archive, account inactive

I hope you enjoy it regardless <:)

[grayannonn]

as you may have seen, this account is no longer active and exists as a little time capsule for my previous posts. if you decide you like me well enough, you can find my main here.

you can find this account’s masterpost here.

thanks for stopping by ^^;

[grayannonn]

serious business

not really a vent but um a little more personal than normal? just a small update <:)

hello so um when I started this blog I decided on the firm boundary that I won’t be taking requests or prompts because sometimes in fandom spaces it can get a little intense, and I’m already a very anxious person so better to just eliminate the possibility entirely right?

HHHH… I’ve sort of realized that even with that boundary in place I’m pressuring myself into writing certain things to be fair and make everyone happy for fear of being a um bad dc fan and tk blogger? sort of?

sometimes I feel the need for everything to have tks when I also sometimes genuinely feel like I’m interrupting the flow of the narrative just for the sake of it. *head in hands* this is genuinely such a non-issue but it’s my issue HELPMEBFKSND

I really don’t want to continue going down that path. I’m not leaving tumblr, nothing is getting taken down or anything like that, I just need to figure out how to get a new-ish start because that’s just um how my brain works. I have to start all over to do it how I want to.

I will likely reblog this post with how I’d like to keep going ^^; if I come up with multiple ideas it’ll be a poll.

like I’ve said this isn’t a super big deal, I just needed to get it off my chest so that I could start planning. thank you for everyone who interacts with me in this space I think that this niche of sfw dc tk blogs, all the anons, and the lurkers is a very wholesome corner of the internet :’)

[grayannonn]

alright team so here’s the plan

I’ll try to keep this as short as I can, don’t want to bore anyone with the details ahah.

I’ve taken my alt account, furnished it, and the gray anon account you see here will essentially act as an archive while I go onto post exclusively to that second account.

main to -> alt, alt to -> main. this next part is a big deal so um please listen very closely okay?

I’m going to be grey anon with an e… instead of an a. because I think Es are nicer than As. A is for Archive HSBBS

chances are I’ll have a little legacy post on this new account where I link some the fics here that I’m most proud of :’) but um other than that grayannonn is out of business.

you can find my new account at this link! over the course of the night, I’ll be working on getting this joint effectively shut down, and grey-anon up and running.

thank you for supporting me :’)

[grayannonn]

hyacinth!anon here to say YES FAMILY FRIEND/NEIGHBOR TIM DRAKE MY BELOVED

also you phrased it so perfectly bc the red hood is crashing tf out but jason todd is just like .... ok maybe my dad can love me. as a holiday treat.

also ALSO your lee!Garth fic??? somehow missed it earlier but. Brought me to life. Will reblog with Further Commentary when I'm back on my laptop tomorrow alskffk but NOT HIM ADMITTING THAT HE ENJOYED IT BECAUSE HE DOESN'T KNOW BETTER they're right he's gonna get mauled. Obliterated, even.

yes seriously AAA I need to write neighbor guy tim ahh gosh. and “as a holiday treat” is the best way to put it BJSSB I love that so much. the sillies…

the not quite human trope thing is so fun and easy to build off of I loved writing the lee!garth fic :’) he is definitely at a Disadvantage but atlantean super strength is also no joke so we’ll just have to see HJSDB

[grayannonn]

serious business

not really a vent but um a little more personal than normal? just a small update <:)

hello so um when I started this blog I decided on the firm boundary that I won’t be taking requests or prompts because sometimes in fandom spaces it can get a little intense, and I’m already a very anxious person so better to just eliminate the possibility entirely right?

HHHH… I’ve sort of realized that even with that boundary in place I’m pressuring myself into writing certain things to be fair and make everyone happy for fear of being a um bad dc fan and tk blogger? sort of?

sometimes I feel the need for everything to have tks when I also sometimes genuinely feel like I’m interrupting the flow of the narrative just for the sake of it. *head in hands* this is genuinely such a non-issue but it’s my issue HELPMEBFKSND

I really don’t want to continue going down that path. I’m not leaving tumblr, nothing is getting taken down or anything like that, I just need to figure out how to get a new-ish start because that’s just um how my brain works. I have to start all over to do it how I want to.

I will likely reblog this post with how I’d like to keep going ^^; if I come up with multiple ideas it’ll be a poll.

like I’ve said this isn’t a super big deal, I just needed to get it off my chest so that I could start planning. thank you for everyone who interacts with me in this space I think that this niche of sfw dc tk blogs, all the anons, and the lurkers is a very wholesome corner of the internet :’)

[grayannonn]

this wouldn’t take top priority because of all the batfamily things I’ve promised and still have to get written

however…

will wally west pay for his crimes

yes please

no thank you

Voting ended onJan 12

his fate is in your hands

[grayannonn]

okay um the jury has spoken. we have cass cuddle pollen fic which I’d ideally like to at least start today and then I’ll move onto this.

we’ll see how far I get sometimes I can start a fic and it’ll be done by the end of day, sometimes it gets spread out over the course of three or five days, and sometimes I’ll have like three scrapped wip variations before I come to something I like which is not a super efficient process HH

[grayannonn]

[hyacinthanon]

Home For The Holidays

Takes place after Glad You're Here (bc you see everything's connected in my brain sdhskdkh)

ler!Bruce, lee!Jason (brief lee!Tim, brief lee!Dick)

Summary: Jason gets a quiet moment with his dad, who, unfortunately, remembers that Jason is particularly susceptible to back tickles.

Bonus scene with Tim and Dick at the end!

If, back around Thanksgiving, someone had told Jason that by December he’d be sprawled across his father’s legs on the couch after being tickled half-to-death, Jason would’ve been sure that such a messenger had, in fact, had an acute psychotic break. He might’ve even laughed at the sheer absurdity of such an idea. 

And yet, here he was. Forehead pressing into the armrest, his arms tucked underneath him, Bruce’s aging and decrepit knees digging into his stomach. His skin still crawled with residual tickles, too, which made Jason glad that his face was buried in the armrest so his dad wouldn’t see him grinning like a loon. The years hadn’t dulled Bruce’s instincts, and he was still a ruthlessly formidable opponent even when it came to the more lighthearted things. He’d latched onto Jason’s hips almost immediately and kept his thumbs vibrating into the hollows there until Jason tapped out. 

“Still there, Jaylad?” Bruce murmured. 

Jason thought about making his brain form words, but that felt like too much effort. “Hmphg.” Translation: obviously, old man. 

A large, comforting hand settled on the back of his neck. Seconds later, Jason felt Bruce’s careful fingers start combing through the tangled curls at the nape of his neck. That section always got tangled, and Jason had mostly given up on it. 

Bruce, apparently, hadn’t. 

The gentle tugging – never harsh, never painful – sent pleasant shivers skittering down Jason’s spine. He breathed out a contented sigh and let himself relax. For the next few moments, his thoughts dissolved into a sea of serotonin, endorphins and fading adrenaline. 

When Bruce finished, he switched to slow, sweeping strokes up and down the length of Jason’s back, palm wide open and warm. 

Vague noises echoed in his ears. 

Jason hummed a sleepy inquiry while the rest of his brain was busy chanting safesafesafesafesafe. All his limbs felt like lead, he didn’t want to move. Or think. But someone was trying to talk to him. 

Ugh. The nerve. 

“Is this alright?” Bruce was asking, amusement and fondness curling through the words. “I remember how ticklish your back is.” 

Hey. B was supposed to forget about that. Not remember. It was embarrassing. Everyone was supposed to forget the embarrassing things about Jason, obviously. That was the rule. 

Jason tried to communicate this by growling at him. But, given the way quiet laughter made Bruce’s form shake, it seemed he had failed to get the point across. So he huffed his frustration and pressed his forehead deeper into the upholstery instead. 

“I promise I’m not teasing you,” Bruce said. He sounded slightly strangled, but wrangled the laugh out of his voice long enough to say, “we stay away from here, yes?” 

Two fingers lightly tapped against the small of Jason’s back, sending another ticklish shiver skating through him. He tried not to flinch too much.

“Y’s,” he mumbled. 

Bruce made a low sound of acknowledgement. “And…also here? Stay away?” This time, he traced the contours of Jason’s shoulder blades, and Jason felt his cheeks blaze with heat as he bit back a startled yelp. He nodded rapidly against the couch. 

“And, if I recall–” Fingers scritched over the juncture between Jason’s shoulder and his underarm. 

Jason squeaked once, but when the feeling didn’t abate, he tumbled headfirst into heaps of hiccupy giggles. 

With a soft laugh, Bruce withdrew his hand and went back to the slow, measured sweeps that avoided the more sensitive parts of Jason’s back. “That spot did always get the cutest giggles out of you.” 

There was some part of Jason’s mind vaguely aware that he should feel more embarrassed about the whole situation, but the thrumming currents of liquid contentment pushed that part of his awareness aside for the time being. 

“Shud’up,” he grumbled, the words feeling heavy on his tongue. “‘M’not cute.” 

The hand on his back faltered in its rhythm when Bruce let out a quiet chuckle. “I beg to differ.” Suddenly those fingers were gently prodding at the edge of Jason’s armpit once more. 

Jason squirmed around just enough to pin his arms closer to his sides, but since it was his back that was being tickled, that didn’t really help much. “Bruce.” 

