#ALSO JASON THAT LITTLE SHIT LITERALLY STOMPING ON BRUCE’S BACK

[ghost-bxrd]

Ok first of all: I loved every single thing about this. Literally. It’s the best premise for this trope and I was just making weird velociraptor noises while reading the whole time 😩💚

Second of all: I’d like to ask formal permission to include this in the fic I’m planning on making this prompt, with proper credit of course. no pressure obviously! If you’re not comfortable with that or if you’re planning on writing more for this yourself feel free to tell me off 💚✨

And I noticed in the tags you said this was your first time writing for this fandom and??? It literally turned out phenomenal???? I LOVED the part where Jason calls from Tim’s civilian phone. It’s a perfect setup for Bruce begging for his children to stay unhurt because evidently Hood somehow got a hold of Tim’s phone so the next best conclusion would be that Tim is also being held hostage somewhere and it’s just SO. GOOD.

And Bruce being caught absolutely blindsided at WE? Love it. If it was any other situation he could have probably wheedled himself out of it but like this? He wasn’t expecting anything exciting to happen, and by the time the bomb went off it was much too late.

Seriously, this was so good and I feel like a little kid bouncing on the tips of my toes because now I need more grrrr 😩💚💚💚💚💚

Prompt:

Instead of Dick or Tim, Red Hood straight up goes for kidnapping Bruce Wayne and keeping him hostage just to see how desperate the birds get in trying to find him.

It’s a foolproof plan. Batman won’t blow his cover unless absolutely necessary, and “Brucie” would never know how to slip away from a crime lord of Red Hood’s caliber. It’s foolproof. It’s perfect. Jason can keep dropping hints and make threats towards the birds and watch Bruce squirm without consequences if he plays this right.

But then “Brucie” keeps begging him not to hurt his kids…

[collectivefandomstuff]

Title: A Hindering Hand Type: Fanfic, crossposted to AO3 (https://archiveofourown.org/works/27270097) Status: Complete. Chapter: 1/1. Fandom: DC/Batman Rating: T Warnings: Language. Beta: No beta we die like Jason Todd and also Damian Pairings: None. Word Count: 4k+ Genre: Humour/Comedy Characters: Jason Todd, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Stephanie Brown, Damian Wayne. Summary: When Dick is refused the opportunity to coddle Damian, he decides to lavish his other siblings with his questionably helpful assistance. They are palpably ungrateful.

Excerpt: Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed him. 

”You have got to be kidding me.”

Jason stared at what used to be his perfectly clean kitchen; now a hollowed out shell of its former self. Cabinet doors were thrown open, his carefully organised supplies haphazardly shuffled around. Every single counter and parts of the floor was covered in flour, cocoa, and something wet and heretofore unidentified. He didn’t even want to look closer at the stove or the sink, both filled with sticky, clearly misused, pots and pans. There was a smell hanging in the air, the same one that had set his inner alarm bells off when he entered the apartment: burnt sugar and something that smelled suspiciously like rotten fruit. Jason took a deep breath to stop himself from just whipping out his guns and shooting at the mess. It would be cathartic, but ultimately unhelpful. Instead, he fished his phone out of his front pocket and thumbed through his contacts.

He got through two rings before the line opened.

“He got you too?” Tim said on the other end. His tone reminded Jason of Bruce, which was usually a clear indication that Tim was fucking done.

“How can he be this useless?” Jason ground out.

“He was raised by Alfred.”

