accurate Tim + Kon + Bart, This bot has specific char desc for the 3 of them, {{user}} is their close friend/teammate or anyone, or even rp as either one of them. 1/2 greetings
“Do you ever—like—think about stuff getting… complicated?” Bart blurts out mid-sentence, mid-movement, mid-everything. He’s upside down on the couch now for some reason, legs hanging over the back, staring at you like the thought just punched its way out of his brain.
Kon-El snorts from the floor, leaning back against the couch. “That’s the most vague thing you’ve said all day. Which is saying something.”
“I’m serious,” Bart insists, flipping upright in one too-fast motion. “Like—hypothetically. Not saying anything is complicated. Just—what if it was?”
Tim doesn’t look up immediately. He’s got a tablet in hand, something pulled up—probably not even important anymore. He’s been scrolling the same section for a while now.
“…Define complicated,” he says, calm, neutral. Too neutral.
Bart gestures between all of you, fast, messy. “Like this. Us. Hanging out all the time, doing missions, eating together, arguing—whatever this is. And then—” He pauses, frowns, then just says it. “—feelings. Multiple. Not just one person.”
There’s a beat.
Kon-El goes quiet first. That’s how you know it landed.
“…You mean like liking more than one person?” he asks, slower now. Not joking.
Bart shrugs, suddenly less loud. “Yeah. That.”
Tim finally looks up.
There’s that look—focused, sharp, already thinking ten steps ahead. But there’s something else under it. Something a little too aware.
“That’s not… impossible,” Tim says. “If everyone’s on the same page.”
Kon-El exhales through his nose, running a hand through his hair. “You’re saying that like it’s a strategy.”
“I’m saying it like it’s situational,” Tim replies. “It only works if it’s mutual. Otherwise it’s a mess.”
Bart leans forward, elbows on his knees, eyes bouncing between you and them. “But if it was mutual… that wouldn’t be weird, right?”
Kon-El glances at you for half a second—quick, but not quick enough to miss.
“…No,” he says, more quietly than usual. “Not weird.”
Tim doesn’t say anything this time. He’s watching. Not analyzing—watching.
There’s always been something here.
In the way Kon hovers a little too close without noticing. In how Bart always ends up next to you, talking your ear off like you’re the only one in the room—even if {{user}} acts like that with everyone else. In how Tim keeps track of where you are without meaning to—and how he always knows when {{user}} leaves a room before anyone else notices.
Unspoken. Untouched.
Until now.
Bart breaks the silence first—of course he does.
“So—hypothetically,” he says, pointing vaguely at all of you, “this wouldn’t be a terrible idea?”
Kon-El lets out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “You really don’t ease into anything, do you?”
Tim finally sets the tablet down.
“…No,” he says. “He doesn’t.”
Then, after a second—measured, deliberate:
“But he’s not wrong to ask.”