OK LOSER !

「 𝘐'𝘮 𝘢 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘭𝘰𝘳𝘥 - 𝘍𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧𝘧 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵? 𝘐 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘩𝘰𝘳𝘴𝘦. 𝘊𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘦𝘥 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘣𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘣𝘦𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘤𝘪𝘵𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘴𝘰𝘶𝘳𝘤𝘦. 𝘍𝘢𝘮𝘦 𝘢𝘪𝘯'𝘵 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯' 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘯𝘦𝘦𝘥 𝘯𝘰 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦. '𝘊𝘢𝘶𝘴𝘦 𝘣𝘪𝘵𝘤𝘩 ! 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐 𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘥. / TAGS. 」

# DEATHXCKO ── low/sporadic activity. mutuals only. headcanon heavy. dash only rp JASON TODD (red hood) from DC COMICS. This blog was established in JANUARY, 2022. associated with ic blog @desmuerte. triggers of guns/drugs use/ and violence to be expected. penned by cinna. - CARRD (NEW!) & PROMO.

Jason can barely blink before he feels the familiar torpedo that is Thad. He makes a dignified noise, taking in a deep breath before he pats the other’s back.

"Fun bingo, Jay. I'm pretty sure most things I do would piss Tim off. Also I can always be taught how to handle weapons. I'm a quick study after all." He grins.

are you jason's type? / always accepting!!

Honestly the thought of getting Thad trained in a multitude of weaponry was useful. What if he suddenly was without powers and needed to defend himself? What if he could find a better use of both?

Jason's already unstrapping the knife he keeps on his thigh, handing it over.

Here you can have Owen too

are you jason's type? / always accepting!!

"Well. We can make 'enemy of batman' happen if you want to go out on the town with me."

hobie vc: I can do arson or brick throwing

The biggest grin spreads across his face and Thad takes one, two, three large steps back. He stretches his legs, shakes out his arms, hunkers down a bit to get into the optimal position and he RUNS at Jason.

Using the momentum he grabs at Jason’s midsection with both of his arms wrapped tightly around him and lifts him using his legs. Thad might have looked like a string bean to some but there was pure muscle beneath his lithe form.

He’s got Jason up and off the ground, but how high and for how long is anyone’s guess as he wobbles for a moment adjusting the stance of his legs. Though with that one movement the possibility of them both tumbling down onto the ground was high.

what are u going to do with them lol / accepting!

He knows it's coming and he doesn't fight his fate. What is an object in motion going to do upon impact? Like a fast blur in action- he was not in control, no longer. Jason had to submit to the fate of simply being picked up.

And that's why, upon lifting him-- Jason levies all of his weight and throws them both to the ground, Thad unfortunately buried underneath his massive form. His smile is wide, and pats the other's cheek.

"I only got a proper bingo once, but that's a rather full card, isn't it?"

are you jason's type? / always accepting!!

are you jason's type? / always accepting!!

games / always accepting !

So true. He's resisting the urge to start shooting, not really, and it's that very good restraint that has saved Lonnie's behind. "You're fucking ridiculous." Jason settles for snatching the gear out of their hands,

"I thought I was supposed to be the wild card out of us two."

unprompted / always accepting !

To say Thad ruffled some feathers, was an understatement. He stands tall, and crosses his arms. "You think I haven't learned how to beat a speedster in a fight?"

"Do it." He challenges.

ART THERAPY. THERE'S an undercurrent of restless energy that expels through his body. a feeling of utter wrongness. he shouldn't be here, he shouldn't be doing this, what a waste of fucking time -- and yet, there is a sense of peace, to it. He remembers those old bob ross vhs tapes he'd put on with his mom. how relaxing a happy little cloud could feel. The paint quality is cheap. The canvas scratches against his paintbrush and listen...

Jason's no picasso but this shit is weak, even for him.

But there's a beauty in the way that the colors would melt together. he enjoys the simplicity of drawing some shitty little trees, and blending colors together for a sunset. The Red Hood had no place in these walls, and despite his current petitioning for release, he found no reason to continue it, here. So, for now, Jason sat in his place, determined to make the best out of this situation that was going to make him quite insane by the time he was let go. Or escaped. Who knows, at this point. The woman next to him, seems to be having a similarly distracted time, and he leans over, curious -- to peer at her work. Sybil. He remembers this name. But... Jason can't remember why.

"It'd be better if they let us outside for this exercise. See some actual trees... Don't you think?"

THE GUN IS hot in his hand. the machinery is too recent to have dated signs of a smoking gun, but he feels the metaphorical heat of it regardless. He tries to keep his hands clean in Gotham, a sign of tentative truces that leave the bat on his chest a friendly sign instead of a target, but... The Red Hood doesn't play by the Bat's rules. Never has, never will. Tonight, he was supposed to have sniffed out a rather large shipment of dangerous psychoactive pills called self destruct. Not a good name, and the euphoric contents made his inner red flags go off in loud alarm bells. The Red Hood finds, instead of a pallet full of pills, smuggled body parts of undetermined victims and of all ages. He sees red, and the rest is history. Jason's the only one alive, in the room. two bodies of the 'suppliers' laid out.

Which... not great, because as badly as he wanted someone to fucking pay for this... dead men don't tell tales, right? There's a sound of someone drawing nearer, and he doesn't hesitate to aim the weapon at her next. Nightingale's face greets him, and a sour taste in his mouth returns.

"Take another step and you're a dead woman." the mechanical voice from his helmet drawls. And he means it, too -- especially considering the facts... Lucille has interferred with his plans before. And now, he is painted at the crime scene with motive and weapon. Who knows how she was going to react? He did. Bad, was the answer.

"Let me explain, first." Half plea, half demand.