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@fightwing
hi hi! i’m kayla, 25+, she/her, and est timezone! here are some quick links, feel free to hmu with any thoughts/vibes/memes and have a funky fresh time!
rules / ask / memes / dick grayson wiki page / my sparknotes timeline / stats / hiatus notice: very low activity!
oh goSH. KAYLA. YOU'RE BACK?!?!
MY FRIEND!!!!!!!!!!! HELLOOOOO ugh I can’t tell you how happy I was to see your url again!!!!!!!
one does not simply remember her login 😶🌫️
❛ i'm sorry, i didn't know where else to go. ❜ / @identimfied
the sound of feet landing makes dick's blood freeze. his fingers had only just touched the outline of his mask --- crusted with sweat, blood of questionable origin and a sleepless night after a patrol well monitored and his breathing only nearing normalcy until stopping completely at the white-hot flash of fear. it was too soon. he'd barely even touched his home, his mind immediately went to the possibility he'd been followed. dick's steps are light, trained in stealth and paranoia as he pulls out the sole remaining bird-a-rang he'd yet to put away, using the reflection to get a jump on his clever intruder. ---- and then promptly sighing in relief. he'd know that tuft of hair anywhere, the set of his shoulders, the tilt of his --- frown? dick's steps are sure and quick now, opening the door to his balcony, surpassing all the additional locks and tearing the mask from his own face to reveal the deep divots forming between his eyebrows " tim? " his younger brother's words do nothing to soothe the anxiety in his chest --- a myriad of possibilities filtering through his mind, instantly trying to fix whatever ailment put red robin in this state. but safety comes first, one of dick's arms opening back towards his apartment, the other wrapping around his brother's shoulders. " hey, no, you can always come here. " and while his instincts screech to know exactly what happened, it's training that reminds him there are some things that are time sensitive, subtly trying to see if he could feel anything immediately concerning: " are you hurt? "
" do you want a sip? " / @proditeur
dick gave that a look. he gets that he's being paranoid. he gets that he's sometimes labeled as high strung and all the things jason and reg have accused him of since he'd met them and he even gets that that was a very VERY long time ago and that by now he should really trust that when reg says something is handled, that it is handled. it's just --- the acrobat ignores the proffered drink entirely, instead leaning across the crusted bar of whatever town they'd stopped for the night in to say: " i'm just SAYING, what if i missed something? if i could just go over the footage one more time . . . "
KAYLAAAA OH MY GOD HI BABY I MISSED YOU!!!
MY LOVEEEEEE HELLO I HAVE MISSED YOU SO MUCH!!!!!!!!! these are for you: 💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝💝🫵
they're extensions of each other at this point, an overgrown limb with shared sensory receptors prone to jolt in tandem when either one of them was pricked. given the recent development of their decades-long connection, and having finally let himself drown all at once in the love he'd felt yet was steadfast to deny for the man throughout the years of clawing their way back to each other through thick and thin, Roy had finally accepted this. as such, it was really no wonder when he wakes up randomly on the eve of Dick's trip back to Gotham, forehead pressed into the thick, obsidian wisps dusting the back of his neck, and knows intrinsically, without a single ounce of doubt, that the acrobat is also awake.
to his credit, the ruse he puts up simulating sleep is entirely believable; slowed, even breaths and a softened posture curling inward towards his pillow enough to deceive any onlooker with a faint inkling of concern for his well-being. it would have been enough for, say, one of their ( incredibly nosy ) teammates checking in on him, only partially vested in assuring he was fine; but not for Roy, who had made caring about Dick and what he does to degrees bordering on obsessive a personality trait at some point very early on in his life.
“ téél halchíʼí ? ” sleep coats the gravel of his voice as the worn nickname is huffed fondly against the base of Dick's neck. almost imperceptibly, a restrained shudder vibrates through the acrobat's skin; Roy leans into the ripples, the tip of his nose prodding at the skin and tufts of coarse tendrils sticking to his scruff. “ i know you're awake. what's up ? ” he quietly insists, patient as only a sleep addled iteration of himself could be.