“So was I. And you.” “Fine. He was spoiled by Bruce.” “uh-huh,” Jason agreed, daring to move into his living room. Thankfully, the carnage hadn’t spread there, though there was an oven pan, placed strategically in the middle of his coffee table. The contains looked like what Jason imagined “dubious food” in Zelda looked like in real life. “I have to stop hanging out with you,” he told Tim. “Why?” “I just made a video game reference in my head.” “Which game?” “Not the point.” “I mean-” Tim began, but before he got any further into arguing why the specific game was “of import” to the discussion -fucking dweeb -Jason cut him off: “I’m going to kill him.” Tim was quiet for a moment. “What did he do exactly?” “Hi Little Wing,” Jason recited from the note that had been stuck underneath his brand new fucking oven pan Dick you bastard that was expensive. “I made you some brownies!” Jason stopped to look closer at the brown sludge that he was pretty sure was stuck to the bottom of his new pan. Martha herself recommended it, Dick goddammit. “I hope they turned out all right! Don’t work too much! D.” There was a pause. “Did they turn out all right?” asked Tim. “No,” Jason gritted his teeth, “No, they did not.” “He’s really on a spree this week.” “Yeah?” Jason muttered absently, poking at the sludge with his gloved finger. It jiggled. Somehow, that made everything so much worse. “Mm,” Tim said, and Jason could hear the tapping of computer keys in the background which meant that he had about 30% of Tim’s attention. “He hit Cass and Steph a few days ago. I guess since Cass is staying there when she’s in town he thought it was two for one. Tried to do their laundry.” “Why haven’t they killed him?” “They’re working on big drug bust. So, no time.” “Well I have time.” Jason groused, already trying to reorganize his plans for the evening. He would need at least three hours to repair the damage Dick had done to his kitchen. “Good,” Tim said, his voice cold, “because so do I.” Jason stopped trying to figure out how many new appliances he would need to buy to focus for a moment. “What did he do to you?” Tim was silent for a long while, then: “He tried to clean my apartment.” Jason shuddered. On one hand, he understood the compulsion. His replacement’s usual idea “clean” was “nothing hazardous is currently growing somewhere”. Still, the only thing worse than Dick trying to clean was Bruce trying to clean. Or cook. Or do laundry. Or vacuum. The Batman he may be, but Jason had never met a more incompetent homemaker in his life. Once, Bruce had tried to dust a little and they had to call the fire department. “And?” He prompted. “He moved everything,” Tim said, deceptively calm, “and threw out at least thirty-four irreplaceable things.” Oh shit. There was a reason why Jason stomped down the urge to clean Tim’s apartment. He once moved an old magazine when the younger boy wasn’t even there and the next day he got received three upset calls and a computer virus for his trouble. “He re-organised my desk. My cases. My clues.” Tim continued to rattle off. “And he didn’t even manage to clean properly. I’m pretty sure he tried to scrub my TV with vinegar.” Jason bit his lip to keep from laughing. Looks like Tim got it worse. “Shut up,” said Tim grouchily. “I didn’t say anything.” “You were laughing at me.” How- Jason’s hand clenched around the phone. “I told you to stop putting cameras in my apartment.” Tim snorted. “So find them and take them down. Think of it as practice,” he said, lilting the word “practice” in the same way Bruce usually did. “You’re such a creeper.” “Says the murderous crime lord.” “At least I’m not a stalker.” “Have you checked your bottom cabinets yet?” Jason stilled at the sudden change of subject. “Why?” “Looks like the re-organising urge lived on.” Oh, he had better fucking not. Jason stepped back into his kitchen and, with the care of someone opening a bomb case, edged open the door to his pots- and pans cabinet. He came face to face with his toaster, nestled between a pasta drainer and three boxes of cereal that he had not owned this morning. It was the sugary shit too. “Son of a-” “I think he put your spatulas in the fridge,” Tim said cheerily. Jason was going to wring his little neck. Right after he had stomped on Dick until the unbridled rage in his chest went away. “This is why I don’t want any contact with this family for-” “You know why he’s doing this right?” Tim queried lightly. Jason frowned. “I don’t keep track of the family gossip, pretender. I have better things to do with my time.” Tim made an offended noise at being called “pretender”. “Fine. Then why don’t you try to make him stop and call me when he’s tried to clean your guns?” Jason rolled his eyes. The dramatics, honestly. Bruce 2.0. “Why is he doing this, Tim?” He asked reluctantly. Tim sniffed. “Damian told Dick that he wasn’t needed at the moment, which was the little brat’s way of trying to get Dick to take some time to de-stress, but obviously Dick took this to mean that Damian has cast him aside and considers him a bad parental figure.” Jason spent a good few seconds rethinking the whole “moving back to Gotham” idea. He could just… leave and never talk to this insane family ever again. It was entirely doable. Just, one little call to Roy and hasta la vista you absolute nutjobs. He sighed. “So we have to talk to the demon child?” He asked tiredly. “Yeah pretty much.” “I still think my first plan was better.” “If you kill Dick, the family will never leave you alone.” That was a surprisingly good point. Dammit. “Can I punch him a little?” “I’d encourage it.” “Hey,” said Jason suspiciously, “just what are you planning to do him exactly?” “Honestly?” Tim replied. “I’m going to send a false tip to the department of Agriculture, fabricate evidence, and make them recall his favourite cereal.” Jesus fucking Christ this family was a pizza bagel of crazy with a sociopath topping.

-

It took them a while to track down Robin during patrol, and when they managed to find him they were met with immediate resistance. Which, taking into consideration who they were, wasn’t all that surprising. “Calm down.” Red Hood said placatingly while he jumped out of range from Robin’s swords. “We just wanted to talk to you about N-” He dodged a batarang that was clearly aimed at his throat. Add psychopath topping to that pizza bagel. “Would you knock it off,” Red Robin snarled, spinning out of the way when Robin spun to aim a kick at his stomach. Hood seized the opportunity and darted in to restrain the tiny beast that, let’s be real, was absolute proof that Bruce should not be allowed to procreate. Robin thrashed in his hold for a good three minutes before he finally settled down, glaring murderously at Red. “What do you want?” Robin spat. Even when Hood could feel him literally vibrating with supressed rage, he still kept perfect syntax. No abbreviations here. Little freak. “We need you to call N,” Red said. He looked a little ruffled and more than a little miffed. “I will do no such thing,” Robin sniffed. “Think again,” Hood said in his ear, letting his voice drop into a menacing tone. “Look,” Red Robin said. His hair was sticking up at the back after the struggle and he looked real fed up with this. Hood could relate. “N is running himself ragged trying to prove he’s a good parent or something and you need to make him quit before he injures himself.” Robin stilled. “What would Grayson be doing that would cause him such stress?” “He’s cooking,” Hood drawled. “And cleaning,” Red added. Robin’s whole body tensed. “I will take care of it.” He declared imperiously. Hood looked at Red, who shrugged. Yeah, good enough, I guess.

