His relationship with Kori? Totaled. Interrupted. She's on a space spirit journey right now. Thanks Mirage and Trigon.
His relationships with the rest of the Titans? Not great. Brainwashing, implanted memories, time travel...they've all been through a lot. He's not going to go looking for sympathy there.
His relationship with himself? Utter trash. He's a terrible leader, an awful friend, a worse boyfriend. His future self became corrupted by Trigon and turned into a sadistic rapist. Is that really something he's capable of becoming? How do you look yourself in the eyes after that?
Dick is just...taking a break from the Titans. Making sure the criminal element in Blüdhaven hasn't grown complacent. Maybe he'll check in on Tim. Maybe he'll sleep around and drink too much and listen to Jason's ghost tell him all the ways he's a failure.
This unfortunate Nightwing doesn't realize that he's lost more than his confidence - he's lost his place in the multiverse! The universe he'd once called home continued without him, because paradoxically, a version of him stayed there when Dick Grayson unknowingly slipped through a weak spot in existence itself.
Now he's entirely unmoored, trying to make his home in a world that already has a circulating number of older and better versions of himself. He's out of his own time and unnecessary, an embarrassment to the versions who have gotten their shit together. And frustratingly, he's more likely to keep slipping between dimensions completely by accident!
It's easy to do when there is no where that fits him anymore.
Rules of Engagement
While most of this blog is Dick thirsting over /@jean-paul-azrael, he is both in an open relationship and is a multiship character!
Crossover RP is more than fine! Don't be upset if I don't know your character's lore though.
This is a smut heavy blog with a lot of heavy topics. I try to tag accurately but somehow people are still shocked to find gambling in Rick's Casino.
Any smut will only be written with other adults and only with other adult characters.
Heavy topics may be talked about or referenced when speaking to underage muns or characters, but only in reference to character lore/backstory/Batman comic typical topics
Magic Anons are welcome! Fun anons are fun! Go ahead and send an opener where he falls into your muse's world - Dick's got an armband that will allow him to return to his chosen world without much fuss. He can be a booty call.
who up thinking about dick grayson's absolutely twisted relationship with desire and with his body.
- guy who has used his body for elite performance from a very very young age, which necessitates his being simultaneously very aware of exactly what his body is doing at any given time and also blithely ignoring all of its pain/danger signals
- guy who used this performance training to do violence to others, also from a very young age, meaning that he has to be very aware of not just his own body but other people's. specifically nonlethal violence adds a whole other layer because it is actually very hard to intentionally not kill someone.
- guy who is also extremely used to being Looked At, in a performance way and in a sexual way, and uses both of those as tools in his arsenal in the field. AND has both aspects used against him interpersonally
- guy who is just constantly having his autonomy undermined, once again both in the field and interpersonally. he is getting whammied like every other issue in NTT and I don't even mean the assault parts
all of these are the SAME GUY. i don't think I could design a character more likely to have a deeply fucked relationship with inhabiting a physical form if I tried! constant humming background awareness of his beautiful body and exactly what it is capable of and all of its limitations and of that body's effect on other people. perpetual knowledge that none of that will matter if the circumstances break bad enough. he will continue to try anyway.
what a rorschach blot of a character! this IS what peak performance looks like! <3
An addition to this is that Dick Grayson was, in the currently accepted canon, raised in a culture of chastity and then left it under highly traumatic circumstances at a young age. He spent months in Juvie with boys who had committed "adult crimes" that were never elaborated upon.
Also notable is that Dick was Batman's friend and partner, not entirely his son, for the majority of his time as Robin. Consider that Jason Todd, as Robin, was treated much more like Batman's son, and he still was exposed to cases involving sexual assault at the age of 15. It's easy to extrapolate from this that Bruce wouldn't always think to shield Dick from equally upsetting or traumatizing experiences. Not when they're in the field as Batman and Robin. It might not even occur to Bruce that he ought to check in with Dick after the fact.
Jean-Paul's apartment is filled with the sound of pockets and pouches being emptied onto the table. It's Sunday, so it's time for a full inventory check.
It's a nice ritual, one that allows them to chat while they work, making it not feel like cleaning. He's in his suit minus the mask, shaking his head as he keeps finding more energy bar wrappers to throw out.
"I don't think we've ever seen each other's full gear." Jean-Paul mused as he tested each of the tiny trackers he just dropped onto the table.
@jpv-after-dark
Dick is perched on the back of a chair with his feet firmly in the seat of it. If asked why, he would joke that it's his attempt to offset the height difference between them. He's wearing his Nightwing uniform and shaking out his own collection of detritus from hidden pockets. It's a marvel how all this builds up when he knows he checks these after every patrol. Most of the time.
There's a fast food receipt sloppily folded into an origami elephant. Dick places it delicately on the table next to his Wing-Dings and his supply of tiny cameras. He looks over Jean-Paul's gear as he does, finding himself curious. He's updated his own tech in this older universe, but the other man is right: they've never gone over exactly what each one of them tends to keep on hand.
"My load out tends to change depending on whether I'm using a grapple gun or my escrima sticks to get around." Both options are on the table as well, awaiting maintenance. Dick picks up the stick to show off the built-in compartments for even more gadgets.
"I prefer the escrima; it reminds me of the trapeze. But the gun is iconic in Gotham, so when I'm in town..."
Azrael doesn't have much gear. Definitely lacking anything flashy like smoke pellets. He also doesn't seem to have his own grapple, surprisingly. He has zip ties, specifically red ones of course, oil and a sharpener for his blades. Definitely didn't feel like much of a bat.
Jean-Paul took the stick, always interested in gadgets, looking it over with an expertise eye. It made sense, he was very gear heavy as Batman, and now, as Azrael, he wanted to keep distance from that. But he definitely seemed underprepared in comparison.
"The grapnel is classic." He nodded as he handed the stick back, the thing looking tiny held in his huge gauntlets. "How do you buy food as Nightwing?"
The austerity of Jean-Paul's side of the table does take Dick by surprise - he knows his boyfriend is a nerd for hardware and software, just like he himself is. He wonders if he could design something for the other man, what he might be able to do to shore up the defenses for Azrael's lack of interest in modern technology.
And maybe the thought of Jean-Paul going on patrol protected by something Dick's made especially for him is a thought Dick's entertained before. Maybe it's an unbearably romantic one in their line of work.
The baton-like weapon back in his hand, the younger man gives it a flourishing twirl. Noticing the red zip ties brings a grin to his mouth as he adds his own supply of blue ones to the table. Plus two pairs of handcuffs.
Those aren't standard issue for vigilantes, but he enjoys the irony of cuffing corrupt cops with their own preferred restraints. A person really has to take joy in the little things in this profession.
"Cash, usually. I try to keep some on hand for encouraging people to share info, too. Otherwise..." He clears his throat and looks away. "D'you ever check out the Bird Boxes some people have set up on the rooftops? The little boxes full of protein bars and water bottles and stuff? I figure, as long as everything is prepackaged...and it's not like we haven't tested it all before."