“ ⊰ I'll hate myself if I go back again, I don't want to hate myself. ⊱ ” @fightwing finally concedes after a long pause.
Roy's heart stutters as the whispered words corrode his ease, a steady list of expletives directed towards the former's father figure permeating each new thought his mind could muster in the twilight hours. as curses singe his tongue, he finds the willpower to swallow them down; focusing, instead, on what, or rather, who, actually mattered at the present. “ you don't have to go back ... not immediately, not just because he wants you to. ” he calmly posits, carefully phrasing his words as mere suggestions with the knowledge that anything with a harder edge had been the catalyst for a number of explosive arguments in the past. he can feel Dick ruminate on the words, the clockwork of his mind deafening as it dissects the points made and attempts to find every counter arguments known to man as to why he couldn't simply do that. Roy just sighs, pressing his forehead to the myriad of sun spots and tiny beauty marks cascading over the juncture between his shoulders, spilling onto his upper back.
“ you could stay here with me a little longer ... ” he entices, voice as sweet and lulling as he could muster. the offer itself sounded casually hopeful; in reality, he was clutching desperately onto the hard-won peace they'd rightfully earned with the fervor of a man well accustomed to having everything he loved torn from him the very moment he began to feel any sense of comfort and safety around them.
days of being wild / not accepting.
he'd gotten some sleep, thankfully. with the way his mind played his anxieties like a broken record tape, he was mentally preparing himself for the days leading up to his departure to result in sleepless nights and at least one convoluted police board. he'd even expected it --- thought about waiting until the sure sign his boyfriend was asleep and the knowledge he'd have to step with his toes out of bed and just run those last few numbers pounding about in his head. but then they'd laid down. roy's sure archer hands --- calloused and warm tight around his abdomen --- expertly missing the places that were still healing from their last mission, and his breath a soft reminder of safety on the back of his neck, and the next thing he knew he was blinking back awake before the sun rose. it was the same argument he had with himself every time. and at a certain point of trial and error --- where really, only one decision ever won out --- he was beginning to wonder if it was even worth the mental effort. why fight the inevitable? he was always going to make the same choice he had before, and then start the whole cycle over again the second he was back and his phone pinged. and then, like clock work, a voice that sounded suspiciously like a ragtag group of childhood friends asked how on earth he could just give up so easily. that they'd never known him to just give in without a fight, and then the little dick grayson in his head would say another fight? dick suppressed the sigh building in his lungs -- a surefire way to wake up his bed mate. realistically, he should already be up. showered and packing what little he cared to take with him, getting an early start on all the things he's sure to be behind on, but the warmth roy was emitting was simply magnetic. rationality may deem getting up to be the logical next step but comfort and peace tethered him to savor the last quiet moments they'd have for a while.