-

It was not good enough, he guessed, Jason realised as he took in what used to be his living room, but was now a cut out of a living room no one would ever willingly ”live” in from Garishly Tasteless Designs Magazine. He had his phone up and dialling before his eyes had even swept up the full length of the dirt-yellow curtains. It took a while to get the full effect of them, because he kept getting distracted by the frills and the suspiciously Nightwing-esque pattern. “Yeah?” Tim answered on the other end of the line. His voice said he was knee deep in something and wasn’t really paying attention. Probably his revenge plan, which Jason was seeing in a whole new light right now. “He redecorated.” Jason’s voice was so low it was almost a growl. There was a pause. “It didn’t stop?” Tim sounded much more alert and aware this time. “No it did I just went out and bought this lime green couch myself from Blind, Bath and Beyond,” Jason snapped. He heard Tim groan into the receiver. “But we even talked to Damian,” his replacement whined. Like he had anything to complain about. His living room didn’t have- was that a fucking Billy the Bass? Jason was going to shove his guns so far- “I’m calling the brat,” Jason ground out before hanging up and redialling. Damian didn’t answer the first time, so Jason made use of his annoying gene(s) and called him over and over until he picked up. “Todd,” Damian snarled, “I am at school. I realise that you were incapable of finishing your formal education but-” “Your fucking Dick of a brother broke into my apartment and re-decorated my living room.” Jason informed grimly. “He- you must be mistaken.” “Look, kid, there aren’t a lot of things I know, what with my not completing my formal education and all, but if there is one thing I will never unlearn it’s how to spot Dick Grayson’s fucking taste in fabrics.” “I see.” No, you little shit. You don’t see. Jason was the one who was cursed with seeing this absolute monstrosity of a- was that crystal?! “You said you were handling it,” Jason reminded him, firmly putting his back to the living room. Looking at it was bad for his blood pressure. “I do not understand.” Damian said seriously. “I specifically told Grayson to stop bothering you and go back to Blüdhaven where he could be of use.” Oh. Oh Damian. Jason resisted the urge to smack the phone into his face. Sometimes Damian’s age and social inexperience really shone through. Jason took a deep breath to keep from screaming. “Listen, Damian.” Jason said carefully. “Dick is feeling a little neglected right now, and what he needs, what we asked you to do, was to start hanging out with him again.” “-tt-” Damian was probably rolling his eyes. Jason could have Tim check later, he was sure the little creep had cameras in every building in the city. “That is preposterous!” “No,” Jason said dangerously, “it’s not. So now would you just call him and tell him you need help with your homework or something?” It was truly a testament to Jason’s level of desperation that he was willing to be this nice and patient. “Grayson needs to rest-” “Just FUCKING CALL HIM!!” Ok, so there was a limit to that patience. Oh well, he was only human. Damian, however, apparently thought that this was one indignity too far because the call disconnected. Jason glanced behind him and immediately regretted it. Porcelain figurines. Oh, how he missed the days when he was a big-name villain, and the only thing Dick did was fight him. In the corner, a cuckoo clock struck seven and a tiny robin popped out and chirped at him. Jason’s vision blurred with sickly green for a moment. Yeah, he was staying in a safe house tonight.

-

It took for days of no progress and Tim having his entire coffee-stash replaced with decaf (“cheap decaf, Jason. Low-level, buy in bulk decaf.”) before they threw in the towel and went to the manor. The estate looked as menacing to him now as it had when Jason first saw it as a little kid from Crime Alley. It probably always would, no matter how many times he was back. If Tim was feeling apprehensive, it didn’t show. He just looked grumpy, like a particularly displeased cat. His replacement rapped his knuckles on the door and stepped back to cross his arms, frowning. He looked very intimidating. Like a squirrel with an anger management problem. The door swung open to reveal Steph, dressed in a t-shirt that Jason was pretty sure wasn’t supposed to be a splotchy pale blue. Her jeans looked new. “He’s not here,” Steph told them in a biting tone. “Who?” Tim asked. “Dick. Though for the record we have to come up with a new name for him because ‘Dick’ is going to be real ironic soon.” And whoa, Steph did know how to look properly intimidating. “What’d he do?” Jason asked her. Stephanie stepped back to let them inside. “There was an incident with a waffle iron,” she said icily. “He tried to cook?” Tim guessed, taking off his shoes. “He tried to laminate.” Steph corrected. Tim grimaced. “Is Damian here?” Steph snorted. “Damian is useless. We need to strike back.” She lowered her voice, her eyes cold. “And strike hard.” Damn, if this continued, Dick wouldn’t even be allowed back into Gotham. Actually, yeah he would. Only Batman could bar people from entering Gotham, apparently. Because Bruce was only one with any rights around here, that fucking- He was getting off subject. Also, not paying attention. “-alking to Dick,” Tim was saying, “trying to talk to him is a good way to make this worse.” “I wasn’t suggesting we talk to him.” Steph said, cracking her knuckles. Tim looked unimpressed, which frankly impressed Jason a little. Stephanie was scary. Not Batman scary but- Hang on. “Hang on,” Jason said, holding his hand up for emphasis, “Batman is the only one who can bar someone from coming to Gotham.” “What the hell is your point, zombie boy?” Steph asked, crossing her arms. “We don’t need to redirect Dickies attention back to Damian. We just need to redirect it. To someone.” Jason grinned at them and it probably only looked about 30% insane. “Someone with the power to stop him.” Understanding dawned on Stephanie and Tim’s faces. “Someone who deserves to have his clothes ruined,” Steph whispered reverently. “Someone who has time to redecorate because he doesn’t have a job,” Tim added gleefully, “someone who flounces into board meetings too late and does nothing.” “Exactly.”