“Jaylad.” 

And now Jason was giggling again, which made him want to curl up and hide but he couldn’t, and that made the tickling feel somehow even worse. He managed to roll partway onto his right side and bring his left leg up, but it just wasn’t the same. Maybe this way he could at least knee Bruce in the stomach for calling him cute. 

Bruce huffed out a breath like he was stifling another chuckle. “Where, exactly, are you planning on going? – oh, nevermind, I see.” He patted the knee that was within stomach-hitting range, then gave it a squeeze and vibrated his fingers.

The startled yip that burst out of Jason’s lungs made him drag both hands up to hide a silly, unstoppable smile. He kicked his leg out of Bruce’s grasp and flipped back onto his stomach, pressing his face in his dad’s Gotham University sweatshirt. Years of wash cycles had worn the heavyweight fabric down to a soft, pliable weave that smelled like home cedar and cologne. Just as Jason began to think he might be able to fall asleep, a set of fingers scribbled over the back of his neck. A flood of sparky tingles raced down his spine and he buried a quiet shriek in Bruce’s hoodie. 

“Not fair,” he whined as he shrugged his shoulders all the way up in poor imitation of a turtle retreating into its shell. “You fucker.” The insult was muffled enough that there was a chance Bruce hadn’t heard it. 

But, from the way Bruce shifted to flutter the very tips of his fingers all around the sides of Jason’s neck, under his chin, and even near his ears, it seemed he was aware. All the warring sensations sent Jason into a fit of titters and snorts that sounded like they were coming from his much younger self. 

“Language, lad.” Bruce hummed, and Jason could just picture the hint of smug amusement in his expression. “We wouldn’t want Alfred to have to dig out the swear jar, would we?” 

Jason was about to retort when Bruce used a single finger to trace back over his left shoulder and run around the edge of his armpit again, occasionally dipping into the crease between his tricep and shoulder blade with rapid, jolting scritches.  

That sent him into silent gasps of laughter and he kept his face smashed against Bruce’s torso. He hadn’t remembered just how weak he was for tickles in that spot because it was such a fucking stupid place to be so ticklish, but he couldn’t handle it– 

“I–I’m–” his voice broke into a panicky giggle. He managed to bring his right hand around to grab a fistfull of Bruce’s sweatshirt, tugging on it weakly. 

“You are rather sensitive,” Bruce said as if agreeing with a point that he had made. Jason tried to growl at him again, but the uncontrollable tittering got in the way. Yeah, he knew he was stupidly ticklish, that was the problem. 

Bruce used his other hand to grab Jason’s bicep and pry his arm away from his ribcage just far enough that he could dig the thumb of his tickling hand into Jason’s upper ribs while the rest of his fingers kept scrabbling around the edge of Jason’s shoulder. It was a tactic originally developed back when Jason was Robin and, much to Jason’s dismay, it had lost none of its effectiveness.

Jason muffled his shrieks in his dad’s sweatshirt as he kicked uselessly at the couch cushions. The buzzing sensation under his arm had him seriously wondering if he was going to vibrate out of his skin and splat onto the ceiling. When Jason finally dragged his head up and squinted at his dad through watery eyes, Bruce was looking at him with something like adoration, so he immediately slammed his face back down. He’d take the tickles. 

He didn’t hate them. 

Bruce eased off into the lighter, still-squirm-inducing tickles from before that had Jason trying to will himself not to titter at. 

It had been…a long time, since anyone was that gentle with him. His mind was still drunk on endorphins and laughter, running too high to register the half-formed thoughts about being too vulnerable, too exposed, too childish. All the soft, squishy feelings that he normally shoved deep down had somehow bubbled up again, and, for the first time since he was fifteen, Jason just let himself enjoy this small pocket of time with his dad. He found himself soaking up Bruce’s undivided attention like a sea sponge, even if the price for it was ridiculously childish ticklishness.

By the time Bruce finally let up and switched to large, smooth circles of his palm across Jason’s shoulder blades, Jason had practically melted into a puddle of soft giggles. Knowing that he was smiling like an idiot made his face burn, but the coalition of dopamine and serotonin molecules in his brain were saying that this was the perfect chance to take a nap. Between Bruce’s warmth and Jason’s tickle-hazy brain, a nap sounded like heaven. He didn’t know if he’d ever truly relax, but this was damn close to it. 

Which was why Jason’s brothers had to interrupt. 

“Oh, Little Wing–” Dick’s hushed coo drifted down into Jason’s ears, and he grunted as he nuzzled a little closer to Bruce. 

“Shud’u’, Di’fce.” 

“Back tickles?” Dick was directing that question to Bruce, who remained silent but must have given some kind of assent. “Heh, good work, B. I’m dropping off another little bird at the tickled-out baby brother station.” 

A small wave of adrenaline rolled through Jason’s senses when a respectably heavy bundle of knees and elbows plopped onto his back. 

“‘Ve got’ya, Jay,” Tim murmured, sounding as sleepy as Jason felt. No small wonder there, the kid’d had the absolute snot tickled out of him twice in one day. He sprawled out on top of Jason like a determined starfish and was snoring softly in seconds. 

Well, since it seemed like Jason wouldn’t be going anywhere soon…

It took some maneuvering with the Tim-shaped shield on his back, but Jason adjusted his position, letting go of Bruce’s sweatshirt – still, up to that point, clenched in his fist like a lifeline – and sliding that arm around Bruce, so he was holding onto his dad like a pillow. One of Tim’s arms was hanging limply over Jason’s left shoulder, so he hooked his elbow around Tim’s to help keep the baby from sliding off as he napped. 

Settled between Bruce’s solid presence and Tim’s comforting warmth, Jason finally fell asleep.  

***

Dick flung one leg over the armrest next to Bruce and draped himself over his dad’s side for stability. Of course Bruce immediately brought his other arm up around his waist, balancing him even though Dick wasn’t a gangly kid anymore. 

Dick didn’t mind, really. He was too glad to have these rare moments where all of them were together in peace, without any cases, catastrophic injuries, or other emergencies to attend to. 

He watched his little brothers sleep for a couple minutes. They were so damn cute, he had to take out his phone and get pictures. Maybe that’d be his new lockscreen. Jason would hate it but be secretly touched; Tim would get all red and roll his eyes, but grin like he’d won the lottery. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen them both this quiet,” Bruce murmured. He was also gazing down at his sleeping children and seemed to have resigned himself to, for all intents and purposes, being pinned down under them for the next hour or so. 

Dick snorted quietly. “Yeah, tell me about it.” 

“You were almost never this still, either.” The words came with a rare, flashed smile, and Dick ducked his head. “Even asleep, you’d kick and roll around.” 

“Not all the time,” Dick muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. When he’d been feeling particularly rambunctious, Bruce would chase him down and tickle all that extra energy out of him. He would be left a puddle of wheezy giggles and newfound sleepiness.

Bruce’s fond look meant that he was recalling similar memories. He lifted one of his eyebrows at Dick, who could feel his blush spreading down his neck. “Are you feeling a little left out, chum?”

Dick jerked, barely avoiding knocking his foot into Jason’s shoulder. “What?” 

Bruce tugged him a little closer and pinched at the wildly ticklish spot just underneath his ribs. “You know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

“Not in front of them,” he hissed as screeching laughter bubbled up in his chest. If he woke up his little brothers because Bruce tickled him, Dick knew he’d get absolutely obliterated. “B!”  

“I can’t have you feeling neglected,” Bruce said, and his warm smile betrayed the seriousness of the words even as he switched to rapid squeezes up and down Dick’s leg. 

Dick nearly choked on his stifled laughter and folded forwards, furiously thumping his hand against Bruce’s shoulder to tap out. 

When Bruce retracted his hand, respecting the rules of the yield, Dick curled into his shoulder as he came down from the sudden attack, residual laughter shaking his frame. 

“You big meanie,” he whispered when he finally caught his breath. “That was uncalled for.”  

Bruce gave him a knowing glance that made Dick want to squirm beneath it like he was fifteen and trying to sneak out for the first time. “Sure, Dick. Whatever you say.” 

Dick just rolled his eyes. He settled more firmly against his dad as he went over the words again to try and be sure he chose the right ones. It was what he’d come down for, after all. To be fair, he’d planned on asking before getting Jason’s text earlier that day. He was twenty-five years old, too, so being apprehensive like this was absolutely ridiculous. 

Too bad no one had told that to the butterflies congregating in his stomach. 

“Hey, B?” He hadn’t meant to sound that vulnerable, but there was no taking back the words.

A concerned crease appeared in Bruce’s brow. “Is something the matter?” 

Dick swallowed. “I was, uh. I was wondering if you’d –” He took a deep breath. He was an adult. He was a vigilante. He’d faced down far more terrifying horrors than asking his father for something. “– since we’re all here this year, for the holidays…I was wondering if you’d take the week off. From everything.” 

Something unexplainable and terribly soft melted the worried lines in his father’s face. The smile he gave Dick was breathtakingly gentle as he cupped Dick’s cheek with one hand. “I already have, sweetheart. As soon as you said you’d be visiting.” 

