#and as much as Dick never wants to entertain the option or idea of Bruce needing to be stopped

[dramatisperscnae]

👀 Dickie

[Send the thing, get a rating || accepting]

Bold for definite Italics for situational/verse dependent

Get to know: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS! Befriend: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS! Date: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS! Make love with: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS! Hook up with: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS! Protect: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS! Help: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS! Stop: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS! Kill: NEVER! | I'd rather not | Convince me! | Sure why not? | Yes please! | ALWAYS!

[autisticcassandracain]

I have many thoughts on the weird phenomena in the DC fandom and the Batfam fandom specifically where probably the majority of people just straight up. haven’t interacted with the source material. and almost all of those thoughts can be summarized as ‘lmao that’s weird and mildly concerning’.

and because I’m annoying I will list them all here right now <3

1. To preface this post, I mean, obviously, comics are inaccessible as all hell, both in the disability kind of way and the ‘you need to understand the concept of hypertime to fully comprehend the DC timeline’ kind of way. Because of this, even if you don’t have a disability that prevents you from reading comics, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to look at the amount of comics you need to read to have even a base understanding of a character and go ‘no thanks <3′ and just enjoy fanart and fanfic in a vacuum. Ultimately, this is fandom, this is supposed to be fun, it doesn’t really matter.

2. That said, it’s VERY weird to me that the majority of this fandom just straight up hasn’t interacted with the source material, and moreover, that it’s considered rude to tell people that they should do so. It’s especially weird considering the amount of fanon-only fans I’ve seen who straight up have a superiority complex over canon. The idea that it’s gatekeeping to tell fans of something to actually interact with canon is just. so weird, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what ‘gatekeeping’ actually entails. 

3. But honestly I’m less interested in discussing the ways in which canon and fanon fans should interact with each other (personally, I think it would be helpful to create separate tags of some kind, but that’d require quite a big overhaul of the current fandom state) than in figuring out how this actually happened in the first place. On the one hand, it’s obvious; long-running superhero comics the way DC writes them have made themselves so thoroughly inaccessible that most people are simply too daunted to even try. Most media has a cohesive beginning and end (or at least, a planned end somewhere). Comics just... don’t.

But I do think it says something that, even among people who are clearly interested in the characters (since they have, you know, entire blogs about them), the effort to get into comics just seems to be too much to even bother. This really doesn’t bode well for the future of DC Comics. Obviously, I am no expert on anything at all ever, but I’d personally be surprised if DC survives beyond the few decades, at least in its current form/without a big overhaul.

4. But on the other hand, I don’t think the confusing state of DC Comics is the only thing to blame here. Fandom has a well-known problem with reducing any character down to archetypes to more easily ship and write fic/make content with. This problem is particularly prominent in fanfic, which, if you read enough of it, you’ll eventually start seeing not just the same tropes and trends, but essentially the same fics over and over again. And not just within the same fandom; everywhere, or every large fandom, at least. 

Fanon Batfam is entirely built on a bunch of those tropes; insecure/depressed sadboy Tim, team mom with optional hidden trauma/emotional problems Dick, bad boy with a heart of gold + sadboy combo Jason, abused sadboy Damian/angry easily-villified-for-fic-reasons monster Damian, good dad Bruce for found family fic and bad dad Bruce for angst fic, etc. This all culminates in a found family dynamic that’s generic and malleable to whatever fic the writer wants to write.

(This isn’t getting into the ship fic, which I avoid like the plague because the vast majority of it is incest, but I’d bet real actual money that the tropes in those fics fall under what is often preferred by the Migratory Slash Fandom.)

By having a decent excuse not to get into canon (the inaccessibility of comics) and a, by now, well-established fanon fandom, many fans feel free to use the batfam fandom as essentially an excuse to write whatever fic with reduced archetypes and tropes they personally feel the itch to write, without having to bother with even consuming a canon. This is compounded by the fact that canon itself is often contradictory and frankly bad, meaning that whatever interpretation of a character you want/need to go for your fic is at least theoretically backed up by canon (for example, you can just as easily cast Bruce as an abusive shithole dad who his kids need to get away from as a loving father figure who cares deeply for his children), which you can always use as a defense if people question your characterization.

5. This focus on fandom trends and tropes over actual creativity or care for the characters is also visible in the way bigotry manifests in this fandom; namely, in literally the exact way you’d expect. The female characters and characters of colour are shuffled to the side, non-existent, vilified, and/or reduced to harmful stereotypes. 

Barbara is probably the one I saw the most often in fanfic, but usually just as ‘Dick’s girlfriend’, and even then, she was often vilified for Dick angst (especially in fics about examining Dick’s trauma from his canon sexual assault; Kori also often gets the short end of the stick in those). After that, probably Stephanie, who fanon fans don’t really seem to know what to do with, so she’s basically just there as comic relief waffle girl, most of the time, though sometimes she can be used to either further Tim angst or further vilify Tim, whatever the fic calls for. Cass has gotten included more in batfam fics as of late, likely in response to critiques of fandom racism for leaving her out, but again, it’s clear people don’t actually know what to do with her. She’s often reduced to a racist stereotype of a quite, stoic therapist for whatever guy du jour needs it. That, or she’s in Hong Kong and just not there. Duke especially gets left in the dust in fandom, usually just being non-existent, but when he’s there, he’s almost always nothing more than the straight man for the actual fun characters to play off of. Talia probably has it the worst, though, and almost universally gets vilified by fanon stans in order to write sadboy Damian.

All of this is extremely predictable behaviour and falls entirely in line with general fandom misogyny and racism; ignoring or vilifying women and characters of colour, or using them as very minor characters at best. The only two characters of colour who aren’t regularly left out of fic are Dick and Damian, who are both also conveniently the two characters most often drawn and written in a whitewashed manner. In addition, there’s a real trend of demonizing Damian in fanon fics where he isn’t written as an abused sadboy, which I’d argue is in no small part due to fandom racism, considering Damian’s behaviour is in no way as bad as Jason’s, who doesn’t get anywhere close to the same demonization and gets woobiefied instead. I also find it convenient that Damian is probably the batboy who receives the most vilification in fic, when he’s the most obviously non-white of the batboys they’re willing to acknowledge.

Fandom often cries for more diversity in canon, only to ignore the diversity already there and focus on the same generic white guys. The batfam fandom is a brilliant example of this.

Which is not to say that fandom racism and misogyny isn’t present in the canon parts of the fandom (and canon itself); it absolutely 100% is. But I’ve found that canon fans are also more likely to like and care about at least one of the characters I’ve listed as ignored/vilified, and are willing to create and consume content for them, whereas fanon fans... aren’t, really. I’ve never seen a fan of fanon Cass the way I’ve seen fans of fanon Dick, for example. Obviously, this could just be by coincidence, or I’ve just surrounded myself with people like that, but it’s been a trend I noticed. Racism and misogyny is present in every part of this fandom and should be addressed as such, but I feel like it manifests the most blatantly in the fanon parts of this fandom. 

(I’d also recommend the articles Migratory Slash Fandom’s Focus and Beige Blank Slates, which expand more on the type of fandom racism I think is especially prominent in the batfam fandom, as well as literally every article in the What Fandom Racism Looks Like series.)

6. All this leads me to conclude that the majority of fanon fans don’t actually like the characters all that much; they’re convenient excuses for them to participate in fandom. Which I also think is, in no small part, a reason why so many of them react so negatively to being told to pick up a comic; they came to this fandom specifically to consume it as a fandom, because they wanted the fandom experience without having to consume a canon. 

This is not a phenomena unique to the batfam fandom (again, see the Migratory Slash Fandom), but it does fascinate me. While fandom is often said to be an experience focusing on transformative art, I think it’s also safe to say that, especially as fandom has become more mainstream, an increasing amount of people are looking to it less as a way to engage with their favourite pieces of media, and more as a type of media in and of itself. I think the reasons for this are similar to the reasons mass media entertainment like the MCU are so popular; you gain a lot of enjoyment out of it with very little risk involved. 

By consuming the same fics of the same characters (or the same archetypes) over and over again, you are rarely at risk of being challenged or even disappointed. It’s often very clear right from the start whether or not a fic will appeal to you, and if it isn’t, it’s easy to just look for another one. It requires less emotional investment than most other types of media, even ‘popcorn media’ like the MCU - or, yes, DC Comics. It’s safe, it’s enjoyable, it’s comforting, like McDonalds, but just like McDonalds, it’s ultimately bland and unsubstantial. 

7, TL;DR. Ultimately, I don’t think it’s like, wrong to enjoy the fanon version of the batfam without wanting to engage with canon, and I certainly don’t think it’s okay to harrass people over it. But I do think it’s in large part based on a desire to interact with fandom rather than other pieces of media because people are scared of being let down by those pieces of media (or worse, just uninterested in actually thinking), which is mildly concerning. 

[im-hqlover]

Arkham Knight - Chapter 1: Calm before the storm.

A/N - Ok, Idk if it will work, but I will try. I wanted to warn you that this story is based on the Batman Arkham Knight game, and that I will make certain changes in the universe, I hope you don't mind.  (Btw, I wanted to thank again @aliasimagines to proofread the chapter.)

Warnings: Spoilers, anxiety disorder, psychological terror? (maybe not yet in that chapter)

Pairings: Richard Grayson (Nightwing) x Reader (in that chapter / arc)

Y/n = your name (the reader is female)

d/n = dog name (the dog is male)

Words count: 1915

Next chapter: Coming soon.

Y/N's INFO:

Gender: Cis-Female

Sexuality: Straight 

Height: Short 

Weight: Not Defined 

Skin Color: Not Defined 

Hair Color: Not Defined 

Eyes Color: Not Defined

Other details? No

=-=-=-=-=

9 months. It's been 9 months since the Joker's death, and I knew something wasn't right, I felt that, since his death the crime rates have decreased, this should be a good sign, but... I feel like it was calm before the storm starts.

Today was October 30th, the day before Halloween, it was a nice day, I mean, I like to watch Halloween movies, give candy to children, see and create costumes, and maybe go to a Halloween party... pfff, obviously I don't go to parties. But other than that I think Halloween is cool, a great autumn day, cold days to stay under the blankets, watch something on tv and maybe customize some pumpkins.

My day was going as well as any other, Richard and I had agreed to spend today and tomorrow in my apartment, I was happy that he was coming to stay here with me, at least I wasn't so alone, I mean, I have (d / n), but well... he's a dog, so he doesn't answer me verbally, so it's good to talk to someone instead of just hearing my voice and the sound of barking. I was putting food for (d / n) when I heard knocking on the door and I ran to answer it, when I opened it I came across my boyfriend.

- Richard!

- Hey baby. - He smiled at me, put his arms around my waist and kissed me, I kissed him back and put my arms around his neck.

After we kiss, he walks into the apartment and places his backpack and motorcycle helmet next to the couch, I closed the door and go back to the kitchen.

- It looks like you worked hard to decorate the apartment. - He said while looking at the decorations, such as pumpkins and skeletons papers that I hung from the ceiling and also other details that referred to Halloween.

- Yes, I worked all week to do everything, but since I am not working and there were no classes this week, it was one of the only things I could do to distract myself. - I said while looking proudly at my hard work.

- It's wonderful.

- Thanks. - I say while blushing. I look at the oven and notice that the cookies were almost burning and I ran to get them out.

- The smell here is great, what are you cooking?

- Cookies. I hope it haven't missed the point. - I put the tray on the counter and Richard comes closer and look closely.

- That still needs to be painted. - I say while watching my boyfriend.

- They must be delicious, can I get one?

- Feel free, as long as you don't eat them all before painting them, I think everything is fine.

- I promise to leave at least one. - He spoke and touched my nose, he knew it irritated me. I crossed my arms and looked at him seriously. - Maybe two. - I rolled my eyes and laughed lightly. He comes over and wraps his arms around my waist. - Hey, you know I can't resist your cookies.

- You can't resist any food Richard. - I said and laughed as I put my arms around his neck.

- You know me. - He kisses me until (d / n) barks and we get scared.

- Looks like someone is jealous, isn't it (d / n)? - I say leaving Richard's arms and going towards my dog, and I pet him, after doing that I wash my hands to go back to my work in the kitchen.

- I'm just missing one thing. - He said while sitting on the couch and (d / n) lying on his feet.

- What?

- Pumpkins.

- Oh, I just didn't know where to leave them. - I get some pumpkins that were in my fridge.

- Wow, how many did you do?

- Four so far. I was planning to make two more after the cookies.

- Wow. This is incredible (y / n). He got up from the couch and looked at the pumpkins more closely. I smile shyly and continue making preparations to decorate the cookies.

While I was decorating the cookies, Richard decided to put some film on.

- Hey (y / n), what movie do you think we should watch?

- Hmmm, I don't know, how about ... The nightmare before christmas? - He smiles and nods in agreement placing the film right after.

While I was decorating the cookies, Richard stayed in the living room "watching" the movie, because he was actually writing something on his laptop. I saw it at a glance, it must have been a police case or something related to thieves.

When I finished the cookies I put them aside and went to carve another pumpkin, it didn't take long for me to hear the footsteps of a certain person coming to steal cookies.

- I loved the expressions of your pumpkins. - He said approaching slowly, like he wanted nothing with anything, but of course I knew what he wanted.

- You can get the cookies, you don't have to make a scene Richard. - He smiles and takes some cookies. - I loved this one. - He said showing a bat-shaped cookie with blue details.

- I made it especially for you.

- I am honored - He does something like a reverence and starts to eat the cookies, he supports his back on the counter and watches me make a drawing on the pumpkin.

- Oh, by the way, I have something that I think you will like. - I go to the fridge and get a pumpkin pie.

- I think I'm going to put on 10 kilos this Halloween. - We both laugh and put the pie on the counter.

- Since I had a lot of pumpkin pulp, I didn't want to waste it, so I made pies.

- Did you do more than one?

- Yes, I did if I'm not mistaken 7 pies.

- And what are you going to do with so much pie?

- I planned to maybe see with the neighbors if any of them would like it... on second thought, maybe they also already have pie... but, I think it is worth trying and see if someone would like it... - I say while I think about the possibilities of what people would like of pumpkin pie. - Maybe I'll give Alfred one, do you think he'll like it?

- I'm sure he will, you know that Alfred loves anything you give him.

- Yeah... I hope so.

- You don't have to worry about it, believe it. - I smile awkwardly and he kisses me on the cheek. - By the way, what do you think about watching Friday the 13th?

- It may be, I think I never watched the movie, so... I think it might be a good idea. - I shrugged while watching my pumpkin.

- Have you never watched Friday the 13th?

- I have almost pretty sure not.

- So it's going to be the perfect movie. - He smiles and goes back to the couch, with some cookies and a piece of pie of course.

The hours go by and it gets close to 18:00, it was getting dark outside. Richard and I were entertained watching the first Friday the 13th movie, everything was fine, just a few scares here and there and holding Richard's arm and resting my head on his shoulder, until I hear a scary voice outside. 

- Did you hear that? - I ask him and he answers positively, we got up from the couch and went to the window. My apartment had a view of some of Gotham's big screens, so it was possible that we could see Scarecrow talking. He was talking about his fear toxin, saying that tomorrow it would look like child's play, my heart started to beat faster. 