it's a testament to his state of mind that roy's waking words actually surprise him. while he doesn't jump he does slightly tense at the revelation his silent musing was loud enough to stir, and then immediately lax again at the reminder he couldn't hide his tension from the other if he wanted. a perk and a detriment to the lifetime they've known each other. he wants to tell him to go back to sleep. not to worry his beautiful red head over it, and maybe dick would sustain himself with one last kiss on his way out, but the words bubble over dick's lips unprepared anyway. there's a deep embarrassment at the admission --- like it's somehow surprising this insecurity cut at him so deep when the titans had been aware of it from 'hello, my name is--'. he feels foolish, and stupid, and perpetually young, bounding around in his booties and proclaiming that everyone else simply didn't get it. it was even sad how dick kind of missed that surety. how he'd become jaded, CHANGED the older he's gotten. that kid wouldn't even be questioning his next move like this older, worn model is. roy's hands tighten near imperceptibly and he knows, even without words, all the things roy is kindly holding back on. heard them enough to probably recite them. but dick's own hands lift and find the archer's--- digits threading between digits to rest together on dick's stomach. " it's not about me. it's about the mission. " and when his own ears hear who exactly he sounds like, and how that's sure to go, he tacks on, shifting with an insecurity he'd never let another person see: " i just think . . . it may be too soon, you know? " and because he hates how whiny that sounds, he readjusts one of his hands to caress roy's fingers, a sigh of relief passing through his lips when he feels roy find the space between his shoulders behind him. his touch grounding. his voice is low when the acrobat says " it's just a bad feeling. " and dick's had plenty of those --- warranted and unwarranted, and whatever his other faults may be no one on EARTH was more prepared than bruce. few others dick trusted like that, anyway. it was just a feeling, and feelings fade. dick had been staring at the wall in front of him as he'd spoken --- grateful for the position both for the safety and reassurance plastered to his back and the ability to not have to look into roy's perceptive green eyes as he said goodbye. but at his boyfriend's next words dick's eyes shut tight --- a sudden pressure building behind them that frustrates dick even further. in their line of work, in their LIVES they had such few true moments of peace. but here, in their bed with the curtains still drawn up and the softest sounds of the city waking up, dick can honestly say he's never wanted to have both feet on the ground more in his life. like: for someone perpetually on the go, he's never wanted so badly to S T A Y . dick buys time by gently pulling the hand he's taken captive to his lips. the lightest glance against worn archer's knuckles, but time passes regardless of his will. because he's contrarian, or a planner, or any synonym of the two depending on how much grace he's due that day, he says lightly " we'd have to leave eventually, anyway . . . "
Titans (2016) #21
ON 'RUINING THE FRIENDSHIP' / @fightwing
the future belongs to me. my name is wally west. I'M THE FLASH.
written by noct.
you can't choose your past, but you can choose your future. and your friends. ( #𝐛𝐞𝐚𝟓𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲 - an independent, private, and selective writing blog for 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 / 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 of 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴. est. 09/2024. by sarah. © )
𝙙𝙪𝙙𝙚, 𝙩𝙪𝙧𝙩𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬 𝙬𝙝𝙖𝙩'𝙨 𝙪𝙥! ( #bea5tboy - an independent, private, and selective writing blog for 𝐠𝐚𝐫𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐥𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 / 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐲 of 𝘥𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘪𝘤𝘴. est. 09/2024. )
F.Y.I. call me Katie, and an arrow ends up in your eye —– extremely private and low activity roleplay blog for former New York society deb 𝙆𝘼𝙏𝙀 𝘽𝙄𝙎𝙃𝙊𝙋, so impressed Captain America on the battlefield that he gave her Clint Barton's bow and dubbed her the new 𝙃𝘼𝙒𝙆𝙀𝙔𝙀.
There is a method to my madness, you know.
i have to find another path. 𝒅𝒊𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒆 𝒎𝒚 𝒐𝒘𝒏 𝒇𝒖𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆. one uniquely mine. not a page from someone else's book. not a fate that begins and ends on page one.
𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐁𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐉𝐎𝐀𝐍 𝐆𝐎𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐍 𝐀𝐊𝐀 𝐎𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐋𝐄 ! highly selective with low activity. coded by alice.
i have a new life now. one i like — one that fulfills me. it's not the same as the one i had before, but it's good. 𝒎𝒂𝒚𝒃𝒆 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏 𝒃𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓.
