#i wrote the last half while nearly falling asleep so if anything doesn't make sense blame waking up at 6 and going to bed at 11

[radioactive-earthshine]

Hey did the comics ever explain outright why Conner stopped being punk? He was in the jeans and t shirt in the first issue of Titans and the comic prior he wasn't???? Did something happen to him to make him stop?

Hello and thank you for this question, I apologize that this is not a simple answer because Kon's fashion, as is his personality, isn't simple to answer because his shift in fashion is a story of his sense of identity and purpose. To get to the point of your question Conner's leather jacket and "look" was not part of his character for quite some time prior to Teen Titans. I will extrapolate on that in a while but for right now I feel that some things need to be settled about Kon because there's a lot that people just get wrong about him.

I feel it important to remember that Kon didn't really go out and choose the leather jacket and "punk" style all on his own. There is a misconception that some fans have that Kon went out and sort of assembled his iconic look all on his own to be a direct rebel and to deviate from being like Superman to "piss Clark off." This is extremely far from the truth and is fanon. What actually happened is Kon broke out of his CADMUS tank with the help of The Newsboys; he was already dressed with his ear pierced (yes). Then his iconic leather jacket was given to him by them.

"Until you get some other clothes or something" HAH.

Adventures of Superman #500 So he's fresh out of his tank, he's pumped full of purpose, he's out in the world, and he just looks like this pre-made even with the hair and belts. In some flashbacks with him in the tank his earring is replaced by a tag (yes) but when he does officially first show up his iconic "punk" style is almost very nearly complete and it doesn't change (officially) until Superboy #83. Kon didn't really go out and choose this look, he came out like this and just... stuck with it. This is not to say that this is not Kon, he could have at any time dropped the look. But Kon didn't. This is his uniform.

Another point to note about Kon that is extremely important is that unlike Tim, Bart and Cassie he did not have a civilian identity and it was extremely RARE that he ever was in civilian clothes beyond some underwear or a swimsuit. His civilian clothes that he did sport were fairly... tame, and not punky in the slightest. Kon looks just like a typical 16 year old kid.

Superboy #75 My whole point here is that Kon WAS Superboy. Just Superboy. SB. He did not even have a name until Superboy #59, until then he just went by Superboy. His uniform was so intrinsically tied to who he was he didn't have a real need for any civilian clothes. His "style" was just Superboy because he did not have an "off switch." Trust me this is important. Back to the jacket... Because the jacket is important and is part of his uniform and his self identity. There was a brief period of time in his comics when he completely ditched his iconic look because he lost all of his powers in response to the resolution of the Sins of Youth anthology and Tana being murdered by Amanda Spence.

Superboy #75 The original leather jacket is actually buried with Tana. And after that he takes on a temporary new look.

Superboy #76 This is the first time we see him in a "jeans" and t-shirt ensemble and as far as we are able to tell he picked this out all on his own. Kon actually really kicks ass during this time and he was content with losing his powers and was legitimately looking forward to living like a regular person.

Superboy #76 Well, this did not last long. Kon got his powers back and he got a new leather jacket and his plans for living in the real world as a "regular person" just fell through. Kon was back to being Superboy.

Superboy #79 Kon's "normal" is Superboy so he was back to the look but with everything that happened he just never was quite the same... PTSD

Kon remains back in his original outfit until Superboy #83 when the writing takes a turn into the lighter side...

Kon comes to the conclusion that he's no longer cool, hip, relevant and decides that he needs to totally reinvent himself and his uniform. He enlists help from Bianca (the brunette who comes off as a major bi) to help him get his swagger back. After a comical montage of going through outfits and watching an exceedingly unhealthy amount of current television Kon finds himself a new look that he remains in for the rest of his series and Young Justice up until Teen Titans.

Naturally, something like this cannot be so cut and dry and we get to the root of the "problem" Kon was facing.

Superboy #83 is the first time we see Kon ditch the leather jacket and the earring for good in favor of his new suit and jacket and this was well before Teen Titans started.

While Kon wears this particular outfit he is still without that secret identity and his life is complete utter destructive mayhem as he lives openly without an off switch as Superboy. It is not until his final issue of #100 that Kon is set up by Clark to live with Ma and Pa Kent on their farm as Conner Kent (this honestly should have happened much much sooner).