-

Tracking down Nightwing turned out to be the easiest thing they’d had to do so far. He didn’t even try to avoid them. “Hey guys!” N smiled cheerily at them as if he hadn’t spent the last two weeks putting them through some kind of Donna Reed inspired psychological torture. “Nightwing.” Red Robin greeted coldly and, yeah, in costume the replacement could totally pull off intimidating. “Whoa, what’s with the murder faces?” Nightwing said, stepping off the ledge he’d been standing on and walking closer. Hood crossed his arms. “You’ve been busy lately,” he commented and even the helmet couldn’t filter away the unvoiced insult at the end. “I guess?” N replied. “Did you like the brownies?” Hood tried to remember that they weren’t here to beat him senseless. Based on Spoiler’s clenched fists it seemed like he wasn’t the only one struggling with that. “N,” Red Robin said with the calm voice he usually reserved for interrogating suspects, “we appreciate you trying to… help us.” On “help us” Red’s voice broke through the calm and straight into “I’m going to kill you and bury you in store-brand decaf coffee” territory. “But we really are doing fine on our own.” Nightwing pursed his lips. “You are all working so hard-” he started, but Red cut him off. “Yes, and that’s why we appreciate it. But we’re actually worried about someone else, who needs your help a lot more than we do.” Nightwing paused and Hood could almost see the gears in his head whirring. “Who? Damian?” “Not Damian,” Red said, because they all knew it wouldn’t work to say it was Damian, “B.” Nightwing crossed his arms. “You think B needs help?” And here was the fragile part of their plan. Hood cleared his throat. “B,” he said, trying to keep his tone civil, “works himself to the bone and he doesn’t accept help from any of us.” “He has Alfie though,” N argued. “Alfie is busy taking care of Damian, since you’re not helping him as much anymore.” Spoiler rebutted. And damn, blondie, good answer. “We struggle too,” Red said, “but we help each other, right guys?” “Uh-huh,” Spoiler agreed. “Right.” Hood lied, thankful that the helmet veiled his eyeroll. “You guys help each other out,” Nightwing said with obvious disbelief. “You.” “Red is always helping me with cases,” Spoiler said, “and studies and stuff too. And I help him with staying alive and acting like a human.” Red nodded. “And Red and I work together on cases,” Hood said truthfully. “And sometimes Hood makes sure I eat and stuff,” Red added, “and I help him with security.” “They also hang out and play video games and watch nerdy movies,” Spoiler revealed. The little snitch. “Really?” Nightwing said, looking between the three of them. “That’s great!” He shuffled around a little. “So, you guys don’t need me either, huh?” Oh god. Oh dear god it was the voice. The patented Richard Grayson sad-and-feeling-neglected voice. The voice that could inspire shame and guilt in the most hard boiled criminal. At least he was wearing the mask so he couldn’t give them the accompanying puppy eyes. “Well,” Spoiler said and Hood could see her wavering. She didn’t have the years of experience needed to withstand Dick’s manipulation. “But B does!” Tim exclaimed, dragging Spoiler to stand behind him. Good move. “And the little brat too, even though he doesn’t admit it.” Hood added. Nightwing bit his lip. “Look,” Red’s voice was genuine now, “we all really do appreciate it, but B and Dami need your help more. And frankly, the last time I saw B he looked dead on his feet. We’re all good. But he isn’t. He sleeps less than I do.” Maybe that was even true. Huh. Were they doing B a solid here? Wait, no. No they weren’t. It was recommended by Martha, Dick you absolute menace. “Ok, I hear you.” N said solemnly. “I just wanted to help out.” Martha. Think about Martha. “We know,” Red said, patting N on the back. It was really awkward. “Did I tell you B has started eating power bars for dinner?” “Wait, seriously?” Nightwing looked disturbed. “That’s so bad for you.” “Yeah,” Hood said as if he hadn’t watched Red do that at least three dozen times, “he’s really setting a bad example for li’l D, isn’t he?” He thought Red might have done the wave if he could have. Hood certainly wanted to give himself the wave for that stroke of genius. “Okay, I know you guys are manipulating me,” Nightwing told them drily. Shit. “But you have a point.” Oh thank Jesus. N stretched. “Well,” he said, “I’m going to make sure B doesn’t kill himself. And yes, I’ll stop helping you guys.” He shook his head. “You three should really open up more, you know?” They nodded, because at this point they would do anything to make him stop “helping out”. Red cleared his throat. “So, good luck, uhm...” Nightwing grinned. “I’ll stop, but you all have to give me a hug before I leave.” Fuck. N pounced on Red like a jaguar on a gazelle, completely ignoring the scandalised (and very undignified) “meep” Red let out. Hood turned around, ready to make a run for it. “If you leave before a hug I’ll make you dinner next time!” Nightwing called cheerfully, still holding onto Red Robin like he was a life vest. Triple fuck. Hood sighed. The things you do to not have your living room secretly re-decorated.

-

As awful as it was to get cuddled by Nightwing, it was all worth it about a week later, when Tim climbed in through his living room window for their bi-weekly movie night. This week: when the great go bad- The Godfather 3, X-Men: The Last Stand, and Matrix Reloaded and Revolutions. “I see you got rid of the ruffles,” Tim remarked. “You didn’t see that on your stalker cam?” “I’ve been busy watching Bruce lately.” “Oh?” Jason prompted, putting the pizza boxes on the coffee-table. “He tried to call me five times today,” Tim said. He walked over and got two beers out of the fridge. Jason sniggered. “It’s that bad?” “He’s only got one target now. B is about to break.” “Tell me more, tell me more,” Jason said, making himself comfortable on his new -fucking stylish thank you very much -couch. “Like, did he do something to his car?” “I can’t believe you just made a Grease reference, you absolute nerd,” Tim commented flatly. “Musicals are cool,” Jason told him. Because it was true and he would fight anyone who said otherwise. “Was Olivia Newton John your childhood crush or something?” “Who’s to say it wasn’t Travolta?” Tim gave him a deadpan stare. “Because,” he said drily, “unlike Dick, you actually have taste.” Jason mulled that over. “Touché." He shrugged. "Now tell me about B.” Tim looked up from where he was connecting his computer to the TV and grinned sharply. “You want to experience what the Germans call ‘Schadenfreude’?” “Hell yeah I do.” Tim hit a key on his laptop and the Cave flickered into view on Jason’s TV. At least, he thought it was the cave. “Is that?” “He re-decorated the cave.” Tim laughed. It was not a nice laugh. Jason approved. On the screen, Bruce had just entered through the door to the storage area and was making his way to the computer. Trailing after him with a plate of questionable looking sandwiches was Dick. Jason nabbed a beer from the coffee table and leaned back against the couch. “Oh we are so watching this tonight. Sofia can wait.” “I made a compilation of the past week,” Tim said smugly, picking up the other beer and folding himself into Jason’s new armchair. It was beige and, most importantly, neither pea-green nor suede. On screen Bruce collapsed into his new, avant-garde office chair and put his head in his hands while Dick chatted pleasantly in his ear. “You know,” Tim said thoughtfully while Dick re-arranged Bruce’s files, “sometimes I think he’s being purposefully bad at this.” “Why?” “Oh just,” Tim reached for the pizza and Jason handed him the box, “whenever he starts doing this, we all have to interact with each other to make him stop. Like how you and I only started hanging out to begin with because he kept breaking into our safe houses to make ‘breakfast’. Well, that and that time he gave you a haircut in you sleep.” Jason stilled with his beer halfway to his mouth. “He…” Oh god. “That’s totally what he’s doing isn’t it?” Tim looked at him over his slice of pepperoni. “Yeah, probably.” Jason slammed his bear down on the table. “THAT SNEAKY FUCKING BASTARD!” Jason glared at Tim, the proof of Dick's successful manipulation. He didn't even like the replacement. Why the hell was he hanging out with him? Stupid, meddling big brothers who ruin your life. "It's okay," Tim reached over and patted his hand, "I just confirmed that they're taking his cereal off the shelves this week." And yeah, that made it a little better, actually. "I still don't like you." He told Tim. "I know. Wanna watch Bruce find out that Dick redid his wardrobe?" "Yeah ok," Jason grumbled. Maybe, he admitted to himself only, the replacement wasn't all bad. The screen zoomed in on Bruce's expression as he came face to face with a sequined suit. Yeah, Jason thought, taking another sip of beer, not all bad.