"No, I bring my own snacks..." More wrappers were tossed into the bin, he was a big guy, he needed a lot of calories, but he was feeling a little silly with how much trash he had. "Azrael doesn't trust 'the kindness of strangers' and he's not exactly a welcome sight inside a store."
"Aren't those too easy to get out of?" He gestured to the cuffs while dropping hair ties and deodorant on the table, taking up a pair to inspect the design.
"He and I should hit up a food truck the next time we patrol together - I know a few that are mega chill with the costumed crowd showing up. Maybe that could get him acclimated to the concept..." Dick trails off, imagining how funny it would look to any bystanders to see Nightwing ordering falafel bowls for himself and his silent, hulking shadow. He likes the thought; Dick likes many thoughts of spending time with the different people who make up one Jean-Paul Valley.
He's pretty sure his expression is embarrassingly soft as he refocuses on Jean-Paul. Dick can't help that, either. The guy sets off his cuteness aggression like nothing else and if Dick isn't soft and sweet around him, well...
He doesn't want to ruin this. Not yet. Not like every other good thing in his life.
"The handcuffs? They're easy enough for people with training to escape, but the average crook will have trouble." He checks his pockets again to find the key to the cuffs in question. He should probably store that better, but then again, he's usually using these on criminally inclined officers. Dick doesn't mind giving corrupt cops extra issues.
"They've got their uses. Intimidation is half the game, anyway." He grins suddenly. "Have you ever had someone slip your ties? Geez, that drives me nuts when it happens!"
"He said no, but it's more of a maybe." With the suit on, Azrael was closer to the front of his mind. The angel didn't feel a need to interrupt, but he was listening in at least a little today.
Jean-Paul also imagined the pair at a food truck. He felt Azrael's discomfort at being watched or stared at, his discomfort with pulling his mask up, and his discomfort with the entire concept of eating in the first place. It wasn't a bad idea, but it did give him a bit of stress to consider for his other half.
But that wasn't what was current. What was, was handcuffs.
"If I did them it's happened. Azrael does them too tight." He paused, voice softer to address someone other than Dick. "You do."
He took a red tie in his fingers. "I don't want to hurt someone with the ties...I don't usually fight things that need to be tied up in the first place, so it doesn't matter all that much."
"I can work with a maybe." It wouldn't be the first time he's made himself the attention draw for the comfort of a partner who dislikes being perceived. It was kind of his whole thing for awhile. Dick's warned by the knowledge that Azrael is nearby as well, that he gets to have hints of them both.
He's greedy like that. A loathsome dragon hoarding whatever affections it can earn.
"A lot of people don't realize that there's a science to tying up the bad guys, just like everything else we seem to do. Loose enough to avoid injury, tight enough to keep someone from getting away, adjusting to accommodate for injury or unusual body physicality...It's not instinctual knowledge, for sure."
Impulsively, Dick rests his arms on his knees, wrists upwards towards the other man.
Jean-Paul's brows squinted together as he eyed Dick's hands.
"I know they need to go behind the back, anyone can snap them open in the front." It was a bit of a complaint, a bit of a declaration of not being completely unaware, and a bit of a self reminder.
Still, for learning purposes, Dick wouldn't be able to see them behind him, unable to offer advice if he couldn't say what needed to improve.
He took Dick's wrists, holding them together as he maneuvered the zip tie into place. A bit slow on the pull, and definitely not tight enough for a near contortionist.
"We can do that, too." There's a flirtatious purr to the words that Dick is fairly certain his boyfriend misses entirely. That's okay; Dick can enjoy the way his wrists feel dwarfed in Jean-Paul's gauntlets and the cute expression of concentration on the man's face.
The zip tie cuffs Bruce had developed are better than any of the flex cuffs or cuff ties on the market for precincts - some of the same safety standards apply, of course. He turns his wrists, judging the give with an absent-minded hum.
"Too much slack on this one; we need to have a finger's worth of give...maybe not the size of your gauntlets' fingers, though!"
A flick of his hands and he's free, the plastic cuffs dangling cheekily from his hand.
His reply was a determined expression. He wanted to get it right. And to get it right on his own, without any of Azrael's input. Sure, he could have listened to the Angel telling him to go much tighter, but that wasn't his call, his gut feeling. The problem was that Azrael was the one who got all the training, both initial and everything he's been shown since. No one is going to bother to show silly little Jean-Paul something only Azrael will ever need to do.
His gauntlets came off in easy, practiced motions. He looked at his own hands as if he needed to be reminded of their actual size.
He took up another tie, walking around the table and behind Dick. He was gentle taking his hands, and Dick could feel his fingers at work while he got the pair on. The ripping sound of the plastic tightening, a finger against Dick's wrist used as a measurement.
"A finger's worth?" He repeated with a few more clicks in. "Is this right?"
Despite everything Dick's been through as a vigilante and bonafide hero, he doesn't feel at all uneasy having Jean-Paul at his back. Maybe another version of him would hold reservations, but Dick only knows himself and the man Jean-Paul is now. Maybe it's cheating to have missed the most painful parts of the history Jean-Paul shares with the other Nightwings. Maybe Dick doesn't care.
The other man's warm finger traces over the tendons of Dick's wrist, doubtlessly tracking the pulse of his blood. He opens his fist to reach out with his own fingers, tickling at Jean-Paul's palm while he tests the give of the cuffs.
"Much better! You've always been a quick study. This would keep most any goon from getting outta them. Just as long as they don't have my level of acrobatic ability!"
His voice is teasing as he shifts his weight to his feet and bends in a nearly inhuman move to get his bound wrists past his rear end, carefully working them down his thighs.
Jean-Paul hummed, inspecting how Dick was maneuvering himself. "I've gone up against acrobats before, how would I handle them?"
He thought about his own question, he should be able to come to his own answers.
"Your legs! You won't be able to get those off if your ankles are also bound." Another tie in hand and an arm keeping Dick steady. "Do you want to try getting out of having them both on?"
Jean-Paul was better about tightening the ankles, a quick study, just like Dick said.
He would be putting more thought into being proactive with his movements if he wasn't aware of how Jean-Paul's clever mind is in 'problem-solving mode'. That being said, he had not expected the man to hold him close so suddenly while attaching another of the flexible cuffs to his ankles. The position he's in isn't even acknowledged!
But that's the nature of the man he'd fallen for; dense and adorable.
Still, the new restraints make his heart pound a little harder. He grunts his assent and takes a moment to breathe deeper once his wrists reach his knees. Thinking while upsidedown might as well be second nature to him.
"A good puzzle... But let's see what I can do." His fingers are still free - if he can unlatch even one of the ankle hobbles, he can escape this.
Jean-Paul watched him with a careful eye. An eye completely lacking in lust and focused on bond escaping. He saw how his fingers wiggled, how his arms shimmied lower.
"You'd need some sort of bar to keep your hands and feet separated." Bless him, it was said seriously. "If your hands had been taped first, would you still have a way out?"
"Something like that would need to be improvised - I'm not leaving my sticks behind!" The thought of Jean-Paul using that sort of restraint on him elicits a very familiar flush throughout his body. Dick mentally thanks the dance belt of his uniform from making things a little too apparent.
