You know that Tiktok trend of the "Hear Me Out" cake? I had this image of Tim and the Titans at Manor, bored after some mission or grounded and they do the trend. And it's going normal, until of course...
Jaime: *puts the skewer with Dick sellotaped to it into the cake*
Tim: Gross, that's my brother.
Rose: *puts in Jason*
Tim: He's a literal swamp monster.
Bart, nodding: Smash.
Tim: Disgusting. All of you.
Kon: *puts Bruce in*
Tim: THAT'S MY DAD?
Gar: *puts in Alfred*
Tim: THAT'S FUCKED UP THAT'S MY GRANDFATHER. HE'S AN OLD MAN.
M'gann: But smash, tho.
Tim: THE ACTUAL HELL-
Bruce, entering the room: Tim, what's all this yelling-
Tim: *throws the cake on the ground so Bruce can't see*
What would you tell your younger self if you could go back in time, Titans.
Wally, holding young Wally shoulders: tell them, our parents are shit and they won't change, so live with Uncle Barry and Aunt Iris. Also no, we're not getting over Dick, it will get worse.
Young Wally: aw...
---
Roy: lock the fuck in little shit, also read those parenting books in B's closet we need those... We will think she's dying every day if we don't read those books.
Young Roy: I get a kid? Lame.
Roy, strangling himself: LIAN IS NOT LAME YOU PIECE OF SHIT!
---
Garth: live in Roy's bathroom, it the best.
Young Garth: WE HAVE A FRIEND!?
---
Donna: men ain't shit- except your twin, Dickie. life ain't shit, except to torture Dickie. And you will steal his girl because trust me, we love women and I want you to get with her sooner, after therapy.
Young Donna: ... Who would name their kid Dick?
---
Dick, give him escrima stick: go, get revenge. Go feral.
Summary: A classified account pieced together from witness statements reveals a quietly unfolding relationship with Roy Harper—noticed in stolen glances, lingering proximity, and moments that felt a little too intimate to be coincidence. Just as the truth edges into the open, a live feed cuts out, leaving the rest to implication and unfinished tension.
Requested by anon for my 2k event. (
Genny's 2K Followers Event! ˚.🎀༘⋆
R E S T R I C T E D A R C H I V E ▓▓
CASE TAG: Internal Affair
SYSTEM STATUS: ONLINE
SUBJECTS:
— NIGHTINGALE (BATSIS) [REDACTED]
— ARSENAL (ROY HARPER)
EVIDENCE TYPE: Witness Statement
ADD-ON: Live Feed Interrupted
▶ FILE INITIALISING…
It started the way these things always did—quietly, when no one thought to look too closely.
The Watchtower observation deck was meant to be empty at this hour. Most of the League was planetside, Titans scattered between patrols and badly planned movie nights. The stars outside the reinforced glass were sharp and endless, Earth a slow, blue curve beneath them.
Roy Harper leaned against the railing like he belonged there, bow unstrung, jacket half-zipped, stupid cap on backwards.
He wasn’t on duty.
Neither were you.
That should have been the first warning.
You joined him without a word, boots soft against the floor. Roy glanced sideways, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that way he got when he was trying not to smile.
“Thought you’d be in Gotham,” he said.
“Thought you’d be with the Titans,” you replied.
A beat. Then both of you laughed—quiet, shared, familiar.
From a distance, it would’ve looked harmless. Two teammates decompressing. Friends enjoying the quiet.
Witnesses later reported the way you stood too close.
Roy offered you his coffee without asking. You took it, fingers brushing his, a touch so brief it could’ve been accidental.
It wasn’t.
“You ever get tired of this?” he asked, nodding toward the stars. “Saving the world. Breaking it. Saving it again.”
“All the time,” you said. “But I like who I am when I’m here.”
Roy’s gaze softened. “Yeah. Me too.”
Witness accounts note a prolonged silence following this exchange.
The cameras didn’t catch the way Roy’s hand found the small of your back.
They didn’t catch the way you leaned into it, just slightly—like testing gravity.
What they did catch was the way both of you froze when the comms chimed.
Roy swore under his breath. You straightened, professional mask snapping into place with terrifying ease.
“Duty calls,” you said lightly.
“Always does,” Roy replied.
Neither of you moved.
Elsewhere in the Watchtower, multiple heroes independently reported “a vibe.”
Wally West: “I dunno, man, they were doing that thing where they pretend nothing’s happening while absolutely something is happening.”
Dinah Lance: “Roy doesn’t look at people like that unless he’s already lost.”
Oliver Queen: No official statement. Excessive smirking observed.
The mission that followed should have ended like any other.
Clean extraction. Minimal casualties. Standard comm chatter.
Instead, it ended with you pinned beneath falling debris, smoke and sparks filling the feed.
Roy was already moving before anyone else spoke.
“Nightingale’s down,” he said, voice sharp. Too sharp.
You heard it through the ringing in your ears. Heard the way your name cut through the noise.
“I’ve got her,” Roy added. “Back off.”
It wasn’t an order. It wasn’t protocol.
No one argued.
He shielded you with his own body as the last of the structure collapsed, bow discarded, arms locked around you like that was the only thing keeping the world in place.
“Hey,” he murmured once the dust settled. “You with me?”
“Always,” you breathed.
Witnesses later described the way his forehead rested against yours for a fraction of a second too long.
The live feed cut out twelve seconds later.
Official report cites “signal interference due to structural instability.”
Unofficial analysis suggests manual override.
After the mission, Roy didn’t leave your side in the med bay. Didn’t joke. Didn’t deflect. Just sat there, elbow on the bed, fingers wrapped loosely around yours like it was the most natural thing in the world.
“You scared me,” he admitted quietly.
You squeezed his hand. “Good. Means you care.”
He huffed a weak laugh. “Yeah. Guess I do.”
Neither of you noticed the security camera rebooting overhead.
By the time the feed resumed, you were sitting a respectable distance apart.
Roy was back to smirking. You were back to composed.
Internal review classified the incident as inconclusive.
But the witnesses remembered.
The way Roy looked at you like losing you wasn’t an option.
The way you trusted him without hesitation.
Here's my design for Titan Ralsei, a theory I like exponentially more than Ralsei being secretly evil. He's the same lovely fluffy boy we all know and love, just entirely made of pure darkness and big enough to hold Kris and Susie in his hands.