[fishfingersandjellybabies]

Abandoned - fic

Characters: Jason Todd, Ric Grayson, bits of Tim, Cass and Damian Summary: Ric was an only child. A man named Jay decided to remind him that, in another life, he wasn’t. A/N: Reminder Ric Grayson is one of the worst things to ever exist and the fact that they completely ignored what would happen with those really close relationships he had with his siblings is a bunch of bullshit. So here’s Jason word-vomiting for me. I wrote this in one go in the middle of the night. Sorry it’s garbage. The batkids were driving back to Gotham from some top secret mission and shit probably.

~~

Ric frowned as he stepped out of the bar. There was a car blocking his cab in the alleyway.

And that in itself wasn’t a problem, not really. Had happened before. What made it worse was that there was a man in a leather jacket standing nearby, leaning on a light pole, puffing away at a cigarette. Ric didn’t know why, but he had an intense feeling the man was the car’s owner, and that this little blockade was on purpose.

Ric huffed, shoving his hands in his pocket as he began to stomp closer. He didn’t really want to fight one of the fine folks of Bludhaven today, but would if he had to. He had fares to find and bills to pay, and this guy looked like one of those smarmy assholes who would drag out a stupid argument just out of spite.

As he got closer, the man glanced over, a sharp grin flashing onto his face in recognition. He popped the cigarette into his mouth and pushed off the streetlamp, fixing in his jacket. While he did so, Ric caught a glimpse of scars, violent looking ones, and even a few wounds still in the process of healing.

Ric blinked, and his stomach dropped in frustration.

One of them.

“Bruce Wayne sent another one of you, huh?” He snapped before thinking too much about it. The man snorted a laugh, running his fingers through his hair. Ric took note of the white streak near his bangs.

“Nah. If he knew I was here, he’d kill me actually.” A drag of the cigarette. “Again.”

Ric stopped in front of him, waiting.

“Ah, yeah. Sorry. Amnesia.” The man exhaled smoke right into Ric’s face. “You wouldn’t get the joke.”

“Doesn’t sound like it’d be funny even if I did.” Ric countered easily. “Mind telling me why you blocked my cab?”

The man shrugged. “Wanted to talk.”

Ric groaned, glancing to the skies. “Look, I’ll tell you the same thing I told that Barbara woman. I’m sorry I don’t remember whatever relationships we had before, but I don’t want to come back to Goth-”

“I don’t give a shit about all that. Don’t come back, I don’t care. It’s your life.” The man cut off. “That’s not what I wanted to talk about.”

“…Oh.” Ric pursed his lips, looking around. “Then what do you want?”

“I want to talk about…” The man seemed to think over his words. “What you else left behind.” Suddenly he gestured his arm towards his own car, directing Ric to look for himself. “I want to talk about them.”

Ric glanced over and realized that the man’s car wasn’t empty. There were three people inside, three kids by the look of it. Two in the back and one in the front.

The teenagers in the back could have been twins from where he was standing. Both with black hair and pale skin. Petite. The girl’s hair was longer, almost to her shoulders, but the boy could have used a haircut himself too. The girl smiled and pointed to something on the phone the boy was holding between them. The boy laughed too.

In the front passenger seat was a younger boy. He was also consumed by the phone in his hands, headphones shoved into his ears and sweatshirt hood over his head. His knees were curled up to his chest, and he looked like he was hugging himself.

He looked…sad.

Not that the two in the back looked any better. They looked tired. More tired than a couple of teenagers should. Concerningly tired.

Ric looked back to the man. “Who are they?” And almost an after thought: “Who are you?”

“…You used to call me Jay sometimes. So let’s go with that.” Jay said absently. “And they…are your siblings.”

Ric was already shaking his head as he looked back. The three in the car didn’t seem to notice them. “I don’t have any brothers and sisters. I’m an only child.”

“By blood, yeah. By found family…you’re the oldest of five. Legally too, technically.”

Ric looked back. “Five? There’s only three kids in that car.”

Jay pointed to himself. “You were also kiddo’s legal guardian for a few years, too. But that’s less important in the long run I guess. Kind of.”

Ric’s stomach was churning now. “Okay, so Bruce Wayne had a bunch of kids besides me. So what?”

“So…that’s what I wanted to talk to you about.” Jay took another sharp inhale of his cigarette, seemingly steeling himself. Thinking. “Because Bruce is one thing. The secret cave and what we did down there is one thing. Don’t want to come back to that? Fine. Be as big an asshole as you want about it. I don’t care. No one does. Nightwing was a beloved hero around the world, but if it came down to the world having Nightwing or having Dick…Richard Grayson safe, not a single person would pick the former. Besides, heroes retire. Heroes quit. Heroes become bad guys. No big thing. It was wrong of Bruce and Barbara and whoever else to try to force you back into a role you didn’t remember.”

Ric waited.

“That’s one thing.” Jay repeated, and suddenly his voice was angry behind the cigarette. “But abandoning those kids is another.”

A moment to let that sink in.

“And sure, at first I thought I’d come here and say abandoning the people who love you was really shitty, but you know? A lot of people fucking love you and I don’t care about a single one of them.”

He pointed towards the car.

“But them? They adored you. Still do frankly. Especially kiddo.” Jay emphasized his point by jabbing his finger forward again. “You saved his life. You saved all their lives in one way or another. And even more than that – you loved them when it kinda seemed like no one else would. You gave a shit when not even Bruce did.”

