ᴀʟʟ ʙʟᴀᴄᴋ ᴀɴᴅ ʙʟᴜᴇ

i think icarus died with the sun still clenched in his palms and that the sound of his feathers flush with thin air. must have been like a rainstorm and funeral song at the same time and i think he tasted his home for a brief moment and maybe in the clouds glanced the open arms of his mother. i think icarus splashed into that blood-dark ocean and i think someone somewhere must have mistaken that brightness for a shooting star and made a wish on him.

[flyingdgrayson]

the laugh that escapes his lips is more like a loud breath, his lungs compressing in an almost-scoff, the kind that ruffles his hair and tilts his chin downwards, the kind that tugs the corner of his lips upwards into a cracked, half-smile; friendly, in that classic grayson way. “dick grayson, possibly the hungriest guy in the world. stick with me, kid, we’ll break all the guinness records together.” the chuckle that bubbles up from his lips is a bit nervous and awkward, but there’s not much else to say.

“no no, i really-- i insist. i was heading inside to get some myself, anyway.” he motions back towards the door just behind the other guy before glancing down towards the slice momentarily. “i mean you don’t have to come inside with me if you don’t want to, i can just bring it out-- that is, if you’re not in too much of a hurry?” he gives a small shrug as he swings the door open for them both, his smile turning sly in a joking manner as he winks playfully. “promise it’s not a date or anything.”

[flyingdgrayson]

internally, he curses himself, his brain whirling, reaching for the long checklist of clues and backtracking his training has drilled deep insides of him; bruce’s voice filling his head, what’s the name of the street he’s on, what time is it, where’s the most recognizable building, do all the colors look correct and everything is as it’s supposed to be ( no trees in the sky, no purple clouds or anything like that ). it’s a mental bearing, aspects he knows he needs to gather in order to figure out where he is and if he’s still on planet earth, if these are still humans in the 21st century as he knows them-- lots of strange adventures under his belt by now, lots of strange mishaps and phenomena to have lived through in his years as nightwing and robin, batman’s partner and leader of the titans. life’s like a box of combustible chocolates, right?

she mentions being an angel though, and weirdly enough, that’s somehow enough to ground him-- something humorous, something not terrifying, something he can latch onto the way he always has, young, powerless kid in a bright costume, cracking jokes at monsters and villains who actually scare the shit out of him. his eyes focus on her for a hot second, his head jerking tilted to the side, one corner of his lips curling, that instinctual charm peeking through. “i certainly wouldn’t mind someone like you being my angel, heaven or hell.”

but then just as quickly, the grin is faded from his features and before her explanation can fully seep into his bloodstream, he hears her voice in his head, that lilt filling his thoughts like mud in water, it’s content shifted wholly out of his control. “you’re a telepath.” he confirms, eye squinting and focusing tightly onto her face, focusing on the words and images he needs to convey for her to understand without having to struggle through his addled brain-- he’s played this game before as well. i don’t know where i am or where my family is. do you know bruce wayne?

he can’t help it ( but then, he supposes he doesn’t really need to worry too much, if she’s super-powered as well ); his mind drops through the kaleidoscope of him and batman on rooftops, their last argument, the last few months of searching for him.

[rchardgrayson]

[ava-rider]

artemisofbana-migdall‌:

Titans #20

boyfriends being domestic™

@flyingdgrayson​

[outlawunderahood]

@flyingdgrayson

Jason didn’t hear the knock on the door at first. He was too focused on the blueprints laying on the table in front of him. He had an attack to plan. Jason had been watching the the Italian mobs movements at the docks for weeks now. Shipping more and more drugs into the city. With the ease to get into the area, it was a perfect attack to test some of his newer recruits. Without getting them killed of course, if they don’t have what it takes. Sometimes you have to throw someone in the weeds to see how they react. But Jason wasn’t going to put anyone on this attack that he didn’t think was ready. He blinked, finally realizing that there was someone at the door. “Hold on…” he rolled up the blueprints, hiding them behind the couch cushions before heading to the door, opening it. “Oh. Hey. What are you doing here?”