This marks the end of Kon's solo series but he continues to make appearances in Young Justice in this suit until that series completed itself and was replaced by Teen Titans where we finally see Kon as Conner Kent sporting his jeans and a t-shirt as he lives in Smallville which he loathes for a while until it grows on him. Kon's entire purpose of moving to Smallville was to slow down and right from Clark's mouth to "Start a new life." (Superboy #100) So he completely reinvented himself again to fit in with that civilian identity which he never had before. It's hard on him at first but eventually he starts to come around to loving Smallville. There's a lot of debate and evidence you can make about Kon and if he is truly or ever was punk; was him living in Smallville "closeting"; was his shift to jeans and a t shirt really him or was that something he felt was necessary in order to find himself? To answer your question of what made him "stop being punk" was he finally got an off-switch. Kon will always be Kon and by the time he gets that t-shirt and jeans I feel like he knows the clothes don't make him, he makes himself.

[bitchfitch]

Copper artfight resource

big soft boy. if a cup of spicy hot chocolate was a massive apex predator/ obligate carnivore.

mikely stabbed him the first time they met and he fell in love Instantly.

an excerpt:

Death crept through the lavish halls of a rich man's home. Old cracked paint flaked beside sun faded tapestries and over well worn wood floors. The raged leather soles of of his boots softly thumping along with the creaking of old wood that accompanied his every step. He found the room easily, following the sound of a fading cough and short not quite gasping breaths that failed to draw enough air. 

He ducked through the door and the dying man greeted him with age hazed eyes and a broad grin.

"Copper!" his exclamation carried joy even if his lungs couldn't support more than a creaking whisper, "Bastard, it's so good to see you again," he stopped to catch his breath, his eyes closing as he did so,

"And you as well," Copper returned the smile as he sat in the chair beside the bed, "But to be honest I'm a touch surprised, both that you can see anything through those cataracts, and that you would… Appreciate my presence," 

The rich man chuckled, "Not many people have hair that color, even fewer are as tall as you. I may not be able to see much, but I can still see that,"

"I suppose you're right," Copper huffs with a hand going to his dark red mess of a mane "Still, you must remember the terms of our deal and what my presence means for you now?"

"I do," he nods, "I'm going to die tonight, going to see Min again," 

"Min?"

"My wife," he smiles as he speaks of her even as his words become more labored, "That quill you gave me, I wrote a letter to the girl I had fallen in love with when we were young. I didn't know she couldn't read, so she had to get someone else to read it to her, but when she'd heard what I wrote she came all the way into the valley to slap me and call me an idiot," he laughs, "Told me we should've eloped when we were both still fresh, before she'd found another man to call her own,

I'd not even thought that she'd have gone on like that. It made sense, she could have, and did, do so much better than me. But luck of lucks saw that husband of hers dead not long after. I felt bad for being so happy, but I couldn't stop smiling when she and I married,

That quill- You, gave me the happiest life I could have imagined. I'm glad to pay my end of the deal now, because it means I get to see her again,"

"It's a rare treat to find someone with no regrets, thank you for your story," Copper smiles softly, genuine and warm,

"Oh, I've got regrets," the rich man say "Many, but I don't care to dwell on them, not now… or… Well, one, there's one,"

"Hmm?"

"Min and I, we had a fight right before… She was so mad at me last time I saw her. Do you think she still is?"

"I don't know, but you will have plenty of time to make it up to her soon,"

"Yeah, yeah that's true… It's close now is it?"

"Moments if I had to guess," Copper shrugs, "The clot in your lung is migrating and will soon block off blood flow to the area completely. After that happens you won't be able to get enough air and will… fall asleep, then you will suffocate over a few minutes. It won't be the most pleasant of deaths, but it won't hurt badly," he simplified things greatly, not caring for the slight inaccuracies so long as they helped keep the rich man calm and peaceful in these final moments.

"Any final requests?" Copper cocks his head,

"I think… yeah, I think I want to be alone for this. Thank you," 

"Of course. Rest well then, and may your sleep bring great growth" Copper stood from his seat, the blessing leaving him without thought as the rich man closed his eyes a smile still tugging on his old, withered face.

The door to the rich man's room shut with a light thud as Copper drifted down the halls, a heavy sigh falling from his lips. He rarely visited the dying, usually he only came to the deceased caught between their death's and their afterlives to guide them across, and this was why. He knew where the clot was, it would only take a moment and a little bit of concentration to break it up enough that the rich man's body would be able to handle it on it's own. Sure, doing so would probably only buy him a few more bed bound days, a week maybe, but healers can rarely be trusted to leave the sick and dying to the whims of nature and he was no different. 

