#rxdshood

[immortalweapon]

@rxdshood

(✉️ ➡️ Jason T.): Hi Jason! (✉️ ➡️ Jason T.): Quick question! (✉️ ➡️ Jason T.): Did you break into our apartment? (✉️ ➡️ Jason T.): It’s okay if you did! But I think you left a knife in the pantry? (✉️ ➡️ Jason T.): And if you /didn’t/ leave it there, I think it opens up even more questions. So could you let me know if it was you? (✉️ ➡️ Jason T.): Thanks!

[colleenrand]

[ txt ]: Lmfao!!! Oh shit sorry!

@rxdshood

(✉️ ➡️ Jason ): i have no words for you (✉️ ➡️ Jason ): actually, no i do  (✉️ ➡️ Jason ): i’ve been hearing some rumors about you (✉️ ➡️ Jason ): ... so what’s up with the condiment king?

[mistressofmagic-a]

@rxdshood​

She had been outwardly bulling him for food for more than a minute now, and she had a feeling that Jason must have suspected something. Zatanna was at his place, wrinkling her nose at the decor because it was never what she would have picked out. And she tended to point it out each time she came over. (Which was probably why movie nights were almost exclusively held at her house.) “The paint is so ugly,” she said with a sigh. “And what’s that smell?” She started looking around the kitchen, flipping over dishes and looking to see if anything was dirty. But there was nothing. Zatanna sniffed again and looked at the food in his hands. “Is that BBQ sauce?” She asked, wrinkling her nose in disgust. “That’s one for the list, I guess.”

Rubbing her nose, she shook her head and then started pulling things out of her purse, the first was a bottle of perfume, which was a threat to Jason. And the second thing? A cup. It said Uncle Jason and underneath was a date in much smaller font. March 2022. “They said that because it’s my first pregnancy that it might be different, they don’t know how my body will react but…” Zatanna shrugged, beaming at him as she spoke. “I’m having a baby.”

[catalystsofchange]

@rxdshood

Gotham felt exactly how Dick remembered it. The air was stale and heavy, the wind slightly crisp even in the summer. It took a certain kind of person to live in the city, just as it took a certain kind of person to live in Bludhaven. It was the kind of person who fit in in Madripoor, too. There was a reason, he knew, why he had been approached for the job he had. (And there was a reason why he felt so lost now that it was over... even if that reason wasn’t one he’d figured out yet.)

It had been a while since Nightwing was spotted in Gotham. Even before he went to Madripoor, Dick had mostly moved his base of operations to Bludhaven. Gotham was a place he only went as needed, and no one needed him now. He was still here. He was still on a rooftop, standing and looking out over the familiar cityscape. 

He didn’t hear the footsteps approach --- he had a feeling that was intentional. He only felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up a heartbeat before there was the barrel of a gun touching his skin. Dick didn’t tense at the sensation, even as he raised his hands above his head. “You know,” he said conversationally, “if you shoot me, I’m not giving you the souvenir I brought you.”

[bloodrobinarchived]

what if i break free and leave us in ruins? // t.s.

@rxdshood

[the-hellblxzer]

“ if you think you got some obligation to be here, you don’t. ” -- @rxdshood​

Obligation and John Constantine were not always mutually exclusive terms, especially when it came to stopping a demon. He might have been a disappointment in many areas of his life, but there was no way he was ever going to let a demon get away on his watch. So when one had, unfortunately, given him the slip, he was damn well going to go after it. That hunt had led him down a dark alley, where he had encountered some tosser who clearly thought he owned the bloody place. 

Giving a sarcastic chuckle, John gave the guy a once over. "Let me guess, it was laundry day an' this was all you had left in th' closet? Look mate, I don't give a shit about yer business. I ain't lookin' ta horn in on...whatever it is yer up to. But I sure as hell have an obligation ta be here, an' if you don't want ta see what happens when a demon runs amok, you better mind yer own business."

[twentyninetynines]

[ eat ] for miguel to offer jason food // @rxdshood​

Vigilantism was a lot more exciting when you were one of very few vigilantes around. In 2099, when the number of vigilantes was small and growing smaller each time Alchemax snatched one off the streets, Miguel’s nights as Spider-Man were a whirlwind of constant motion. There were more bad guys than he could possible handle, so many public eye goons that he barely escaped capture twelve times a night minimum, and so few people assisting him that he knew pretty much everyone’s full story by now. 

2020 was different.

In 2020, you couldn’t throw a rock without hitting a vigilante somewhere. Miguel had run into so many now that he’d lost count, each meeting offering varied results. It meant he was a little less exhausted, a little less on edge. It meant, every now and then, he could take a breather. Right now, he was doing just that. Legs hanging off the side of the roof, mask pushed up over his nose, and taco from a local food truck in hand with a bag of four more at his side. His enhanced senses informed him he was no longer alone on the roof the moment boots hit concrete, and Miguel was hardly surprised when he glanced up to find another man, obviously a vigilante, standing a few feet away. “Not much happening out here tonight,” he called out experimentally, unsure whether this would be one of those guys who was decent or one of the ones who figured the world sucked and killing a guy in a spider suit might make it suck less. Miguel’s luck almost always inspired the latter. “Want a taco? Got extra.” 

Yeah. That’d convince the guy not to kill him.

[vengeancedemons]

“ did you see it happen?” // @rxdshood

Usually when shit went down, Robbie was directly in the middle of it. Part of that was an intentional thing. The Rider liked being in the thick of things and, privately, Robbie tended to agree. He’d always yearned for action, always chased excitement. It had gotten him killed once, but it served him pretty well the rest of the time. He liked being in the middle of things.

But he wasn’t in the middle of this. 

No, this time he showed up after everything was said and done. There was a body on the ground and he hadn’t put it there, and that was a new feeling. Robbie tilted his head at the sight, ignoring the screams and desperate conversations of the people around him. Someone approached him and, when they spoke, their voice was calm in a way everyone else’s wasn’t. Robbie decided immediately that he liked it. “No,” he admitted, “didn’t see a goddamn thing. You?”