[flyingdgrayson]

despite the hard-stuck way they were all raised, half in the shadows, agents of vengeance and terror, occasional pawns in batman’s endless war on crime in all its horrific forms, dick likes to imagine that the robins at least, those who wear the sidekick mantel for any extended period of time, can manage to find ways to connect and deal with one another in affable, if not affectionate ways. they are brothers-in-arms after all, in some form or another, and dick happens to be the oldest, something he takes to heart-- which is sometimes a good thing and sometimes a bad thing. he’s hoping, for the conversation he’s about to embark on as he knocks on jason todd’s door, that tonight it will be a good thing. for a long moment though, he’s worried he’s lost his chance, that perhaps jason is already gone out before dick could stop him, but then the wood swings open and dick sighs in relief. “hey! nothing much, i, uh… i want to talk to you. got a minute?” he doesn’t wait to be invited in before stepping around the younger male, trying not to let show just how irritated he is. “it’s kind of important, and yes, it has to be right now.”

[jackson-falahee]

Connor Walsh + his briefcase (3/?)

[flyingdgrayson]

wally, to dick, has always been something of a kite, the wind in his strings, the atmosphere curling beneath his wings, all bright colors and loud whistling and arms and legs and eyes all reaching for the sky, an icarus with no downward spiral, no black oceans to dive into. wally makes curlicues and dips sometimes, makes sudden turns in the air and occasionally falls back down to the earth, but when he’s happiest, when he’s most like himself, he’s back up in the gale, tugging and tugging and tugging, desperate not to get higher, but farther. and dick knows it’s not really his job to keep him a hold of him, to keep him grounded, to keep him tethered, but the urge to grab on and not let go is always his gut reaction to wally; any hint of flying is always sought after by the young grayson and maybe he’s hoping the kite will be strong enough one of these days to lift him up along with it.

when wally jumps into his arms, dick catches him because he always does and he always has, and even with the breath knocked out of him he still laughs and squeezes tighter, barely hearing anything the speedster is saying over the rushing in his own ears. a sting of reality threads down his spine like a freezing spear for a split moment-- the worry and helplessness he’d been struck with only two days ago, thinking everyone was dying and blipping out of existence, wally disappearing and dick having no answers about what had happened to him.

he bites that down though, clears his throat as the other pulls away, does his best to look normal, to seem casual and not at all about to cry or freak the hell out, his hands still desperate to touch wally, even if it’s just his arms and shoulders, the smile spreading on his lips bright but a bit broken. “maybe i’m waiting for you to carry me over the threshold like a married couple-- that’s the tradition isn’t it? how rude!” he laughs and shoves his friend playfully, walking past him and into the apartment before such a silly suggestion goes to wally’s head and he actually tries it.

the place isn’t too bad, actually larger than the apartment dick had been living in back in bludhaven, although that’s been a few months now, but there’s something slightly off about it, something inherently suspicious, and he pauses mid-stride, dark eyes squinting for just a moment before a chuckle bubbles up. “i know you’re messier than this, wally-- did you clean? for me? without anyone telling you to? wow, character development. it really has been a long couple of weeks, huh?”

[still-not-hawkguy-blog]

If there was one thing Clint was grateful for, it was that this New York still had the best damn pizza in the world. He flipped his change up into the air, catching it easily and sliding it into his back pocket. He turned to head out the door, intent on wandering the city some more, seeing what had changed. As the door opened, he bumped into someone else, and his slice slid to the ground with a sad plop.

“Awww, pizza, no.”

[flyingdgrayson]

dick’s been to new york a few times now, in and out of the city for various missions and wayne enterprises expeditions, but there’s something about this particular new york that sits inside him strangely, seeps down into his bones like the rain that still haunts building walls and alleyway cement floors from a few hours ago, as though the musty cadence of it clings to his lungs. he’s not sure if he likes it or is discomforted by it, but he definitely misses home, definitely misses his own beat, his own hang-outs.

still. at least there’s a few prizes left in the world and this dimension isn’t as foreign to him as it could have possibly been ( what’s a new york without pizza though, right? ) and when his stomach growls, he knows exactly how to fill it. he steps around the corner towards the little shop in the downtown metropolis and collides smack against someone holding their own little slice of heaven, the piece falling to the ground instantly. “oh! i’m-- i’m so sorry.” his tone breaks with all the shock as though he’d killed someone, his eyes staring downwards for a second. “wow, today is really not working for me, it’s a conspiracy.” dark eyes shift upwards to the stranger. “i can fix this. let me buy you another.”