He wants to see how long it takes Jean-Paul to notice what he's doing to Dick. The blond man always gets so flustered when he realizes how often Dick craves him.
"Mm, it depends...If I flip over onto my back I'll be able to get my legs free. Then I can bite through the cuffs on my wrists - that's one of the downsides of the plastic zips."
"Sometimes you can use a person's own body against them. Do you know the trick where you cross someone's ankles while they're kneeling in front of a signpost?"
"Putting a Romani man in bondage for sexual purposes contributes to the fetishizing of the Romani people". Does this person know what BDSM is? And that anyone can be into BDSM and that it's not a racial related thing? Are people truly that dumb that they think BDSM is fetishizing now? Or do they think that only white people do BDSM? If yes, then they really have not been on the internet for a long time or they straight up just choose to be ignorant. Also, I would like to add that some non-white people I know like bondage without sexual things because guess what? Bondage is kinky, sure, but some people also enjoy it without anything sexual related, because at the end of the day it's a trust thing where you give over control and that feels freeing in a way.
Istg, I hope that anon realizes that if they go "Oh, bondage for sexual purposes contributes to the fetishizing of the Romani people" that they are basically saying that they think Romani people can't do bondage or BDSM and they have to have boring 24/7 sex, which is pretty much very wrong. I hope that anon knows that some Romani people, like me for example, will read that and be hurt by that statement. Because belive me, it's good if people try to educate others. But saying stuff like that is just straight up wrong. So hey anon, for the small chance you are reading this: You upset a real romani man a bit with your words. Good job.
((OOC))
I'm genuinely sorry that the other anon's words hurt you; for what it's worth, I doubt they thought through what they were writing in their zeal to do harm. I hope they do read your words and find contrition.
This entire harassment campaign has been one of bullying and censorship, not of actual ideals. If these people genuinely believed what they claim to believe, they wouldn't be wasting time with some blog that has maybe eight people interested in it. They'd be trying to protest against George R. R. Martin, or Charlene Harris, or Stephen King, or the Arthur Conan Doyle archives for their much bigger reach.
But they don't and they won't, because what they really want is to wield power in a time when they feel powerless. They are clumsy with this power; their aim is flawed, their target based on hearsay, their arguments baseless.
Putting a Romani man in bondage for sexual purposes contributes to the fetishizing of the Romani people, especially when the "partner" is a white man.
((OOC))
Dear Romani population,
I'm very sorry that people only allow you to have missionary-style sex (if at all) and want you to feel bad about yourself if you're kinky or if your partner is of a different ethnicity. This is some really gross shit. I'm not sure the anon even realized that they were posting pro-racial purity propaganda, but I think it's important to point it out to them.
For what it's worth, the "partner" in this fictional co-op storytelling game isn't even fully human. Jean-Paul has some Great Ape DNA in him, along with a number of other animals. So it's totally fine for them to get consensually creative in the bedroom!
Jean-Paul's apartment is filled with the sound of pockets and pouches being emptied onto the table. It's Sunday, so it's time for a full inventory check.
It's a nice ritual, one that allows them to chat while they work, making it not feel like cleaning. He's in his suit minus the mask, shaking his head as he keeps finding more energy bar wrappers to throw out.
"I don't think we've ever seen each other's full gear." Jean-Paul mused as he tested each of the tiny trackers he just dropped onto the table.
@jpv-after-dark
Dick is perched on the back of a chair with his feet firmly in the seat of it. If asked why, he would joke that it's his attempt to offset the height difference between them. He's wearing his Nightwing uniform and shaking out his own collection of detritus from hidden pockets. It's a marvel how all this builds up when he knows he checks these after every patrol. Most of the time.
There's a fast food receipt sloppily folded into an origami elephant. Dick places it delicately on the table next to his Wing-Dings and his supply of tiny cameras. He looks over Jean-Paul's gear as he does, finding himself curious. He's updated his own tech in this older universe, but the other man is right: they've never gone over exactly what each one of them tends to keep on hand.
"My load out tends to change depending on whether I'm using a grapple gun or my escrima sticks to get around." Both options are on the table as well, awaiting maintenance. Dick picks up the stick to show off the built-in compartments for even more gadgets.
"I prefer the escrima; it reminds me of the trapeze. But the gun is iconic in Gotham, so when I'm in town..."
Azrael doesn't have much gear. Definitely lacking anything flashy like smoke pellets. He also doesn't seem to have his own grapple, surprisingly. He has zip ties, specifically red ones of course, oil and a sharpener for his blades. Definitely didn't feel like much of a bat.
Jean-Paul took the stick, always interested in gadgets, looking it over with an expertise eye. It made sense, he was very gear heavy as Batman, and now, as Azrael, he wanted to keep distance from that. But he definitely seemed underprepared in comparison.
"The grapnel is classic." He nodded as he handed the stick back, the thing looking tiny held in his huge gauntlets. "How do you buy food as Nightwing?"
The austerity of Jean-Paul's side of the table does take Dick by surprise - he knows his boyfriend is a nerd for hardware and software, just like he himself is. He wonders if he could design something for the other man, what he might be able to do to shore up the defenses for Azrael's lack of interest in modern technology.
And maybe the thought of Jean-Paul going on patrol protected by something Dick's made especially for him is a thought Dick's entertained before. Maybe it's an unbearably romantic one in their line of work.
The baton-like weapon back in his hand, the younger man gives it a flourishing twirl. Noticing the red zip ties brings a grin to his mouth as he adds his own supply of blue ones to the table. Plus two pairs of handcuffs.
Those aren't standard issue for vigilantes, but he enjoys the irony of cuffing corrupt cops with their own preferred restraints. A person really has to take joy in the little things in this profession.
"Cash, usually. I try to keep some on hand for encouraging people to share info, too. Otherwise..." He clears his throat and looks away. "D'you ever check out the Bird Boxes some people have set up on the rooftops? The little boxes full of protein bars and water bottles and stuff? I figure, as long as everything is prepackaged...and it's not like we haven't tested it all before."
"No, I bring my own snacks..." More wrappers were tossed into the bin, he was a big guy, he needed a lot of calories, but he was feeling a little silly with how much trash he had. "Azrael doesn't trust 'the kindness of strangers' and he's not exactly a welcome sight inside a store."
"Aren't those too easy to get out of?" He gestured to the cuffs while dropping hair ties and deodorant on the table, taking up a pair to inspect the design.
"He and I should hit up a food truck the next time we patrol together - I know a few that are mega chill with the costumed crowd showing up. Maybe that could get him acclimated to the concept..." Dick trails off, imagining how funny it would look to any bystanders to see Nightwing ordering falafel bowls for himself and his silent, hulking shadow. He likes the thought; Dick likes many thoughts of spending time with the different people who make up one Jean-Paul Valley.
He's pretty sure his expression is embarrassingly soft as he refocuses on Jean-Paul. Dick can't help that, either. The guy sets off his cuteness aggression like nothing else and if Dick isn't soft and sweet around him, well...
He doesn't want to ruin this. Not yet. Not like every other good thing in his life.
"The handcuffs? They're easy enough for people with training to escape, but the average crook will have trouble." He checks his pockets again to find the key to the cuffs in question. He should probably store that better, but then again, he's usually using these on criminally inclined officers. Dick doesn't mind giving corrupt cops extra issues.