He wandered through the empty halls decorated with treasures that, do to a single deal made half a century ago, would soon be his, and found his way into a shrine room. Shelves upon shelves of precious jewls and metals, fine fabrics and sculptures filled the room. Though the alter beneath the stained glass window held only sea glass and shells that glittered from around a poorly made tapestry that depicted a stormy ocean.

The threads were too loose in some places too tight in others and there were places where it was clear the weaver ran out of one color and had attempted to dye more only for it to come out just wrong enough to be noticed. It was clearly made by inexperienced hands and now stood displayed still in it's loom in the place of honor on this shrine. Pride in its existence radiated from it and that made it stunning despite it's flaws. 

Distantly, he felt the rich man die, quietly and peacefully.

One of Copper's aspects would guide him across and later while Copper slept he'd dream of the conversation that aspect and the rich man would have, and he would dream of the conversations his other, near innumerable, aspects would have, and have had, and have been having with every other human who has crossed into his domain since he last slept. Then he would wake, and forget almost everything said during those conversations as they meld together into a messy but beautiful tapestry. All the threads visible and traceable in their places but ultimately he saw it not for the individuals, but the grander thing they made together.

He picked at the stones and shells scattered on one of the shelves, his dulled claws scraping against the rough surface. He should probably go find someone to deal with the body…

The soft creaking protest of a floor board that no longer fit in it's place being tread on called from behind him. Copper turned, curious to who or what would be intruding on this moment, but he was left slack jawed with a greeting trapped behind his lips as he saw the man.

Surrounded by gold and silver and precious gems that glittered in the low moonlight that flowed through the windows, this man outshone them all. He was tall for a human, coming up to just below Copper's collar bones, with broad, strong looking shoulders. His sharp features highlighted by the silver light caressing his warm tan skin and haloed by that same light echoing through the broken strands of bleach blonde hair that fell from his neat bun to frame his narrow face.

Light agitation turned to wonder and awesrrucked silence as Copper struggled for a second to find words, but once again those words died when he met the man's eyes, they were probably a deep brown but the low light turned them onyx. His gaze was sturdy, not cold or calculating, not bored. Determined but practiced.

The strange, beutiful, human man wore the expression of a butcher or a slaughterer, he did not draw perverse pleasure or joy from what came next. He was so obviously merely doing a job as he moved faster than Copper's confusion addled mind could react to that that alone struck more fear into Copper's core than if the man were hissing and snapping with rage.

The ice hot cut of an iron blade dug past the flesh between his ribs and into his chest even as he recoiled. On pure instinct he growled an awful rumbling sound that made the butcher- the hunter, flinch as Copper managed to stumble away, nearly falling to one knee as his own lung struggled to inflate. He could feel his magic burning along the wound as it tried, and failed to pull it closed. His hand going to his bloodied side in a vain attempt of staunching the flow. 

The hunter advanced, cautious and silent, his blade, slicked with Copper's own viscous black blood, raised as he followed the retreating god.

Copper hissed as his back collided with a shelf, cornered he pulled his attentions together just enough to attempt to teleport away, only to feel his magic jolt painfully within him as it failed completely.

The hunter advanced, already readying another swing.

In that moment Copper forced himself to focus on the warm summer night air, on the flickering candles and the heat of the hunter's body, most seals could be overpowered, he just needs to rush it hard enough. 

Heat leaves the room, the hunter stumbles with a pained gasp as the heat leaves him too. Copper doesn't see if the hunter falls because the seal gives as he uses all of that stolen energy to burst against it.

He drops to his knees on the cold stone floor of the cave he calls home. His blood singing through magic seared veins, his hands shaking as he braces one against the floor below him as his world swims, both from blood loss and the disorientation that always came with pushing his power that hard,

He struggles with his wound, gasping with effort as his magic finally starts working again. The wound tieing itself closed beneath his palm, a thick black scar forming as he comes down from the mountain top high of fearing for his life for the very first time since before the advent of this universe.

Copper slumps against the water-carved wall of his home, his head falling back against it with a deep buzz running beneath his skin, and he Laughs, deep and hearty and Alive in a way he has not felt in centuries.

---

A day passed, and Copper's wound still ached every time he bent wrong, sending a pang through his chest as his heart picked up at the memory that accompanied it. Truly, he could only go a few moments without thinking of the death dealing adonis that had, very litteraly, struck him to his very heart. He needed to find the man again, to see if a second meeting would make his blood race the way the first had.