It didn't take long for the city to start being evacuated, I grabbed my backpack and put on everything I thought was most important to me, as Gotham was supposed to be dominated only by villains I couldn't leave it here to them. 

I got my laptop, pen drives, pictures of people important to me and a few other things. Richard took his backpack and helped me to take what I needed to my car, as he had come on a motorcycle, (d / n) couldn't go with us, so my car was the best choice, we put everything in and Richard went to leave his motorcycle in a safe place, or at least he thought it was safe.

- I drive the car. - He spoke while making hand gestures asking me to give the car key. - You aren't in a position to drive and you know it.

I agreed and handed over the key, I was very anxious, probably already having an internal panic attack, so letting him drive was the best option, as he was already used to dealing with this type of situation.

As there were so many cars and buses evacuating the city, it took us a long time to leave the island and head towards the wayne mansion, probably one of the safest places at this time. When we got there, we removed (d / n) and our belongings, and Alfred was already at the door ready to help us. 

- Master Dick, Miss (y / n), I'm glad you are well. 

I was still in shock with everything that was happening, so many things going on in my mind, I was freaking out, I was exploding internally, I couldn't answer anything, because I felt that if I said anything I would collapse.

- Actually (y / n) is not well, this whole situation has affected her a lot.

- I understand, come inside Miss (y / n), I know something that will help you. - I looked at Richard before entering the mansion and following Alfred into the kitchen, he started making tea and at the end put it on the counter in front of me. - I know you are not a big fan of tea, but I recommend taking this one, it will calm you down.

- Thank you Alfred. - I say with a slightly shaky voice and take the hot cup, I wait for the tea to cool down a little before taking a sip of the drink, it was not as bad as other teas I had already tried, but it wasn't something I would take all hour. Alfred leaves the kitchen and goes to another room. I spend some time alone in the kitchen, watching the cup of tea, until Richard arrives in the kitchen and approaches me.

- I know that all this is messing with your mind, but I know that soon everything will be resolved, I know that Bruce won't let anything happen to Gotham and will do his best to save everyone he can, and so will I will help in whatever I can. And I swear I won't let anything happen to you.

- Thank you Richard. - I leave the cup on the counter and hug Richard, who returns the hug. - Thank you…

We stayed like that for some time until Richard breaks the hug and says he has to see some important things, but that he would be back soon. I go back to drinking the rest of the tea and when I finish I watch my shaking hands, I hear the sound of dog steps approaching and I see that (d / n), he knew something was wrong, I approach of him and I pet him, at least that made me calm down a little. I decide to go to the living room and look out the big window and observe the dark, rainy night that was at that moment. I hope this nightmare will end soon.

=-=-=-=-=

Masterlist

[bigskydreaming]

Since I think a lot of people don’t know this - its actually a very, very, VERY long-running and consistent plot point in EVERY version of DC continuity that Dick Grayson has always made a point not to touch any money from Bruce unless there’s literally no other option and its not even for himself. Like, this is a BIG deal to him.

You know how Dick makes a huge deal about being Nightwing instead of Batman, and wanting to be his own man, and have things on his own terms instead of only being what Bruce made him or taught him or gave him? Like, its literally the same thing here. Dick is generally pretty consistent in the things he does.

So when Dick and Bruce were on the outs after Dick moved out and became Nightwing? Dick lived off the same funds as the rest of the Titans. When Dick moved to Bludhaven, he had a 9-5 job as a cop *shudders but forever blames right-wing Chuck Dixon for that, it wasn’t Dick’s fault* and when he moved to NY after Bludhaven was destroyed, he worked as a gymnastics instructor. When Dick bought Haly’s Circus, he explicitly did so with the money he’d gotten in the settlement from his parents’ wrongful death suit against Zucco’s estate, and he lost all of that money when his circus was destroyed by Firefly, on Blockbuster’s orders.

The only time Dick has EVER been shown living in any kind of luxury after moving out when he was a teenager (under eighteen for the record), was when he lived in the Wayne penthouse with Damian and Alfred, and operated out of it as Batman, in Morrison’s Batman & Robin run. And like, this was pretty much just for Damian’s sake, and because Alfred was living with them too, and because he literally couldn’t operate as Batman the same way as he had as Nightwing, just out of his own loft apartment. Not to mention he was expected to operate as the CEO of Wayne Enterprises in the wake of Bruce’s ‘death,’ even though as he consistently reminded people, he never ever ever wanted anything to do with the company. And its not really a coincidence that one of the first things Dick did as Batman was pack up the Batcave, close up Wayne Manor, and move into a considerably smaller location.

In the New 52, once AGAIN he was explicitly shown purchasing Haly’s Circus with his own money, his inheritance from the suit brought against the Zucco’s for his parents’ murder. This time around, it was an even BIGGER deal, because in the first arc of the new Nightwing series, when his family’s connections to the Court of Owls was revealed and three of his childhood friends who had stayed with the circus and thus been trained as assassins all turned on him and tried to kill him, no big deal there right.....like, the circus was wrecked in a big opening night event Dick was a guest at. So in the next arc, Dick decided he wanted to try and repair the circus, and he also wanted to do something for Gotham in general. He worked with Lucius Fox to present every bank in the city with a proposal for loans/funding to buy Amusement Mile, the destroyed ruins of what had once been the entertainment center of Gotham twenty or thirty years ago, at Gotham’s height, and he wanted to have Haly’s Circus stay in town as a permanent fixture at the heart of it. He explicitly said it was his way of trying to bring a little light back to Gotham and make a cheap, affordable way for all the city’s citizens to have a regular place to visit or gather for fun and family bonding, etc.

Every single bank in town rejected his proposal, because he specifically didn’t want to go to Bruce for the money or Wayne Enterprises, and because Dick himself was considered too high a risk because of everything that had happened with the circus in the previous arc. No one wanted to fund what they figured would be a losing venture. So, instead of going to Bruce for the money, STILL, Dick instead asked Lucius to go back to the banks and tell them he’d personally commit EVERY SINGLE CENT he had from his parents’ wrongful death suit, if a lender would match it.

Guess who the ONLY lender that would match it was? The bank run by Sonia Zucco, the freaking DAUGHTER of the very man who’d murdered Dick’s parents. And Dick STILL TOOK THE DEAL.

(Which for the record, resulted in the circus being targeted and burned down AGAIN in the very NEXT arc, this time by the Joker, who also murdered two of Dick’s childhood friends still left with the Circus, one of whom had been the one Dick personally worked with to try and get everyone to stay in Gotham. So, y’know. Just mentioning that).

But yeah, also, also, Dick is the only kid in the Batfamily (other than in YJ where he attended Gotham Academy) who attended public school, at his OWN insistence. In Robin: Year One, back in the pre-Reboot continuity, he fights Bruce on this when he’s still only like nine years old, because he refuses to go to a stuffy private academy if he can’t be homeschooled like he was when he was living with the circus. Additionally, he remains the only kid in the Batfamily who has CONSISTENTLY held down a regular 9-5 job, working in college and his early Nightwing years as a bartender, then a cop, then a gymnastics teacher, most recently a cab driver as Ric Grayson.....like, he doesn’t live off Bruce’s money. He refuses to. Always has. Its a thing with him. A really, really big thing.

So just saying, please don’t write Dick Grayson as some spoiled rich kid just because through no choice of his own he grew up in Wayne Manor either from the age of eight, ten, twelve or sixteen, depending on what timeline you’re referring to. (Especially if its just to make some kind of pissing contest between him and Jason and show how Dick has no idea ‘how the other half lives’ and is so privileged and out of touch, please, I am TIRED, that is not a THING with them, it has NEVER been a THING with him, because Dick is the only kid in the Batfamily who actually DOES get where Jason comes from with half his priorities).

But yeah, Dick Grayson is not some spoiled rich brat because of who his adopted father is (also also, don’t forget he remains the only Batkid who wasn’t adopted until well into his adulthood. Despite living with Bruce twice as long as any other Batkid, every single other Batkid was officially adopted and LEGALLY more of a Wayne and more Bruce’s heir than Dick was the ENTIRE time he lived with Bruce). He pays his own way, he prioritized public schooling, having his own income, and actively and consistently puts his OWN funds towards public works for the cities he lives in.

This spoiled, entitled, privileged Dick Grayson we often see in fanfics, who is out of touch with the common man or whatever, is literally the COMPLETE OPPOSITE of who he has ALWAYS been written as, in EVERY canon.

[justicealwaysprevails]

decisive inaction.

WHO: Bruce @justicealwaysprevails and Jason @thatsjasonfkntodd WHERE: The Manor WHEN: April 30th, 2020 WHAT: Jason is forced to move back to Wayne Manor once Joker makes Red Hood’s identity public.  

Jason: The longer he waited to relocate, the higher the chance that someone was going to start looking for him in the right place. Jason gave himself a day after the puppet show to pack up most of his things, or at least the important ones, and showed up at the manor with two suitcases. Everything else had been put into storage, and he’d already given notice that he was vacating the apartment. Anyone looking for Red Hood there wasn’t going to find a damn thing.

What he hadn’t done ahead of time was tell anyone where he planned on going instead, mostly because he loathed the idea of it entirely. He left the suitcases in the foyer and considered looking for Bruce, but he wasn’t stupid enough to actually believe he didn’t already know he was there. Instead, he spread his arms out to the sides and did a half spin. “Are you going to come welcome me home or pretend I’m not here?” He’d hear him. Bruce: After what happened at the theater, Bruce considered reaching out to Jason and asking that he come to the manor. Jason would turn it down, he was sure of that, so he made a conscious decision not to. He would rather say nothing and not completely eliminate the option. He wasn't ever ignorant when it came to Jason's line of work and the choices he made, although it would seem so by how little he interfered. It wasn't a fight worth having, not right now, and Bruce told himself it was something he could handle any time. Now that his identity was public knowledge, it made everything much trickier.

He saw him arrive. Before Jason even finished speaking he was there, exiting the kitchen just down the hall from where he stood. "Welcome home." The tone was hard to read in being nothing but matter-of-fact and direct. His gaze was more scrutinizing. "We need to talk." Motioning for Jason to follow, he turned to lead the way to the cave. This wasn't something he wanted anyone overhearing. Jason: “I see the detective work is in full swing today.” Obviously they needed to talk. He had plenty of things to say, as he always did when it came to Bruce, and no more reason to hold back. His problems had finally directly and irreparably interfered with Jason’s life.

He followed him down to the Batcave. He’d been there a handful of times recently with Dick and Tim, but it always had a different feel with Bruce. They were stepping into his space, his element, and it always gave Jason a little stab of something. Resentment, maybe. “Are we drawing straws or are you going to go ahead and give me your one sentence review of the situation?” Bruce: The only response to Jason's barbed comments was no response. Bruce learned that a long time ago. It encouraged them otherwise. He'd given up discouraging them a long time ago, but at least the back and forth didn't escalate this way.

"No." He sat down, not bothering to ask Jason to do the same. He would choose to sit or he wouldn't. "I need you to tell me if I'm missing anything." Nodding to the screen, he opened up a file that contained the information on each and every person that had a reason for a grudge. There were many. Jason: Jason did not sit. He didn’t feel like acting comfortable there, because he wasn’t. Not with Bruce. Not with the situation they were in. Not with any of it.

The file as large enough that it took a second to load. Of course it was. “Can I sort this by country or...?” Jason folded his arms and stared up at the screen and for a few seconds he did entertain the notion of going through the whole exhaustive list to see who was on there and who might not be, but he gave it up quickly. “You’re missing plenty. I don’t need you to put my life in a bunch of neat little files so you can think you’ve got it all figured out and taken care of. None of this should be happening. Do you get that? Did you give one single fuck about dragging all of us down with you when you threw your name out? It was just luck that we’ve had this long without all of us getting announced.” Bruce: Instead of responding, Bruce pulled up a simple sorting system that was simple to navigate. He demonstrated twice before moving back so Jason could have access to the screen.

He was expecting this. The others hadn't said anything, not yet, but that didn't mean they weren't thinking the same thing. In the past he'd learned the hard way that some of his responses weren't be acceptable. There was a time when he stopped trying to consider how Jason might receive what he had to say. He never saw results from the effort. Sometimes it seemed to make it worse. Alfred advised him against "giving up", even though that wasn't the way Bruce looked at the situation at all. "You're right, Jason. But it's always been that: luck, and we were running out. Too many people knew my identity before the carnival. Joker certainly knew." He no longer shied away from the name. "I had more control of it this way. My biggest regret is that I did not talk to everyone before it happened." Jason: “No, it hasn’t always been luck. I worked my ass off staying under the radar all these years. I’ve got safehouses in places nobody would think to look. If anybody tracked me, they didn’t track Jason Todd, who got buried ten damn years ago in Gotham City. They tracked Red Hood.” Jason raised his hand, one finger pointed at Bruce, “Here’s a free tip for you, Dad, your control over a situation isn’t the most important thing in the world. It wasn’t your control that should have mattered.”

It didn’t matter how much distance Jason put between himself and Bruce or between himself and the rest of the family. He could never actually get away. Bruce always thought he was owed some kind of say, some kind of consideration, some kind of control, just as he’d said. “I built something for myself, something you didn’t want, and now your ‘biggest regret’ is that you didn’t get to give a heads up before you fucked all of us? What a joke.” Bruce: “It has, because your name is tied to mine. No matter how careful you are, you can't change that." Bruce maintained a quiet, even tone despite Jason's obvious anger. "The most important thing to me was to minimize the impact as much as I could. That required having control over the circumstances. No amount of caution prevents a telepath from reading your mind, or the minds of those who know who you are, and even if you eliminate all loose ends the risk remains. It is naive to believe otherwise."

There were plenty of times when Bruce hadn't said to right thing to Jason or Dick and received a similar response. He knew by now there was no point in trying to anticipate what the expected answer was. Sometimes it could make a difference with Dick, but Jason could find malevolence and surmise meaning when none was meant. "What do you think my biggest regret should be?" Jason: “No, I can’t change that,” the sudden shift to bitterness implied that he’d wished several times that it wasn’t the case. What would have happened to him if he hadn’t tried to boost those tires? He had no idea. Maybe Crime Alley would have eventually killed him, maybe he would’ve met Batman in a whole different capacity later on. He had a lot of what ifs and maybes he’d never have answers to, because it was just as Bruce said...he was all tied up to him instead. The Wayne name was inescapable and Jason didn’t even wear it, really. He was not, had never been, and never would be Jason Wayne. He fixed Bruce with another flat look. “Yeah, that’s me. Naive.”

That question had a fresh wave of irritation bubbling up like he never felt around anyone but Bruce. “Oh, I’ve got a laundry list. You can take a little column A, a little column B, mix and match...” Where should he start? With the obvious? Making it about himself and only himself would be letting Bruce off the hook too easily, though. “But why don’t we start with what you just said. Once you touch something, once you pull someone into your fucking,” he made a vaguely round gesture in the air in front of him, “orbit, you take away any shot they’ve got at any other life. And for what? To be part of your cause? The big legend? I’m sick of going down with this ship, Bruce. I’ve done it too many times, and so has everybody else.” Bruce: Bruce did think that Jason was still naive in some ways, but he didn’t bother explaining or clarifying. He had no doubt of the implication Jason made, nor did he question his sincerity, but it still affected him. That was something that he had accepted wouldn’t fade or change with the passing years. The only thing he could do was minimize interference in Jason’s life while still upholding his personal sense of justice. He’d turned a blind eye more frequently in the recent months.