[flyingdgrayson]

he hasn’t seen her in a couple of weeks, months even, since well before she blipped out of existence and that still sits on his chest, still a weight he can’t forget, the way he’d barricaded himself inside the batcave for almost a month trying to figure out what was going on, trying to figure out how to save people. after damian disappeared without a notice, he figured out things were more drastic than he’d originally thought and began setting up communications with everyone he knew as best he could, but… there’s an awful lot of superheroes and dick’s just one guy; keeping track of them all is a nightmare and he’s never been as good at surveillance as barbara gordon.

he could almost feel the vaguely nervous energy drain out of zee as soon as they make eye-contact though, her gaze shifting over to his and finding a home there that she’d always had, the place inside him that he keeps warm for all the teen titan kids he’d fought with, bled with, won with, still somewhat his team even though it wasn’t his team anymore, the camaraderie difficult to break even if he wanted to. his grin mirrors her own, former boy wonder gleaming in the lamplight, just as bright as he’s always been amidst the shadows, and she has no idea how good it is to see her, to know she’s here, she’s safe, she’s still alive somewhere, after having lost her, after having lost all of them. air floods into his lungs after what’s felt like a year.

he swallows down that gut-urge to grab her and hug her, crush the two of them together and pummel her with questions, because they’re still on the job, because there’s still work to be done, because ignoring the softer sides of his personality is something he’s been trained to do since he was prepubescent, the batman burning his nerves to charcoal. “aww, won’t he be cute, all fluffy and helpless. then again, he’s not doing much better right now.” an eyebrow lifts slightly as he makes his way over to the victim, the girl terrified and crouched against the wall and the dumpster. “are you alright, miss? do you need a ride home?”

she declines in stuttering sentences and clutches her bag to her chest even tighter as she practically flees the scene, high heels clicking against the asphalt, while zatanna drops the culprit and claps him in cuffs. “hey you’ve already done more than my partner has all week, although i’ll warn you, the dress-code kinda sucks and there’s no top hats allowed. you’d have to wear pants and everything, which i know neither of us are used to.” he shrugs playfully and winks at her, walking up to grab hold of the assailant’s arm to wheel him around towards the car that’s still idling a block away. “are you patrolling tonight or just being a good samaritan?”

[flyingdgrayson]

@darlingemma-frost

he comes into the world like a gasp, the collected atmosphere bursting through space and time, the lungs of the universe expanding just enough to strain, to threaten of breakage, of bursting, of rupture, and he collapses onto the street, the musty city evening air bleeding down from the walls of the alleyway buildings, down into his scraps of clothing, down into his cuts and scratches. his breath shatters through him like a sob, the white blinding light finally leaving him as he blinks and looks around himself, the onslaught of noises crashing over him-- it takes him longer to stand up than it does to realize that he’s not in gotham anymore, he’s not anywhere near home anymore, his mind whirling and churning, shoving pieces together of guesses he’d had before.

he’s been wondering about what’s been happening to the other superheroes, how they’ve all been disappearing, where they’ve all been going, what’s it all mean, how he’s going to get them back. he’s about to find out now, isn’t he?

he steps out into the busy sidewalk, the city that never sleeps bustling around him in a haze, the view of lady liberty vaguely blending out against the darkening skyline in the distance, but he doesn’t get enough time to really absorb it before tumbling a bit and running smack into another person walking along the sidewalk. instead of apologizing though, he grabs at her, hands wrapping around forearms, eyes blazing into hers, the time around them suspended for a moment. “oh... my god. is this real? did i just slip into the twilight zone or...? am i dead? i’m dead, aren’t i? is this a grungier, seedier corner of heaven?”

[flyingdgrayson]

@adarkknightrises

it’s been months, weeks piled onto weeks, days tumbled into mountains, hours weighing like brick tons of concrete down onto his psyche and he’s carried it because he’s had to, because he’s been trained to, because it’s what he knows and how he operates and sometimes he’s almost certain he wouldn’t be able to recognize himself if he wasn’t trying to lift the whole entire planet up anyway most of the time, but these particular months have been difficult simply for the uncertainty of them all. every heartbeat flooding him with questions, every midnight past burning a hole in his equilibrium-- once again, gotham left in his hands with no word of goodbye, no clue as to why.