Oh. That probably shouldn’t have made Dick tear up, but he’d always been a little extra raw around the holidays. He leaned closer until his forehead bumped into Bruce’s shoulder. “...thanks, Dad.” 

Bruce hummed quietly in answer. 

Careful not to knee Jason in the head, Dick folded his legs up to a more comfortable position, even if it was a little precarious. As if on cue, Bruce tightened his arm around Dick’s waist to help steady him, but not before tweaking his ribs. 

Dick yelped. 

“Don’t think you’re getting out of here unscathed, Dickie,” Bruce warned, turning to kiss the top of Dick’s head.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Dick muttered. He was looking forward to it, though. His days of playful mischief were becoming increasingly numbered.

He could feel himself getting tired, too, here in this fragile bubble of warmth and safety that felt like shelter, however brief, from the storms that often raged through the rest of Gotham. 

Yeah. It was good to be home.

━━━━━━━━━━

Bonus scene with Tim and Dick:

Thud! 

Tim’s breath left him in a whoosh when Dick tackled him to the floor of the upstairs hallway. They grappled for a few seconds, his older brother quickly gaining the upper hand because Tim was too busy trying to get some air back into his lungs to focus on escaping. 

Rather than obliterate Tim in the middle of the hallway, Dick cheerfully grabbed his wrists and dragged him into Jason’s room, since it was the closest. 

Tim knew that Dick was perfectly capable of lifting him all the way up and had likely chosen to haul him around like a sack of laundry because it always made him laugh. This time was no different; he was forcing down stray giggles by the time Dick dumped him on the floor next to Jason’s bed. 

“Hey, Timmy,” Dick said brightly as he dropped into a crouch. “What was that you said back there?” 

Even though Tim rolled his eyes, he let the smile he’d been fighting off tug the corners of his mouth upwards – Dick’s playful moods were usually contagious, and, added to his own lingering silly feelings from that morning, gave him the urge to wriggle off some of the bubbling energy. But he forced himself to stay still and meet Dick’s gaze. 

“Dick,” he started, and he was proud that he hadn’t succumbed to the full-on uncontrollable giggles yet. “You – Jason already –” 

Dick’s eyes narrowed as he shot Tim a mischievous smirk. “Yeah, I guess you’ve already been tickled into a little pile of Timmy giggles once today, huh?” 

Tim’s squeak busted out of him entirely without his consent. “Hey!”  His face blazed with heat. Every instinct in his brain screamed at him to roll over and crawl under Jason’s bed, maybe stay there forever. 

“Uh huh.” Dick didn’t sound convinced. Screw him. But he let out a melodramatic sigh and tipped sideways, falling out of his crouch to lean against the bedframe at an angle most would find unbearable. “Okay, here’s a proposition: since it’s the holidays, and since I’m a magnanimous, compassionate older brother who’s never done anything wrong ever in his life–” 

Tim giggled, though he hadn’t meant to interrupt Dick. 

His older brother flashed him a real smile full of blinding affection and tugged Tim closer to kiss the top of his head before continuing, “– I’ll have mercy on you just this once. But, you’re going to be detained immediately for big brother time.” 

Tim pretended to ponder those options as if the prospect of Dick’s undivided attention didn’t sound like the best thing ever. “...I guess.” He tried not to smile, but his lips twitched and betrayed him. 

Dick saw; his eyes sparkled knowingly, but he didn’t say anything and just kissed Tim’s forehead. 

Two forehead kisses in one day? Tim was living. If he could somehow manage to trick Jason into giving him one, too, he’d collect the whole set, like love-language pokemon. 

“So,” Dick started, using the arm he still had wrapped around Tim to tug him closer. “What’s been going on in your life, Baby Bird?” 

Tim flashed him his best innocent smile. “I don’t know.” 

“Okay, come on.” Dick briefly dug his fingers into Tim’s side, making him squirm. “You’ve gotta give me a better answer than that.” 

“Okay, okay, I will!” Tim snickered. He smushed himself further into Dick’s side to try and get away from the tickling, burying his grin in his brother’s shoulder. “D’you mean work, school, or fun?”

“Either? All?” 

Tim drummed his fingers against the carpet as he took a second to organize his thoughts. How long since he’d last seen Dick? What would his brother want to know? He rubbed the encroaching sleepiness out of his eyes. 

“Well, for work – no new break in that ongoing docks case. School – good, my geography teacher assigns way too much work. Life – I’ve been going to Jason’s appointments with him? Oh, and we’re working on that Lego thing.” 

Dick rubbed his shoulder and down the length of his arm, the extended physical contact made another wave of sleepiness wash over Tim’s whirring brain. “You know, on second thought, I’ll kidnap you later, bud. I think you could use a nap.” 

Part of Tim wanted to grouse that he wasn’t a toddler, he didn’t need to be put down for an afternoon nap. The other, sleepier part of him wanted to lay down right there, safe with his big brother, and doze off. But his brain wasn’t quite ready for that, either.

“I’d like to sleep,” he admitted through a yawn. He shifted around to lean more heavily against Dick. “My brain doesn’t want to.” 

Dick stretched out his legs and patted one of his thighs. “C’mere, if you lay down, I can give you soft tickles?” 

The suggestion made Tim’s face heat up, more out of reflex than actual embarrassment. Soft tickles were a leftover part of Tim’s naptime routine back when he was little and Dick would babysit him, or play with him at galas. 

(Though Tim now realized that Dick had also delighted in having an excuse to avoid the more pushy adults there.) 

He decided not to argue and wriggled around until he was laying on his side, resting his head on Dick’s leg as Dick carded through his hair.

“Ssh, Timmy, just relax.” 

Tim nodded once and let his eyes slide shut. 

Dick ran his fingers in light, soothing movements down the back of Tim’s neck, across his shoulders, and down his back. Occasionally his hand would dip around to Tim’s side and stomach, but there wasn’t enough pressure to actually tickle. The touches just sent wave after wave of gentle tingles running down Tim’s spine, making him shudder pleasantly as his nervous system slowly calmed down. Sometimes the passes over his tummy made his lips twitch, but he couldn’t really help it and Dick just cooed softly at him. 

After some amount of time passed, Tim was vaguely aware of someone lifting him off the floor. 

The next moment – when had Dick learned how to teleport? Was there a secret zeta tube in Jason’s room? – Tim was being lowered down to the couch on top of – Jason? 

“Hey, bud, go back to sleep,” Dick murmured. He said something to Bruce, but Tim only caught ‘back tickles.’

Fingers were running through his hair again. Tim mumbled something to Jason as he stretched out on top of his brother, and – oh, Tim was sort of Jason-shaped. Maybe he could guard Jason from the back tickles. He stretched out as best he could. Jason’s steady breathing made his back rhythmically rise and fall, so Tim closed his eyes. 

He was instantly asleep. 

[grayannonn]

/pos

holy hashtags batman

[grayannonn]

The Tim Drake Anthology

(1/4), (2/4), (3/4), (4/4)

lee!tim drake, ler!stephanie brown, ler!alfred pennyworth, ler!duke thomas, ler!damian wayne

briefing: collection of tooth rotting lee!tim drabbles. no thought, only whimsy. the series is now finished and everything is linked together. I hope you enjoy <3

“this is damian, I found him in a murder cult. he hates my guts and I would literally die for him.”

Nobody enjoyed Bruce’s charity galas. He didn’t even enjoy them. But they were necessary because of the whole Wayne Family image thing, and because Tim worked for Wayne Enterprises, that usually meant him making an appearance.

That was fine. Tim would be fine in those cases. What wasn’t fine was sending him and Damian to a charity gala. Completely by themselves. For the entire night.

Damian didn’t need to be supervised, not really. He was in high school now. But he was sent here to work on his social skills, Tim was sent to work on his networking, and they were brothers. So they had to stay in close quarters and pretend to like each other. What was Bruce thinking?? It was a disaster waiting to happen!

Tim had been trying to smile and nod his way through it, but the next snide remark that slipped from Damian’s mouth had Tim ripping him off to the side by his arm. Instinctually, he wanted to do the whole “Get down on this insufferable little miscreant’s level,” thing. But Damian was almost as tall as him now.

He wasn’t as difficult as he used to be, but it wasn’t like he ever just stopped getting under Tim’s skin, whether he meant to or not. When someone made it so blatantly obvious they didn’t like you, when they didn’t even try to hide it, yeah, that was a little bothersome.

“Listen to me. I understand that you would rather be here with anyone else. I understand you’re very unhappy with the situation, I’m not thrilled either. But it wasn’t my choice, and I can’t put up with you antagonizing me all night long!” Tim knew he’d failed to keep his composure. A part of him wanted to feel smug, wanted to get Damian back. But the bigger part of him knew he was older, and that meant he was responsible for Damian tonight. No matter how frustrating he could be.

From Tim’s expression, Damian thought he could glean a twinge of hurt. An uncomfortable feeling began to stir in his stomach.

“I’m sorry I raised my voice at you. Most of that wasn’t really helpful. Case and point, this wasn’t up to us, it’s out of our control, and we’re making it way harder than it needs to be.” Tim lifted his sleeve to glance down at the heirloom watch Bruce always had him wear to charity galas. It was a good conversation starter.

“The speeches and all that are going to be starting soon. We can just sit and be quiet for a while.”