“I know.” There was no use in denying simple truths. It wouldn’t do either of them any good and Jason would see through it. “If you’re asking if I regret putting you in danger, then yes. I do. If you’re asking if I regret adopting you as my son, then I am unable to give you the answer you're looking for." There didn't seem to be a way to separate the two. He'd kept Dick away from the batcave for some time, but Jason knew him as Batman first. Jason: Jason ran his hand back through his hair and couldn’t help the sharp, humorless laugh that slipped out. “It’s funny when you say shit like that, because from where I’m standing...it was more like I was a pity project and then a sidekick, not a son.” On paper, sure. Sometimes it seemed to dawn on Bruce and he remembered, like he had right then, but all the other parts for them never lined up. He’d wanted a father, in the beginning, but he’d been quick to figure out that he wasn’t going to get one in Bruce Wayne. He was going to get Batman. It was Batman’s opinion of him that mattered, and Batman’s opinion that he could never live up to.

“But I think maybe congratulations are in order, because you’re getting what you want now. Red Hood is down for the count for awhile, and I’m stuck here until I have a better option.” He turned his back on him like he meant to walk away, but all he did was take a couple of steps and keep talking.  “After all this time and all this bullshit, you’re still letting Joker do this to all of us.” Bruce: "You weren't the first orphan I found living on the streets of Gotham, or the last. I didn't pity you." Bruce had plenty of projects and a myriad of ways to help. There were a dozen other routes he could have taken. "And if I only wanted a sidekick, there are much less complicated ways. I wanted you to be my son, or I would have taken you in as a ward." Dick was his ward for several years before Bruce officially adopted him. It wasn't a move he made thoughtlessly.

It always came back to Joker. Bruce had turned away, as if he were looking at the screen, but the very name made his body stiffen. "I had hoped revealing my name would take away that power." He never thought Joker would take the extra step to reveal the identities of everyone around him, even though it was a step realized now he should have anticipated. Jason: I wanted you to be my son. Jason tensed and curled the fingers of one hand hard against his palm. “Could have fooled me.” It wasn’t as if Willis Todd had given him the best gauge for what a father was supposed to be before he’d been killed, but he was still damn sure that Bruce had missed a lot of marks. If he hadn’t seen him pull it together for Tim and Damian, maybe it would’ve been a little easier to stomach, but he knew now that Bruce was capable of it and just...hadn’t.

“You can’t take power away from him!” he snapped. “The only way it’s gone is if he’s dead!” Just because Bruce had changed the stupid fucking game he played with Joker didn’t mean that the clown was ever going to stop playing it. Bruce: It wasn't a sentiment Bruce ever expected Jason to believe. Alfred encouraged him to say it anyway, for reasons he didn't fully understand, but it was advice he'd chosen to take. "You were never afraid to challenge me," he continued, as if he hadn't heard Jason's comment. That was the quality that caught his attention in the first place. It was also what made the role of Robin so difficult for him to handle. Robin was there to support Batman, unquestioningly and obediently, and that never came naturally to Jason.

He knew Jason would never understand why Joker was still alive, why Bruce didn't choose to put an end to him once and for all, and there were times when Bruce would be hard-pressed not to agree with him. "Perhaps," he said simply, quietly. "But it has never been that simple." Jason: "You don't want a challenge. Not this kind. You want a challenge from fucking...Superman, not from me." Because Jason challenged too hard, got too far from what Bruce wanted, and in the opposite direction. If he was actually out of his mind enough to join up with the League, there was no way in hell Bruce would've ever actually listened to him. He was kidding himself if he thought otherwise.

Jason gritted his teeth so hard he felt his jaw ache until he relaxed it. "It is that simple. You just don't want it to be. The only reason Damian isn't dead is because Joker decided to use him for a different kind of message. How many bodies do you need to hold, exactly, before you stop making excuses?" Bruce: Bruce shook his head. "I asked you to join the league for a reason." He didn't know what motivations assigned to it, if any, but it wasn't an invitation he extended without fully intending to see it through - despite knowing what Jason's probable answer would be. "We don't often agree, Jason, but that doesn't mean I'm not listening."

That earned a longer silence. He hadn't anticipated what happened with Damian, but it made him more determined to rein the Joker in before it continued. Frowning, he looked up at Jason with an unreadable expression. "If you and Dick had managed to capture him, what would you have done?" Jason: “You wanna tell me what good listening does if nothing I say ever actually matters? Because all it means to me is that you’re not deaf.” Bruce didn’t bend, and if he did he definitely didn’t bend to or for Jason. He still couldn’t really comprehend why he’d asked him to join the League, but he knew damn well what it would have been like if he’d agreed to do it. It would have been him compromising, him bending, not Bruce, not the rest of them.

Jason turned to face him fully again. “I don’t know what Dick would have done, but I would have put a bullet between his eyes where it belongs.” He’d said it so many times, yet it still wasn’t done. Bruce: "It matters." Bruce couldn't say for certain how much influence Jason would have over the league, not when it came to certain points, but there were other discussions that could yield different outcomes. "You are more similar to them than you think. It is easier to see the differences." Killing was the glaring difference, even though Bruce was well aware of which members were not wholly against it.

It was what he thought Jason would say. He sighed, his gaze shifting back to the computer screens. "And you believe I have never wanted to do the same thing." It was a statement more than a question. "It isn't so simple for either of us." Jason: “Because the differences are what bite me in the ass, and they’re exactly why I’m only here because I don’t know where else to go.” Because Bruce had fucked it all up and left him scrambling again. “You know, sometimes I think maybe I really am an idiot, because I’ve never been able to figure out how you can look at me and spend your precious twenty words a day to just lie.”  Bruce wouldn’t call it that, but how was it not a lie to say things, make claims, and then not follow through on any of it?

“It doesn’t matter if you wanted to do it a thousand times, because you never did!” As soon as Bruce looked away from him, Jason cleared the distance between them so fast it looked like he meant to hit him. All he did was grab his shoulder instead. “Don’t act like I’m not standing right here. You’re going to keep looking at me this time, dammit. This is still happening because you’re letting it happen.” Bruce: "I am not lying to you." It was the only response he could give to cut through the accusation, but it wasn't something he could make Jason believe. At the end of the day, it didn't matter what he said or did - if he couldn't get through to Jason, then it all just fell on deaf ears. Bruce knew better than to give up, but that didn't mean he knew how to navigate the situation any better than before.

He did turn to face Jason, his expression stoic and grim, and he put his hands on his arms. It wasn't to keep him back. The gesture was instinctive, something he would have done with Tim, Dick, or Damian, and there was barely any strength in the grip at all. "I never did, but it wasn't because your life wasn't worth it to me, Jason. That will never be true, no matter how many times you say it, and I will never claim otherwise. That would be the lie." Jason: "Oh, really? So when the time comes and I put my mask back on and go enact justice my way, you're going to let me come right back here and you'll nothing to say because you're cool with it now?" Letting him into the League was condoning it. At the very least, it was complacency. When had Bruce ever actually been complacent? When had he actually let any of them just be themselves?

"If I was worth it then you would have done it, Bruce. I don't care how many times you say otherwise. I don't even care if you actually believe you're telling me the truth." He probably did think that, even. Jason knew how deep his convictions ran. Bruce might very well be utterly convinced that he meant what he was saying, but that conviction didn't change the reality of it - that Joker had killed him, he'd hurt all of them, and he was still out three walking, talking, breathing...

Bruce: Although he would never condone Jason’s methods, Bruce was more than aware that turning a blind eye to his actions in Star City suggested a level of complacency he rarely exhibited. “You and I will always have different ideas of justice, Jason. But perhaps that is what the world needs. There are enough heroes.”

He shook his head, frowning, but his tone remained even. “If I were to kill Joker, he would never die. His blood on my hands guarantees his immortality. There are greater punishments than death. And there are other ways to kill. You have your ways and I have mine. That doesn’t make what I said any less true.” It was a conversation they would never see eye to eye on, but he would continue to have it, as often as necessary, despite an instinctive urge to shut it down. That was a tendency he did his best to curb in recent years. “We have had enough conflict. I want to work with you, not against you.”

Jason: He half wondered if Bruce had been brainwashed. Maybe having his identity out to everyone had forced him to change the way he did things, but Jason wasn’t as naive as Bruce thought, and he wasn’t buying into his act of compromise. He didn’t believe it for a second. If he went along with it, the only thing that would happen was Bruce realizing his “mistake” as soon as he was actually confronted with it. Where would that leave Jason? Even more screwed.

Even if he had been entertaining the idea, the continued belligerence over Joker did away with it. “His blood on my hands guarantees his immortality. That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard. His blood on your hands wouldn’t kill and torment your family or terrorize and poison random citizens, would it? Stop trying to be poetic about cowardice.” Bruce: Disagreements like this always ended poorly, especially when  they were with Jason. There was little point in repeating himself when he knew Jason could never understand or be satisfied; it didn't matter if it were the truth or not. Bruce didn't know what Alfred expected to happen from his efforts, but he was confident this was not it.

"It could." The response was immediate, but he didn't intend on offering an explanation. "And it has the potential to do much worse, even now." Moving back, he returned to the computer. He would work on the leads he had with or without Jason's help. "Let me know when you're ready to hear the truth. I refuse to entertain your exhausting inaccuracies on my motivations any longer." Bruce: “Your truth is just that. Your truth.” Jason turned to go, even if he was stuck at the manor on a short term basis. “I’ll be out of here as soon as I’ve got something else set up.” There was nothing else to say, and he didn’t bother to look back again before going back upstairs.

[fandom-scribe]

Dick and Dami Week: Day 3 - Fear Gas/Injury

Title: The Hell of My Making

Word Count: 1,955

Author’s Note: The fics for day 1 and 2 are still in the works and will be posted later, I promise! Sorry if this is a bit confusing.

—

There was blood everywhere. It stained the walls and coated the floor like a sticky rug, filling the air with the tinny smell of iron. It clung to his hair, his clothes, his skin, his - his everything! The blood was like a second skin, wrapping around him until they were one and he was drowning in it.

And yet, through the blood, Damian was smiling.

The blood was his, Damian knew. It hadn’t come from his veins but it belonged to him all the same, like how a trophy belonged to the winner instead of the one who forged it. He had earned his current predicament with nothing but fear gas in his lungs and a sword in his hands. Damian looked around. The bodies were his too, he guessed. His punishment for getting gassed, his reward for overcoming the demons. All his.

“Mother would be so proud,” Damian hummed, simply to break the stifling silence. His smile softened into a grin, his head tilting to the side as his ears perked. Another sound followed his declaration, a pained groaned emitting from the sea of bodies. Damian’s muscles tensed, his hands gripping the sword between them so hard they shook. He had no idea where he was or how he’d gotten there or where all the slain humans had come from, but apparently he wasn’t alone. Damian just wanted to be alone.

Richard seemed to materialize out of nowhere. He stood there like a ghost, skin pale and muscles rigid. If it wasn’t for the heaving of his chest and the pained grunts escaping his lips, Damian would’ve thought him to be another hallucination. But Damian’s hallucinations never breathed and never made a sound unless they were screaming. They never showed pain, only anger and sometimes fear, and Richard showed neither of those things so he must be real. Which meant Damian was safe.

For now.

Maybe.

Damian tightened his grip on the sword.

Time passed by like molasses. It could’ve been minutes or hours before Richard made his move, Damian couldn’t tell. He was too busy trying to figure out the look in Richard’s eyes. He was certain it wasn’t fear or anger or anything dangerous, but it wasn’t anything good either. It was a swirl of things, too many to pull apart, until suddenly Richard closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened them again the look was gone, replaced by a terrifyingly blank look that had Damian practically quaking in his blood-drenched boots. Richard took a step forward.

“Stay back!” Damian ordered, the strength in his voice surprising himself. Richard froze once more, this time his hands coming up in a surrendered gesture. It was only when he moved his arms did Damian notice the large blood stain covering Richard’s torso. Damian’s chest tightened sharply. The stain was not spreading so maybe there was a chance that it wasn’t Richard’s blood. Maybe it was just a stain picked up from moving throughout the field of corpses, maybe Damian hadn’t injured him.

Damian felt like throwing up. He wasn’t fooling anyone. He had harmed Richard and now his brother would get his revenge. But there was nothing to fear, right? Because Damian was a master of the sword, could take him down with some extra determination. Richard would join his collection of bodies, his blood becoming Damian’s possession just like the others.

He could do this.

“Damian, put the sword down,” Richard said gently, still holding his hands up. His body shook ever so slightly from what Damian could only assume was pain and exertion.

“No. Leave.”

“I’m not leaving without you, Dami. Just drop the sword and come with me. We can fix this.”

“There’s nothing to fix! Leave!”

Until now, the world around Damian had felt soft, like all his senses had been stuffed with cotton and he was floating on a different plane of existence. But Richard’s presence filled the air with an annoying buzz that cut straight through his cotton world like a chainsaw. He wanted Richard gone, away from him where he would be safe. Damian was to remain here with his bodies and blood and muted senses, ruling over his kingdom in a way that would make his mother and grandfather proud.

(And who knew, maybe if he ruled well enough, one day he could leave behind this kingdom and join them once more. Maybe.)

The buzzing grew stronger as Richard shuffled closer, ignoring Damian’s orders to get back and the wavering sword aimed at his throat. Damian took a step back but it was useless: for every step back, Richard took two forward, until Damian’s back hit the wall.

“Damian please,” Richard whispered, and from this distance Damian could hear every pain-filled hitch of breath. For an aching second, the cotton-like feel of the world melted away, bringing everything to a sharp, overwhelming focus, and Damian wanted nothing more than to leave this place with Richard, if only to get the man to a hospital. But then he was gone again, back to his separated plane of existence, where only one fact was certain.

“I belong here.”

It sounded so final, like a life-long prison sentence, and Damian was suddenly all too aware that that’s exactly what it was. It was kind of funny in a way, how Damian’s final destination - the only place where he could easily fit in - was so much worse than the place he had tried to escape. Mother and Grandfather were definitely a more preferable option.

“No, Dami, you belong at home in the manor. Please, let me take you home.” By now Richard had one hand wrapped around his middle, his posture hunched, but he kept shuffling closer, his free hand reaching out.

“F-father would never let me back there.” Damian’s voice was a pitiful whine. He had no idea why he was even entertaining Richard, why he wasn’t listening to the sound of his mother’s voice in his head, telling him to run his sword right through Richard’s already wounded torso and finish the job.

“Bruce will understand, I promise. Maybe not right this second by he will because none of this is your fault. Do you understand that, Damian? It’s not your fault.”

“It is! I killed so many people. I-” The cotton feeling was fading fast and Damian was smiling again, but this smile was tainted with bitterness. He let out a self-loathing chuckle. “Drake was right about me.”