🐈⬛ 𝐋𝐢𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧 𝐮𝐠𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝. 𝐈 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 🐈⬛
> @fightwing … like thee starter.
the star-crossed ( ex ) lovers were busying themselves with arguments coming down a hallway of the tower. they'd been going at it for what seemed like forever... so much so that they were being avoided by any & all members that could see reason. an interjection from starfire, “ i didn’t mean—————— “ she stops herself short. it’s not worth it. it’s already brutal enough; their intellect & conversations surrounding emotion. she dare say this might’ve been the thing she missed the least about the tower since her brief leave in the name of self—discovery. they’d already entered the room they needed to reside in: it’s best to do what they came for & go.
titan’s intelligence terminal & criminal - activity tracker was on the fritz; and seemingly since victor was nowhere to be found... star would have to be acting technician. now seated in a chair, nails clicking... she'd continue to dish out frustration. “ i think you’re a great leader, dick. you possess a great heart. but —————— “ a bite upon her bottom lip, she didn’t want this to come off gritty. he didn’t deserve malice despite being the reason that… it wasn’t the time for that, star. a deeper sigh and slow—blinks to conjure lighter steps around touchier subjects. a metaphor might’ve been more useful in a time like this, “ you get lost & you do not ask for help, nor do you like when people come and find you.. “ personal experiences as it may. way too many times had she been at the bloody beak of a bird who wanted to soar, when she desperately just wanted to fly with him. but again… topics for a different time.
there’s stillness in the room: to which they both knew the star loathed. it’s there you can hear her body hum for something greater than this, twitching fingers & a bouncing leg, skies & clouds just out of reach. so she fills it with conversation ( more so confrontation ). “ —————but do you think it would change anything? if someone were to find you peace? or are you still so desperate to be right that you end up wrong in the end? “
her own answer was no: she loved him, she was in love with him once, but even then she knew.. he was far too headstrong for his own good. unreasonably so. regrettably she’d stoop so low to say that he was just like his father in that way, both in affection &.. —————— she’d busy herself with the terminal. acting as though her heart wasn’t heavy & she couldn’t feel baby—blues staring at the side of her head for comfort. the star wanted to give it to him. the murmur of her very being whispered reassurance… but she denied them both that access to solace with a simple click of a button. out popped a holographic reflection of the earth… color-coded blips reflecting places criminal activity was talking place. fixed, hopefully.
BUT. there was always a but. for some reasons his friends thought that the blow was softened with a but, but a bullet shot with a silencer hurt all the same. he sighs, and turns his head away from her, face illuminated by the flashing screens. around them the surrounding consoles ebbed and flowed with the world's stresses. a reminder that even now, his stillness was useless. he knows this about himself. has been told it a thousand times over by every titan he'd ever loved, and still it grated at him like sandpaper on skin. " i ask for help when i need it. " he negates, that little thread of rationality pushing at his conscience only to be thoroughly squashed down. " and right now, i'm fine. " his gaze bores into the profile of her face. searching, hoping for something he can't, or maybe won't, name. he was fine because he had to be. why couldn't they see that? her next words hit with the full force of a well-intended blow. no brace, no deflection. the thing he'd most feared about himself and the thing he most fought against. was he fighting to end the fight, or for love of it? it was easy to convince himself of the former when there was an end goal, but in cases like this, why, WHY can't he just let some things go?? and at the very least, why couldn't he at least pretend he could? but maybe that was the problem with a team so inter-woven in each other. so connected the edges of the individual started to fray --- they saw you even when you tried to hide. " that's not fair. it's not just about being right, it's that we can't afford to be wrong. " all but ignoring the peace side of her inquiry. he would give ANYTHING for peace. he currently is, even. giving everything he is and has in the pursuit of peace but he's beginning to question what that would even look like. the screens all but mock him as he looks to them for guidance. for understanding, for something, anything to make the hurt worth it all. at the very least, it seemed to have been rebooted properly, and that unraveled at least some small part of his tension. he sighs, gaze dropping momentarily before rising to meet koriand'r's green. " look, i'm not trying to be a hardass because i enjoy it. " a shaky hand runs through his hair and he wishes, distantly, they'd been having this conversation suited up. as nightwing and starfire rather than dick and kory. a foolish ask by a foolish man, considering no mask has ever been enough to hide him from her. " i believe in us and this team, but sometimes that includes making calls you don't agree with. "