Damian was about to kiss his teeth when Tim began to dig around in the pocket of his slacks. The younger couldn’t help being curious. He watched his brother pull out a small Wayne Enterprises notepad, a mechanical pencil, and a case for wireless earbuds. Damian’s brow furrowed.

“I have to pay attention to the guest speakers and the sponsors, but you don’t. I figured you’d get bored. I didn’t give these to you right away because I wanted you to be, like, halfway present for at least a little bit.”

“But you don’t have to hang out with me all night. You’re still…” Tim almost said kid, “a minor. Everyone knows that you being here is just a formality. Bruce is paranoid, but we’re not royalty. Literally no one cares if you don’t eat with the right dinner fork or engage them in a meaningful conversation.”

“Even if they do care, we could sort of buy their entire livelihood, so…”

“I try not to think too hard about that part, though—“

Tim cleared his throat. “All this to say, you still like to draw, right? You can even put on music or something if you want.”

Bruce or Dick would have never been this lax.

Jason was practically banned from these sorts of things.

With Cassandra, Damian would always just sneak out with her.

He’d had fun with Stephanie a couple of times, but that was because she’s Stephanie, and he always came home totally wiped.

He hadn’t yet attended a charity gala with Duke.

Tim was practical, and he was essentially holding out the holy trinity right now.

“Thank you, Drake. That is, um. Thoughtful.” Damian snatched all three items and practically jogged towards the tables. He thought he heard Tim snicker and say, “Geez, nobody’s taking it from you.”

The guest speakers and sponsors had all spoken, the last one was tapping her script neatly against the podium as applause died down. Damian paused his music, glancing across the table. Tim had his head tilted up towards the ceiling, and he looked like he was trying to rub away a headache. Or maybe rub in an extra two hours of sleep. In short, he looked exhausted. Business as per usual.

“Drake.” Tim jumped. He made a zombie noise, straightened his posture, and fell back into best blue collar boy mode before Damian’s eyes. It was a little creepy.

“I’m restless.”

“How do you mean?”

“We typically have much more active lifestyles. We do not get to do that tonight.”

Tim sighed. He could understand that. “Did you have anything in mind?”

“Well. There is this slimy pharmaceutical lapdog who has been snarling at me since we got here—“

“Absolutely not.” Damian tutted.

“I’ve got an idea, c’mon.”

The venue for this gala was huge. It had a very rococo-esque style to it, and Damian found himself appreciating it more and more as he continued to follow Tim down hallway after ornate hallway. It was like walking through a castle.

“I think it’s this one…” Tim pushed through a set of tall doors to reveal what looked like some sort of ballroom.

“Charity galas are never super fun, but I was excited when I heard that Bruce chose this venue. It was the first one I ever went to with him.”

Damian was visibly starstruck. Tim had never seen him that way before. Biting his lip didn’t hide the smile that crept onto his face.

“Aw…” He laughed a little. If he were Dick or Jason, he maybe would have tousled Damian’s hair. But he thought better of it.

“…Tt.” Damian was clearly a little perturbed by that, but most of his attention remained delegated to the extravagant ballroom.

“Places like these, they remind me of Nanda Parbat.” He quietly admitted.

“[Enchanting.]”

Tim cocked his head.

“Enchanting or magical in English.”

“Ah. Yeah, that’s… that’s the perfect word for it.” His expression softened slightly. Tim wasn’t sure what it was, but in the last hour or so, he’d done something right. Damian was opening up to him little by little, he was much less snippy.

“So… what is the story with this? There clearly is one.” Damian’s more direct tone returned.

“Yep, uh, like I said, this place was the first venue I’d ever gone to with Bruce for a charity gala. Sometimes my mom and dad went to them, we hosted, like, one unofficial one for Christmas one year. I just said one three times—“

“It doesn’t matter.”

Tim shifted his weight. “So, yeah. Bruce had this charity gala he had to go to, he didn’t feel like going alone and being ogled at all night. If he has one of his wards with him, people keep it in their pants. He didn’t say that part to me, obviously. Anyway, so he came to me and was like, ‘Hey, so, Dick kind of really hates me. You busy?’”

“And I said no. Because I was never busy if it was him.”

“I was pretty nervous. At the time, we didn’t really have the same relationship as we do now because I was still living at home with… with my parents. It’s not like it was my first fancy party, so he could tell I was nervous because I was intimidated by him and I really didn’t wanna screw up.”

“I kept going to hide in the bathroom because I just couldn’t do it. He caught me on the way back and said we should go do something else. We came here, he was like, ‘Do you know how to slow dance?’ and I was like, ‘Haha, um, no, I’m thirteen.’”

“So he taught me. It was really fun. Best distraction ever. That was the first time I ever felt like he may actually sort of like me, you know? Tim. Not just Robin.”

“That sounds like it was very special to you.” Damian wasn’t exactly sure what to say. Tim nodded awkwardly.

“Mhm. Still is.”

“Welp,” He clasped his hands together, “You know how to slow dance?”

Now Damian really didn’t know what to say.

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I could just keep walking you around the venue. There’s a lot more to see. But I think you’d be surprised. It’s… yeah. It’s really fun.” Tim smiled slightly, taking off his blazer and folding it in his arms.

“Uh. I will entertain you. It is always good to learn new skills. Brown once told me she had to improvise a tango on an undercover op.”

Tim nodded his head. “Mm. Sounds like Steph.”

“Alright, uh, c'mere." He waved Damian over, hanging his blazer over a discarded chair.

“What do you already know?”

Damian walked a little closer to face Tim. “You face each other. We… already have that right, I suppose. The hand placement matters, the ‘man in the dance,’ does one thing and their partner does the other. I cannot recall how. And then you spin around and try not to trip over each other’s feet.”

“That’s a pretty good start. The leader and the follower, is what it’s called, gender doesn’t actually matter. Since you’re still at just about my nose, it would be easier for you to be the follower. And, um, you’ve never slow danced before, so—“

“I understand, it is fine.” Damian mumbled. “Show me.”

“Alright, get cozy.” Tim joked, stepping closer.

“Hands go out like that… shoulder, shoulder…” He was whispering to himself, seemingly trying to remember it fully.

“Yeah. My hand can go up here, you go right there under my arm sorta— aHAH!” Tim suddenly folded to the side, nearly bringing them both down to the floor. He could have sworn he saw Damian’s lip twitch. He breathlessly laughed, straightening his posture. After an entire night of elegant faux chuckles, his screech was… humbling.

“O… Oh my god, not so tihihight! You’re gonna scare your dance partner away!”

Damian remained cliff faced. “Okay. Pardon my grip strength. What do we do next.”

Tim composed himself. “Well… it’s like you said, we need to get into a rhythm, not stepping on each other’s feet and all that. I really only see two different ways people slow dance where it’s how we’re doing it, less intimate, you could do it with any dance partner as a hobbyist or whatever. And then how people dance at their weddings, all cuddled up, hand on the waist instead of—“

Damian reached down, scribbling into Tim’s side. He couldn’t conceal the amusement dancing in his eyes that time when Tim let out another shrill burst of laughter.

“Like that?”

Tim staggered back, wrapping his arms around his torso and staring incredulously. He made an offended noise, “You’re doing this on purpose!”

Damian crossed his arms. “Tt. Yes. Would I be remiss to say it is something that the others do to bond with you?”

“I can see how it may endear you to… someone of lesser dignity. You sound ridiculous. It’s entertaining.”

Tim was trying to compute that in his brain. Something that would normally be very any for him with any given task. Was Damian trying to bond with him? Was he complimenting him? Insulting him? Why did he insist on having the single most convoluted vocabulary ever?

“What does that even mean…?” He grumbled.

“It means that I am sick of wasting my energy maintaining some form of rivalry with you when it is apparent it doesn’t have to be that way.”

Tim’s breath caught in his throat for a moment. The kind of shock to your system where you had to swallow to reset.

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore…” Damian muttered, stalking forward. Tim, in his disoriented state, just stood there staring. He only snapped out of his trance when Damian’s hands had latched onto his sides again, pinching and squeezing. He didn’t seem entirely sure about what he was doing, he wouldn’t look at Tim. But it also really didn’t take much to get Tim to react.

“Damian! We— wehehe don’t have to talk abohout it! Wahahahait!!”

“I could get you to agree to anything right now, couldn’t I.” Damian dryly remarked.

“The Discowing costume was good.”

Tim scoffed, “You don’t even believe that!” He continued shoving clumsily at Damian’s hands.

“I do not. But I want to hear you say it.”

“WHY??”

Damian plastered on a damn near cherubic smile. Alfred had been right, you could see Bruce in it, but Damian was instead weaponizing it for his own evil agenda. Tim had never seen anything like it. So this was how he managed to get Dick to put up with him for all those months.

“DO NOT. Do not look at me like thAHAHAT!” Tim squealed and crumpled in on himself when Damian’s hands found his middle.

“You’re a monster!”

“The mere implication that I would ever partake in that childish game makes me feel ill.” Tim honestly couldn’t tell if Damian was messing with him or if he was serious, but fair. The phrase “tickle monster,” made him want to curl up and die too.