"They've got their uses. Intimidation is half the game, anyway." He grins suddenly. "Have you ever had someone slip your ties? Geez, that drives me nuts when it happens!"
"He said no, but it's more of a maybe." With the suit on, Azrael was closer to the front of his mind. The angel didn't feel a need to interrupt, but he was listening in at least a little today.
Jean-Paul also imagined the pair at a food truck. He felt Azrael's discomfort at being watched or stared at, his discomfort with pulling his mask up, and his discomfort with the entire concept of eating in the first place. It wasn't a bad idea, but it did give him a bit of stress to consider for his other half.
But that wasn't what was current. What was, was handcuffs.
"If I did them it's happened. Azrael does them too tight." He paused, voice softer to address someone other than Dick. "You do."
He took a red tie in his fingers. "I don't want to hurt someone with the ties...I don't usually fight things that need to be tied up in the first place, so it doesn't matter all that much."
"I can work with a maybe." It wouldn't be the first time he's made himself the attention draw for the comfort of a partner who dislikes being perceived. It was kind of his whole thing for awhile. Dick's warned by the knowledge that Azrael is nearby as well, that he gets to have hints of them both.
He's greedy like that. A loathsome dragon hoarding whatever affections it can earn.
"A lot of people don't realize that there's a science to tying up the bad guys, just like everything else we seem to do. Loose enough to avoid injury, tight enough to keep someone from getting away, adjusting to accommodate for injury or unusual body physicality...It's not instinctual knowledge, for sure."
Impulsively, Dick rests his arms on his knees, wrists upwards towards the other man.
Jean-Paul's brows squinted together as he eyed Dick's hands.
"I know they need to go behind the back, anyone can snap them open in the front." It was a bit of a complaint, a bit of a declaration of not being completely unaware, and a bit of a self reminder.
Still, for learning purposes, Dick wouldn't be able to see them behind him, unable to offer advice if he couldn't say what needed to improve.
He took Dick's wrists, holding them together as he maneuvered the zip tie into place. A bit slow on the pull, and definitely not tight enough for a near contortionist.
"We can do that, too." There's a flirtatious purr to the words that Dick is fairly certain his boyfriend misses entirely. That's okay; Dick can enjoy the way his wrists feel dwarfed in Jean-Paul's gauntlets and the cute expression of concentration on the man's face.
The zip tie cuffs Bruce had developed are better than any of the flex cuffs or cuff ties on the market for precincts - some of the same safety standards apply, of course. He turns his wrists, judging the give with an absent-minded hum.
"Too much slack on this one; we need to have a finger's worth of give...maybe not the size of your gauntlets' fingers, though!"
A flick of his hands and he's free, the plastic cuffs dangling cheekily from his hand.
His reply was a determined expression. He wanted to get it right. And to get it right on his own, without any of Azrael's input. Sure, he could have listened to the Angel telling him to go much tighter, but that wasn't his call, his gut feeling. The problem was that Azrael was the one who got all the training, both initial and everything he's been shown since. No one is going to bother to show silly little Jean-Paul something only Azrael will ever need to do.
His gauntlets came off in easy, practiced motions. He looked at his own hands as if he needed to be reminded of their actual size.
He took up another tie, walking around the table and behind Dick. He was gentle taking his hands, and Dick could feel his fingers at work while he got the pair on. The ripping sound of the plastic tightening, a finger against Dick's wrist used as a measurement.
"A finger's worth?" He repeated with a few more clicks in. "Is this right?"
Despite everything Dick's been through as a vigilante and bonafide hero, he doesn't feel at all uneasy having Jean-Paul at his back. Maybe another version of him would hold reservations, but Dick only knows himself and the man Jean-Paul is now. Maybe it's cheating to have missed the most painful parts of the history Jean-Paul shares with the other Nightwings. Maybe Dick doesn't care.
The other man's warm finger traces over the tendons of Dick's wrist, doubtlessly tracking the pulse of his blood. He opens his fist to reach out with his own fingers, tickling at Jean-Paul's palm while he tests the give of the cuffs.
"Much better! You've always been a quick study. This would keep most any goon from getting outta them. Just as long as they don't have my level of acrobatic ability!"
His voice is teasing as he shifts his weight to his feet and bends in a nearly inhuman move to get his bound wrists past his rear end, carefully working them down his thighs.
Jean-Paul hummed, inspecting how Dick was maneuvering himself. "I've gone up against acrobats before, how would I handle them?"
He thought about his own question, he should be able to come to his own answers.
"Your legs! You won't be able to get those off if your ankles are also bound." Another tie in hand and an arm keeping Dick steady. "Do you want to try getting out of having them both on?"
Jean-Paul was better about tightening the ankles, a quick study, just like Dick said.
He would be putting more thought into being proactive with his movements if he wasn't aware of how Jean-Paul's clever mind is in 'problem-solving mode'. That being said, he had not expected the man to hold him close so suddenly while attaching another of the flexible cuffs to his ankles. The position he's in isn't even acknowledged!
But that's the nature of the man he'd fallen for; dense and adorable.
Still, the new restraints make his heart pound a little harder. He grunts his assent and takes a moment to breathe deeper once his wrists reach his knees. Thinking while upsidedown might as well be second nature to him.
"A good puzzle... But let's see what I can do." His fingers are still free - if he can unlatch even one of the ankle hobbles, he can escape this.
Jean-Paul's apartment is filled with the sound of pockets and pouches being emptied onto the table. It's Sunday, so it's time for a full inventory check.
It's a nice ritual, one that allows them to chat while they work, making it not feel like cleaning. He's in his suit minus the mask, shaking his head as he keeps finding more energy bar wrappers to throw out.
"I don't think we've ever seen each other's full gear." Jean-Paul mused as he tested each of the tiny trackers he just dropped onto the table.
@jpv-after-dark
Dick is perched on the back of a chair with his feet firmly in the seat of it. If asked why, he would joke that it's his attempt to offset the height difference between them. He's wearing his Nightwing uniform and shaking out his own collection of detritus from hidden pockets. It's a marvel how all this builds up when he knows he checks these after every patrol. Most of the time.
There's a fast food receipt sloppily folded into an origami elephant. Dick places it delicately on the table next to his Wing-Dings and his supply of tiny cameras. He looks over Jean-Paul's gear as he does, finding himself curious. He's updated his own tech in this older universe, but the other man is right: they've never gone over exactly what each one of them tends to keep on hand.
"My load out tends to change depending on whether I'm using a grapple gun or my escrima sticks to get around." Both options are on the table as well, awaiting maintenance. Dick picks up the stick to show off the built-in compartments for even more gadgets.
"I prefer the escrima; it reminds me of the trapeze. But the gun is iconic in Gotham, so when I'm in town..."
Azrael doesn't have much gear. Definitely lacking anything flashy like smoke pellets. He also doesn't seem to have his own grapple, surprisingly. He has zip ties, specifically red ones of course, oil and a sharpener for his blades. Definitely didn't feel like much of a bat.