Jay dropped his cigarette back between his fingers. Exhaled, and it was shaky. Upset.

“And I get it, I do. Leaving Batman? Easy. Leaving Bruce? Honestly, even easier. It’s not a life any of us should have or want and…you got out. Yeah, it was through getting shot in the head and forgetting everything, but. You got out.” Jay waved it off. “But what I have a problem with is that you left them and you don’t even care.”

“Because I don’t know them.” Ric countered, feeling his own emotions bubbling up. “How can I care about someone I don’t know?”

“Literally, you did all the fucking time!” Jay hissed. It seemed like he wanted to shout, but instantly turned it to a whisper. He glanced nervously at the car, and Ric realized – the kids didn’t notice them because Jason didn’t want them to. He didn’t want them to see Ric, or hear this conversation. “It was what made you…you. What made you special. Because it didn’t matter who it was or what they’d done. Even if you didn’t know someone’s name, you cared.”

Ric just stared. “I’m not that person anymore.”

“And I’m suspicious about that, because I’m pretty sure amnesia doesn’t change who you are as a core person, and Dick Grayson was no fake when it came to his heart, but that’s not what’s important here.” Jason snapped. The cigarette was close to burning his hand and he dropped his, squishing it under his heel. Immediately he pulled another pack from his pocket, along with a lighter. He shoved the stick into his mouth and lit it. “Because, okay, I can even forgive you not caring about some of the people around you when you woke up. Bruce, Barbara, even Alfred, maybe. Me.”

He paused, to inhale. Then exhaled the smoke, but into the sky this time.

“But they’re just kids.” Jay whispered, looking at Dick with some of the most pained eyes he’d ever seen. “What happened wasn’t their fault, wasn’t their choice. Trust me, if it was, that asshole in the front seat would have taken that bullet for you in a heartbeat, a goddamn thirteen year old.”

Ric let his hands in his pocket roll into fists.

“But this wasn’t their fault, and they’re the ones suffering the most here. Because, yeah, you’re not Dick Grayson, and you’ve made that clear. You’ve made it very clear you want no association with how the old you was, or anything he did. But they’re a bunch of fucking kids who have to convince themselves that their older brother is dead and gone and never coming back, but watch you be alive and well down here in fucking Bludhaven anyway.”

Ric found his gaze slowly drifting back to the car. The girl in the backseat had taken the phone now, the boy next to her leaning on her shoulder with his eyes closed. The little boy in the front hadn’t moved.

“And I take back what I said earlier. You being his legal guardian is important. Because you were like his dad, then. His motherfucking dad. You remember losing your dad. Imagine how it is for him to be forgotten and abandoned by his, while he’s still around out there enjoying his life?” Jay spit. “And Tim – you were there when his dad was murdered. When his best friend was. His girlfriend. One of the only ones there for him. You were there for Cass when she didn’t even know how to fucking speak. When she had no one but some parents who wanted to kill her. It was years ago, but how do you think they both feel now? How do you think they’re coping?”

“So what, are you saying this whole mess is my fault?” Ric snapped back. “It’s my fault I got shot and lost my whole life?”

“No. It’s not your fault what happened to you. But it is your fault how you reacted to it.” Jay answered coldly. “Avoid your old job. Avoid the people harassing you and trying to force you to remember something you can’t. But those three did nothing to you. They’re children. And you abandoned them without even giving them a damn chance. Without even attempting to start over with them or let them try.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Ric demanded. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Nothing. I don’t want you to do a damn thing.” Jay shrugged. “I just wanted you to know.”

“Why?”

“So you know what you’re missing out on, being a stubborn piece of garbage who refuses to even acknowledge the people of his past, let alone interact with them.” Jay took a long inhale, and Ric watched the cigarette slowly turn to ash. “They’re good kids, Ric. Good kids you helped make. And now you’re mocking them with your mere existence and man. It just sucks.”

“And what am I supposed to do about it?”

“Like I said – nothing. Just wanted you to know. Barbara came down here and said her peace, so I figured I should be allowed to say mine.” He dropped the remainder of his cigarette and snuffed it out. “You mind going to your car first? I’m sure you’ve picked up on it right now, but I don’t want the babies to see you if I can help it. You’re still a bit of a raw wound for them, if you didn’t catch that.”

Ric stared at him for a moment. “…Tell the kids I’m sorry, if the conversation ever comes up.”

Jay shrugged. “I would if I thought you meant it, Ric. After all, Dick made it a point to not lie to them, if he could help it.”

Ric grit his teeth and turned towards his car without another word, making sure to keep his face in the shadows as he passed the windows of Jay’s car. None of the occupants even glanced up.

“Good luck with those memories and shit.” Jay called after him. Ric didn’t respond, and slammed his door a little harder than he meant to after he dropped into the car. He started his engine and rolled down his window, listening.

Jay was whistling as he walked back to the car, and jerked open his own driver side door.

“What took so long?” A young voice whined. Ric glanced into his rearview mirror to see it was the boy in the front seat. He hadn’t looked up from his phone. “I didn’t think destroying your lungs with cigarettes was an extended affair.”

“Was watching some old men down the street fight over a chess match.” Jay seemed to say nonchalantly. “Also had more than one cig. Excuse me if I don’t want to waste my supply, and enjoy the moment.”

The boy’s answer was cut off as Jay got into the car and shut the door. Ric listened as his engine started, and watched as they pulled away, freeing him from his temporary prison.

He threw his cab in reverse, dropping out of the alley and onto the road. He shifted to drive, and took off, ironically, the same way Jay and his crew went. In fact, they were at a light just down the block, waiting for it to turn green.

And Ric found himself frozen, blocking both lanes with his car, because the girl – Cass, he’d called her – was staring out her back window, directly at him.

When she’d caught his eye, she simply smiled, though it was clearly sad, and gave him a single wave.

