, eddie snickered uncontrollably into steve's chest. much to his chagrin.

once he calmed down, his smile turned devious and asked, "does this mean i'm gonna have to fight the chief for your affection? not sure i'm strong enough to do it, princess, i might have to forfeit."

steve struggled to suffocate him with a pillow, mostly because they were both laughing so hard.)

Rhaegar married Elia Martell for her distant Targaryen ancestry to fulfil the Prince That Was Promised prophecy. This only happened because Steffon Baratheon was unable to procure a bride from Volantis from a noble line descending from Old Valyria - all with the silver hair and purple eyes. But then Rhaegar got obsessed with another prophecy and thought he had to have three children because "the dragon must have three heads".

When it was medically unviable for her to bear more children after two, he got obsessed with the "song of ice and fire" part of the prophecy and pursued Lyanna, a teenage Stark girl, to fulfil it with another child probably because of misinterpreting the failed Pact of Ice and Fire during the Dance of Dragons. I'm gonna bet he even convinced himself that the Starks had Targaryen blood because of it with all those rumours about dragon eggs being left under Winterfell. Lyanna died in childbirth because she was too young and physically unfit to bear a child just yet.

For all the romanticisation that certain parts of the fandom engage in, if his sister Dany was born sooner rather than after his death, Rhaegar would've ditched both women for her to make more prophecy children happen, which is why Jaehaerys II married his sister Shaera and had their children Aerys II and Rhaella marry each other. All in the name of prophecy.

Ultimately, Rhaegar stealing Lyanna and Aerys II's murders of her father and brother and key members of other Houses became the undoing of House Targaryen by triggering Robert's Rebellion. It turned out that Dany herself was that prophecy child and that prophecy might not even mean anything good because she is the Fire Threat personified with her dragons. And Rhaegar's little failed attempt at prophecy children will oppose Dany at the end for a variety of reasons. Thereby creating another kind of Dance of Dragons to wipe out dragons again and throw out the Targaryen dynasty again but also end it for good.

Targaryens didn't have to be like Maegor the Cruel, Aegon the Unworthy or Aerys The Mad King to be "mad". Targaryen "Madness" includes its obsession with greatness and willing to gamble a number of lives to make it happen.

It's the same reason Aegon V's actions to hatch dragons resulted in the Tragedy of Summerhall almost wiping out his family. The same reason Dany walked into that funeral pyre truly believing she would hatch her dragons when it has backfired a number of times within her family and she just lucked out. Aerion Brightflame believed he could survive drinking wildfire because "fire cannot kill a dragon" and Dany has the same mindset, even if she is a very different person.

Oh, this is incredible.

Improv swing dance to a Todrick Hall song?

And they killed it!

*thanks to the people who pointed out my oops

it’s the way she keeps trying to be Good and do what the other version of herself wants, and one version of her reluctantly laughing while the other smashes the guitar, sitting intaking the lesson that ‘everyone will betray you’, willingly pushing through taking shots while the other encourages her. Like it really unpacks and goes into her need to Be Good And Please Those Around Her and she kinda goes along with it and does her part even though she’s clearly Not Having A Good Time and it just has me ): ): ): ):