Richard’s head swung like a pendulum, back and forth and forth and back, as if he was trying to dislodge something from his ear. “No, no, no, you’re wrong!” he spat. “Tim was wrong! It was an accident, Damian, you gotta understand that. Bruce will have to understand that. We’ve all been victims to fear gas, all have done regrettable things under its influence. Just come home and let me fix this!”

Let me fix this.

The words slammed into Damian like a wrecking ball. There was no fixing this, no undoing the mass carnage Damian had caused, and yet Richard was still offering to try. He was always offering to try. No matter what Damian did Richard never seemed to understand that he was a lost cause. Richard was always willing to fight for Damian, even if it meant going toe-to-toe with Father. Damian was suddenly burning with the need to make Richard understand. He needed him to know exactly what had happened, exactly what would keep happening, and then - only then - would Richard finally see the picture and leave him be.

Richard’s hand darted out, slapping the sword out of Damian’s hand. The clatter of the sword was barely audible in Damian’s head as he darted forward, throwing himself into Richard’s open arms for what was most certainly the last time. Richard let out a pained groan, the man become breathless as Damian wrapped his arm tightly around his injured middle. Damian couldn’t make himself care. He couldn’t care about Richard’s pain or the blood seeping through Nightwing’s uniform and onto his face. All he could care about was the explanation on the tip of his tongue, the one that would finally open Richard’s eyes.

“They were trying to kidnap me,” Damian started. His cheeks were wet and his voice wavered but he pushed through, letting himself sink back into his cotton world. It wrapped around him like a comfort blankie, shielding him from the monsters hiding just out of sight.

“Who tried to-” Damian squeezed Richard tighter, purposely putting pressure on his wound to shut him up. Damian couldn’t be interrupted. “The shadows, they were alive. They were going to take me back to Infinity Island, back to Mother and Grandfather so Grandfather could complete his ritual and possess my body. I- I didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to be Grandfather’s new vessel. So I took my sword and I defended myself against them. Except they weren’t real and I killed the people I sworn to protect. In my desperation to escape my grandfather I wound up here and now I can never leave, Richard. I… I’d rather be with Grandfather than here…”

“You can leave, Damian. It was the fear gas-”

“You still don’t get it! This isn’t the first time I’ve killed, Richard! And it won’t be the last! I belong here because everyone else is already dead. I can’t hurt anyone else here except for you so you must leave!” The buzzing was back, causing Damian to desperately shake his head an attempt to dispel it. It was disrupting his cotton world. Damian liked his cotton world.

For a long time, Richard remained silent and Damian feared that it was too late, that the man had succumbed to his injuries. It was only the strong heartbeat against his ear and gently pressure of arms wrapped around him that told Damian that Richard was still present and alive.

“Damian…” Richard started slowly after far too long. “This isn’t the same as your other killings. Self-defense is not a crime, not in my books. You’ll only kill again - truly, cold-blooded murder - if you want to. And I know you don’t want to.”

“I-”

“Stop talking. You’re not in your right state of mind. If you don’t want to go home, at least follow me to the medbay. I’ll fix you up, get an antidote in your system, and you’ll rest. And then, when you’re safe and healthy again, we’ll talk, okay? Please.” And there was that word again. Fix. Richard still wasn’t giving up. A small keening sound broke it’s way past Damian’s lips and he became all too aware of his blurred vision and let cheeks. Richard was still here, still giving him an option.

Perhaps he wasn’t in his right state of mind. Maybe the fear gas was still in his system, maybe the scene around him wasn’t that bad and it was the gas making him see things. He wouldn’t know unless he took Richard’s offer. But Damian was scared. He was scared of the buzzing, of the weight of reality pressing in. He didn’t want to leave behind his cotton world, didn’t want to face the harsh truth and consequences of what he’d done.

“I’m scared.” The admission came out without consent, causing Damian to wince hard. Richard didn’t seem to notice, only holding Damian tighter despite his own discomfort.

“I know, Baby Bat. It’s okay. I’m right here. I’m gonna handle everything, I promise.”

With more fear in his heart than Damian ever knew possible, Damian pulled away, training his eyes on the ground, and grasped Richard’s hand. Richard gave a comforting squeeze and began to pull him along.

Together, they left.

[squiddybeifong]

Bonding

Day 5 of RobRae Week 2019:

--

Raven squeaked and fumbled around for his hand, some of the tension in her shoulders falling away as Dick’s palm slid against hers. Her amethyst eyes were wide and while she'd never actually admit to being overwhelmed, she was not too proud to concede that she may have been in a bit over her head.

And why wouldn't she be? She was surrounded by Bats: Cass and Steph had a cheek on each shoulder, Duke was aiming her a sympathetic smile an arm’s length away, Damian was in her face and all but interrogating her (if not for Dick’s and Duke’s hands pushed over his mouth, muffling the little bird’s words the best he could), Jason had silently nodded at her from his spot perched against the BatJet, Tim was praising her choice of tea (“That kind has a lot of caffeine in it for tea. It’s not coffee but good enough!”), Babs had given her an encouraging thumbs up but elected to watch the circus show alongside Jason, and Alfred had a plate of her favorite snickerdoodles in his arms, looking amused at all that was going on.

Bruce was just kinda there, but she knew he was watching her carefully. He still must not have been over his “no-metas” argument from when his oldest had brought home Kory that one time. But, for good or not, Dick had rubbed off on the mystic and she was hopeful that the dark knight would at least be open to getting to know her.

Especially since she fit into the family aesthetic so well.

Dick wrapped an arm around her shoulders, laughing as he shooed his siblings away, “Give us some space!”

He was positively cheeky at how excited everyone was to meet the love of his life, Don’t worry, we’ll all get used to each other soon. Become best friends and all that; especially you, Lil D.”

The swordsman’s nose scrunched up at his assertion, “You’re sure about that?”

“You’re the current Robin,” He stressed. Raven rolled her eyes as he declared, “Birds of a feather no matter what. Y’all just need some quality bonding time and bam!” Dick kissed her cheek, “Best buds in no time.”

“She’s a civilian.” He seemed unimpressed, but Dick told her enough about the kid to know how to get through to him, “I can still train.”

“Hmm,” Damian narrowed his eyes at her. His arms crossed, pleased with the idea. “After lunch sparring then?”

“Maybe tomorrow morning?” Raven fought back a smile at the frown that curled immediately the boy’s lips. He was definitely Batman’s son, that was for sure. The mystic shrugged a shoulder, her fingers brushing Dick’s again as she explained, “The trip here was a bit long.”

The boy let out a “Tch” but nodded, squawking as Steph shoved him out of the way. The blonde was excited, “But you still have time for doing stuff today, right?” She whipped her head from Raven to Cass and back again, “We really wanted to get to know you more. And not just like, as Dick’s girlfriend.”

“Oh?” Raven obviously didn’t quite get it so Cass spoke up, “You’re very… powerful. Well-known and…” The girl paused, trying to think of the word. Giving up, she jerked a thumb towards Steph, her smile obvious in her voice, “She has your posters.”

“Hey!” The blonde flushed, snapping her head back to the demoness, “Poster. I just have the one, actually.”

Raven sheepishly smiled, her eyes flicking to her boyfriend in astonishment, “I have my own poster?”

“Pssh,” Dick kissed her temple, “Of course. Why wouldn’t you have a fan-base?”

“And you know her best,” Steph mused aloud, a hand going to her chin. “That means you can help me impress her!”

“She’s literally standing right here.”

Luckily Raven looked amused and a tinge abashed at the attention, so Steph added, “But if we’re gonna spend time together, that means we should probably make it count. Do stuff we both-- all three of us like, right?”

Steph looked so excited at the prospect and kept glancing Cass’ way; while the Black Bat wasn’t as visibly antsy Raven could tell she was hopeful. Amethyst eyes glanced around the room, lingering on Duke as she aimed a soft smile his way, “I’ll have to find time to spend with all of you, but that sounds fun.”

She glanced over Steph’s head and smirked at the redhead, “We can invite Babs. Make it a girls’ night.” A not quite squeak slipped out and Dick let out a yelp as she grabbed his arm, leading him towards the controls. “We need to plan everything!”

Dick conceded with her tugging on his arm, wagging his fingers and blowing a kiss to the empath as he was pulled along. And with the acrobat no longer by her side there was another clamor for her attention. She appeased them the best she could; however, Tim was the quietest of the group (unsurprising, given that even Cass’ occasional signing was almost as loud as her siblings words) and Raven chose to follow his lead out of the BatCave.

She gave Duke and Cass a sympathetic wave as she heard the tail end of Damian’s instructions to them, deciding not to question why the youngest Bat felt it necessary to bring out the training flamethrowers for their sparring.

“Don’t mind Dami,” Raven glanced to the side and felt her smile widen at the sight of Barbara. She and Jason were the only Bats Raven had a chance to meet the first time she’d been invited to Gotham, way before romance was even an option between her and Dick. And now the redhead looked thoroughly entertained at all that had happened (and was bound to happen, given this family’s track sheet) as she wheeled alongside Raven, her olive eyes glancing at Tim. “You know about coffee?”

Raven shrugged, “Dick tries to get me to try it sometimes.”

“You’re about to get an… education.”

“On the necessity of caffeine?”

“On how insane Tim can get.” Babs’ grin was entirely cheeky as she admitted, “Jason used up the rest of the beans and didn’t refill them, so he was waiting until after you showed up to get as caffeinated as possible.”

“Should I say ‘oh no,’ or is this somehow gonna turn out okay?”

The lens of Babs’ glasses shone as they entered the kitchen, seeing that Tim had already made his way to the coffee pot in the two second lead that he had on them. “You should say ‘oh no.’”

“So, Raven…” Tim spread his arms and spun in a circle, a sleepy grin brightening his face, “You like your coffee with one sugar to two?”

Ignoring the look that Oracle sent her way, the demoness decided to be honest, “I’ve never had a full cup before.”

Babs palmed her face and wheeled back a few feet.

Raven blinked as, seemingly a second later, she was the sole audience to real life TED talk. Her head tilted to the side as she was introduced to a whirlwind of teas and coffees with Tim, trying her hardest not to smile as he walked her through how to roast the beans just enough to get all the caffeine out of them possible, taste be damned. The boy was oddly engaged and, admittedly, the topic was interesting (if a bit unexpected). Alfred’s kitchen also apparently had twenty hidden drawers just for coffee enhancements, but they would absolutely remodel to get Raven her own tea drawers ‘if she ever decided to move in.’

Her pale cheeks flushed at that, the heat burning down to her neck as Babs piped up, “Might as well start the renovations now, if Dick’s letting her fend for herself with us.”

Tim snickered at that, pointing out to his brother’s girlfriend a second later, “But you know what’s best for keeping sane in this house?”

“A cup of tea?”

He stuck his tongue out at Raven’s cheekiness and strode to the fridge. Tim pulled out a can and shook it, energy shining beyond his lethargic eyes, “A shot of coffee. Whipped cream on top.”

“A shot? Seems like coffee’s something I need to take down as fast as possible.”

“He’s actually done that before,” Babs casually added into the air.

There was a pause as Raven leaned it, squinting at the sleep-deprived teen. She wondered when the last time he had a proper night’s sleep was, but immediately tossed the thought out, lest she actually find out. Still, the mage had to know, “How long until you take in too much caffeine?”

“I know you’re just coming into the fam, but Raven,” Tim held up his coffee and sprayed a burst of whipped cream into his mouth, “Too much caffeine isn’t even an issue when it comes to me.”

Her head tilted to the side, her eyes narrowed in suspicion, “This seems dangerous.”

Babs let out a snort, “Yep.”

“And unwise.”

“That’s the idea.”

Amethyst eyes flicked to Tim and she decided that if she was in their house she might as well act like a Bat. Her arms crossed over her chest, her words resolute, “You can’t knock down a day’s worth of coffee in less than ten minutes.”

Babs let out a sigh but Tim looked excited. He winked at his undoubtedly future sister, speaking one word before tossing back the near scalding coffee, “Bet.”

Raven blinked, not sure whether to be alarmed or impressed at how he merely took another burst of whipped cream and went onto the next steaming cup. Briefly, she thought that Dick probably wouldn’t be too enthused that she wasn’t necessarily stopping him from doing this. But, if she was being completely honest, she was truly enjoying whatever this mess of her afternoon had become.

Although she did jump when Barbara nudged her side.

The redhead noted the tiniest crackle of magic on the girl’s fingertips and her face softened, remembering what Raven had told her of her powers when they’d first met. “You know,” She muttered, her brows inching up as Tim decided to simply down the whipped cream and coffee simultaneously.

Green eyes flicked to the mystic, “I’m surprised you haven’t needed to meditate yet.”

Raven shrugged one shoulder, “I rested on the way here.”

“Yeah, but we’re kinda a handful, empathy or not.” Another glance at Tim, who had somehow brought Alfred into his experiment. Babs tried to hold back a chuckle before she added, “We also brood a lot. I’m sure no one would hold it against you if you needed to chill out for a bit.” She gave Raven a knowing smile at the younger woman’s shifting, both of them knowing that she was right.

“Now that I think about,” Babs’ voice was teasing but a calm in the chaos that was Alfred silently tut-tutting as he watched Tim down coffee at a speed that shouldn’t have been possible, “There’s a little nook near the cave’s entrance. You know that carved mouse hole, like in the cartoons? It’s where Dick almost broke his arm trapezing over the statues?”

At the demoness’ nod Babs added, “It’s probably quiet enough for you to sneak in and out of if you want. I’d take you but we really don’t need Tim being too hyped up this early.” Her head tilted in thought and she pushed up her glasses, “Jay’s usually there whenever he visits the manor, though.”

She grinned at the empath, “But you two get along pretty well. And you can tell you’re there if you see ash piles around.”

Raven’s lips twitched in a smirk, ���You’re really telling me to follow the breadcrumbs?”

“More like the cigarette butts. Besides, it’s peaceful and we left him in charge of keeping Damian from interrogating you. You’ll be fine and probably--maybe alone.” Babs touched her arm and Raven smiled back, feeling closer to the redhead since the last time they’d met. And, if her smile was any indication, Babs felt the same.

A lazy laugh escaped her as she turned her wheels, ready to stop Tim from his ongoing lecture that Alfred was almost certainly tuning out, “I’ll save you a spot at the table.”

“See you at lunch, then.” Raven wondered if this was what having siblings was like and nodded once, turning towards the door before Babs could even begin to guess what she was thinking about.

She knew that Batman wasn’t a fan of superpowers in his city, let alone his manor, but she still let herself fall into the shadows, quietly making her way to to place Barbara had guided her to. Her heart light, Raven wondered if Dick was right to be so hopeful on the way up here; so far things were going well. She was actually bonding with others, as insane as it was to imagine. Her thoughts and movements faltered as she passed by some of the artwork and busts that lined the halls, wondering if her lover knew their origins.

Oh, well. She had a whole weekend to find out, maybe longer if Batman somehow took a liking to her as much as his children had.

Raven shook her head and stopped, reorienting herself before she got lost. Slipping through a crack under the door the mage blinked at the tiny pile of ashes just inside. She felt his presence before he noticed hers and let her body manifest again.

Jason didn’t pause his smoking as she walked up to him, simply putting down his phone and nodding at her. His lips split in a grin as she let out a sigh and she collapsed into the seat next to him. He nudged her with his shoulder, snickering at the scent of coffee that wafted off her, “You let Tim explain his coffees to you?”