Perhaps he would even find out why he'd been attacked, but if Copper was being honest with himself, he didn't care to know. The Hunter was a mystery, and like many mysteries, he was one that could be enjoyed as is, and did not need unraveling quite yet. Still, Copper couldn't wait around for fate to bless him with a second chance meeting. He needed to find The Hunter on his own, and that meant doing a little investigating.

The moment Copper had had time to rest he laid in his bed and let his consciousness drift to the aspect that could interact with the grand tapestry. The Hunter had not hesitated for even a moment, had not flinched at spilling blood, and so there was no denying that he was experienced. That, perhaps, killing was something that either came easy to him or that he was very well practiced in the art of it.

The hunter was young, maybe mid twenties to early thirties, which narrowed his search, and the location narrowed it further. That valley was a hard month long trek through ice capped mountains from the next nearest settlement. The Hunter probably lived and prowled within its confines.

Copper focused on the last ten years worth of threads from that area that ended in white knots, the tragic, violent deaths. This would be where he found what he would need.

Going by date he gently tugged the ends through the weave so that he could examine them closer. He was careful to not pull anything more than an hours worth at a time, dreading upsetting the careful balance of the fabric and the places of the souls that he examined within it. It took a few tries, a few years worth of deaths until he found the first one that he could catch a glimpse of The Hunter from. 

And oh how Copper dreaded what he saw. Five years before he'd met the man, an older boy, maybe sixteen with sharp, fearful and wild, onyx eyes and short, jagged ink black hair cried with blood stained hands, one still holding a blade, the same one Copper would become familiar with, it was still slick with the red of human blood as the boy stumbled back against the wall as the man he'd just killed gasped his last breath.

Copper found the conversation he'd had with that spirit, a man who'd heard screaming from within a home. He'd gone to help only to be found by the Chief's boy before he could find the source of the screams. Copper had reassured him, had praised him for his bravery, had not paid enough attention. He'd guided the kind man to his afterlife while the chief's boy who would become The Hunter silently wept beside the man's body, struggling against the tears as someone called out for him. 

Tucking the tread back into place with one hand and pulling another free with the other. He grimaced when he realized it was merely a visitor's thread. Someone from Copper's own home universe who'd come into this one for one reason or another only to find their end here.

The visitor's soul had not been theirs to keep stored away amongst those of their creations and so had already been returned home. Where it would have dissipated into the background energy to eventually become the fuel for something new. No life was stored in this thread, it was merely a place holder.

Copper found more threads like that in his search, nearly twenty pale threads all from the last few years lined side by side. Tragic human deaths surrounding them but none of those human deaths involved The Hunter. That was odd, very few places in his tapestry looked so strange and knotted, and most patches that did were of wars and disasters not… whatever this was.

If he had been tangible in that moment he would've been nipping at his claws as he tried to piece together what something so strange could mean. But no answers came to him.

He found the next, and most recent, human victim of The Hunter, a man now, still too young, but undeniably a man by Copper's math, cold and stoney eyed, tangled bleached hair and a badly bruised and swelling jaw. Copper would have been surprised if The Hunter didn't have a few cracked or missing teeth from the injury, the mandible itself might be broken, a serious wound that needs setting and cleaning imeaditly. Copper's mind supplied him with the diagnosis without him meaning to think of it, so focused was he on that wrecked face and the lack of answers it presented that his mind tried to give him what few answers it could, even if those answers were worthless.

The woman The Hunter had killed had sat silent and glaring at The Hunter who silently watched her die,  his blade dripping with her blood. She'd not spoken a word to Copper. Fuming as she stormed through the gate without any guidance from him.

He wished he had insisted on actually speaking to her, on finding the answers. The iron eyed Hunter was a far cry from that sobbing boy, and yet they shared a thread.

More visitors, more tragedy, and no more answers came from the grand tapestry. 

He needed to return to that valley, surely if tragedy struck this often they'd welcome a healer? Even if they didn't, the Oracle made her home at the very center, and while Copper tried to avoid his sister's emissaries, The Oracle would be able to tell him what he needed if all else failed. Besides, her daughter was such a cute little thing, it would be a joy to hold a chubby baby again. Would the daughter still be a baby? maybe she was toddling about already, having her first little prophecies as she explored the world she would be entrusted to protect.

Oh Copper couldn't wait to visit.