Jason Todd with palette #8


      Steely gaze stayed locked onto his target, unwavering, even as the other lunged at him once again. His efforts were admirable, more so than most of his marks, although it hardly deterred from the fact that his actions were indeed foolish, if not reckless. The thick sheen of crimson now coating the Soldier’s blade was more than enough indication that it’d hit its mark and unless he’d missed some vital clue, this was nothing more than an ordinary man, possessing no enhancements or powers, and would begin to weaken as time progressed, and the wound was left untreated. To continue an assault like this was suicide — not that he minded in the least.


      The Soldier stood his ground, catching the blade before it could do any harm, albeit allowing the other to land the hit on his legs. He used his sudden loss of balance to propel himself forward, dropping his own knife in favor of another, greater opportunity. One that would hopefully bring this confrontation to a quick close, for it had already gone on far longer than it should have.

      Metal digits splayed across the front of the ridiculous red mask, locking into place, as he used his weight and superior strength to ‘guide’ the other toward the ground. The mechanics inside the prosthetic arm whirred and clicked as the plates scaling up the arm shifted, adding further pressure to his already vice-like grip. If he could not dispose of this target by means of gun or blade, perhaps crushing in his skull would be more appropriate.

      ”заставить замолчать," he hissed, continuing to use his weight to press the man into the ground. Clearly the other was delusional. The only one who’d failed to see anything, was him. While his tricks and distractions may have worked on the lesser agents strewn about the room, the Soldier would not be so easily swayed. For he’d continue to persevere — to push through the gimmicks, until the other’s breathing ceased and the light was snuffed from his eyes.

      The Red Hood struggled to hold his own against the other, pushing back against his assailant, desperate to keep his footing. He could feel himself weakening, slipping as the other continued to apply pressure. Had he not been recipient to a fairly debilitating wound, he may have been able to weasel his way out of this one, albeit he wasn’t so lucky. Not this time.

      Jason’s knees buckled beneath him, sending both men to the concrete below. The Red Hood winced, his head smacking into the back of his mask, despite it being fairly secured to his face. Damn this guy was strong. “Listen pal,” Jason chuckled , “I don’t care how strong that hunk of metal attached to you is. We’ll be sitting here for days before this thing gives, and quite frankly this is a pretty awkward position you have us in. I’d rather not give people the wrong idea, because before you know it, we’ll be all over the internet and the subject of fan fiction — and trust me, as glorious as it sounds, its really not…” A bluff. His words, the laughter — no more than a bluff. Even as the Red Hood prattled on, he could hear the beginnings of his mask crumpling inward. Jason could only pray it was not yet audible to the other, as to encourage him further.

      He had to admit, this man was good. Almost too good. Whether or not this had been his end game all along, the fact that he’d successfully whittled down a nearly impenetrable material over a rather short period of time, was impressive in its own right. If Jason did not do something — and do it fast — his protection would soon become his undoing. Rewind a year or two back, and Jason may just as well welcomed such a fate. Now, however, he had reason to fight back, a purpose fueling his drive. He belonged somewhere — had a family who accepted both who and what he was wholly without any remark. He had friends, but most importantly, he had a son. And he’d be damned if he’d let someone take that away from him…not this time.

      The Red Hood dropped his Kris blade in favor of using the arm in an attempt to hold the assassin at bay. His other found it’s way to the utility belt secured at his waist. Jason sincerely doubted stabbing the man would do little to move him, although he did have one thing that may just as well do the trick. “You know,” he grunted, shifting beneath the other, a small black device slipping free from the confines of one of his pouches. “I didn’t pay too much attention in science class back in the day, but I remember hearing something about metal being a great conductor for electricity…and I’ve always wanted to test it out...whaddaya say?" Before the other had a chance to reply, much less react, the small device was flicked on, a rather large current of electricity beginning to hop between the tiny metal prongs. The Red Hood wasted no time, aiming it straight for the bionic arm, hoping like hell the souped up little device’s charge would be sufficient enough to at least get this man off of him and give him some sort of window to make an escape.


                  "—-but really i was overlooking the most important part of survival in this world—-community."

            i. independent Rick Grimes role-play blog from  
                the walking dead. Mainly Comics + some of the tv show.
            ii. fifteen years rp experience,  two on tumblr.
            iii. multi ship - multi verse . crossover friendly.
            iv. oc friendly. { selective. }
            v. mun and muse over eighteen. nsfw & triggers content tagged.
            vi. skype is available upon request for plotting and being friends



"Dude, easy. Whatever it is you’re thinkin’ of doin’, you got the wrong girl."


       Her words made him falter, stay his weapon, if only momentarily. She didn’t appear to be any threat to him, though in his line of work, those were exactly the sort who’d bury a blade in your back the moment you let your guard down. Even still, he chose to go against his better judgement and give her the benefit of the doubt; motioning with barrel of his pistol for her to move out of his way.

                               “If you’re not the dirtbag who did this, then why are you here?


That’s my story and I’m sticking to it


Red Hood: Speak now or go to hell


 Red Hood and the Outlaws #32

written by Scott Lobdell
art by Rafa Sandoval, R.B. Silva, Wayne Faucher, & Jordi Tarragona



    ╰  ☆  ╮      —

         ❝You were worried about me, Jason?
         That fills me with so much ‘squee’.❞

      ❝Of course I was worried abou—❞

He pauses, her statement fully setting in.


      ❝Squee…? —Err, Kori? I’m not so sure that’s
         the word you were looking for…I mean I
         guess it works…but—-❞

He’s going to have a long ‘talk’ with whoever
thought it’d be a 'cute' idea to tarnish teach
her such things.


      The brunette rolls her eye’s while heaving out a sigh.

            S w e e t h e a r t. Not the best start.
         People really needed to stop doing that
         before she formed a less passive reaction.

            тъпанар❞ Jac returns in an annoyed tone.

      A few seconds and she focuses back on him, hazel hue’s narrowing as
      she watches him continue to rumage through things. She was certain
      he didn’t belong here and his hurried actions only seemed to confirm
. So she clears her throat, and begins approaching him.

            ❝ Right, ❞ she drawls.


      ❝ I guess I should rephrase, ❞
         she pauses; reaching over his
         arm and slapping her hand
         down on the stack of files so’s
         to get his full attention,  who
         are you an’ why th’fuck are
         you in here. ❞


        He’s not completely fluent in Bulgarian, but he’s
     been exposed to it enough to grasp the jist of
     what she’s saying. An audible snort escapes him,
     eyebrows raising, the corners of his lips curling into
     a telltale smirk. He’s tempted to make a smart ass
     remark, though her comment ends up falling short in
     eliciting any further response out of him, much less
     succeed in pulling his attention away from his work.

        Broad shoulders tighten suddenly, his entire body
     tensing in response to the files being abruptly slapped
     down in front of him. Her action immediately triggers
     an initial response to lash out, though he’s able to rein
     it in; staying stalk still, while continuing to possessively
     hover over the stack of files — much like a dog would
     hover over it’s food bowl.


        Jason’s head turns slightly, hazel-green hues lifting
     away from the papers to focus on the woman out
     of the corners of his eyes.  She certainly has some
     audacity, and as admirable as that may be, in this
     situation — Jason already being hard-pressed for
     time as it is — its fucking irritating as hell.

                            ❝Lets just say that I’m a freelancer, and SHIELD
                            has a bit of information on file that’d make my life
                            a whole lot easier. As for who I am  ——
                                    I don’t think that’s any of your damn business.
                            Now if you’d kindly remove your hand, and stop
                            breathing down the back of my neck, I’d like finish
                            up here. It’ll only take a few more minutes…❞