Jean-Paul took the stick, always interested in gadgets, looking it over with an expertise eye. It made sense, he was very gear heavy as Batman, and now, as Azrael, he wanted to keep distance from that. But he definitely seemed underprepared in comparison.
"The grapnel is classic." He nodded as he handed the stick back, the thing looking tiny held in his huge gauntlets. "How do you buy food as Nightwing?"
The austerity of Jean-Paul's side of the table does take Dick by surprise - he knows his boyfriend is a nerd for hardware and software, just like he himself is. He wonders if he could design something for the other man, what he might be able to do to shore up the defenses for Azrael's lack of interest in modern technology.
And maybe the thought of Jean-Paul going on patrol protected by something Dick's made especially for him is a thought Dick's entertained before. Maybe it's an unbearably romantic one in their line of work.
The baton-like weapon back in his hand, the younger man gives it a flourishing twirl. Noticing the red zip ties brings a grin to his mouth as he adds his own supply of blue ones to the table. Plus two pairs of handcuffs.
Those aren't standard issue for vigilantes, but he enjoys the irony of cuffing corrupt cops with their own preferred restraints. A person really has to take joy in the little things in this profession.
"Cash, usually. I try to keep some on hand for encouraging people to share info, too. Otherwise..." He clears his throat and looks away. "D'you ever check out the Bird Boxes some people have set up on the rooftops? The little boxes full of protein bars and water bottles and stuff? I figure, as long as everything is prepackaged...and it's not like we haven't tested it all before."
"No, I bring my own snacks..." More wrappers were tossed into the bin, he was a big guy, he needed a lot of calories, but he was feeling a little silly with how much trash he had. "Azrael doesn't trust 'the kindness of strangers' and he's not exactly a welcome sight inside a store."
"Aren't those too easy to get out of?" He gestured to the cuffs while dropping hair ties and deodorant on the table, taking up a pair to inspect the design.
"He and I should hit up a food truck the next time we patrol together - I know a few that are mega chill with the costumed crowd showing up. Maybe that could get him acclimated to the concept..." Dick trails off, imagining how funny it would look to any bystanders to see Nightwing ordering falafel bowls for himself and his silent, hulking shadow. He likes the thought; Dick likes many thoughts of spending time with the different people who make up one Jean-Paul Valley.
He's pretty sure his expression is embarrassingly soft as he refocuses on Jean-Paul. Dick can't help that, either. The guy sets off his cuteness aggression like nothing else and if Dick isn't soft and sweet around him, well...
He doesn't want to ruin this. Not yet. Not like every other good thing in his life.
"The handcuffs? They're easy enough for people with training to escape, but the average crook will have trouble." He checks his pockets again to find the key to the cuffs in question. He should probably store that better, but then again, he's usually using these on criminally inclined officers. Dick doesn't mind giving corrupt cops extra issues.
"They've got their uses. Intimidation is half the game, anyway." He grins suddenly. "Have you ever had someone slip your ties? Geez, that drives me nuts when it happens!"
"He said no, but it's more of a maybe." With the suit on, Azrael was closer to the front of his mind. The angel didn't feel a need to interrupt, but he was listening in at least a little today.
Jean-Paul also imagined the pair at a food truck. He felt Azrael's discomfort at being watched or stared at, his discomfort with pulling his mask up, and his discomfort with the entire concept of eating in the first place. It wasn't a bad idea, but it did give him a bit of stress to consider for his other half.
But that wasn't what was current. What was, was handcuffs.
"If I did them it's happened. Azrael does them too tight." He paused, voice softer to address someone other than Dick. "You do."
He took a red tie in his fingers. "I don't want to hurt someone with the ties...I don't usually fight things that need to be tied up in the first place, so it doesn't matter all that much."
"I can work with a maybe." It wouldn't be the first time he's made himself the attention draw for the comfort of a partner who dislikes being perceived. It was kind of his whole thing for awhile. Dick's warned by the knowledge that Azrael is nearby as well, that he gets to have hints of them both.
He's greedy like that. A loathsome dragon hoarding whatever affections it can earn.
"A lot of people don't realize that there's a science to tying up the bad guys, just like everything else we seem to do. Loose enough to avoid injury, tight enough to keep someone from getting away, adjusting to accommodate for injury or unusual body physicality...It's not instinctual knowledge, for sure."
Impulsively, Dick rests his arms on his knees, wrists upwards towards the other man.
Jean-Paul's brows squinted together as he eyed Dick's hands.
"I know they need to go behind the back, anyone can snap them open in the front." It was a bit of a complaint, a bit of a declaration of not being completely unaware, and a bit of a self reminder.
Still, for learning purposes, Dick wouldn't be able to see them behind him, unable to offer advice if he couldn't say what needed to improve.
He took Dick's wrists, holding them together as he maneuvered the zip tie into place. A bit slow on the pull, and definitely not tight enough for a near contortionist.
"We can do that, too." There's a flirtatious purr to the words that Dick is fairly certain his boyfriend misses entirely. That's okay; Dick can enjoy the way his wrists feel dwarfed in Jean-Paul's gauntlets and the cute expression of concentration on the man's face.
The zip tie cuffs Bruce had developed are better than any of the flex cuffs or cuff ties on the market for precincts - some of the same safety standards apply, of course. He turns his wrists, judging the give with an absent-minded hum.
"Too much slack on this one; we need to have a finger's worth of give...maybe not the size of your gauntlets' fingers, though!"
A flick of his hands and he's free, the plastic cuffs dangling cheekily from his hand.
His reply was a determined expression. He wanted to get it right. And to get it right on his own, without any of Azrael's input. Sure, he could have listened to the Angel telling him to go much tighter, but that wasn't his call, his gut feeling. The problem was that Azrael was the one who got all the training, both initial and everything he's been shown since. No one is going to bother to show silly little Jean-Paul something only Azrael will ever need to do.
His gauntlets came off in easy, practiced motions. He looked at his own hands as if he needed to be reminded of their actual size.
He took up another tie, walking around the table and behind Dick. He was gentle taking his hands, and Dick could feel his fingers at work while he got the pair on. The ripping sound of the plastic tightening, a finger against Dick's wrist used as a measurement.
"A finger's worth?" He repeated with a few more clicks in. "Is this right?"
Despite everything Dick's been through as a vigilante and bonafide hero, he doesn't feel at all uneasy having Jean-Paul at his back. Maybe another version of him would hold reservations, but Dick only knows himself and the man Jean-Paul is now. Maybe it's cheating to have missed the most painful parts of the history Jean-Paul shares with the other Nightwings. Maybe Dick doesn't care.
The other man's warm finger traces over the tendons of Dick's wrist, doubtlessly tracking the pulse of his blood. He opens his fist to reach out with his own fingers, tickling at Jean-Paul's palm while he tests the give of the cuffs.
"Much better! You've always been a quick study. This would keep most any goon from getting outta them. Just as long as they don't have my level of acrobatic ability!"
His voice is teasing as he shifts his weight to his feet and bends in a nearly inhuman move to get his bound wrists past his rear end, carefully working them down his thighs.
