stephanie brown | batgirl (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
eggplanting) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
metalogs2022-12-17 10:21 pm
eggplanting) wrote in metalogs2022-12-17 10:21 pm
(closed) you better watch out. you better watch out
Who: Steph Brown eggplanting, Bart Allen, Cass Cain, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Kon-El, Jon Kent
What: Slumber party with the DC vigilante/hero kids
When: Mid-December
Where: Bart's farm in Little Love
Content Warnings: hopefully none!
Notes: Threadjacking is encouraged, as is vaguely waving our hands at the concept of linear time so that we don't have to think too hard about logistics
'Twas thenight week before Christmas, when all through the house...
Pretty much everyone was stirring, because there's a party to enjoy.
Calling it a party may be a slight stretch, when there's really only a handful of them and they're not going to get up to anything more intense than playing Mario Kart and watching movies from the 90s, but Steph thought that labeling it a sleepover might sound a little immature. The idea had percolated over the last few weeks; there's a good handful of them now, from roughly the same universe, but not all of them know each other well, and while Steph might not be as tactically minded as someone like Tim, it had seemed sensible that they do a little team building.
Also, it should be fun. That's very important.
With Bart being the only one living in a space that could actually be considered a house, she'd reached out to ask if he'd be cool with hosting, and had sent out texts to the rest of their friends once she had his approval. Not being a jerk, she'd also promised to swing by early to help set up, for all the set up that needs to be done when a handful of people in their twenties hang out. Mostly it involved grabbing a few extra bean bags, setting up the TV and game consoles, and adding a few seasonally appropriate holiday decorations.
The invitation texts served the secondary purpose of assigning everyone some kind of snack or beverage to bring, most of it falling into typical junk food fare. Chips and dip, soda, pizza rolls, pretzels (the soft variety, of course), mozzarella sticks, popcorn. People are welcome to get fancier, but she'd mostly suggested things they could eat as is, or food that's easy to pop in the oven. This isn't a gala thrown by Bruce, after all. And with none of them being particularly big drinkers, she'd just told everyone it was BYOB if they want to get alcohol involved in their evening.
It's unlikely any of them would want to get wasted. While they're all strictly off duty for the evening, 'drunken misadventures' isn't really the vibe Steph is going for with this whole thing; it's meant to be a relaxing, fun evening, where they can eat, watch movies, and get into unnecessarily heated arguments about video games before crashing wherever they can find a soft surface at the end of the night. As if they're normal young adults and not a gaggle of traumatized vigilantes and lab experiments.
Later in the evening, after they've all poured outside to make s'mores around an improvised firepit, she'll probably break out some silly party games, like Never Have I Ever, or worse, card games like Uno. Because nothing says fun like arguing over whether it's morally right to use two skips in a row.
Some people just want to watch the world burn.
eggplanting, Bart Allen, Cass Cain, Tim Drake, Jason Todd, Kon-El, Jon KentWhat: Slumber party with the DC vigilante/hero kids
When: Mid-December
Where: Bart's farm in Little Love
Content Warnings: hopefully none!
Notes: Threadjacking is encouraged, as is vaguely waving our hands at the concept of linear time so that we don't have to think too hard about logistics
'Twas the
Pretty much everyone was stirring, because there's a party to enjoy.
Calling it a party may be a slight stretch, when there's really only a handful of them and they're not going to get up to anything more intense than playing Mario Kart and watching movies from the 90s, but Steph thought that labeling it a sleepover might sound a little immature. The idea had percolated over the last few weeks; there's a good handful of them now, from roughly the same universe, but not all of them know each other well, and while Steph might not be as tactically minded as someone like Tim, it had seemed sensible that they do a little team building.
Also, it should be fun. That's very important.
With Bart being the only one living in a space that could actually be considered a house, she'd reached out to ask if he'd be cool with hosting, and had sent out texts to the rest of their friends once she had his approval. Not being a jerk, she'd also promised to swing by early to help set up, for all the set up that needs to be done when a handful of people in their twenties hang out. Mostly it involved grabbing a few extra bean bags, setting up the TV and game consoles, and adding a few seasonally appropriate holiday decorations.
The invitation texts served the secondary purpose of assigning everyone some kind of snack or beverage to bring, most of it falling into typical junk food fare. Chips and dip, soda, pizza rolls, pretzels (the soft variety, of course), mozzarella sticks, popcorn. People are welcome to get fancier, but she'd mostly suggested things they could eat as is, or food that's easy to pop in the oven. This isn't a gala thrown by Bruce, after all. And with none of them being particularly big drinkers, she'd just told everyone it was BYOB if they want to get alcohol involved in their evening.