Once he’d come to terms with the fact that this was happening, Tim was able to break away from Damian fairly easily. He snagged his blazer before making a mad dash out of the room. He wasn’t sure if Damian would chase him, but it would be funny if he did. He could hear the sound of Damian’s flustered sputtering before the doors to the ballroom closed behind him.

“I am not going to play chase with you, Drake!” Damian called out. While chasing Tim.

“Sure seems like it!” Tim called back with a laugh. He remained a small distance ahead of Damian as they sprinted all throughout the winding corridors of the venue. They seemed to be alone—other than the occasional security guard, who would turn a blind eye when they recognized just whose sons those were—so they were able to actually expel some energy, leaping entire flights of stairs, vaulting over tables or chairs, climbing just about anything they stumbled across that was climbable.

Damian couldn’t pretend he wasn’t having fun. If Tim strained, he could hear Damian’s muffled little kitten growl of a giggle a few paces behind him. Sometimes he’d squeak if Tim juked him out too suddenly.

That would ultimately be his undoing, though, when they found themselves on opposite sides of a long table. Everybody knew what came next, but somehow it never failed to feel like the most high stress situation you’ve ever been in.

“Nononono…”

“Nohoho!” Tim dissolved into laughter when Damian crawled under the table and tackled him to the ground. They ended up pressed against the far wall, just below a large window.

Tim would later tell himself that he, “Let Damian have it,” when the kid easily subdued him with just a few pokes, but honestly, he was tired. Tim hadn’t ever experienced it himself, but everyone knew Damian to be ruthless. He wouldn’t stop until he’d nearly tickled Tim to an early grave.

So, yeah. Probably shouldn’t let that happen. Tim flopped onto his side, heaving, smacking at the ground, and pretending he’d given up.

“I… I’ll die befohohore I ever say anything positive about the Discowihing suit.” He wheezed.

“Oh.” Damian paused, “I had forgotten about that.”

“Seriously?!” Tim sprung up. Damian couldn’t help the snicker that tore from his throat. It slipped up an octave when Tim tossed one of the curtains to the extravagant window up above over him, scruffling Damian up anywhere he could reach. He didn’t tickle. He wasn’t sure if Damian liked it very much. He didn’t want to reverse any of the progress they’d made tonight. Besides, Damian was stifling laughter and squirming anyway as he tried to find his way out of the curtain.

The curtain rod came down shortly after, ambushing Tim now as well. Neither of them could find it in themselves to care about the damage, they were having too much fun, and they finally emerged in a state they’d never seen each other in before: struggling to catch their breath, their hair that Alfred that helped them tame was sticking up in all different directions, red faced and glossy eyed with mirth.

Damian slumped against the wall behind them, kicking away some of the bunched fabric at his feet, “My face hurts…” He hiccuped.

Tim followed suit. “My sides hurt.”

“You…” Damian cleared his throat, trying to bring it back to his usual monotonous quality. He wasn’t laughing anymore, but it probably still came out softer and more meek than he wanted it to.

“You should come with me. Next time. If there is one.”

“I am… simply surprised. That you would let me misbehave like this.”

“I started it. I won’t tell on you, don’t worry.”

“…Alright.” Damian nodded his head. They sat in silence, and the only sound that followed was Tim’s quiet, “Oof.” when Damian slumped against his shoulder.

It went unspoken. You know I love you, I’m sorry.

As it turned out, it wouldn’t have mattered if Tim told on them both or not. When they came downstairs the morning after the charity gala, they had a full house. Everyone had concentrated in the den. They all turned to stare when the brothers reached the bottom of the stairs.

Bruce was smiling, but he looked about ready to cry.

Barbara was recording whatever they had playing on the television, what they were so fixated on.

Dick and Jason were both shaking with very poorly contained laughter. Okay, Dick wasn’t succeeding at all, actually. He just had his hand over his smile.

Cassandra and Stephanie were eyeing them and exchanging whispers.

Duke was stood a little further off to the side and trying to be subtle, but you could see the fluorescent shimmer of his photokinesis when the did look at Tim and Damian. He was trying to figure them out.

“I see that you boys had fun.” Oh god. Why did Bruce sound so happy?? It just wasn’t natural!

“I mean… sure—“ Tim was turning to Damian to give him the, “What’s going on?” look, but Damian wouldn’t look back. His gaze was fixated on the television, and he was mortified. It had been looped, and it was the, “heartwarming,” segment of the local news.

Tim squinted, tilting his head.

HEARTWARMING: “Wayne Boys stir up trouble at Gotham Saint’s Coliseum!”

Accompanied by grainy footage of he and Damian’s various goofy hijinks from the night before. It had likely been uncovered when they were looking for a culprit for the whole broken curtain rod thing.

“Uh.”

“It’s fine. You were cute. You’re not in any trouble.” Tim and Damian’s noses simultaneously wrinkled. Cute? The Batman they knew didn’t call them cute.

“Am I not allowed to express my affection towards you.” Bruce deadpanned.

“Eeeehhh… after how the years have gone? Not too sure about that, B. You gotta ease us into it, y’know?” Dick giggled and flipped off the back of the couch when Bruce swiped for him.

“I’ll put it to you this way. I’m happy you’re getting along.”

“F… Father! Surely there are legal repercussions for this! Drake nor I consented to this footage being published, we are well within the right to sue them—!”

Jason’s shit eating grin was being put into motion. He opened his mouth to speak. Stephanie surely wouldn’t be far behind.

“Not a word.” Damian probably meant to look like he was angrily storming up the stairs, but it looked a little too much like a panicked retreat.

Tim was left to awkwardly stare them down alone.

“Tim.” Tim was bracing when he heard Bruce’s voice.

“You made Damian feel safe, you know. You really stepped up for him.”

“That… made me very proud of you.” Bruce nodded like this was nothing more than a mission debriefing. But it wasn’t. Tim’s stomach did a flip-flop.

“Well, um… he stepped up for me too.”

There was a night where you stepped up for me once.

I knew just what to do.

[grayannonn]

this panel makes me so happy I just

HE LOOKS SORTA LITTLE NEXT TO CLARK BDJSB AND LOOK AT HIS FACE

“hhhhaaiiiiii supermannnn :3”

HE’S ALL SCRUNCHED UP TOOAHHHH

superman holding nightwing like a cishet man with the fish he just caught my beloved

[grayannonn]

hoping to have the final installment of the tim drake anthology up by today

I think this one is going to be my favorite by far :’)

[grayannonn]

this wouldn’t take top priority because of all the batfamily things I’ve promised and still have to get written

however…

will wally west pay for his crimes

yes please

no thank you

Voting ended onJan 12

his fate is in your hands

[grayannonn]

Weekly Lesson In Surface Dwelling

lee!garth, ler!titans, based primarily on teen titans finest characterization

briefing: this is just that one trope because it feels perfect for garth. lee has been socially isolated, isn’t quite human, and doesn’t know what tickling is. lee’s friends say “not on my watch.”

ꄗꗃ is being dispelled I need to have a little more faith in my readers and that they can understand what’s going on. I’m a chronic over explainer and trying to be a little better about it HH

Garth had been away for about two weeks. He’d been in Atlantis, having gotten a little too homesick to function properly on the surface, and was expected to return today. But knowing superhero life, the rest of the team didn’t hold their breath.

To their surprise and admitted delight, he was right on schedule, arriving back at the Titan’s Lair on Saturday morning. They’d been cooped up together for some time. Between tensions with their mentors that led to their headquarters being something of a home away from home, jobs that kept stacking up, and just the fact that they enjoyed one another’s company, nobody was leaving the lair for longer than twenty four hours.

So that he didn’t go flying right back out the door, Garth had to dig his heels into the ground when Wally crashed into him at mach 20.

“You’re back!”

Garth gave an awkward pat-pat to the ginger head below his chin. “Mhm. And you’re, um… very excited to see me.”

“It hasn’t been the same without you, we’ve been hanging out nonstop.” Wally pulled back, not wanting to smother Garth too much. Not yet, at least.

“That sounds… nice. Where is everyone?”

“Oh, they’re hiding. Licking their wounds.”

Dick and Donna dropped down from the ceiling, landing in a pile on the ground at Garth’s feet. There was a Wally West there just a moment ago.

“You are such a liar!” Donna was back on her feet in seconds, fruitlessly chasing Wally around the room. Dick had jumped on her back for convenience.

Garth could only wince as they exhausted themselves and bonked into various pieces of furniture trying to catch a speedster. As his eyes followed them to the living room, he saw Roy sat on the sofa, loading a new arsenal of arrows into his quiver and not paying any mind to the tornado that was rapidly closing in on him.

His first, “What’s going on?” couldn’t be heard over the rest of the commotion. He inched closer, raising his voice and repeating the question.

“H… Hello? What’s going on??”

Wally stopped short with a skid that was only satisfying when he did it. Donna dumped Dick backwards onto the couch before plopping down herself. They were both comically petulant. Arms crossed or stuffed in their pockets, slumped posture, wearing matching pouts. Garth wanted to smile at the sight, but couldn’t tell yet if this was something that was actually serious.

“Dick started something he can’t finish. We all got brought into the mix.” Roy set his quiver aside, and stretched his arms above his head. He exchanged a glance with Wally and they quickly shot down again.

“Don’t even think about it!”

“I don’t understand.” Garth uncomfortably replied.