Then the light turned, and Dick Grayson’s siblings disappeared around the corner.

[aspernamentum]

1-60

If you had to change your character’s FC for one day, who would you pick?

Jimmy: John Berenthal

Zoe: Emma Stone

Brad: Matthew Mcconaughey (specifically from Mud, couldn’t find any icons)

Molly: Teresa Palmer (considering changing to her anyways) 

Frankie: Frankie Boyle (his namesake was so close to being his FC)

Jack: ewan mcgregor (from trainspotting specifically)

Kayleigh: Kelly McDonald

Little Jake: Tyler the Creator

Alex: Scarlet Johansson 

Bruce: Jason Bateman 

What’s something you like about how you write?

I am really good at some sad bullshit. I can write that sad bullshit and make people sad. 

What’s something you dislike about how you write or wish you were better at?

i need to have everything worked out before i even start. i can’t just start writing, i need to figure out how people are feeling, what they’re doing - and to some extent i need to be in that mood too. i’ve also noticed i reuse stuff??? phrases and metaphors and stuff i kind of have a tendency to reuse them in different replies over and over again. 

What’s something about your character that you’d like if you had to spend time with them?

they can all get drugs. 

nah but seriously, they can sesh, and so can i. write what you know. 

also, i’m gonna put the rest under a cut

What’s something about your character that you wouldn’t like if you had to spend time with them?

When you meet people who are deep in that kind of shit, like crime, you’ve always got this like defense up. like you can’t relax or anything and when i’m like that irl i go quiet. like i wouldn’t speak to them unless i knew that they weren’t going to kick my ass.  

What’s a negative thing about your character that you enjoy writing?

… literally everything????? their addictions and how they manifest, their shit choices, everything is fucked up and i just love that shit. 

What;s a similarly you have with your character?

There’s little elements of me in all of them, really. Jimmy’s unbelievably loyal to the point of stupidity, Brad’s a deep thinker and a bit of a tink (like uh, i suppose the american word would be hick???) -dirty- i mean, Zoe’s a worrier and Little Jake’s genuine, Frankie’s got my humor and Jack, well, Jack’s just a fucking nutter. Kayleigh’s the mam friend too, which i’m totally not but i don’t have much in common with her. 

What’s a difference you have with your character?

i’m not a murderer

 What’s the hardest thing for you to write?

uuuuuuhhhhhhh i suppose it’s a question of style. and by that i mean i can’t write victorian era shit convincingly. 

Do you think you’ve gotten better at writing anything or any type of thing or situation since you started writing this character (or roleplaying in general)?

fuccin hope so

Why do you roleplay?

i write but i’ve not got the resolve to write a novel

Do you write fiction ever other than rping?

Trying to write a novel but it’s uh… difficult to pay attention

Do you like fanfiction more or less than reading rp threads between characters?

Less. never been big into fanfiction. 

Do you like or dislike OC/Canon character interactions in principle?

the way i’ve always seen it is in a canon’s universe there’re people they’ve not met yet. there’s nothing to say that that OC isn’t in that particular universe, we’ve just not seen them yet. it’s weirder when they’re inserted into the main characters backstory but yeah. So long as there’s been some thought put into it sure, go for it. plus i love throwing my team at canon characters.

What’s your favorite thing about rping a canon character?

putting your own spin on shit’s pretty cool. like i roleplayed deadpool for a while, which meant i got to use my off-kilter humor, whilst also breaking the fourth wall and commenting on how my version of deadpool had fallen into self parody. 

What’s something you dislike about rping a canon character?

is it just me or are “”””fandoms”””” very socially conscious to the point of it inflicting on the actual roleplay??? like deadpool’s a bad guy (in theory), but i was afraid to actually do anything despicable because i saw other people getting lynched for it. the last thing i want is to be DoS’d because deadpool made a joke about feminists

What’s your favorite thing about rping an original character?

FREEDOM AND THE COMMUNITY IS MUCH NICER. plus like, most communities of rp go dead whenever there isn’t media to consume, the OC community just keeps on ticking 

What’s something you dislike about rping an original character?

i had about 1000 followers on deadpool, 400 here and i’ve had both blogs about the same amount of time. you do have to make a far bigger push to get people interested. 

How much time do you spend roleplaying on average a week?

Not counting weekends probably like about 7 hours???

Do you think about your threads and your character when you aren’t roleplaying? How and for how long on average?

i should probably state that the novel i’m trying to write is jimmy’s story, so yeah i’m often thinking of ideas of where to take the crew and shit, which obviously has a knock on effect to this blog. i also think of replies, but always forget what i was going to write. 

Do you like lots of headcanons or few?

to me, headcanons are just things that EVERYONE should be doing tbh. it’s a writing exercise really, so yeah, even if you don’t throw them out there all the time you gotta be thinking about the day-to-day little details tbh

 What’s your take on AUs?

OK in moderation. It goes back to my kind of issue with the amount of detail i need to put in. like if i shifted jimmy into the star wars universe how would that change his life? what kind of man would he be in that setting? if i put him into Marvel would he of even became a criminal? 

What’s your favorite AU?

my christmas verse where Jimmy fed the real santa LSD and had to commandeer the sleigh in an attempt to deliver presents except he’s hammered. That, or maybe the high-school verse

What’s your least favorite AU?

as stated, anything that would drastically change the characters stories. 

What’s a ship you really like rping?

im just gonna tag @morelikxevil here. 

What’s a ship you would never rp? For what reason?

Spiderpool. Until very recently Spider-man hated Deadpool, and even then Deadpool’s sexuality hasn’t been consistent across writers. i tend to avoid that kind of drama. 

What do you like about roleplaying angst?

E V E R Y T H I N G

What do you dislike about roleplaying angst?

Have you ever had a real angsty argument/conversation? that shit fizzles out and leaves everything awkward as hell. happens in rp too

What do you like about roleplaying fluff?

when you make your characters happy it gives you a great opportunity to fuck them up even more. 

What do you dislike about roleplaying fluff?