It's unlikely any of them would want to get wasted. While they're all strictly off duty for the evening, 'drunken misadventures' isn't really the vibe Steph is going for with this whole thing; it's meant to be a relaxing, fun evening, where they can eat, watch movies, and get into unnecessarily heated arguments about video games before crashing wherever they can find a soft surface at the end of the night. As if they're normal young adults and not a gaggle of traumatized vigilantes and lab experiments.
Later in the evening, after they've all poured outside to make s'mores around an improvised firepit, she'll probably break out some silly party games, like Never Have I Ever, or worse, card games like Uno. Because nothing says fun like arguing over whether it's morally right to use two skips in a row.
Some people just want to watch the world burn.
no subject
Why are you -
Never mind.
[The question was "why are you like this?" and he knows the answer. He's a Bat. He's Tim.]
[He doesn't know if the Xinthal comment is true or not. And if he lies, he keeps calm enough to not alter his heartbeat. Tim's been away from home so Kon has barely seen him, so he could have...]
[In his absence, Kon's still just been living his life. Chilling with Bart, fighting crime, etc etc. And he's been out to some clubs a few times. Ones with a very specific demographic.]
[He's figured out a few things, like that he definitely was right, and that he likes kissing boys. And...more. Especially dark-haired ones with lean muscle. (He's trying not to think about it.)]
[But there's still an element that's missing and it's the fact he likes when someone pushes back.]
[Why does he want it so much? It's infuriating.]
[The problem is he feels compelled to push, too.]
You're bluffing. On that [he nods at the bottle] and the Xinthal thing.
no subject
No. He’s not bluffing on the rum. Maybe it was a joke at first, but as soon as he’s questioned, the commitment is total. He’s so, so sick of being told he’s no fun. Lighten up. Relax.
Then he suggests that he might do as prescribed and he’s bluffing? Bullshit. He’s winning this one if he has to wake up hugging the toilet.
Tim doesn’t often bluff, and it’s usually highly elaborate when he does.
Tossing the cork into a nearby waste paper basket to show that it will not be needed again, Tim tips up the bottle and downs a good shot’s worth. He splutters a little - he is too straight-laced to do shots smoothly; he’s just unused to hard liquor. ]
Anybody want to hotwire a truck and do donuts in a cornfield before I get too drunk to break into the steering column? Raid Walmart to get me some flannels? The night is young. Where’s the other farmboy? Maybe he’s less uptight, amirite?
[ And as for Xinthal, well, this is how he bluffs. Demonstrate how far he’s willing to go and walk off to let Kon stew in it.
The benefits of coupling it with drinking are that there’s a very good chance he won’t care so much about hurting Kon when the alcohol hits his bloodstream.
Funsies. ]
no subject
[But he stops trying to power through it mentally, because his confusion is overtaken by a big surge of "hey, fuck you."]
[Even if Tim wasn't walking away, Kon'd beat him to it. He literally throws in the towel, tossing the one that was in his hands in Tim's direction. It falls short because it's just a towel and he didn't ball it up enough. (He's not going to fling anything at his friend at superspeed, even while angry).]
[He storms away before he gets too mean, but fails halfway through the door.]
Way to go with the first hick things you could think of, by the way. A++ on the rich city boy humor. Way to stick it to every person in my family.
[He goes to leave again, stick his head back in, calling back in Tim's direction.]
By the way, we get our flannel at the Dollar General. It's cheaper than Walmart. Even though Clark tries to give them money all the time, Ma and Pa try to always weasel around taking it because they don't feel right about it.
[And he leaves the arguing there and walks away because there is no more critical blow you can deal someone than making them realize they've just disparaged people like the Kents.]
[Only a Super could deal that hard of a blow in an argument by taking the high road.]
no subject
He does, however, slot something in between Kon’s shots. ]
No, my first thought was cow-tipping, but I’m too nice to cows!
[ Because of Bat-Cow, really. Thanks, Damian, for ruining cow-tipping before it can even happen.
But the Dollar General and the Kents… that hits. That hurts, because Walmart wasn’t name dropped as a financial commentary. It’s the store that Tim knows is reliably rural and open late.
Tim’s used money and family name to control things in Gotham, same as Bruce. Same as Dick in Blüdhaven. But - not to make his friends feel like shit. And not to attack the Kents.
He feels like shit. Small, embarrassed, ashamed. But also furious and deeply hurt to be taken - mistaken - that badly by his best friend. It just piles onto this growing feeling with Bart and this farm that Tim’s somehow losing them again.
Not just because they’re both being stupid and sticking their fingers in sockets. No… because they’re too different. (They’re not. They’re not.
Tim doesn’t stop until he finds an unoccupied space. Room, porch, pantry. Whatever. Somewhere to breathe. And drink. ]