If you've really been here six months then there should be at least a week's total time where you weren't drowning yourself in chocolate ice cream holidays and actually paid attention to what was going on.

Are we gonna do anything about your baby brother wanting to run away from home

[Damian does not know how to talk to people. This has been established numerous times over, and that was when he didn't even have a reason to need to interact with anybody outside his immediate family, and he'd needed no other friend but Dick. Times have changed, and he'd rather die than be friends with Tim Drake and Jason Todd. Having to acknowledge them is bad enough. Living with somebody else was better than them.

But this roommate thing? Yeah. He is so not having this.]

Anyone tasteless enough to play pop songs older than my father until 4 in the morning deserves to have their stereo system systematically dismantled and crushed into dust.

[He is not asking for approval or validation. This is not opinion. Damian Wayne has said it, and therefore it is fact. It's just a question of- has he done it yet?]

So here's the thing: ignoring the whole not technically real bit-- since, y'know, been there, done that long enough, thanks-- I gotta give credit to this world for somehow trapping me here. Noooot exactly something that's ever happened to me before. Way to go! Buuut I'm getting ahead of things. Kinda jumped right in with the dialogue without properly introducing myself, woops. The name's Lea. Got it memorized?

Great, now that I've got that covered, I've just got a couple of questions I'd like answered. First off, anyone seen any kids with giant keys hanging around? Or, well, okay, anyone with a giant key, I guess. It prooobably sounds weird, but it's kind of important. Aaand the other thing is, all kudos to the world barrier for being able to block me aside, is there anyone here working on figuring that thing out? 'Cause if there is, I'd definitely be willing to be part of that getting-the-heck-out-of-here committee. Just sayin'!

Thaaat's pretty much it. Thanks.

Who: Tim Drake, Steph Brown, Noh-Varr, and a lurking Jason Todd.
Where: Universal House of Waffles.
When: ~3 AM June 1st.
What: Sing-alongs, waffles, and recovery from an unspecified amount of drinking.


Having fun had really not been on the agenda for the evening, but stumbling down the street between the Nancing Phony and UHOW, Tim could admit to himself that for once he was glad the night wasn't going according to plan. He wasn't sure how long the three of them had spent talking in the Phony, or exactly how many rounds of drinking there had been (more than three), but somewhere around the point where he, Steph, & Noh-Varr had started conspiring together to determine what drinks it would be funniest to send over to Jason's corner, he'd given up trying to make sense of things, and reminded himself that tonight was supposed to be about going with the flow.


Blinking, he realized he'd been staring at his feet as he walked, carefully measuring each step, and looked up to make sure the others were still with him. UHOW was only a few steps away.

Who: The Batfamily
What: Baby brother crashes the party
When: The day of Damian's arrival (we'll call it May 30)

[The arrival of Damian Wayne begins with a bang and not with a whimper.

He doesn't bother to go for subtlety at the hospital, when he smashes a doctor's face into the wall repeatedly, ties up another and leaves him strung up from the ceiling and beat nearly to a pulp. The statements filed with the police attribute it to a dark-haired boy, somewhere around elementary school-aged, but Damian's long gone by the time any of the authorities can get there with all his gear, and he doesn't intend to be caught any time soon.

Somewhere somebody knows something, and the premise is too mad to be real. But maybe somebody believes it, somewhere around here, and somewhere there has to be a clue as to who would go to the lengths of constructing an entirely new city just for the sake of some stupid plot like this. In his mad rush for answers he goes after the likely targets first. Hospital personnel, and whatever files he can find; the city government, and their records, and the elected officials most likely to have any clues on any sort of criminal conspiracy involving the kidnapping and psychological mind screw that is attempting to convince people they're fictional. Worse, they must know he's Robin. Somebody must know, his clothes were there. This can't be a coincidence. There's got to be a reason he's here, a pattern between what's going on and what's been constructed and a plot to string together to make it all make sense and give him a direction that points to the culprit, and from there, back to Gotham. If Richard doesn't find him first.

From there he moves downwards, into the slums and the gutters and the underworld. Something has to be there, somewhere.

For the people who know how to read the signs, all of this- the systematic searching for information, the harsh interrogations conducted swift and brutal- should make it obvious who the culprit is. And when his investigations turn up certain names- Timothy Drake (not Wayne, no matter how much he wants to call himself Wayne, Damian is Batman's true son), Stephanie Brown, Jason Todd- he'll have a new direction entirely. Tracking them down and breaking into their strongholds. Waiting for them to come.

If they don't find him first.]