and he’s done his best, but he’s here now, racing through hallways with a scrap of paper between his fingertips, a name and door number scrawled across the white of it, information he’s not necessarily supposed to have, a burning, tightening hope coiled around his lungs. he doesn’t want to hope, doesn’t want to be wrong-- again. he’s already had a dozen false positives, a dozen leads that ended in nowhere, a hundred suspicions he’s laid awake mulling over instead of sleeping. where is batman? it’s not the first time he’s been left with that question, but the number on the paper might just be the answer.

he gets to the correct door and knocks on the wood of it in a panic, harsher than he’d intended but the nerves all along his body won’t let him relax, everything buzzing in his ears, jaw clenched tight, muscles drawn taunt. he can’t unwind. not until--

not until it opens and he locks eyes with its recipient, his mentor, the man who’d raised him, who’d saved him, who’d shaped him into everything he is right now, everything he’s come to understand; bruce wayne, tall and strong and completely not-dead. the breath in his lungs catches sharply, holds, exhales, everything in him straining to let go of a million nightmares. don’t cry, dick. don’t hug either. he nods once, gaze dropping for a moment, standing there in the hallway. “i knew it.”

[flyingdgrayson]

@zatannaxannataz

it takes quite a bit of convincing on his part, and a multitude of tests he has to retake in as quick a pace as he can manage, but he makes earning back his police badge a priority, even before establishing himself on the streets as nightwing again. honestly, it’s been a while since he’s played that role, having taken up the batman mantle for bruce’s five-month absence from gotham out of necessity, and he’s admittedly a little hesitant to fit into it again. not that he doesn’t love it and isn’t eager for it but… culture shock is a killer and dick wants his feet under him first just in case he has any more punches to take.

he misses his old partner though, misses his old squadron, his old precinct, everyone he used to know now looking at him like a stranger or a ticking time-bomb, the uncertainty of why he and other multidimensional refugees are here plaguing them almost as badly as it plagues him. they don’t trust him yet, so even though he makes it through testing with flying colors, he’s still something of an outsider trying to wear the black and blue. it doesn’t help that his new partner on these midnight, alley-watch shifts is blunt and unapologetic about his stiffened stance on how dick and the rest of his ilk should just ship themselves out into the atlantic with nowhere to land-- america fighting against the onslaught of immigrants, as though it’s not a country built from immigrants.

someone screams and hollers down a darkened lane and dick and his partner get out of the vehicle to check it out, splitting up to cover more ground, but by the time dick reaches the source of the sound, he’s not the only one who does; hand on his gun, stars in his eyes, the uniform slowing him down in a way his other uniform never would, he comes face-to-face with a young frightened girl, a criminal hanging suspended in the air, and the one and only zatanna zatara, in all her full, magnificent glory.

“well, isn’t this a show.” he grins a moment. “do let me know if you’re about to turn him into a rabbit, i’ll need to alert the zoos in the area.”

[flyingdgrayson]

@flash-me-a-smile

the lady behind the desk hands him the documents, her clothes as clean and clear-cut as her hair, as her atmosphere, as the world in which she has been created in, the universe she is constructed in, and dick wonders if this is why he feels so awkward, if this is the epitome of what it means for him to exist here, him only a kaleidoscope of a man in a world of black and white and grey and straight, sharp lines. and he’s never been one for those straight, sharp lines. but she hands him the papers and he’s filled with worry before his eyes even absorb the information, worry about his space, worry about his secrets, worry about what he’ll have to do in order to slip around another person to continue on with his work-- because city or no city, the job is never really finished. learned that one from the Big B himself.

but then he reads the words, the decree, the name of his government-assigned roommate and the grin that floods in across his features could convince deep-sea creatures of the sunrise, a mirror of plants blooming in summarized spring; he smiles like summer and chuckles, recognizing the name instantly. there is a god, and she is showing him favor. “wally fucking west. i can’t believe it.”

it takes him about thirty minutes to get to the building he’ll be living in for the foreseeable future, nothing but the clothes on his back, nothing but the breath in his lungs, nothing but the stars in his eyes, the excitement mixed in relief shining through him with every step that brings him closer to his room number. he slides the key into the lock and opens the door, doesn’t walk through though, doesn’t breach the threshold, not yet, not until he’s certain, not until he’s infallible, eyes searching, heart hammering. “hello…?”