“We made a bet and he actually started drinking all of them.”

Jason let out a noisy breath, not quite a laugh and not quite a sigh, “You’re more patient than me.”

“That’s a given.”

“And you’re finally letting some of that snark out! Look like you’re getting along pretty fine here.”

A curl of magic wordlessly put out his cigarette. Jason leaned his head back, a resound laugh rumbling out of him at her antics, “Basically a Bat already.”

His turned to look down at her when all she did was snort at his words, his smile secretive. Jason nudged her again, “Although we gotta wait til Dickolas gets the balls to ask you to make it official.”

Raven gave him a flat look, although the stare was weakened by the curl in her lips. She turned away from him and decided to pivot the conversation to a more expected route, “I thought you would’ve been trying to tell me embarrassing stories of him, maybe even bring out a video or three.”

“That’s not until he brings you over for Chrismukkah.”

She snickered, resting her arm on the couch’s back. Her violet gaze looked him over once, “And what about you willingly babysitting Damian like Babs said you were supposed to be doing?”

He smirked at her choice of words, “That’s not happening until Hell freezes over.”

Another pointed look, this time interrupted by the mage’s snickers. “Although,” Jason looked her over once, surprised and appraising that she was keeping a calm head in this midst of meeting this clusterfuck of a family, “I kinda thought B'd've run you off by now.”

“B'd've?” She snorted at the contraction, one brow rising in question a second later, “Is B for Bruce or Batman or…?” She let her words trail off at the new press of emotions around her. The empath didn’t acknowledge the shift as Jason’s gaze landed on something just beyond her shoulder, but she had a good enough idea when a cocky smirk lit up his face.

“B is for Bitch.”

He looked up as he spoke, grinning at his adoptive father as the man approached them.

Bruce aimed a pointed look Jason's way, his attention settling on the demoness right after. Raven sat up straighter but didn't speak, electing to simply observe him and the subdued emotions that he carried. Jason watched their stare off for a moment, a fist pressed into his cheek in mock-curiosity.

“Quite a party,” He drawled, snickering at the two sideways glares he received. The anti-hero shrugged and bounced up to his feet, not wanting to endure the thrilling conversation they were bound to have. He aimed an emerald wink Raven’s way and nudged his dad in the arm as he passed.

A calloused hand waved over his shoulder, “Later, you two. Have fun with whatever the fuck this is!”

Raven gaze flicked from his retreating back to Bruce’s face, not knowing what to say. But the Batman seemed busy with observing her, trying to determine exactly how much he could possibly trust her. So she decided to do the same, wondering how they could get along. They certainly seemed similar enough, if Dick’s opinion was anything to go by (and she trusted his opinion with everything in her).

After a minute Bruce broke the silence, his hands going to his pockets, “Glad to see you're getting along with everyone.”

Pale fingers drummed against her thigh, “No ‘else’ at the end?”

His chin twitched and a sigh escaped, Alfred’s earlier words echoing in his mind. The billionaire shrugged a shoulder and he got on with it, “Dick loves you so I might as well get to know you.”

“That’s almost sweet.”

“I still don't trust you whatsoever.”

Her lips moved from a straight line to a half-smile, “That’s not as sweet, but very obvious.”

“But,” Batman paused, deciding to be completely honest with this girl, “I didn't trust a lot of my allies at first either. And if you may be,” He all but grunted out the word, “Family… then I'll try.”

Raven bit back a hum at his words (and Barbara’s, and Tim’s, and Jason’s), wondering if Dick was introducing her like this for a reason. But this was an opportunity she refused to waste and she nodded at him, “So will I.”

The demoness paused and stood, tucking some loose hair behind her ear. Her face raised to meet him and she spoke, “I don't expect us to start over. I know that this distrust will be there for a while but I was hoping--” Raven cut herself off, shaking her head as her voice faltered.

Visibly making up her mind, the ex-Titan squared her shoulders and held out her hand. She looked into the dark knight’s eyes as steadily as she could, “I'm Rachel, although I prefer to go by Raven.”

He stared at her for a long second, then grabbed her hand. They shook and he introduced himself, “I'm Bruce, I prefer being called Batman.” Raven was stoic despite the wave of disappointment that filled her and he rolled his jaw, “But you can call me B. Most of my kids do anyway.”

She let out a tiny breath at the intent behind his words and a genuine smile formed. “It’s very nice to meet you B,” Raven’s hands clasped in front of her stomach, her thumbs rubbing against each other, “I'm in love with your son.”

“I can tell.” The closest thing to a smile curled his lips, “He's desperately in love with you too.”

“Yeah?”

Bruce shrugged again, but this time there was some humor in his stance. “He all but threatened us to do our best to make you feel included this weekend.”

A quiet laugh escaped her, “Did he really?”

“His exact words were ‘Please try and make her happy.’ We may have taken some liberties.”

The empath’s shoulders shook again and she decided to be bold, “Well, I'd think a tour of the manor would make me quite happy. Some of those paintings in the eastern wing are new and possibly Baroque.”

“Hmmm,” His sapphire eyes glanced down at her, “You haven’t been here since Tim was Robin, right?” She nodded, knowing that his words weren’t a question. Bruce aimed his chin towards where the kitchen lay and continued, “Alfred would probably prefer taking you around, but I have an hour or so to spare.”

“And here Dick had me thinking you were a workaholic.”

A brow raised and (honest to Azar) the Batman looked amused, “Just Dick?”

Raven bit the inside of her cheek, keeping her smile from getting too wide, “Maybe a few others too.”

“Well, then,” He motioned for her to follow him and they strolled out into the hallways, “Let’s get going.”

They fell into an easy silence (well not easy, but easy enough for someone being accompanied by Batman) as they walked the halls, their steps slowing every corner or so for Raven to admire some of the art and for Bruce to offer some details. After a few minutes the mage blinked as she recognized the doorway to the kitchen and they passed through, spotting a certain acrobat.

Bruce merely tilted his head and Raven gave him a small wave, the stoics not stopping their tour as they went. As the vigilante paused to explain one of the mustachioed busts she had hesitated at earlier, Raven quietly murmured into the air, “Did you see his face?”

“He looked very happy. Usually I only see that when he’s talking about you.”

Raven smiled at that. “I’d imagine us getting along certainly helps too,” she added.

Bruce glanced at her, neither acknowledging the positive press of his emotions. The dark knight motioned around them as they entered the foyer, “So would you like to see the library or courtyard first?”

“Courtyard, please.”

--

Dick had brought her here on a few occasions, although Bruce only knew about the first time. Most of the times they’d snuck in for her to get a sight of the sheer amount of literature that the Wayne family had collected over the years. The library was still that wonderful mix of clean rain and old books and the shelves were as pristine as ever, but Raven was still as awestruck as the first time.

Bruce laid a hand on her shoulder, “Alfred was talking about preparing your favorites for lunch. I’ll go check up on him and send Dick your way if I see him.”

“Thank you, Bru- I mean, B.” She let out a quiet chuckle at her mess-up, “I’ll get used to it eventually.”

He raised a brow, his face a bit more open than before. Raven tried to keep the hope out of her face but she knew that he noticed. The vigilante nodded to her once, “I hope so.”

She tucked her head and, after a beat, he turned on his heel and snuck out of the library, moving in the shadows. The mystic’s attention immediately went back to the bookshelves, so she didn’t notice as he hesitated to glance one more time at her, missing the approving (albeit reluctant) nod to himself.

Finally alone, Raven let herself get lost in the novels and indexes around her. She let out a soft “Aha!” as she spotted a huge collection of first editions, carefully tucked away on a raised platform of their own.

After what felt like seconds (though, knowing her, could’ve been hours), Raven felt a wonderfully familiar aura burst into her senses. She felt the uptick of happiness through their bond before Dick softly called out to her, “There you are.”

The mystic turned to face him, her nose still in her book. “Seems like you’re having fun,” He laughed, winking at her when she glanced at him from the top of the page.

“I am.” Raven completely tore her eyes from the pages, leaning up as he pressed a kiss to her temple. Whether it was the smell of him all around her or just the calm that he brought after all the emotions of meeting his family, the empath let out a happy sigh. She sunk into his arms and the words slid out of her, “I love it here.”

Dick rested their foreheads together, his smile bright in his voice, “You do love your libraries.”

Raven’s eyes slid halfway shut, a soft smile forming, “Not what I meant.”

“Yeah?”

She sighed as he bumped their noses together. The mystic flew up an inch to quietly murmur against his lips, her words a breath between them, “Yeah.”

[lavender-lotion]

You and Me and He

Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | M/M, Multi | Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies) | Peter Parker/Tony Stark, James "Bucky" Barnes/Peter Parker/Tony Stark, (Mentioned Bruce Banner/Thor) | Peter Parker, James "Bucky" Barnes, Tony Stark, Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, (Mentioned Laura Barton), Thor (Marvel), Bruce Banner | Jealousy, Jealous Tony Stark, Flirting, Making Out, Rutting, First Kiss, Getting Together, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Praise Kink, Dom/sub Undertones, Hand Jobs, Top Peter Parker, Bottom Tony Stark, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Developing Relationship, Civil War Team Iron Man, not team Cap friendly, Genderqueer Character, Gender Nonconforming James "Bucky" Barnes, James "Bucky" Barnes Wears Makeup, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Protective Tony Stark, Protective James "Bucky" Barnes, Protective Peter Parker, Teasing, Getting Together x2

****

this fic has way too many tags, oh my god.

***

Peter was annoyed. Peter was annoyed because he was nineteen. Nineteen. And that meant that he was legal, that he had been legal, for two full years. Yet, despite the lingering looks and suggestive touching, despite the hours spent together, bonding and getting closer and closer, Tony had yet to make a move.

Peter had been so sure that on his eighteenth birthday, Tony would make a move. Peter had been excited, especially when Tony offered to throw him a party at the compound. But Tony hadn’t done anything then. He hadn't done anything when Peter turned nineteen, either, months ago. Peter could only flirt and touch and tease so much before feeling like giving up.

But...he couldn't give up. Not when he knew Tony felt the same way, wanted the same thing. Peter knew Tony wanted him. He saw it in all the looks and touches that lingered, in the way praise spewed from Tony’s mouth whenever Peter did anything even remotely impressive. He saw it in the way Tony gravitated towards him, rather than any of the other Avengers living in the compound again.

In the way Tony’s heart rate spiked whenever Peter got close, whenever they touched, in every small thing in each seemingly insignificant interaction.

But Tony never made a move, and Peter's patience had long since worn thin. He has wanted Tony Stark since he first knew what it was to want someone; he hadn't looked at anyone else the same way, especially since he began actually working with Tony. At fifteen, he had been filled with foolish dreams of his mentor falling in love with him. He pushed most of those thoughts away at first, only entertaining them after he became sure Tony was interested.

Now Peter was losing hope. He flirted and teased so obviously that others had noticed, but Tony never did anything. He was running out of patience and ideas, desperate. Desperate enough, apparently, to go to MJ for ‘advice’.

“Make him jealous. Show him that you have options. Make him think that he has competition.”

How Peter was going to do that he had no idea, but at this point it couldn't hurt. It was probably the only thing that he had yet to try. The only problem was that Tony didn’t have competition. Or, he hadn’t thought Tony had any competition, before walking into the compound’s communal kitchen.

While Peter may have only ever had feelings for Tony Stark, he wasn’t blind, and a shirtless Bucky Barnes was an amazing sight to walk in on. He sent the super soldier a smile, grinning when Bucky's eyes tracked the bare expanse of his legs and thighs. Like Bucky, Peter was still wearing his sleepwear, surprisingly comfortable booty shorts and an oversized, very worn, Iron Man t-shirt.

He knew the picture he made, shirt ending only centimetres above the hem of his shorts, and he smiled at Bucky as he walked over to the counter, considering what he wanted for breakfast. He was about to say something when he noticed Tony sitting at the dining table, tapping away on a Stark pad.

“What's with the clothes, kid?” Bucky asked, and when Peter turned back around, Bucky still hadn’t looked up from his legs.

“I didn't think anyone would be around yet,” Peter told him, shrugging his shoulders. He turned back towards the cupboards to get himself down a glass for water. He grabbed one from a higher shelf, just so that he would have to stand up on his toes and reach for it.

“And I’m sure that’s why you’ve got Stark on your shirt, right?” Bucky’s voice was soft, coming from right behind Peter, and when he settled back onto the heels of his feet, his shoulders were brushing Bucky’s chest. “And why your shorts are shorter than sin?”

“I—I, uh, I don’t know what you're talking about,” Peter said, his whole body shivering when Bucky's breath ghosted over his neck.

“Don’t lie to me, Doll,” Bucky caged Peter in with his arms, leaning even closer, and Peter felt a few strands of Bucky’s hair brush over his neck.

Peter spun around, heart beating out of his chest. His stomach was tight with nerves, but he gave Bucky the most appealing look that he could muster, gazing up at him from under his lashes. He leaned back against the counter, gently grabbing hold of Bucky’s wrists. Peter looked up at him, pleased at the intense look Bucky was aiming at him. “Maybe I wore them for you.”

Bucky laughed, a low chuckle that rumbled out of his chest and made Peter flush. “As much as I would like to believe that, pretty boy, you and I both know I’m not the one you really want.”

Peter nodded, dropping his eyes in embarrassment even as he felt his cheeks heat up. He felt exposed now, with the way that Bucky was watching him. “I’m sorry,” Peter mumbled, through for what he wasn’t sure.

“Don’t apologize when you’ve done nothing wrong, sugar,” Bucky said, turning his hands so that he could tangle their fingers together. “You know that he wants you too, right?”

Peter shrugged, because while he did know that Tony wanted him, it was hard to believe when Tony had never done anything about it.

“I know how he looks at me, but he’s still hasn’t done anything about it,” Peter admitted, glancing up when Bucky squeezed his hands.

“Other than walking around looking like this,” Bucky said, trailing his eyes up and down Peter’s form with dark eyes. It had Peter’s cheeks burning even hotter, especially when Bucky’s lips tilted up into a grin that looked predatory, “what else have you done to get him to make a move?”

“Well, I’ve flirted with him,” Peter said, and he knew he was pouting. Bucky squeezed his hands again, and Peter smiled at him. “I—my friend, MJ, thinks I should make him jealous. S-show him that he has some competition.”

Bucky tilted his head a little to the side before he grinned and intertwined their fingers. Peter panicked, just for a moment, before he was squealing as Bucky grabbed him by the hips and lifted him onto the counter. Peter laughed, looking down at Bucky now that he was higher, his knees brushing Bucky’s hips.

“What are you doing?” Peter asked, eyes flicking down to where Bucky’s hands were resting on his bare thighs.

The difference in temperature made Peter shiver; he loved the contrast between the cool metal and warm skin. Bucky’s hands were big enough to wrap around Peter’s thigh, even when he was sitting, and the sight had heat pooling in Peter’s gut.

“We’re makin’ Tony jealous,” Bucky told him, dragging his hands down Peter’s legs before gripping his knees and pushing them apart so he could step between them.