Just so there's no hard feelings later, I'm gonna be upfront about this: Tim, I'm betraying you. And Alfred, I guess, in spirit.

What I'm saying is...guess who got a job at Starbox!!

Okay, no one freak out but I'm working on the theory that this might be an elaborate dream I'm having. And somehow it became real. And, okay, I should say that by working on it, I mean I'm lying here thinking about it.

It's a thought experiment.

Or, you know, whatever, the island suddenly decided it would be cool to cover me in bunnies. I'm not complaining. One of my arms is asleep, though.

For reference's sake, how much tea is too much tea? Because I feel like that's a question I should start asking myself.

At this point I don't think it's even helping, I'm just drinking tea because I forgot how to do anything else.

WHO: Hawkeye, Red Robin, and Batgirl
WHAT: Red Robin introduces his new girlfriend to his old one so they can plot superhero things and be awkward, possibly.
WHEN: Not too long after Lydia's party, late at night / early morning.
WHERE: Rooftops of New Moore.

Hawkeye is tapping her foot, impatiently, arms crossed. She had expected Tim to be annoyingly early, and yet, here she is, the first one at the set meeting place.

She should have insisted they come here together. She's not very good at waiting.

So. Batgirl, huh. She had considered making fun of the name, but hell, she calls herself Hawkeye, and it's not even like she came up with the name herself--she took it from someone else. Well. Was given it. Still, not hers. She can't really fault someone for "Batgirl", I mean, at least that girl probably came up with it on her own.

She starts drumming her fingers against her crossed arms now. She's been on edge since the party, wondering what kind of person would take advantage of someone as obviously vulnerable as Lydia -- no matter how Lydia tries to deny it, there's something that girl needs to tell someone, even if that someone isn't Kate. It pisses her off. She doesn't like people going after her friends.

That thought just reminds her of her hallucinations.

Maybe she really should go to therapy. Not the I'm-spying-on-Dr.-Crane kind, but maybe those people at the hospital have someone she can talk to. At the party she saw nothing but the people she loved, dying, over and over again, unable to stop it.

Cassie, in the midst of it all, dying a hundred different ways.

She shudders, but not from the cold.

Tim had better get here quick.

Are all the mistletoes gone now? I really don't wanna see another one of those for the rest of my life.

Holmes-san, Watson-san, there are some cupcakes in the kitchen. Please feel free to grab one! Just let me know if you're planning on doing something to them.

WHO: Anyone and Everyone
WHAT: All the kissin's
WHEN: Dec 16 - 18
WHERE: Wherever you want!
WARNINGS: Affection, freak-outs, possible R ratings


Ok! Here is the post for collecting all your kissing logs! If you want to do individual Network posts and then lead in to kissing that way, that's fine, but if you're looking to do a straight up log, this is the place to do it. That way we don't flood the community with all the log posts.

Instructions:

1. Post your character's name. One reply per character so that they're all neatly organized.
2. When you tag to a character's thread, put your participating character's name in the subject line.
3. ???
3a. Feel free to edit the post tags to include your character name for easier activity reporting
4. PROFIT!

[Some people might be glad to find out that they're no longer fictional. Some might maturely go about the sudden news with dignity and caution. Others might dive into the opportunity to learn about the "real world" as much as they can, quickly coming to terms with their new lives. Surely, a few have taken the most rational routes possible or even found humor in their new whereabouts.

Alisha is in none of those categories.]

Someone needs to tell me wot the fuck is going on right now.

[Does she believe anything the hospital staff told her? No. Not in the least. Actually, she's of the opinion that some storm-empowered jerk is running around, using his power to change everything up, some way, somehow. At any rate, there has to be someone in this God-forsaken place that knows what's truly going on; without any way of knowing where to even begin looking for a person, she turns to mass video.]

At the very least, please tell me someone else out there doesn't believe all that hospital doctor bullshit.

 Billy.  Onceler.  Mister Holmes.  Mister Strider.  Mister Trancy.  Miss Brown.  Miss Kinney.  Miss Megido.  Miss Roxy Lalonde.

I would like to invite you all to a party.

[An irritated voice greets the network:]

What's going on now? Is this fictional thing some sort of bloody joke? It isn't funny--not one bit.

[A beat.]

Stark? Colonel? Is anybody out there?

Can I make a Wizard of Oz joke, or is that played out already?

I mean, I guess I could say that as far as hallucinations go, this one's pretty detailed. And long. But that seems like unnecessary info to hand out.

Still, um, no one pinch me. If the gigantic needle didn't do it, I doubt anything else will.

I have a ticket.

I'm not going to use it.