Tbh, I don't get that one anon that said it's disgusting that you reacted the way you did. Because you are right by having said that trauma induced hypersexuality isn't based on ethnicity. Like, not to overshare even if this is on anon, but that is something I can relate to and it's not exactly fun to see someone go "wow, that's a digusting way to react". Do people not understand that trauma induced hypersexuality is actually a more common thing all over the world then one would think? And that rping a character that way is literally an okay thing? And I bet that, if you would have chosen to rp any other character this way, people would still try to get your ass, which is actually the only digusting thing here. People really suck so bad sometimes!
((OOC))
Thank you for the reassurance. Sometimes it seems as if Dick Grayson being sexual in any way just sets people off in some fashion. I've always tried to write Dick as someone who is a person first, even if that person is imperfect and prone to sexual feelings. He's a mess. He overthinks. He's the most capable field commander Batman's ever trained and he is haunted by his failures.
Another romani person here: I don't get what the fuck that one anon was on about. Cause like, I don't see how the way you rp Dick is seen as racist (especially towards romani people) and you have also never done anything racist ooc either? Also, you aren't even fetishizing anything, you are genuine just giving a traumatized Dick good sexual expiences, which he is allowed to have! And I think some people need to learn what the fuck some words mean again or learn how to look at something for more then five seconds. Fetishizing, by definition, is: To have a sexual interest in an object or a part of the body other than the sexual organs, or in a person as if they are an object. Which your Dick is literally not? If this person spent more then probably only a few seconds on your Blog, they would know that you do also rp Dick as a normal ass person with normal conversations sometimes.
And if that anon really has such a problem with the way you rp Dick, they should either learn to fuck off by scrolling away, block you or simply make their own rp acc where they can rp Dick they want him to be. I also think sometimes people really need to be reminded that roleplayers do not owe them anyone rping a character the way they want a character to be roleplayed.
Hope this wave of nasty anons stops soon!
((OOC))
Hey, thank you for this. Genuinely. The biggest frustration has been that people are being nasty based on the words of a stranger. They've all got that chatgpt TikTok brain inability to question why I'm suddenly the poster child for evil so soon after I had to delete a bunch of anon RPs and make a rule to keep people from using the anon feature to get around clear boundaries stated months ago.
I had to "No means No" someone and suddenly all this happens? It's not a good look.
Jean-Paul's apartment is filled with the sound of pockets and pouches being emptied onto the table. It's Sunday, so it's time for a full inventory check.
It's a nice ritual, one that allows them to chat while they work, making it not feel like cleaning. He's in his suit minus the mask, shaking his head as he keeps finding more energy bar wrappers to throw out.
"I don't think we've ever seen each other's full gear." Jean-Paul mused as he tested each of the tiny trackers he just dropped onto the table.
@jpv-after-dark
Dick is perched on the back of a chair with his feet firmly in the seat of it. If asked why, he would joke that it's his attempt to offset the height difference between them. He's wearing his Nightwing uniform and shaking out his own collection of detritus from hidden pockets. It's a marvel how all this builds up when he knows he checks these after every patrol. Most of the time.
There's a fast food receipt sloppily folded into an origami elephant. Dick places it delicately on the table next to his Wing-Dings and his supply of tiny cameras. He looks over Jean-Paul's gear as he does, finding himself curious. He's updated his own tech in this older universe, but the other man is right: they've never gone over exactly what each one of them tends to keep on hand.
"My load out tends to change depending on whether I'm using a grapple gun or my escrima sticks to get around." Both options are on the table as well, awaiting maintenance. Dick picks up the stick to show off the built-in compartments for even more gadgets.
"I prefer the escrima; it reminds me of the trapeze. But the gun is iconic in Gotham, so when I'm in town..."
Azrael doesn't have much gear. Definitely lacking anything flashy like smoke pellets. He also doesn't seem to have his own grapple, surprisingly. He has zip ties, specifically red ones of course, oil and a sharpener for his blades. Definitely didn't feel like much of a bat.
Jean-Paul took the stick, always interested in gadgets, looking it over with an expertise eye. It made sense, he was very gear heavy as Batman, and now, as Azrael, he wanted to keep distance from that. But he definitely seemed underprepared in comparison.
"The grapnel is classic." He nodded as he handed the stick back, the thing looking tiny held in his huge gauntlets. "How do you buy food as Nightwing?"
The austerity of Jean-Paul's side of the table does take Dick by surprise - he knows his boyfriend is a nerd for hardware and software, just like he himself is. He wonders if he could design something for the other man, what he might be able to do to shore up the defenses for Azrael's lack of interest in modern technology.
And maybe the thought of Jean-Paul going on patrol protected by something Dick's made especially for him is a thought Dick's entertained before. Maybe it's an unbearably romantic one in their line of work.
The baton-like weapon back in his hand, the younger man gives it a flourishing twirl. Noticing the red zip ties brings a grin to his mouth as he adds his own supply of blue ones to the table. Plus two pairs of handcuffs.
Those aren't standard issue for vigilantes, but he enjoys the irony of cuffing corrupt cops with their own preferred restraints. A person really has to take joy in the little things in this profession.
"Cash, usually. I try to keep some on hand for encouraging people to share info, too. Otherwise..." He clears his throat and looks away. "D'you ever check out the Bird Boxes some people have set up on the rooftops? The little boxes full of protein bars and water bottles and stuff? I figure, as long as everything is prepackaged...and it's not like we haven't tested it all before."
"No, I bring my own snacks..." More wrappers were tossed into the bin, he was a big guy, he needed a lot of calories, but he was feeling a little silly with how much trash he had. "Azrael doesn't trust 'the kindness of strangers' and he's not exactly a welcome sight inside a store."
"Aren't those too easy to get out of?" He gestured to the cuffs while dropping hair ties and deodorant on the table, taking up a pair to inspect the design.
"He and I should hit up a food truck the next time we patrol together - I know a few that are mega chill with the costumed crowd showing up. Maybe that could get him acclimated to the concept..." Dick trails off, imagining how funny it would look to any bystanders to see Nightwing ordering falafel bowls for himself and his silent, hulking shadow. He likes the thought; Dick likes many thoughts of spending time with the different people who make up one Jean-Paul Valley.
He's pretty sure his expression is embarrassingly soft as he refocuses on Jean-Paul. Dick can't help that, either. The guy sets off his cuteness aggression like nothing else and if Dick isn't soft and sweet around him, well...
He doesn't want to ruin this. Not yet. Not like every other good thing in his life.
"The handcuffs? They're easy enough for people with training to escape, but the average crook will have trouble." He checks his pockets again to find the key to the cuffs in question. He should probably store that better, but then again, he's usually using these on criminally inclined officers. Dick doesn't mind giving corrupt cops extra issues.
"They've got their uses. Intimidation is half the game, anyway." He grins suddenly. "Have you ever had someone slip your ties? Geez, that drives me nuts when it happens!"
"He said no, but it's more of a maybe." With the suit on, Azrael was closer to the front of his mind. The angel didn't feel a need to interrupt, but he was listening in at least a little today.
Jean-Paul also imagined the pair at a food truck. He felt Azrael's discomfort at being watched or stared at, his discomfort with pulling his mask up, and his discomfort with the entire concept of eating in the first place. It wasn't a bad idea, but it did give him a bit of stress to consider for his other half.