“A-are you sure?” Peter asked, though his voice shook. His dick was hardening in his shorts, and he knew Bucky would be able to see. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to ask Bucky to step away, not with how good his hands felt against his thighs, the tips of his fingers creeping up to brush under the hem of Peter’s shorts.

“If it means touchin’ a pretty thing like you, ‘course I am,” Bucky said, dropping his voice to a deep rumble. Peter may have whimpered, possibly. Bucky’s grin turned smug, and he leaned even closer. “So whaddya say doll? Wanna give him a show?”

Peter nodded, not trusting his voice to come out anything close to steady. His heart was beating too loud and too fast in his own ears, and it was the only thing that he could hear. His stomach felt tight with nerves, but was warm with arousal as well, heat thrumming through his belly, branching up from where Bucky was still holding his thighs.

He didn't say anything when Bucky leaned forward, though he moaned when their lips pressed together. At first, it was just a gentle press of closed mouths, nothing more than dry lips. It wasn’t Peter’s first kiss, but he was inexperienced enough to feel awkward. Bucky didn’t seem to mind, and moved his hands from Peter’s legs to cup his face.

Their lips slid together slowly. Peter let himself get lost in the feeling, in the heat building in his stomach. All of his senses were clouded with Bucky, his taste and smell, the feel of his shoulders underneath Peter’s hands. He kissed, lazily, trying to work up the courage to take things another step. Hesitantly, Peter flicked out his tongue; Bucky groaned, long and loud, sending shivers down the length of Peter’s spine.

It was so good, so much better than anything Peter had ever felt before. He could hardly believe that anything could feel so good, and he was breathless as Bucky licked into his mouth. Peter whined, the sound pulled from the back of his throat before Peter could do anything to stop it. He didn’t mind, though, not when Bucky made a low noise in response.

Peter brought his legs up and around Bucky’s waist, arching his back even as his mouth fell open. He had no idea what he was doing, but it felt good, so good, and he was hard and aching in his pants. Peter did his best to kiss back, flicking his tongue out and sliding it against Bucky’s. He rolled his hips to get more friction, cock throbbing.

Peter whined, scratching at Bucky’s shoulder and back, arching his body and tilting his hips to press them closer together. He pushed the heels of his feet into the small of Bucky’s back, scooting forward on the counter, all but trying to climb him. Bucky bit at his lips and Peter only moaned, his cock hard and his balls tight.

Everything felt so good—Bucky’s tongue and his hair between Peter’s fingers, the way Bucky was grabbing fists fulls of his ass and urging Peter closer, close enough that his erection was pressed into the hard plane of Bucky’s abdomen. It was so easy to roll his hips forward, drag his cock over Bucky’s body until he couldn’t breathe.

He felt so good, too good, he wasn’t going to last, and he could feel heat pooling lower and lower in his belly, and he was going to, he was—

Peter pulled back, staring up at the ceiling with wide, shocked eyes. The sprinklers embedded in the entire building were raining down water, heavy currents that had Peter completely soaked. He looked at Bucky, and Peter frowned at the darkness he found on the man's face before Bucky smoothed his expression into a smug grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Looks like we made him jealous,” Bucky said, though his body was too tense under Peter’s hands.

He had no idea why the man was so upset and no idea how to make any of it better.

“Thank you,” Peter whispered, and he took Bucky’s face in his hand to kiss him as softly as he could. Bucky wrapped Peter up in his arms, and Peter continued to kiss him until the hold wasn’t quite so tight. “Thank you.”

Bucky didn't say anything, nor did he look at Peter as he slid off the counter. Peter gave the man’s arm a squeeze, darting forward for one last kiss to Bucky's cheek, before he was off to find Tony.

***

FRIDAY immediately told Peter what floor Tony was on. He was...he was mad, angry that Tony had interrupted him and Bucky in such a childish manner. Peter tried to remind himself that he had his desired outcome. Exactly what he wanted to happen, happened. Peter should be happy, and he was pleased that Tony finally made his move. But he couldn't stop thinking about the look on Bucky's face when he had pulled away.

He couldn’t figure out why Bucky would have looked upset. He had said that he was happy to help Peter, but maybe...maybe that wasn’t the only reason he had done it. Maybe Bucky had meant what he said about wishing Peter was dressed as he was for him. Maybe it was more than just a line. That wasn’t a thought Peter needed to have, especially with how unopposed he was to the idea.

Thinking about it further, he’d always liked Bucky. Peter didn’t get along with a lot of the other Avengers, even after officially joining them a year ago. His age created a barrier between them that none of them seemed interested in trying to cross. Except Bucky. Bucky had never treated him like he was lesser just for being younger.

Instead, Bucky had taught Peter how to fight better, pulling him out of his room to train, and Peter had used that knowledge to keep himself and others safe countless times. Bucky took the time to get to know him, asked after what Peter was doing and learned who he was. Bucky was his friend, at the very least, and thinking about what he had done, assuming he was right and Bucky really did want him, he felt horrible.

He felt horrible for the way he had used Bucky. Of course Bucky had said that he was willing, that he wanted to help. It had been Bucky’s idea and he had been the one to escalate it all. Bucky was always the first to step up and volunteer to help Peter, but now Peter wasn’t so sure that was all it was. He didn't know just how that thought made him feel—the nervous excitement when Bucky had first touched him was sharp in his belly now—but he didn’t have time to think about it.

The elevator door opened with a ding, FRIDAY's voice letting Peter know he had arrived at Tony’s personal suite. Peter stalked into the room, annoyance and anger only growing as water dripped from his bangs into his face. Because he was still soaking wet. Because Tony had turned the sprinklers on them and interrupted the most amazing kiss of his life with someone he kind of, sort of, wanted to kiss some more.

Focus, Peter.

“You’re dripping onto my floor,” Tony said, and Peter whirled around to face him.

Tony was standing in the hallway, dress shirt untucked and his hair a mess. It was obvious that he had been running his fingers through it, but for how long Peter wasn’t sure. The sight of Tony dishevelled and...distressed, really, did nothing to calm Peter’s ire. He was furious.

“And whose fault is that!” Peter exclaimed, stalking forward so he could poke Tony in the chest. “That was—that was...gah! That was so immature!”

“Oh really?” Tony sneered, catching Peter’s wrist when he went to poke Tony again. “And what about your stunt? The way you just threw yourself at Barnes like that, flirting with him while wearing my suit on your shirt,”

“Well maybe if you had ever made it clear you were interested, I wouldn’t have had to resort to that!” Peter yelled, using his free hand to poke Tony again. All of his anger was returning, all the time he had spent feeling awkward and insecure and hopeless.

“You—you what?” Tony asked, his eyes going wide as he stumbled back a step. Peter followed, twisting his arm so he could twine their fingers together.

“You weren’t doing anything,” Peter said, taking another step closer. “You never made a move, even though I know you’re interested.”

“Peter,” Tony began, but Peter wasn’t done.

“You flirt back and you act like you’re interested, like you want me, but you never do anything! I’m so tired of waiting and hoping and never knowing!” Peter told him, voice rising with his anger. He was tired of feeling like a fool, like some kind of child that Tony just strung along. It hurt, feeling like Tony was only humouring him. But then there would be moments when it was more, when Tony let some of his walls down and let Peter in.

“Kid, I—”

“I’m not a kid!” Peter shouted, angrily pushing his damp hair off his forehead and stepping even closer. “I’m not a damn kid, Mr. Stark.”

Tony’s eyes went wide when Peter made his voice all breathy, and he looked up at the man from under his lashes. “Peter—”

“Kiss me, Mr. Stark. Please, we both want it, just kiss me.” The noise Tony let out was deep, a choked sort of moan and Tony wrapped the arm not holding Peter’s hand around Peter’s waist, tugging him closer until they were finally pressed together.

“You have to be sure about this,” Tony said, and he was serious in a way Peter rarely saw him. “You have to be sure that you want this.”

“I am,” Peter said, his free hand tangling in the hairs along the nape of Tony’s neck.

Before Tony could say something else or do something that would stop them, Peter pressed up onto his toes and fit their mouths together. There was nothing soft about the kiss, nothing like the way Bucky had first kissed him. Instead, Peter kissed him with fervour, not wasting a second before he was licking into Tony’s mouth and nipping on his bottom lip.

Peter’s skin was on fire. His blood was boiling, already on edge from being with Bucky and now this. Kissing Tony felt like everything he had ever wanted was coming to life. Tony tasted sharp, and Peter could smell the coffee on his breath as Tony let him inside. It wasn’t bad, nothing about this was bad.

He reached down, hands slipping from Tony’s back and over his ass, taking a moment to palm handfuls of fat. Tony moaned into his mouth and Peter echoed the noise, kneading the cheeks in his hands, pulling and pushing. Once he had groped his fill, he slid his hands lower, ducking down so that he could get his hands under Tony’s thighs.

Without warning, he lifted, holding onto Tony as the man yelped, arms flailing before finding purchase on Peter’s shoulders. Tony wrapped his legs tightly around Peter’s waist and it only served to press their groins together. Tony rolled his hips in a fluid roll that had Peter’s knees nearly buckling at the pressure it put against his cock.

“Holy fuck, super strength,” Tony gasped, voice a mess, and Peter hefted him higher to hear the man groan again.

“Yeah,” Peter agreed, stumbling a step forward, “Fuck yeah.”

***

By the time Peter made it into Tony’s bedroom, he was out of breath and so hard it hurt. He tossed Tony onto his bed, watching as the man bounced and laughed. Tony was gorgeous, hair messy and eyes bright and lips red from where Peter had been sucking on them. A thrill shot down his stomach at knowing he was the reason Tony Stark looked like that.

Peter stumbled forward, his knees hitting the edge of the bed. He didn’t know what to do, not now, and he let his hands hang loosely at his sides. Nervous shame welled up in his belly, and he felt ridiculous for not knowing what to do. This was so new, and he felt every bit the inexperienced virgin that he was, standing at the edge of Tony’s bed and staring down at him.

“Take your shirt off,” Tony said, his voice a touch deeper than Peter was used to. It was easy to follow the command, and Peter peeled his wet shirt over his head. “Good boy,” Tony told him, and the praise settled warmly in the back of Peter’s head, making him smile.

It was easy to do what Tony asked, and he stripped out of the rest of his clothing piece by piece, only when Tony asked him. He tossed them all to the side, uncaring of where they landed. He did his best to push down the bit of shame he could feel when he was completely naked. Peter knew he was attractive, that his body was toned and sculpted and his dick was nice, but Tony’s gaze on him was so heavy, and no one had ever seen him like this before.

“C’here, baby,” Tony said quietly, softly, and Peter did just that.

Crawling onto the bed, Peter knee-walked his way up until he was straddling Tony’s waist. Tony’s hands settled warm over his thighs and Peter shivered at the familiarity of the touch. Both of Tony’s hands were warm, but neither of them was as warm or Bucky’s had been. He shivered, though he didn’t like the feeling that crawled up his stomach when thinking of Bucky like this.

“Are you okay?” Tony asked, his eyes worried.

Peter nodded, though he did his best to pull himself out of his head when he said, “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

“Alright,” Tony said, his hands trailing even higher.

They pressed into the crease of Peter’s thighs, pushing at the skin and making Peter’s dick bob. He watched his own erection bounce, leaking a thick bead of precome that Tony swiped away with his tongue to taste. Peter moaned loudly, his hips twitching into nothing but being forced still by Tony’s hands.

“I’m going to get you off with my hands, because this is so hard that it must hurt, and then we’re going to regroup and decide what to do next, alright, baby?” Tony asked him. His voice was clear, and despite the practical way he was talking about it, the mention of Tony’s hands on him had him moaning.

He moaned even louder when Tony actually grabbed his dick. Peter really, really wished that he could say he had lasted longer, but all it took was one swipe of Tony’s thumb over the head of his dick, and he was coming so hard it hurt, shaking apart in Tony’s lap as he spilled over Tony’s clothed chest and ruined his shirt.

“Fuck, that was so fucking hot,” Tony swore, and Peter panted as the last dredges of his orgasm washed over him. Tony milked his cock until it was too sensitive and it hurt, and Peter moved back with a whine that was pulled from the back of his throat.

He slumped forward, suddenly tired in his afterglow. So much had happened in such a short time that Peter willingly went when Tony pulled him atop him. He curled up on Tony’s chest, all too aware that Tony was still completely dressed now that he was lying stretched out over him. Tony’s hands were rubbing up and down his sides, and Peter hummed happily.

After a few minutes, Tony surprised him by grabbing his hips and flipping them. Peter let out a startled gasp as he started up at Tony, loving the brightness in Tony’s eyes and the gentle curve of his smile. Tony looked so happy, and Peter’s heart felt full of the knowledge that he’d been the one to put that look there.

When Tony leaned down, Peter happily met him for a kiss that turned into a long drag of their lips and their tongues. Tony moved down, lips catching on Peter’s jaw and tongue licking out to taste. When Tony kissed his neck, Peter shuddered even as he dropped his head back to give him more room. Tony kissed and sucked and bit, and Peter wiggled under him, arousal rising.

“How fast can you get hard again?” Tony asked, and his voice was a low growl that made Peter shiver.

“Uh, probably pretty soon if you keep doing that,” Peter admitted, groaning when Tony sucked even harder, definitely leaving a bruise.

“Good, I want you to fuck me,” Tony told him, and Peter was suddenly sure. Sex with Tony Stark was going to be how he went. He wasn’t even mad about it—what a fucking wonderful way to go.

“Yes,” Peter said, nodding his head, “Yes I can do that.”

Tony chuckled, but the noise wasn’t mean. They continued to kiss for a while longer, Peter trailing his hands up and down Tony’s sides and over his arms and shoulders, touching as much as he could. It felt like he was getting everything that he ever wanted, and he almost couldn’t believe it.

When Tony finally pulled back, his lips were red and shiny, slick with their spit. The sight went right to Peter’s cock, filling until he was once again fully hard.

“Now that, I am jealous of,” Tony said with a smile. The skin around his eyes was lined with age, but Peter found it nothing short of appealing. He shifted, climbing off the bed and rifling through the bed table before quickly undressing. “Here ya go,” he said, passing Peter a bottle of lube.

Peter took a breath, scooting back against the pillows as Tony laid himself out, his head facing the foot of the bed. Peter’s heart got caught up in his throat even as his mouth went dry. Tony was gorgeous, and the way he’d laid himself out, knees spread and ass slightly raised, was the hottest freaking thing Peter had ever seen.

“Oh fuck,” Peter said, watching with wide eyes as Tony shook his ass. “I’m going to die.”

Tony laughed. Peter opened the lube. He poured a bit into his hand, letting his skin warm the cool gel as he crawled closer. He ran his hand over the perfect curve of Tony’s ass, caught up in the light dusting of hair and the way the skin gave under his fingers. He had never been so turned on his life, and it didn’t seem to matter that he had come once—his dick felt hard enough to hammer nails.

Peter pulled one of Tony’s cheeks to the side, his breath catching up in his throat as Tony’s hole was revealed. He swallowed his tongue, gently brushing his thumb over the hairy, wrinkled skin. Tony groaned and Peter echoed it, pulling back so he could dip his finger in the lube. When he circled the hole with his finger, it fucking winked.