“I tickled him just once because he’s the baby of the team and all that, now he’s making me pay in tenfold. And the worst part is that nobody can catch him to get him back! It’s so unfair!” Dick got all huffy and puffed up like the birdie he was.

Garth politely smiled, “Ah.” Was he supposed to know what that meant? They all seemed to pick up and agree on the fact that something about his response was a little off, even if he didn’t have a clue.

“Sorry, we know it can get sort of loud. If it’s overwhelming for you, we’ll stop.” Donna offered a small smile. Garth didn’t know how he would respond properly to that when he didn’t even know what “tickled,” was.

“No, uh, it’s fine, I think.”

“You think?” Roy shot him a crooked smile.

GET IT TOGETHER, GARTH. “Mhm.”

“I bet you’re super ticklish.”

“Huh?”

Wally preened. “I can just tell.”

Donna held onto the back of Wally’s shirt, huffing a laugh. “Wally, leave him alone. He just got here.”

“Nuh-uh, no can do, sorry!” Wally zipped in front of Garth, smiling innocently.

“It’s okay, I’m not… super ticklish. You don’t have to. Thank you, though.” Garth returned Wally’s smile, the only difference being that his was actually innocent. Roy’s bemused cough was all that could be heard in the following silence.

It was becoming increasingly obvious to the other Titans that Garth had no idea what they were talking about.

Wally had to bite his lip to not burst into a fit of giggles. His eyes were going a little misty. “No, no, please! Snrt—! I insist.”

“What’s so funny…?? You’re shaking—“

Wally’s hands dove down to Garth’s hips, delivering a few pinches in rapid succession. More rapid than the average person could pull off. The floodgates burst open when Garth squealed in response. Wally pulled back, hardly able to hold himself together, let alone tickle.

“Wh… What the heck did you do to me?!” Garth was frantically patting down his torso, holding back the titters that threatened to escape from his throat. He couldn’t place what about the situation was funny to him, did he just feel like laughing because everyone else was?

Garth sighed. The team wasn’t going to be calming down anytime soon. They just missed him disappearing down the hallway.

About a half an hour later, after putting away his bag and changing his clothes, Garth reappeared. Sort of.

Still hearing laughter and feeling a little weary, he peered into the living room from behind a wall, the closest he could get.

Dick and Wally were on the floor. Wally held one of his ankles hostage and was doing… something? To his foot?

“Come OHOHON! I… I’ll never tickle anyone ever again, I swehehehear!!” Garth had never once heard their fearless leader laugh like that. He was squirming all over and hysterical, but both he and Wally still seemed to be having fun.

“I’m letting you off on probation. Garth finally came out of hiding.” Wally glanced up. Garth startled. Oh. They’d seen him.

“Well, sort of.” His smile was teasing, but affectionate. Garth was still peeking out from behind the wall like a lost puppy or something.

“It’s time for your weekly lesson in surface dwelling!” He’d been scooted into the middle of the living room before he even had the chance to speak.

“Is he gonna make it?” Garth gestured down at Dick who just giggled and waved his hand about. Carry on, carry on.

“So you seriously don’t know what tickling is?” Roy began. He sighed wistfully when Garth shook his head, “Ahh, adorable. You really are like a martian.”

“Ignore him.” Donna quickly cut in, smacking Roy down the back of the head with a pillow.

“It’s this weird, primal, social bonding, evolutionary thing that occurs in mostly humans and human adjacent races, plus some other mammals like rats and monkeys. We get sensitive in certain spots if you touch them in a harmless way, and it technically triggers a pain response I think? But because of the social bonding thing, I guess our bodies just encourage it and we laugh instead of saying ‘ow,’ or something like that.”

Garth slowly nodded his head. “And that’s what you’ve been doing this past week…? Exercising this social bonding thing?”

“Yep, all my fault. And now we get the honor of being the ones to introduce you to the stupidest form of torture the surface world has to offer! Have a seat.” Dick had made a full recovery.

Garth stared.

“I… I’m kidding. Mostly—“

Reluctantly, the Atlantean sat down on the sofa, soon joined by Dick and Wally.

“I find it hard to believe that tickling doesn’t exist in Atlantis. If you’re human shaped, you’ve gotta be ticklish. Or at least you were when you were a kid. It’s not just people, I mean… like Donna said, rats can be ticklish.” Roy mused.

“I’m weird even where I come from. It may have just never happened to me specifically.” Garth mumbled. That brought a brief, thoughtful silence to the room.

“Well, um. That’s sort of sad…”

“But no longer, we’re here to help!” Wally proclaimed.

“Make yourself comfortable, this is probably going to get pretty weird.”

“Uh… sure.” Garth shifted in his seat, attempting to look comfortable. He looked to Donna, who he’d chosen to position between himself and the other guys. At least for now. They had scary looks in their eyes. She seemed like she was trying to make this at least sort of educational.

“Where do we start?”

She awkwardly stared, briefly locking eyes with Wally. You started this, do something! He smiled cluelessly.

“Man, uh… you two were right, this is super weird. I mean… you probably don’t even know where you’d be ticklish, do you?”

Garth, with his exasperated, helpless stare, definitely did not.

Donna smiled slightly. “Well, okay. You’ve got your windpipe and all that important stuff in here,” Garth found himself immediately curling up and smiling so wide his eyes squeezed shut when her fingers wiggled into the crook of his neck. He’d been nervous at first, but he was beginning to understand how this was supposed to go when a playful atmosphere overtook the room right away. It really was harmless.

She continued down. “You need your arms to hold things,” “Your ribs protect your heart,” “The entire midsection is pretty self explanatory, organs,” “You need your legs and feet to get around.”

The touches were probably about as mild as they could be, but even still, by the time it was over, Garth hadn’t realized just how much he’d been holding his breath. He collapsed onto his side—the laps of Roy and Wally became collateral damage—huffing and puffing, in a complete daze.

“Is he gonna make it?” Dick echoed teasingly, mimicking Garth’s voice.

“Stohop… I don’t sound like that.” He threw a hand out to where he thought Dick’s general direction was. He missed spectacularly.

“You’re allowed to laugh, you know. You’re making it a lot harder on yourself by not laughing.”

“I just… I guess I still don’t really get it.” Garth rolled onto his back, he cautiously eyed Roy and Wally.

“Am I allowed to stay?”

“Your funeral.” Roy shrugged.

“What do you mean…?”

“Wally seems to think this is the best thing to happen to him since the speed force, so…”

Garth let out another high pitched squeak when Wally’s hands found his hips again, he seemed to remember the sweet spot from earlier. Garth rolled around, onto his front, onto his back, and vice versa. When his brain finally computed that the problem area resided on the sides of his body, he settled to lay face down so he didn’t have to look at them.

“Listen to him! I’m gonna cry!” Wally paused, just resting his hands on Garth’s back.

“Why?” Donna asked that, but her grin indicated she knew exactly why.

“Just… he laughs like that?? Every time I made a joke I was sure he found funny, he’d just be like, ‘teehee!’ and that was it.”

“I dohon’t sound like that!” Garth protested, face flushing.

“Well, yeah! CLEARLY you’ve been holding out on us.” Wally illustrated his point by scratching at the nape of Garth’s neck, earning a genuine giggle.

“That’s not the best one, though.”

Circling back, Wally found that the small deposit of soft tissue just above Garth’s hips. The speedster’s pointer fingers into wiggled into either side.

“That’s the spot. Your love handles. It tickles reeeaaally bad there, huh?”

“NYOHOHO!”

Dick chuckled, “You’re seriously gonna kill him.” He sounded like he was going to be the bigger person for a moment, but no sooner had knelt down on the floor nearby, trying to grab at Garth’s wrists.

He didn’t have much of a motive, it was just cute, the way the Atlantean panicked at another set of hands. Donna was quick to follow, haphazardly fluttering all along his back.

“He can’t die yet. You’re missing, like, the most integral part of the experience right now.”

Garth was surprised when Roy spoke. They hadn’t gotten off on the right foot. They’d put it behind them, but he hadn’t expected Roy want any part in this.

“I… I am…?” Garth turned to prop himself up on his elbows.

“Yep. You can thank me later.” Normally, a non-superpowered human wouldn’t have been able to snag Garth by the arm like a ragdoll. But he’d learned nothing from his friends if not, “There’s a first time for everything.”

He was the tiniest bit mortified when Roy bunched up his shirt, but was more confused when he saw the archer’s face falling down to his side.

“Are you gonna eat me or somethi— MMMPP! EEEHHAHAHAHA!” Garth was seeing stars. Whatever, “integral part of the experience,” this was, he could only pinpoint three things. A weird noise, an even weirder feeling that vibrated, and how unfairly, despicably ticklish it was.

He came back down to the world of the living when he heard something that could be described as explosive, shouting all around him, and the sound of running water from several different sources. He started to feel it too.

Roy was gaping at him, head whipping to the direction of the kitchen, then back. He did a triple take. “Holy shit, was that you??”

“Mhmhmhmmnnn…” Garth rolled onto the floor. Now situated on his back again, he could see that the fire sprinklers in the Titan’s Lair had come to life.

“…”

“O… Oh my gohod— wait a minute!” Forcing himself upwards, his gaze locked onto offense number two. The faucet attachment to the sink was discarded on the floor across the kitchen. In its stead, there was water blasting from an exposed pipe.