It can get too much sometimes. as in if ALL i’m rping is fluff stuff across the board i would actually go insane. it’s alright in small doses, but i prefer it when Frankie’s kirb-stomping fools. Plus, it isn’t really my characters??? they’re understated in the romance department. 

What do you like about roleplaying ships/romance? 

it’s EXCITING!!!!! especially when it first starts!!! like you’re like woah jimmy how u gonna fuck this up!!!!!

What do you dislike about roleplaying ships/romance?

There’s going to come a point when it’s going to shift gears into something else, like, it’s kind of the same complaint with fluff except with romance/ships it’s a lot easier to kind of move it on. like jimmy could’ve been TRYING to be romantic but they got interrupted, with fluff, the entire focus tends to be on the fluff. 

NSFW rp — yes or no? Why?

Yes, but it’s weird. like… the fuck am i supposed to call a dick? what about a pussy? it feels weird calling them a penis and a vagina, it feels weird calling them a dick and a pussy, it feels equally weird calling them “manhood” or “… flower???” i get fucked up by the logistics of actually writing smut in a genuine manner. like i tend to write dirty shit outwith rp in a very… uh… weird way. like nobody’s writhing around having multiple orgasms, and tbh i rarely write foreplay in much detail either, so like when i’m having to for threads i’m kinda out of my element a bit bc you don’t know what you can or can’t write.

Do you ever read other people’s NSFW rp threads? (be honest!)

if it’s under a read more i don’t bother, if like i’m scrolling and i notice it then yeah i’d probably read it. 

Do you ever read rp threads you aren’t involved in? What type of thread does it usually have to be to interest you?

Only if it’s two characters i’ve already interacted with. find that pretty interesting like, these people are all in the same universe and they don’t know they all know each other. 

If you do read threads you aren’t in, do you usually let the other authors know, or keep it under your hat?

Never really mentioned it but y’know, it’s just not something i’ve ever felt the need to say to someone

Has a roleplayer ever changed your view on a character? If so, how? Good or bad? For better or for worse?

Nah, not really. there is a big disconnect in my head between the actual media the characters from and another persons interpretation of that character. 

Do you like to title threads or not?

In my head, yeah, like i think that’s the mark of a good thread when you can sum it up in your head. like “oh i need to reply to the fighty thread” 

Do you like to plot or improv?

Improv mostly and i feel like i am literally the only person who prefers improv over plot. like i prefer vague plots and when i say vague i mean like “Jimmy and so&so fight ____” 

Do you like to make open starters?

Opens are my way of saying “i don’t want to do drafts but i still want to write” tbh, OR i post one before i do drafts.

Do you like to answer open starters?

… i think i’ve only ever let like, a handful of opens pass me by tbh. i’m usually like, on opens in two seconds

Do you usually prefer chat/short replies, or long/para/novella replies?

Hrm. I like both, through the week you’re more likely to get chat/short stuff out of me, but on weekends i’ll do medium-to-short mostly. long stuff scares me tbh, like i know i probably could do it, but a lot of what i do on here is mood dependent, which is why i’m not a good writer. like i really do need to be in the right headspace to do anything on here. 

What’s your favorite thing about rping a chat/short style thread?

It’s quick, it’s literally like going on autopilot tbh but at the same time you can use all the development you’ve came up with to figure out what they’re saying. 

What’s your least favorite thing about rping a chat/short style thread?

Nothing really except from the fact that it’s like, it has no effect on the characters really. Like big, long threads usually means there’s a lot going on, if there’s nothing going on except from two people chatting then they’re not going to be heavily effected. 

What’s your favorite thing about rping a long/para/novella style thread?

SHITS GOIN DOWN, OH FUCK ANOTHER TWIST, ANOTHER TURN, OH FUCK THAT GUY’S DEAD OH SHIT WHO’S THIS FUCKER

What’s your least favorite thing about rping a long/para/novella style thread?

it takes… so much out of me. actually having to use my brain? psht, that’ll stay in my drafts for at least a month

Do you prefer gifs or icons when roleplaying? Or no FC at all?

Icons but i don’t mind gifs. i’ve also found if i don’t use an icon i’ll put more detail into description. icons are basically shorthand so i don’t have to put much description into what they look like. 

Do you roleplay with people whose characters aren’t from the same dimentional universe as yours? (For example, if your character is drawn or anime, will you RP with people who use actor face claims/play-bys?)

Won’t do anime, don’t really like it tbh, everything else is game, like i’m following a rick from rick and morty right now and i wouldn’t care if they used a cartoon fc. i would probably try to match them actually, like maybe use archer as jimmy or something. 

What’s something you like about FCs/Play-Bys?

i use really specific FCs like, Brad isn’t just Brad Pitt, he’s Brad Pitt from specifically fight club. Frankie isn’t just James Macavoy, he’s James Macavoy from Filth. 

What’s something you dislike about FCs/Play-Bys?

Molly’s the odd one out. don’t think i’ve quite cracked her yet. 

What’s a trope or plot you think is overdone in roleplay?

uuuuhhhhh…. i’ve never noticed something coming up more than once or twice tbh

What’s a trope or plot you’ll never get sick of roleplaying?

x character’s a bad person, A character’s a good person, X perverses A somehow. 

What do you like to do as you reply to threads? Listen to music? Have TV on? Complete silence? Dark room? etc.

Have to have music on matching the theme of whatever I’m writing. 

How did you learn about roleplaying? How did you get started roleplaying yourself?

Don’t really remember. Think i just started doing it??? 

What was your first roleplay character?

Deadpool

What’s your newest roleplay character?

Uuuuuhhhhhhh, probably Alex/Bruce?

What/Who is a character you think you would like to roleplay? What’s currently stopping you from roleplaying them?

Swamp-Thing. Considering converting my Man-Thing blog into the Swamp-Thing lately. 

Who’s a roleplayer (or writer) you think you have learned a lot from?

Alan Moore, Rick Remender, Stan Lee.