Peter pushed forward, his finger slipping in easily. It made Peter groan again, and his dick pumped out a bead of precome that spilled down his shaft. He thought nothing of it, too caught up in how warm Tony’s insides were around Peter’s finger. He was so soft inside, all velvet, and Peter crooked his finger to rub against his rim and his inner walls.

Pulling it out, he pressed back in with two, breathless with how easily Tony was taking him. He didn’t know what he was doing, not really, but he twisted his wrist and pumped his fingers before adding a third, and then he spent long minutes working him over. His cock was leaking but he ignored it, focusing on the noises he could draw when he crocked his fingers just right.

“Okay, okay, Pete that’s enough, c’mon,” Tony growled, rolling his hips back into Peter’s fingers harshly.

Peter nodded, pulling his fingers out and rising up onto his hips, ready to push in when Tony told him to grab a condom. He arched his back as he fucked back onto Peter’s fingers. Peter nodded dumbly, then made some sort of noise when he realized that Tony couldn’t see him. He reached for the nightstand Tony had gotten the lube from, unwilling to remove his fingers from Tony’s ass and nearly fell off the bed in the process.

Opening the wrapper with his teeth, he slid the rubber down his shaft with shaking hands. He knew that if Tony hadn’t insisted, he wouldn’t have worn one. Squeezing himself at the base, he used the flash of pain to stave off his orgasm. He knew he wasn’t going to last, but he wanted to at least get fully seated before he was coming.

With a deep breath, Peter lined himself up, the head sliding through the mess of lube. He grabbed himself firmly before he pushed forward. For a moment, he didn’t think it was going to fit, but then he pushed a bit harder and the head of his cock popped past the ring of muscle and slid smoothly into Tony’s ass.

Which, holy fucking Christ, was the best thing that Peter had felt in his entire life. He slid in slowly, keeping his hands on Tony’s waist and holding tightly enough that he knew he was going to leave bruises. He couldn’t bring himself to control his strength, not when it felt like Tony was squeezing his soul out of his goddamn dick.

Peter thrust slowly, the heat and pressure around his cock too much. He had no idea how he hadn’t come yet, but he kept up what he was doing. Even though he was only fucking Tony slowly, the man sounded like he was rather enjoying himself, grunting and moaning as Peter kept fucking into him.

Pressure was building in his gut as his balls drew up, and he knew he wasn’t going to last. Still, he tried his best to make it good for Tony, picking up his pace and angling his hips in an attempt to get him to moan louder.

Suddenly, Peter arched his back, biting into his bottom lip until he tasted blood. He shook, pleasure shooting through his body so strongly it hurt, as he emptied into Tony’s ass. His hips were making small, aborted thrusts as Tony milked his cock with the tight ring of his ass, and Peter realized he was whining only to be unable to stop it.

He slumped forward, unable to hold himself up, and both he and Tony collapsed forward. Peter breathed into the back of Tony’s neck, his heart still racing. A moment later, Tony pushed up the bed and Peter slipped off him. Peter rolled onto his back as Tony straddled his waist, stripping his cock quickly. Peter felt too come drunk to anything other than moan, though when Tony pushed his fingers against his lips he sucked them into his mouth and swept his tongue over the rough pads, giving them as much as attention as he could manage.

It wasn’t long before Tony was coming, spilling over Peter’s stomach as he panted through his release. He watched the man come, the way his mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back. It was the sexiest thing that Peter had ever seen, and he moaned around his mouthful. Tony pulled his hand back, slick fingers trailing over Peter’s jaw before swiping through his own release and feeding it back to him.

“Fuck, kid,” Tony groaned, falling forward and lying over Peter’s chest, Peter brought his arms around him, petting down Tony’s back and the back of his head.

“Sorry I didn’t—” Peter began, ugly insecurity welling up his chest and making him feel embarrassed.

“Kid, that was awesome. I don’t care how long you lasted. You’ll only get better,” Tony told him, smiling down at him before leaning in to steal a series of short kisses.

Peter let out a long breath, holding Tony tighter against him. He was tired, and he was sure Tony wouldn't mind if he took a little nap. Coming always exhausted him, and Peter was pretty sure he just came harder than he’d every come ever, so. A nap was definitely due. He felt Tony kiss his chest, and a smile twisted his lips up even as sleep tugged him down.

***

Read chapter one here on AO3! OR read the entire fic on Patreon for only $2 a month!

[cami-chats]

The Truth About Budapest

((Which I wrote because I couldn’t find any Budapest fics set up like this???))

Fandom: Marvel

Pairings: None

Warnings: None 

"This is like Budapest all over again!" Natasha said, shooting at the aliens.

Clint made a face, pulling arrows from his quiver and releasing rapidly, dropping enemies like they were flies. "You and I remember Budapest very differently."

When the battle was over and they were all caught up on sleep and became more like a team than a group of people pushed together by terrible circumstances, everyone asked them about what had happened in Budapest.

And all the answers were different.

Steve:

Clint rolled his eyes as Natasha opened her mouth to say something, cutting her off before she could get a word out. "She was undercover, and she's still pissed off that I missed the ballet she was in. I said that I was sorry," he said, looking at her pointedly.

"I've never missed one of your cover's dates," she said haughtily.

"You did so!"

"When?"

"Paris, 2004, we were supposed to meet up for-"

Steve backed away slowly from the argument until he was out of the room. He wasn't sure the answer he got was worth what it started, but at least they were yelling at each other and not him.

Bruce: ​

"It wasn't actually anything special," Clint said with a shrug, perusing the options for new arrows that Tony had made for him. "Nat just likes to be a dick about it."

Bruce frowned. "Well what happened?"

"The safe house we were supposed to stay in was unusable. Ceiling had caved in and there wasn't a basement, but we didn't have anywhere else to go so," he shrugged. "Pulled up a blanket and slept next to the rubble and hoped that it didn't crush us in our sleep."

Bruce rolled his eyes. There was no need to be so dramatic, but he guessed that living as a spy/assassin like Clint had for over a decade would have some sort of lasting effects, and if those effects were embellishing boring stories to make them seem more life threatening, well, there were far worse things that could have happened. "Sounds pleasant," was all he said though, continuing on his way to the kitchenette.

Sam:

"Hm?" Natasha said, looking up from where she was cleaning her gun. "Oh." She snorted. "Clint fell in a dumpster in the middle of a fight."

"He fell," Sam repeated flatly. "In a dumpster."

"If you can't picture it, I can help you out. It's one of my most cherished memories; I'm thinking about commissioning a painting."

"How did that even happen? Did he get pushed?"

An amused smile quirked on her lips. "That wouldn't be nearly embarrassing enough. He was jumping out of a window, but he chose the wrong one. There was supposed to be a fire escape, only he went two windows too early and landed in the dumpster."

"Oh my god," Sam said, howling with laughter.

"It was half full, he landed in sludge, and sprained his wrist. And to top it all off, he didn't catch a shower for two days after that."

"This explains so much about him," Sam said, doubled over and wiping at his eyes.

Natasha nodded and went back to putting her gun together. "It really does," she muttered.

Tony:

Tony, being Tony, didn't actually ask either Natasha or Clint what happened; he tried to hack into Shield's servers to get the information. He'd entertained the idea of asking for a moment, but he brushed it aside when he realized that he wouldn't get a straight answer from either of them-- and if he did, it would certainly be a lie.

So he decided to look into it himself, and he tried to hack the file. Tried. It wasn't that Shield's security had suddenly gotten exponentially better, it was that the file wasn't there. There was barely even a mention of it, and that mention was in one of Coulson's reports, and it wasn't even a report he should have been doing! It was an injury report that he filled out for Clint, and it didn't say anything that Tony didn't already know. It happened in Budapest, and he had to be checked over by a medical team.

Woo, he thought dully. Clint got sent to the medical team twice for every fight-- once for the fight itself, and once for the in between times when he did something stupid like grab a pan from the oven without an oven mitt on. (And that had been a sad day. He'd put all the pizza rolls on one giant sheet and then dropped them all over the floor, and they didn't get another grocery delivery for four days. Clint basically starved in that time, and his hand was too burnt for him to use his bow.)

So, armed with nothing other than annoyance and a decade old ​injury report, Tony decided to bother Coulson for a while. Under the guise of being helpful, of course.

...Aaaand Coulson herded Tony out of his office, expression never changing from carefully impassive, although Tony would like to think that he detected a hint of frustration on the air-- and with the lack of actual answers he was willing to take what he could get.

The next approach was Clint, and he tried to bribe him with stun arrows, but Clint must have been tired out of his mind at the time that he asked because he started singing Lucy In The Sky With Diamonds and waltzed away. Tony frowned after him, frozen in place and more than a little confused. Was this how other people felt when he dodged questions? Because if it was, he owed Pepper an apology or two hundred. Rhodey too, but more like a thousand for him, since he'd been around when Tony was a teenager.

He asked Natasha after a sparring session, and afterwards asked her about Budapest. She stared at him evenly for a moment, taking a swig of water. She walked past and pat him on the shoulder. "You had good balance today."

Bucky:

"Why?" Natasha asked, glancing over at him. He was on one of Tony's spruced up treadmills next to her normal one. They usually ran in silence when they worked out together, ​but here he was, asking her about Budapest out of the blue.

"Just... r'membered somethin' I think." He had that little scrunch to his forehead that meant he was trying to dust off a memory.

"You were in Budapest?" she asked, lowering the speed on her treadmill so she didn't get too winded.

"At some point, yeah. What happened with you?"

"It was like a romance novel," she said, pitching her voice higher and putting on a nondescript accent for effect. "I saw Clint across the cafe and he offered me a flower." She put her wrist to her forehead and stopped running, letting the track pull her to the end and then off. It took her body a second to get used to a still ground, and she hopped back on once she got her bearings.

Bucky snorted. "You coulda just said no, y'know."

"Now where's the fun in that," she said, shooting him a smirk that he returned.

"You gonna tell me someday?"

"On my deathbed, maybe."

The Truth:

The truth about Budapest was that it was a mission gone horribly wrong, yet somehow neither of them came close to dying. Clint had gotten doused with a hallucinogenic gas at some point-- she still didn't know how that happened, and Clint either didn't remember or wasn't talking.  

So Clint started hallucinating and thought he was back at the circus, and he ended up all but destroying a building and blowing their cover as non-Americans. The gang they'd been there to investigate had automatically pulled out their guns, and Natasha was left trying to herd him out of the building between rubble and shrieking civilians. Luckily for them, none of the gang members wanted to risk hurting civilians either, so she was able to get Clint out of the way before anything serious went down.

Strangely enough, the gang wasn't an issue. They made an alliance against the actual troublemakers of the city, and the mission continued on. It wasn't as planned, but it all worked out in the end. (Except for the fact that Clint was out of it for their entire visit and learned about what had happened from Natasha telling him.)

So when Natasha referenced Budapest, it could mean that there were drugs, that they had the wrong idea, that Clint was being stupid, or... any number of things, really. Clint had given up on trying to figure out what the exact connection was because it changed every time.

If the Winter Soldier had been there at the same time, they didn’t run into him, and Natasha was endlessly grateful for that.

(Bucky remembered, a few years later, that Budapest had been one of the brief time periods that he’d run away from Hydra before being picked up and wiped again. He’d seen Clint and Natasha there because he was in the same bar that Clint had nearly destroyed in his delirium, and he gave them both shit for it when he got the memory back.)

[moosterrecords]

New from Arrow Video US and Arrow Academy US

PULP Blu-ray and DVD (12/12)

Whiskey Galore! Blu-ray and DVD(12/12)

Donnie Darko [Limited Edition Steelbook] (Blu-ray) (12/12)

The Apartment - Limited Edition (12/26)

via MVD Entertainment Group

Get ready for the festive season as Arrow release four new titles across their labels in December. 

First up, two titles from Arrow Video. Michael Caine and Mike Hodges, the star and director of British classic Get Carter, reunite for 1972's Pulp, a crime comedy about a paperback writer inadvertently drawn into the world he writes about. The DVD and Blu-ray release of this neglected gem (a favourite of author J.G. Ballard) features a brand new, and long overdue, 2K restoration from original film elements, supervised and approved by director of photography Ousama Rawi, produced by Arrow exclusively for this release.

The second title is a Limited Edition Steelbook release of Richard Kelly's debut masterpiece Donnie Darko. This release contains their brand-new 4k restoration of the Theatrical cut as supervised and approved by Richard Kelly himself, plus a whole host of fantastic extra features and a 20-page collector's booklet featuring writing on the film by critic and author Nathan Rabin.

Meanwhile, Arrow Academy will release The Apartment, starring Jack Lemmon and Shirley MacLaine in Oscar-nominated performances as a couple who start an unlikely romance in late-1950s Manhattan. A note perfect production that went on to win Best Picture at the 1961 Academy Awards, many regard this as Billy Wilder's best work.

Finally, Arrow Films release the recent remake of Whisky Galore!, starring Ellie Kendrick (Game of Thrones), James Cosmo (Game of Thrones) and stand-up comedian Eddie Izzard (Hannibal). This charming and heart-warming tale of a Scottish island community is based on a true story during World War II and the story was previously told in the classic Ealing comedy of the same name. 

PULP Blu-ray and DVD (12/12)

A year after they'd created one of the defining British gangster pictures with Get Carter, three Michaels - writer-director Mike Hodges, producer Michael Klinger and star Michael Caine - reunited for another crime picture, albeit with a more oddball flavor...

Caine plays Mickey King, a successful pulp novelist responsible for such titles as My Gun Is Long and The Organ Grinder, who is invited to ghost-write the autobiography of a mystery celebrity. His client turns out to be a former actor, played by Mickey Rooney, well-known for his gangster roles and real-life gangster connections - but death is around the corner, and King finds his commission to be a lot more complicated than he first imagined.

A favorite of J.B. Ballard, Pulp has long existed in the shadow of its predecessor. Tonally, it could not be more different - Get Carter never had the time for sight gags and one-liners - but it's a real gem in its own right and fully deserving of a wider audience. This brand-new restoration from Arrow Films aims to right than wrong.

Trailer: https://youtu.be/DhlgIFxJqzg 

FEATURES

- Brand new 2K restoration from original film elements, supervised and approved by director of photography Ousama Rawi, produced by Arrow Films exclusively for this release

- High Definition Blu-ray (1080p) presentation

- Original 1.0 mono sound

- Optional English subtitles for the deaf and hard-of-hearing

- Brand-new interview with writer-director Mike Hodges

- Brand-new interview with director of photography Ousama Rawi

- Brand-new interview with assistant director John Glen

- Brand-new interview with Tony Klinger, son of producer Michael Klinger

- Original theatrical trailer

- Reversible sleeve featuring original and newly commissioned artwork by Nathanael Marsh

FIRST PRESSING ONLY: Collector's booklet containing new writing by Alexandra Heller-Nicholas

SPECS

Production Year: 1972 

Running Time: 108 

Number of Discs: 1 

Language: English 

Subtitles: English SDH 

Aspect Ratio: 1.85:1 

Blu-ray SRP: $34.95

DVD SRP: $24.95

Whiskey Galore! Blu-ray and DVD (12/12)

Whisky Galore! is the charming and heart-warming tale of a community of Islanders on a remote Scottish Island during WW2 coming together to relieve a sinking ship of its amber cargo.