But that wasn't what was current. What was, was handcuffs.
"If I did them it's happened. Azrael does them too tight." He paused, voice softer to address someone other than Dick. "You do."
He took a red tie in his fingers. "I don't want to hurt someone with the ties...I don't usually fight things that need to be tied up in the first place, so it doesn't matter all that much."
"I can work with a maybe." It wouldn't be the first time he's made himself the attention draw for the comfort of a partner who dislikes being perceived. It was kind of his whole thing for awhile. Dick's warned by the knowledge that Azrael is nearby as well, that he gets to have hints of them both.
He's greedy like that. A loathsome dragon hoarding whatever affections it can earn.
"A lot of people don't realize that there's a science to tying up the bad guys, just like everything else we seem to do. Loose enough to avoid injury, tight enough to keep someone from getting away, adjusting to accommodate for injury or unusual body physicality...It's not instinctual knowledge, for sure."
Impulsively, Dick rests his arms on his knees, wrists upwards towards the other man.
Jean-Paul's brows squinted together as he eyed Dick's hands.
"I know they need to go behind the back, anyone can snap them open in the front." It was a bit of a complaint, a bit of a declaration of not being completely unaware, and a bit of a self reminder.
Still, for learning purposes, Dick wouldn't be able to see them behind him, unable to offer advice if he couldn't say what needed to improve.
He took Dick's wrists, holding them together as he maneuvered the zip tie into place. A bit slow on the pull, and definitely not tight enough for a near contortionist.
"We can do that, too." There's a flirtatious purr to the words that Dick is fairly certain his boyfriend misses entirely. That's okay; Dick can enjoy the way his wrists feel dwarfed in Jean-Paul's gauntlets and the cute expression of concentration on the man's face.
The zip tie cuffs Bruce had developed are better than any of the flex cuffs or cuff ties on the market for precincts - some of the same safety standards apply, of course. He turns his wrists, judging the give with an absent-minded hum.
"Too much slack on this one; we need to have a finger's worth of give...maybe not the size of your gauntlets' fingers, though!"
A flick of his hands and he's free, the plastic cuffs dangling cheekily from his hand.
how truly disgusting that your response to a romani speaking out on the fetishizing and racist archetype that you write was to shame them you cant remove dick g. from his race it is part of his character youre playing a rlly insensitive trope and acting like it is activism but belittling the actual minorities effected by these stereotypes
The DC and especially the Batman fandom are notorious for having antis who shit on everyone’s parade. Why are you blaming someone else for the hate you get when they’re probably trolls and normies who just don’t want to see anyone have fun?
((OOC))
Why am I blaming someone for encouraging others to harass people for things they've made up? Is that what you're questioning?
Dude, the last time someone whipped up a baseless brigade like this, it turned out they were a hardcore Zionist. Like, fully supporting the genocide Zionist.
I would not be surprised if this is the same person under a new blog tbh.
Jean-Paul's apartment is filled with the sound of pockets and pouches being emptied onto the table. It's Sunday, so it's time for a full inventory check.
It's a nice ritual, one that allows them to chat while they work, making it not feel like cleaning. He's in his suit minus the mask, shaking his head as he keeps finding more energy bar wrappers to throw out.
"I don't think we've ever seen each other's full gear." Jean-Paul mused as he tested each of the tiny trackers he just dropped onto the table.
@jpv-after-dark
Dick is perched on the back of a chair with his feet firmly in the seat of it. If asked why, he would joke that it's his attempt to offset the height difference between them. He's wearing his Nightwing uniform and shaking out his own collection of detritus from hidden pockets. It's a marvel how all this builds up when he knows he checks these after every patrol. Most of the time.
There's a fast food receipt sloppily folded into an origami elephant. Dick places it delicately on the table next to his Wing-Dings and his supply of tiny cameras. He looks over Jean-Paul's gear as he does, finding himself curious. He's updated his own tech in this older universe, but the other man is right: they've never gone over exactly what each one of them tends to keep on hand.
"My load out tends to change depending on whether I'm using a grapple gun or my escrima sticks to get around." Both options are on the table as well, awaiting maintenance. Dick picks up the stick to show off the built-in compartments for even more gadgets.
"I prefer the escrima; it reminds me of the trapeze. But the gun is iconic in Gotham, so when I'm in town..."
Azrael doesn't have much gear. Definitely lacking anything flashy like smoke pellets. He also doesn't seem to have his own grapple, surprisingly. He has zip ties, specifically red ones of course, oil and a sharpener for his blades. Definitely didn't feel like much of a bat.
Jean-Paul took the stick, always interested in gadgets, looking it over with an expertise eye. It made sense, he was very gear heavy as Batman, and now, as Azrael, he wanted to keep distance from that. But he definitely seemed underprepared in comparison.
"The grapnel is classic." He nodded as he handed the stick back, the thing looking tiny held in his huge gauntlets. "How do you buy food as Nightwing?"
The austerity of Jean-Paul's side of the table does take Dick by surprise - he knows his boyfriend is a nerd for hardware and software, just like he himself is. He wonders if he could design something for the other man, what he might be able to do to shore up the defenses for Azrael's lack of interest in modern technology.
And maybe the thought of Jean-Paul going on patrol protected by something Dick's made especially for him is a thought Dick's entertained before. Maybe it's an unbearably romantic one in their line of work.
The baton-like weapon back in his hand, the younger man gives it a flourishing twirl. Noticing the red zip ties brings a grin to his mouth as he adds his own supply of blue ones to the table. Plus two pairs of handcuffs.
Those aren't standard issue for vigilantes, but he enjoys the irony of cuffing corrupt cops with their own preferred restraints. A person really has to take joy in the little things in this profession.
"Cash, usually. I try to keep some on hand for encouraging people to share info, too. Otherwise..." He clears his throat and looks away. "D'you ever check out the Bird Boxes some people have set up on the rooftops? The little boxes full of protein bars and water bottles and stuff? I figure, as long as everything is prepackaged...and it's not like we haven't tested it all before."
"No, I bring my own snacks..." More wrappers were tossed into the bin, he was a big guy, he needed a lot of calories, but he was feeling a little silly with how much trash he had. "Azrael doesn't trust 'the kindness of strangers' and he's not exactly a welcome sight inside a store."
"Aren't those too easy to get out of?" He gestured to the cuffs while dropping hair ties and deodorant on the table, taking up a pair to inspect the design.
"He and I should hit up a food truck the next time we patrol together - I know a few that are mega chill with the costumed crowd showing up. Maybe that could get him acclimated to the concept..." Dick trails off, imagining how funny it would look to any bystanders to see Nightwing ordering falafel bowls for himself and his silent, hulking shadow. He likes the thought; Dick likes many thoughts of spending time with the different people who make up one Jean-Paul Valley.
He's pretty sure his expression is embarrassingly soft as he refocuses on Jean-Paul. Dick can't help that, either. The guy sets off his cuteness aggression like nothing else and if Dick isn't soft and sweet around him, well...
He doesn't want to ruin this. Not yet. Not like every other good thing in his life.