Garth began to sputter, but was stopped, and honestly, soothed by the hysterical laughter of his teammates. Okay. They weren’t mad.

“That… it wasn’t on purpose, I swear—“

Dick was the first to be able to compose himself, “It’ll— eheheh… it’ll be fine, just don’t tell Batman. Please don’t tell Batman.”

“Besides, it’s not like we weren’t pushing our luck.”

Garth tilted his head.

“We were pretty ruthless.”

Wally scoffed. “Don’t be a Negative Nancy. He’d never been tickled in his whole entire life! We had to do something.”

“Yeah, I mean… it’s okay. It was fun.”

Dick, Donna, Roy, Wally, their heads all snapped in his direction.

Simultaneously, “Garth!”

“No, no, no, Garth! You can’t do that!”

“You can’t admit that you like it.”

“That’s against the rules, you’ve gotta be like, ‘EEURRGHHKSBDJR! The betrayal! How DARE YOU!’”

“Yeah, no, you gotta act like you hate it and hold it against us. You can’t be a pushover.”

“You have to tell us how evil and mean we were and pout about it.”

“I don’t… why?”

“That’s just how it is. You’re gonna get mauled with an attitude like that.” Donna gave a solemn dip of her head.

If Garth wasn’t pouting before, he was now. But he couldn’t keep it up when Donna laughed and threw her arms around him, hanging off his shoulder.

Everyone had been completely drenched by now, “We should, uh, probably figure out what to do about the sprinklers and that pipe.”

The Titans ended up jumping around in puddles and pretending they were in a Black Canary music video instead.

[grayannonn]

lee!aqualad fic that nobody asked for is on its way tonight

technically um nobody asks for any of the things I write because I don’t do those things but I just mean like

does anyone go here where are my fab five enthusiasts

[grayannonn]

I discovered your blog this morning and OH MY GOD YOU ARE AWESOMEEE

I spent ALL last year looking for batfam or simply DC tickle content and I just got blessed, your writing is soo cute and I love how you see Jason's characters

hello anon, thank you so much I do the best that I can!

I feel like there’s a dc revival/renaissance happening right now, especially with the batfamily, so lots more people are making stuff for it war is over HSBDB

jason is by far my favorite batfamily member to write as a lee :’) I’m so weak for him, I imagine he still has a lot of softness and inner child going on because of how things turned out for him when he was still very young.

so um yes thank you again <:)

[grayannonn]

what’s up fellow kids

the streak of days off that split up my part time work week are coming up, and um I’m generally in higher spirits than I’ve been.

in those coming days, lee!tim fans, just. You can expect to be well fed. this next fic is a little out of left field but I’m working out the beginnings of a lee!cass cuddle pollen oriented fic, she’s my favorite batgirl :’)

I will try my best to keep to my word with all of this ^^;

huzzahhhh

[grayannonn]

hi um by the way lee!garth

that’s happening too now

[grayannonn]

what’s up fellow kids

the streak of days off that split up my part time work week are coming up, and um I’m generally in higher spirits than I’ve been.

in those coming days, lee!tim fans, just. You can expect to be well fed. this next fic is a little out of left field but I’m working out the beginnings of a lee!cass cuddle pollen oriented fic, she’s my favorite batgirl :’)

I will try my best to keep to my word with all of this ^^;

huzzahhhh

[grayannonn]

Mission Impossible

lee!tim drake, ler!dick grayson

briefing: sequel to mission failed successfully!! for three days, tim drake takes being tickled way too seriously. until he can’t anymore.

I’m trying to practice a less convoluted writing process. so no ꄗꗃ needed <:)

Day one, 14 hours post encounter, 4:01 AM.

This was good. Tim was so good. Why hadn’t he saved himself the headache of scrawling out five separate contingencies when his way of life already put him at an advantage?

Dick was a boy scout. Everybody knew that. So, if it was up to him, he’d be in bed by ten most nights. Tim was nocturnal. Not even nocturnal, sleep simply evaded him. Maybe he evaded it. Everyone similarly knew that about him, but they should mind their own business.

No matter. All that it really meant was that Tim shouldn’t bump into Dick if he very carefully regimented his days, and he did that anyway. It wasn’t that he genuinely didn’t want to see Dick, but this was a game now. And Tim won all of the little games he created for himself. This was his mind field, and he was the lifelong champion.

The manor was quiet, and outside of the Batcave, the walls were relatively thin. It was an old home. So that had to mean he was the only one up. The kitchen light was on, but that didn’t have to mean anything, no cause for recourse yet. People accidentally left lights on all the time, and even if someone was there, it was a one in half a dozen chance it was Dick. He just needed a glass of water, maybe a sleeve of saltine crackers.

Tim could hardly believe his luck when he saw who was at the counter with a bowl of cereal. Maybe he could find a glass in someone else’s bedroom, sometimes Alfred would leave one for those who didn’t particularly like walking around in the dark. Even if they woke up and caught him, surely they’d understand. He was a goddamn hero, getting back at Dick in the way he did.

Dick perked up before Tim could slither back into his blind spot. He offered a small smile. He appeared sleepy and generally unthreatening. “Morning.”

Tim navigated the room along its perimeter, maintaining a distance from Dick that could compensate for any missteps and still give him a fighting chance at a tactical retreat. “Good morning.”

“Why’re you all the way over there…?” Not the confused puppy head tilt. Anything but that. Did Dick seriously not remember? He must have been very sleepy. As if Tim was going to fall for that.

“This is where the air vents on the floor are. My, um. My feet are cold.” Not entirely a lie. Tim did do that sometimes and had suggested it to anyone else who suffered from similar symptoms.

“Huh.” Dick’s clueless smile remained.

“‘Kay.”

Tim filled himself a glass of water. He knew what Dick was doing, acting all cutesy, and in a battle of wits and trickery, Tim would beat him every time. He took his eyes off his assailant for a fraction of a second, and the moment he saw the shadow on the wall, he swung around and clapped his hands together right next to Dick’s ear.

“AH! Jesus christ!” Dick hissed, bringing a hand up to said ear. “How do you know I wasn’t just going to get food from the fridge or something??”

Tim, blissfully unaware that he looked like the biggest dweeb in the world right now, tapped twice at his temple. “I got a SIXTH SENSE.”

“Sixth sense this!” Dick dove for him one more time and failed. Tim took off down the hallway, flying up the stairs and locking himself in his bedroom. He sunk down against the door, frantically giggling when Dick rattled it a few times. He’d just barely made it.

“You are so dead, Tim.”

All he could do was laugh a little louder.

Day two, 22 hours post encounter, 12:25 PM.

Tim spent most of his day at Wayne Enterprises, in and out of board rooms, at his desk arranging Power Points, staring dead eyed at the Keurig. Office things. It wasn’t that taxing for him anymore. It had been an adjustment, going from student to another cog in the corporate infrastructure. But vigilantism would always prove itself to be worse, no matter how bad a day he’d had.

He wasn’t entering the manor unarmed, of course. He’d prepared printed copies of the appropriate blackmail the night before in case of an emergency. He futzed with his keys for too long, they jingled too loudly. There was a chance Dick would be waiting for him when he came inside. He’d be ready.

He was greeted by Alfred The Cat first, the feline chittering at him and rubbing up against his shins. Tim couldn’t resist meowing back. Damian wasn’t far behind, which was to be expected.

“Are you and Grayson still at odds?” Tim would bet anything Dick had lost a couple of respect points when he tickled him in front of Damian. He’d been demoted from Richard to Grayson again. Tim couldn’t help the smug smile that twitched on his features at the thought.

“Your expression is unsettling.”

Tim gave a subtle roll of his eyes, beginning to loosen his tie. “I’m going to disregard that because it’s coming from you. And to answer your question, yes, we’re still going.”

“He will be waiting for you in the laundry closet.”

A muffled groan of, “Damiannnn-nuh!” could be made out from that general direction.

“As much as I would normally loathe to partake in your nonsense, this has been devastating for Grayson’s image, and it is long overdue.”

“Give me my cat.” With that, Damian lifted Alfred into his arms and marched away.

Tim had to admit, he felt ten feet tall with Damian’s support, of all people. And the rest of the day went off without a hitch. Because Dick knew that if he and Damian ever learned to get along, they’d be unstoppable. He wasn’t about to add fuel to the fire of their allyship.

Day three, 49 hours post encounter, 3:33 PM.

Tim had always believed three was his lucky number. Third time’s the charm, third in the Robin lineup, and it looked pretty okay when he looked up what the number three meant in angel numbers. Good stuff.

But now he was playing cat and mouse with his big brother in the dark theater room, biting down on his bunched up sleeve to stay quiet as he stalked through the rows of seats, singing at Tim to, “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Tim had wedged himself underneath the seats, and already watched Dick pass quite a few times. Maybe if he just waited it out for long enough, Dick would go look somewhere else, and that would give him a chance to get away.

“I expected you to start giggling like crazy by now. I guess you’ve toughenened up, little bird. You’ve certainly risen to the occasion, and it’s givin’ me a run for my money. It is not cool.”

Tim stifled a snort. Fortunately, Dick chose to sit on the arm of one of the squeaky old seats around the same time, so the sound was drowned out.