Based on the true story of the cargo ship SS Politician running aground off the coast of Eriskay in 1941 and the ensuing battle between the Excise Men and the locals trying to salvage the lucrative cargo, that of 50,000 cases of Whiskey . The shipwreck and its cargo was like manna from heaven to the Islanders, whose island was totally 'dry', without any type of alcohol, which some would say is part of the life blood of the Scottish Islands!

Eddie Izzard, Gregor Fisher, Sean Biggerstaff, James Cosmo, Ellie Kendrick, Kevin Guthrie and Naomi Battrick stars in this charming remake of the Ealing classic!

Trailer: https://youtu.be/WzY3b90FLpY 

SPECS

Production Year: 2016 

Rating: Unrated 

Running Time: 98 

Number of Discs: 1 

Language: English 

Blu-ray SRP: $29.95

DVD SRP: $19.95

Donnie Darko [Limited Edition Steelbook] (Blu-ray) (12/12)

I WANT YOU TO WATCH THE MOVIE SCREEN.

THERE'S SOMETHING I WANT TO SHOW YOU.

Fifteen years before Stranger Things combined science-fiction, Spielberg-ian touches and 80s nostalgia to much acclaim, Richard Kelly set the template - and the high-water mark - with his debut feature, Donnie Darko. Initially beset with distribution problems, it would slowly find its audience and emerge as arguably the first cult classic of the new millennium. Donnie is a troubled high school student: in therapy, prone to sleepwalking and in possession of an imaginary friend, a six-foot rabbit named Frank, who tells him the world is going to end

in 28 days 06 hours 42 minutes and 12 seconds. During that time he will navigate teenage life, narrowly avoid death in the form of a falling jet engine, follow Frank's maladjusted instructions and try to maintain the space-time continuum.

Described by its director as "The Catcher in the Rye as told by Philip K. Dick", Donnie Darko combines an eye-catching, eclectic cast - pre-stardom Jake and Maggie Gyllenhaal, heartthrob Patrick Swayze, former child star Drew Barrymore, Oscar nominees Mary McDonnell and Katherine Ross, and television favourite Noah Wyle - and an evocative soundtrack of 80s classics by Echo and the Bunnymen, Tears for Fears and Duran Duran. This brand-new 4K restoration, carried out exclusively for this release by Arrow Films, allows a modern classic to finally receive the home video treatment it deserves.

SPECIAL EDITION CONTENTS:

- Brand-new 4K restoration from the original camera negative produced by Arrow Films exclusively for this release, supervised and approved by director Richard Kelly and cinematographer Steven Poster.

- Original 5.1 audio

- Optional English subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing

- Audio commentary by writer-director Richard Kelly and actor Jake Gyllenhaal

- Audio commentary by Kelly, producer Sean McKittrick and actors Drew Barrymore, Jena

Malone, Beth Grant, Mary McDonnell, Holmes Osborne, Katharine Ross and James Duval

- Deus ex Machina: The Philosophy of Donnie Darko, a brand-new feature-length 'making of' documentary

- The Goodbye Place, Kelly's 1996 short film, which anticipates some of the themes and ideas of his feature films

- Twenty deleted and alternate scenes with optional commentary by Kelly

- Trailer

- 20-page collector's booklet featuring writing on the film by critic and author Nathan Rabin

SPECS

Production Year: 2001 

Running Time: 113 

Number of Discs: 1 

Language: English 

Subtitles: English SDH 

Aspect Ratio: 2.35 : 1 

SRP: $39.95

The Apartment - Limited Edition (12/26)

In 1960, following on from the success of their collaboration on Some Like it Hot, director Billy Wilder (Ace in the Hole, Sunset Boulevard) reteamed with actor Jack Lemmon (The Odd Couple, Glengarry Glen Ross) for what many consider the pinnacle of their respective careers: The Apartment.

C.C. "Bud" Baxter (Lemmon) is a lowly Manhattan office drone with a lucrative sideline in renting out his apartment to adulterous company bosses and their mistresses. When Bud enters into a similar arrangement the firm's personnel director, J.D. Sheldrake (Fred MacMurray, Double Indemnity), his career prospects begin to look up... and up. But when he discovers that Sheldrake's mistress is Fran Kubelik (Shirley MacLaine, Irma la Douce), the girl of his dreams, he finds himself forced to choose between his career and the woman he loves...

Winner of five Academy Awards®, including Best Picture, The Apartment features a wealth of Hollywood's finest talent - on both sides of the camera - at the top of their game. By turns cynical, heart-warming and hilarious, Wilder's masterpiece now shines like never before in this all-new, 4K-restored edition from Arrow Films.

Trailer: https://youtu.be/GX9-5Zxy5us 

LIMITED EDITION CONTENTS

- Limited Deluxe Edition Blu-ray [3000 copies]

- Brand new 4K restoration of the film from the original camera negative produced by Arrow Films exclusively for this release

- Original uncompressed PCM mono audio

- Optional 5.1 remix in lossless DTS-HD Master Audio

- Optional English SDH subtitles for the deaf and hard of hearing

- Audio commentary with film producer and historian Bruce Block

- New appreciation of the film and select scene commentary by film historian Philip Kemp

- The Flawed Couple, a new video essay by filmmaker David Cairns on the collaborations between Billy Wilder and Jack Lemmon

- Billy Wilder ABC, an overview by David Cairns on the life and career of the filmmaker, covering his films, collaborators and more

- New interview with actress Hope Holiday

- Inside the Apartment, a half-hour "making-of" featurette from 2007 including interviews with Shirley MacLaine, executive producer Walter Mirisch, and others

- Magic Time: The Art of Jack Lemmon, an archive profile of the actor from 2007

- Original screenplay by Billy Wilder and I.A.L. Diamond (BD-ROM content)

- Theatrical trailer

- Special collector's packaging featuring newly commissioned artwork by Ignatius Fitzpatrick

- Collector's 150-page hardcover book featuring new writing by Neil Sinyard, Kat Ellinger, Travis Crawford and Heather Hyche, generously illustrated with rare stills and behind-the-scenes imagery

SPECS

Production Year: 1960 

Rating: Unrated 

Running Time: 119 mins 

Number of Discs: 1 

Language: English 

Subtitles: English SDH 

Aspect Ratio: 2.35:1 

SRP: $49.95

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[bigskydreaming]

In the vein of Dick’s feelings about his first family, pre-Bruce, that’s another reason why ‘Ric’ Grayson bugs me. Other than, y’know, everything about that stupid storyline BUT WHATEVER.

Anyway, I know Rebirth and nu52 before it both have tweaked Dick’s origin considerably, so who even knows what the current ‘canon’ take is, not this guy that’s for damn sure. But until he lost his memories, he was still going by Dick, so unless otherwise specified, his reasons for going by Dick should be just as true for ‘Ric’ Grayson....since he’s still supposed to remember up through Bruce taking him in after his family died. It was only everything after that point that became foggy or whatever.

But Dick only goes by Dick instead of another variation of Richard, because Dick is what his dad called him. And the REASON Dick’s dad called him that, is because Dick was named after his Uncle Richard, his dad’s brother. And his uncle’s preferred nicknames were Rick or sometimes Rich.

And although most adaptations like cartoons and movies and one-shot origin issues streamline the events of Dick’s origin, and go with the idea that it was just his parents who died that night....pre-Flashpoint, it was canon that the Flying Graysons act was never just Dick and his parents. It also included his Uncle Rick and his Aunt Karla, and their son, his older cousin Johnny. Dick was the only one not performing in the final act. It was Dick’s parents AND his aunt and cousin who all died that night....and his Uncle Rick fell too, but survived. However, he ended up with brain damage and has been in an assisted living facility ever since, and that’s why Dick had no legal guardian.

But yeah, the real reason Dick goes by Dick, is because as far as he and every one in his family, every one in the circus was concerned, it was his Uncle Richard who was Rick or Rich. Everyone called him Dick so there was no confusion. And that’s why Dick has never been willing to entertain the idea of going by a different version of his name - his only other living blood relative already has claim to the other variations, in Dick’s eyes.

Tangent - the only vaguely interesting about the amnesia plot actually is the one angle they kinda unintentionally laid out, but haven’t done anything with. The difference in personalities between Dick and ‘Ric’, with Ric being angry and abrasive and just taking a job as a taxi driver and not wanting anything to do with being a superhero....given that he supposedly now has no clear memories of anything after his first few months living with Bruce, his personality change actually makes a lot of sense with his pre-Flashpoint origin at least. Again, I don’t know what the ‘official’ canon is these days, but with the pre-Flashpoint origin, the one where Dick ended up in juvie after his parents died and was only taken in by Bruce after he’d already spent a month there....Ric’s new personality fits that perfectly. It was not an easy transition, originally. Like the way its presented in cartoons and one-shots, as though Bruce just instantly decided Dick was going to come live with him because he bonded with him over their shared tragedy.....that’s not how it played out in the comics. 

In origin stories like Robin: Year One Annual and others, yes Bruce was there the night Dick’s family died. Yes, he felt a connection with Dick because of the similarity to his own tragedy. Yes, he comforted Dick that night, because of that. But then he left Dick in the hands of the case worker who showed up to take custody of Dick, and that was that. Bruce had ZERO intention of taking Dick in himself at that point. He did believe Dick about Zucco having sabotaged the trapeze and started looking into it as Batman right away...but THAT was how the ‘connection’ he felt with Dick manifested for him. He did what he felt Dick would want, would help him the most, get closure for him...the same thing as Bruce had wanted himself, after his parents were murdered. And that was as far as it went. 

Even a lot of readers and fic writers who do acknowledge the juvie part of Dick’s origin treat it as though he was stuck there for a few days while Bruce had to navigate through red tape to get custody of him, but again, that’s not how the actual comics detailing that period depicted it. In that annual I mentioned, he was in there for a month, and it was established that he basically had to fight to survive against bigger boys every single day he was in there. His first night, three guys beat him so badly he was convinced he would have died if the guards hadn’t stopped it. And eventually, after a month had gone by, using his acrobat skills, he escaped. (After Devin Grayson retconned Dick as being Romani, the couple times Dick’s talked about this period of his life since then, he mentions that his English was not very good at the time, and it was this combined with his heritage and circus background specifically that led his racist case worker to decide that obvsly, he was destined to wind up in juvie anyway, so no need to waste a bed elsewhere on him. There he mentions being in juvie for closer to three months, but the takeaway that whatever the actual length of time he was in there, it was definitely somewhere between 1-3 months).

But after that, he had enough of getting the shit beaten out of him every day and was convinced the promises of a new family and getting out of there at some point were all just lies, so he parkoured his way out of the yard and over the fence at night.

And ran into Batman on the rooftops.  

Yeah. Batman was just out doing Batman stuff, and he ran into Dick Grayson running around Gotham’s rooftops with no shoes and detention center-issued clothes. He told Dick he believed him about Tony Zucco and was looking into the case, and then told him Dick couldn’t be of any help to him as a fugitive, and convinced him to go back to the JDC and he’d make sure he got out another way. (Dick btw, cynically thought ‘yeah right, why should I trust a guy who doesn’t even show his face’, and pretty much only goes back to the JDC because he’s sure Batman would just drag him back there anyway if he didn’t.) The very next day, Dick’s case worker showed up for the first time since she’d left him there and led him outside, saying someone had volunteered to take him in, and basically just handed him over to Alfred who was waiting with a car. 

So...yup. Bruce had felt a connection with Dick that night and empathized with him....but that hadn’t led him to just decide ‘hey I’m gonna take in this traumatized kid, I’m obviously the best candidate for that.’

Bruce took Dick in himself because he felt GUILTY.

Because he hadn’t even known Dick was in juvie. Hadn’t thought twice about checking up on the kid after that night, focused totally on just building a case against Zucco, as well as his other cases. I think there was a reference in an issue where Dick said something about how Bruce had made sure his family’s funeral arrangements were paid for, but that same issue Dick said he hadn’t even been allowed to GO to the funeral, so its not like Bruce was there with him like a lot of headcanons and fics depict it. DICK wasn’t even there.

Nope, it was good old fashioned guilt that motivated Bruce to take a personal hand in Dick’s well-being. Because he just happened to run across Dick on a roof randomly one night. THAT’S the pre-Flashpoint origin of the Batfamily. Random coincidence and a guilty conscience.

And it goes a long way towards explaining a lot of Bruce’s later actions in canon. He met Jason when the latter was stealing his tires, when Bruce missed Dick and quite probably felt guilty about driving Dick away. And he runs into this homeless kid who reminds him of Dick that SECOND night he met him, and who is actively engaging in criminal activities and thus could easily end up in juvie, the very place that had traumatized Dick so much because Bruce had just trusted the system with him back then. Its not surprising in that context that Bruce made the leap to thinking he was a better option than leaving Jason in CPS’s hands or with someone who might’ve been less patient with him, less motivated to make sure he stayed out of the JDC, no matter what that took.

I’ve always felt it explains everything about Dick’s choice to make Robin his persona. In one issue, when Dick’s sketching out possible costume ideas, Alfred asks him why not something like Batboy, or some variation of his mentor’s name. Dick said that he wanted something that was completely his, that Bruce didn’t give him. That’s why he picked Robin, his mother’s nickname for him, and why his costume was just a version of what he’d worn in the circus, a reminder of when he was happiest. 

But IMO its also why he’s always insisted on being referred to as Batman’s partner rather than his sidekick. Because Robin was never meant to be an extension of Batman, a part of HIS mission. Robin was Dick’s own mission. Because for all that he and Bruce had the murder of their parents as a shared tragedy, a connection.....it didn’t motivate him in the same way it motivated Bruce, because for Dick, that was only PART of the tragedy. Everything that came after that traumatized him, shaped him just as much. His trauma didn’t start and finish with their murder, and bringing in Zucco could never bring closure for everything he’d been through because he fell through the cracks of a flawed system. So Robin was never meant to be an extension of Batman, something to help Bruce fulfill his personal crusade. Robin was more about using Batman to fulfill his own crusade.

Bruce created Batman for the criminals who caused tragedies like the one he’d been shaped by. Dick created Robin for the people left behind after those tragedies, like he’d been. Just as everything about Batman was meant to frighten and intimidate the people he focused on, everything about Robin was meant to cheer up and comfort the people HE focused on. Bright, happy colors to help soothe a shaken victim while Batman dealt with the perpetrator. Light-hearted jokes and laughter to remind people that even after something terrible happened, there were still good things in the world. 

Dick designed Robin to be everything Batman WASN’T. To do everything Batman didn’t do for him.

So, just saying....as much as I hate the Ric Grayson storyline and still think it was a mistake....it COULD have been an interesting examination of nature vs nurture. How much of Dick Grayson is just innate, and how much would he be different if his experiences were different, like he never remembered being Robin.

Because a Ric Grayson who had no clear personal memories after his first few months with Bruce would absolutely be as bitter and angry as Ric was first shown being at the start of the amnesia plot. Because in those first months with Bruce, Dick had been very, very angry indeed. 

Being Robin is what changed Dick, helped him heal. And not just because it let him put away Tony Zucco. Because even after he’d endured terrible tragedies, it could still remind him that he’d been happy once, and he could be happy again. And as Robin, he reminded other people of that too.