"The handcuffs? They're easy enough for people with training to escape, but the average crook will have trouble." He checks his pockets again to find the key to the cuffs in question. He should probably store that better, but then again, he's usually using these on criminally inclined officers. Dick doesn't mind giving corrupt cops extra issues.
"They've got their uses. Intimidation is half the game, anyway." He grins suddenly. "Have you ever had someone slip your ties? Geez, that drives me nuts when it happens!"
"He said no, but it's more of a maybe." With the suit on, Azrael was closer to the front of his mind. The angel didn't feel a need to interrupt, but he was listening in at least a little today.
Jean-Paul also imagined the pair at a food truck. He felt Azrael's discomfort at being watched or stared at, his discomfort with pulling his mask up, and his discomfort with the entire concept of eating in the first place. It wasn't a bad idea, but it did give him a bit of stress to consider for his other half.
But that wasn't what was current. What was, was handcuffs.
"If I did them it's happened. Azrael does them too tight." He paused, voice softer to address someone other than Dick. "You do."
He took a red tie in his fingers. "I don't want to hurt someone with the ties...I don't usually fight things that need to be tied up in the first place, so it doesn't matter all that much."
"I can work with a maybe." It wouldn't be the first time he's made himself the attention draw for the comfort of a partner who dislikes being perceived. It was kind of his whole thing for awhile. Dick's warned by the knowledge that Azrael is nearby as well, that he gets to have hints of them both.
He's greedy like that. A loathsome dragon hoarding whatever affections it can earn.
"A lot of people don't realize that there's a science to tying up the bad guys, just like everything else we seem to do. Loose enough to avoid injury, tight enough to keep someone from getting away, adjusting to accommodate for injury or unusual body physicality...It's not instinctual knowledge, for sure."
Impulsively, Dick rests his arms on his knees, wrists upwards towards the other man.
You know, the most messed up things about this whole "call-out" business is that I haven't even written incest content. The closest it came to was Dick trying to get physical with an alternate version of himself (with full communication and consent from the mun) as a form of fucked up self-harm, and him having some confused feelings during his disastrous meeting with JPV's Bat.
But at least fifteen people have swallowed the words of a stranger and made it their mission to make up lies about me and harass this blog. No one has bothered with fact checking or due diligence. Like a grandparent on Facebook, you're believing everything you're being told without questioning it.
Which is weird, considering this is the Batman fandom. You'd think people would be more interested in detective work.
Jean-Paul's apartment is filled with the sound of pockets and pouches being emptied onto the table. It's Sunday, so it's time for a full inventory check.
It's a nice ritual, one that allows them to chat while they work, making it not feel like cleaning. He's in his suit minus the mask, shaking his head as he keeps finding more energy bar wrappers to throw out.
"I don't think we've ever seen each other's full gear." Jean-Paul mused as he tested each of the tiny trackers he just dropped onto the table.
@jpv-after-dark
Dick is perched on the back of a chair with his feet firmly in the seat of it. If asked why, he would joke that it's his attempt to offset the height difference between them. He's wearing his Nightwing uniform and shaking out his own collection of detritus from hidden pockets. It's a marvel how all this builds up when he knows he checks these after every patrol. Most of the time.
There's a fast food receipt sloppily folded into an origami elephant. Dick places it delicately on the table next to his Wing-Dings and his supply of tiny cameras. He looks over Jean-Paul's gear as he does, finding himself curious. He's updated his own tech in this older universe, but the other man is right: they've never gone over exactly what each one of them tends to keep on hand.
"My load out tends to change depending on whether I'm using a grapple gun or my escrima sticks to get around." Both options are on the table as well, awaiting maintenance. Dick picks up the stick to show off the built-in compartments for even more gadgets.
"I prefer the escrima; it reminds me of the trapeze. But the gun is iconic in Gotham, so when I'm in town..."
Azrael doesn't have much gear. Definitely lacking anything flashy like smoke pellets. He also doesn't seem to have his own grapple, surprisingly. He has zip ties, specifically red ones of course, oil and a sharpener for his blades. Definitely didn't feel like much of a bat.
Jean-Paul took the stick, always interested in gadgets, looking it over with an expertise eye. It made sense, he was very gear heavy as Batman, and now, as Azrael, he wanted to keep distance from that. But he definitely seemed underprepared in comparison.
"The grapnel is classic." He nodded as he handed the stick back, the thing looking tiny held in his huge gauntlets. "How do you buy food as Nightwing?"
The austerity of Jean-Paul's side of the table does take Dick by surprise - he knows his boyfriend is a nerd for hardware and software, just like he himself is. He wonders if he could design something for the other man, what he might be able to do to shore up the defenses for Azrael's lack of interest in modern technology.
And maybe the thought of Jean-Paul going on patrol protected by something Dick's made especially for him is a thought Dick's entertained before. Maybe it's an unbearably romantic one in their line of work.
The baton-like weapon back in his hand, the younger man gives it a flourishing twirl. Noticing the red zip ties brings a grin to his mouth as he adds his own supply of blue ones to the table. Plus two pairs of handcuffs.
Those aren't standard issue for vigilantes, but he enjoys the irony of cuffing corrupt cops with their own preferred restraints. A person really has to take joy in the little things in this profession.
"Cash, usually. I try to keep some on hand for encouraging people to share info, too. Otherwise..." He clears his throat and looks away. "D'you ever check out the Bird Boxes some people have set up on the rooftops? The little boxes full of protein bars and water bottles and stuff? I figure, as long as everything is prepackaged...and it's not like we haven't tested it all before."
"No, I bring my own snacks..." More wrappers were tossed into the bin, he was a big guy, he needed a lot of calories, but he was feeling a little silly with how much trash he had. "Azrael doesn't trust 'the kindness of strangers' and he's not exactly a welcome sight inside a store."
"Aren't those too easy to get out of?" He gestured to the cuffs while dropping hair ties and deodorant on the table, taking up a pair to inspect the design.
"He and I should hit up a food truck the next time we patrol together - I know a few that are mega chill with the costumed crowd showing up. Maybe that could get him acclimated to the concept..." Dick trails off, imagining how funny it would look to any bystanders to see Nightwing ordering falafel bowls for himself and his silent, hulking shadow. He likes the thought; Dick likes many thoughts of spending time with the different people who make up one Jean-Paul Valley.
He's pretty sure his expression is embarrassingly soft as he refocuses on Jean-Paul. Dick can't help that, either. The guy sets off his cuteness aggression like nothing else and if Dick isn't soft and sweet around him, well...
He doesn't want to ruin this. Not yet. Not like every other good thing in his life.
"The handcuffs? They're easy enough for people with training to escape, but the average crook will have trouble." He checks his pockets again to find the key to the cuffs in question. He should probably store that better, but then again, he's usually using these on criminally inclined officers. Dick doesn't mind giving corrupt cops extra issues.
"They've got their uses. Intimidation is half the game, anyway." He grins suddenly. "Have you ever had someone slip your ties? Geez, that drives me nuts when it happens!"
Dick Grayson, 19 @illiteratedickgrayson - Tumblr Blog | Tumgag