“Oh well! We’ve still got all week.” The door creaked. Tim went completely lax against the carpet.

That was when he heard it. “Robin, report.”

Dick’s impression was uncanny, he didn’t stand a chance. Tim’s brain flipped the override switch, any of his previous plans were sidelined, and could only think of one thing. Report to Batman. He sputtered out something resembling the response he always gave to Batman’s call, slamming his head against the bottom of the chair as he scrambled out from under it.

Dick’s following cackle couldn’t be described as evil, it was victorious. “I got you!” He leaped from chair to chair, and before Tim could even fully process what had happened, he’d been scruffed by the collar of his shirt.

He smiled very nicely.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” Dick wrangled his arms behind his back like he was actually arresting Tim.

“You can’t use your Batman voice! That’s so unfair!”

“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.”

Tim dug his heels into the carpet, pushing against Dick and straining back the tittering he felt itching in his throat. Dick’s pointer and middle finger ruthlessly wiggled into the softest part of his side, accompanied by a buzzing noise Dick made right by his ear. Tim’s self control caved in terribly, and he burst into silly sounding, high pitched giggles.

Well. Tim had lost. As he reveled in that, already laughing uncontrollably just knowing what was about to happen, Dick wrestled him onto the floor on his back like he’d done a million times before. Tim squirmed as much as he could, but by that point, his fate was more than sealed. Dick just sat, poised above him for a moment and watched. He pretended he was confused, but was loving every second of this.

“Man, I don’t even have to do anything. It looks like you’ve got a pretty bad case of the giggles.” Tim couldn’t respond.

“Calm down, baby bird! CALM DOWN!” Dick shook Tim around by his shoulders. That only made things a hundred times worse, and Tim knew that Dick knew it would. Tim was helpless to stop himself, and his sides were already starting to ache. Every time Dick so much as blinked his stomach would lurch and he’d crack all over again. Dick had to turn away a couple times and bring a hand to his mouth so he didn’t catch the giggles too.

“That’s alright, I can wait!” Dick said all too cheerily. His fingers tapped impatiently on the ground way too close to Tim’s hip. Tim let out another shrieking peal of laughter. “Oh my god…” Dick chuckled to himself.

A soft knock at the door was enough to suck all the air out of the room for a moment. Cool because now Tim wasn’t two hiccups away from tears, not cool because he had been loud enough to attract one or more persons’ attention. That never got any less embarrassing, somehow.

Dim, warm light flooded the room as the door opened to reveal Bruce and Alfred. Bruce was morally ambiguous in these situations, but Alfred was like a guardian angel. Unfortunately, he didn’t look too amused.

“PLEHEHEASE!” Tim squealed, frantically shifting as far as he could onto his side and waving his arms at them. Dick snorted and shoved him back down by the shoulder.

“Are you boys quite alright.” Alfred deadpanned. Bruce, over six feet and two hundred pounds of pure, concentrated vigilance, looked like he was going to wither away any moment now. At least as close as Batman got to looking like that.

“I haven’t even touched him, I swear. Timmy’s having the fits again.” Something in Dick’s expression must have made them believe him. Bruce and Alfred exchanged weary, but fond looks.

“Do please see that he makes a full recovery, Master Dick.”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Officer Grayson, nohoho! I… eheheh! I’m really sohohorry!”

Alfred had vanished from the doorway. Bruce lingered, trying to get a good look at Tim before he decided it was okay to leave. Cass must have materialized behind him, and her presence was only made known when her head poked up, chin nestling onto Bruce’s shoulder.

“They’re having fun. Let them. Time to sleep for Batman.” Although still a little dazed, Bruce let Cass lead him away.

Tim had calmed down the littlest bit. In catching his breath, he’d thrown his arms out to either side of him. Bad idea. Dick’s clawed hands were raised menacingly almost all the way above him for dramatic effect. He didn’t waste any time, hands diving down and scribbling at Tim’s tummy with a, “Tickle, tickle, tickle!” that was typical of him. Tim threw his head back against the carpet, lost to silent laughter. His hands and feet scrabbled uselessly at the floor, taking him absolutely nowhere.

And then Dick stopped. Tim’s wheezing slowly subsided, and he stared rather awkwardly. That’s it? Dick snorted.

“I just wanted to scare ya a little bit. Even if it’s obviously the highlight of your day every time I do this, you’ve gotta breathe.”

“Oh. Yeah… I kinda do.” Tim lolled his head to the side. If Dick was just messing with him, he wouldn’t feel like a bug under a microscope right now. It wasn’t just the truth in Dick said, it was his tone. It was real. A little too real.

They sat in silence, and once enough time had passed, they were well within the threshold for Dick to feel like he did something wrong and say something cheesy. He softly sighed, shifting off of his perch on Tim’s hips to sit down next to him. Here we go again.

“It’s fine, you know. It would be a whole lot worse if we were tickling you all the time and you hated it. It’s fun. I tease you a lot because that’s standard procedure, but it’s genuinely something we’ve bonded over at this point.”

Tim kicked his legs out and hoisted himself into a sitting position. He had a difficult time lifting his gaze from his lap. It felt like no matter how many times someone told him that, it wasn’t ever enough. He’d still manage to convince himself that he was making people uncomfortable, that they felt some sort of obligation.

“I can hear you overthinking this. You just gotta trust me, alright? It never fails to make me smile when I hear your weird little squirrel laugh from halfway across the manor.”

Tim couldn’t help the grin that pulled at his features. “Weird little squirrel laugh.” Strangely accurate.

“I’ll still do it, if you want. You’ve probably suffered enough, and I don’t want you busting a lung. But I used to do this thing when you fell asleep next to me in the Batmobile,” He fluttered his pointer finger over the nape of Tim’s neck, smiling when Tim curled up in the same way he always did. “I liked to see how much I could get away with before you woke up and complained to B.” Dick had the post-cheesy-discussion smile on his face. Chances were, Tim did too. But it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as when Dick did it. It just wasn’t.

“Yeah. I think I remember that.” He definitely remembered. Half the time, he was pretending to be asleep just so that it would happen. Dick probably knew that, but he didn’t say anything, which Tim appreciated.

Dick hummed. He soon began to guide Tim onto his lap, laying sideways, back facing him. When Tim shimmied around to get comfortable, Dick took that as his green light. The touch ranged from barely there tracing or skittering along his back, ears, and neck, about as present when Alfred The Cat’s whiskers brushed your skin. That made him smile and shiver. To more playful plucking squeezes to his side, ribs, or shoulder blades. Those made Tim twitch, giggle, and look back to shoot Dick his best attempt at a dirty look.

Things ramped down naturally though when Tim’s breathing began to even and slow. His eyes had been fixated on the same spot on the floor for some time now, and they were drooping.

“I may fall asleep.” He admitted.

“Mhm, I noticed. Hallelujah.” Dick playfully replied. “Not here, though.” He moved to scoop Tim up, pausing when he felt his brother tense significantly.

“You… you don’t gotta carry me— it’s fine.”

The kicked puppy face. It was falling into place on Dick’s features. “If you get up to walk, you may get all restless again and try to find something to do. Sleep doesn’t come easy to you, Tim.”

Tim wasn’t reluctant because of Dick. Dick could carry him, Tim would probably melt into it like a total loser. He was reluctant because of who might see, what they may think. Dick sighed.

“If it makes you feel any better, I still jump on B’s back from time to time to be annoying.” Dick awkwardly smiled. “Sometimes he doesn’t let me get down.”

Tim returned a small smile of his own. It was a nice thought. A cute little anecdote. It didn’t fully quell his insecurities.

“Just… let me prove you wrong. I promise you’ll feel better.”

Let me prove you wrong. Did Dick even know him? Regardless, Tim found himself too pliant to argue. So, Dick lifted him up, and they left for the family room. Tim felt his heart rate increase in congruence with the sound of the family’s chatter, but there wasn’t some grand, silent moment of judgement when he knew they’d arrived.

Jason spoke first, Damian was sat next close to him, and didn’t speak, too engrossed in the book they’d been sharing. “You put Timmers through the wringer, didn’t you?”

Dick set Tim down in a large, cushy armchair they normally reserved for naps and tossed a blanket over him. He was fully submerged, the way he liked it. A sort of Tim shaped blanket now occupied the chair.

Dick joined him, sitting on the armrest. “You know me. Had to bust out the big guns.”

“So, basically, he laughed hard enough to make himself throw up. For, like, thirty minutes. At literally nothing.”

“Bingo!”

“I believe Drake sees spirits. Things we do not. There is no other logical explanation.” Damian murmured, snatching the book from Jason, who scoffed, but let their little brat have it.

Tim was briefly exposed to the outside world again when Cass lifted the blanket’s corner to peek at Tim. “Will you nap?”

Tim nodded. “Hopefully.” She smiled and carefully tucked the blanket back over Tim’s head.

“Lucky day.”

The hushed living room chatter acted as ambiance, the most comforting kind, and was quickly lulling Tim off to sleep. He’d been able to challenge Dick for about as long as he anticipated, so he hadn’t technically lost, right? The only thing he’d lost in all of this was the quiet ache of loneliness that still crept up on him from time to time.

Dick definitely scared that away, though.