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Jason never says how much things like this mean to him. Partially because that will reveal more about who he is than he wants Bruce to know. He knows that he's dead in some of his family's are they really a family anymore? eyes, or at least the Jason they loved is. For the past years, he'd been living as a ghost. Mostly left to his own devices as long as too many bodies didn't drop where the rest could see. And he'd gotten good about cleaning up behind himself. He hasn't taken off the helmet and it hides his smile when the other agrees, actually looks at him. It feels like that doesn't happen much, but he remembers the man isn't really seeing his face right now, scarred with a deep arc running from the corner of his lips, over his eye, towards his hairline-- looking a bit too much like a J. Of course the moment ends quickly. And the smile turns to a scowl beneath the guarding layer Jason wears as he looks back. "I'm starting to think your lead here is shit, B... If I focus much longer, I'm gonna start seein' shit."

@redhoodedtodd sent:

❛ working together again, it’s just like old times. ❜

𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐭𝐬

    🦇—-;; There is a nostalgic part of him that misses the days he no longer can have with Jason, that boy had died, and had been replaced with a man Bruce struggles to see eye to eye to on the best of days. Not for lack of trying, there is too much of a divide between them for that. That doesn't mean that Batman doesn't at least appreciate it when Red Hood is working by his side again. Bruce can't help the tender part of him that surfaces each time, having to remind himself that this will likely be short lived.

Still, the words out of Jason's mouth bring that nostalgic warmth a bit further forward. Bruce isn't quite able to catch the slight uptick of the corner of his mouth, though it's gone less than a second later before he huffs, shifting slightly before he looked at Jason properly. "It is." He agrees.

Quietly, to himself, he wonders if Jason misses those days as much as he does, but...he knows better than to ask. He is nothing, if not a sentimental old man at heart. He clears his throat and looks forward again, white lenses narrowing briefly. "We should focus." He says, gesturing to why they're here, working together in the first place.

@masquenoire said "I heard you were looking for me." (accepting)

The man was smiling under his helmet as he saw the other walk into his field of sight. He didn't have any weapons drawn, instead meandering up the ally towards the other man.

"Black Mask-- yeah, I guess you heard right, buddy. I can call you Black Mask, right? Maskie? Mr. Sionis?" The comments were more for his amusement than anything else, hands settled on his hips. A quick movement away from either of the handguns at his hips. But for now, he didn't see a point. "I've already had some... little talks with some of the locals." The local drug lords that was. "But you didn't show up to the meeting. Probably better... I didn't have a gift for ya."

@pv55y said, "what's so funny? wipe off that smile" (accepting)

Jason at least had the decency to turn a light eyed gaze away from the feline of a woman but the smirk was not so easily done away with. "I dunno, you just seem a little disappointed is all— was kinda wondering if maybe you expected someone else?"

This probably isn't the smartest move, prodding at something with claws, but Jason has little sense of self-preservation and doesn't feel he needs to have much sense of it anyway. This damned city liked him too fucking much to let him rest. "Could always make a quick call for ya, Cat."

@pv55y said "what a pain. you're gonna pay for this." (accepting!!)

There's a laugh at that as Jason kicks the barely spinning tire of a completely wrecked motorbike. "We got off before it hit pavement, didn't we? C'mon-- just bill it to the Bat," he says with a rolling shrug of his shoulders. Well. He had gotten her off the bike before he crashed it into a now groaning body that he didn't care to check on. His dark cargo pants had a deep gash near the knee, a pocket torn scattering hard candies he handed to the alley kids, and the color hiding the fact he was bleeding. It hurt like a bitch but he was unconcerned; Jason always healed. "Besides. Got the guy, right?

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 @thecreativeforge

Roy sent hunger .   give  my  muse  something  to  eat  /  drink .

There's a low groan that comes from Jason and he rolls to his side to avoid the sunlight that shines in. But it seems waking is unavoidable as he sees a body standing beside the bed and thinks well at least its a live body, no damn clean up. He hardly remembers what happened the night before (that'd be because of the fucking concussion that he'd slept off because Gotham or the Lazarus pit or something doesn't want him to die), but eyes tracing up find...

"Aww Harper, you brought me breakfast in bed," he snorts out, a little pleased to see the red head and the breakfast in bed of water, tylenol, and toast. He'd prefer stronger drugs and stronger doses.. but he doesn't say that and takes what's given, swallowing the pills dry and chasing them with gulps of water that screamed dehydrated. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 . @thecreativeforge

Dick sent 39﹕ sender  is  caught  following  receiver .

To say he was pissed would be an understatement. Jason knew exactly why Dickhead Grayson was following him-- things regarding his job with Roman had hit the fan in the worst way possible. At least according to his family. Jason didn't exactly count getting laid by a crazy fucker like Sionis in the bad category, after all he'd been with Rose Wilson and hadn't she tried to sell him out? Really, he was just evening his stats of almost dying between guys. The only shitty thing was the new scar added to his collection.

So maybe Dick had a reason to be tailing him. Still didn't mean he had to like it.

He'd made a quick turn into an alley and ducked into an alcove that was only one the damn ruler of crime alley would be intricately aware of. And when Grayson came creeping, Jason cocked his bulletless gun, making a satisfying click regardless. "The hell do you think you're doing in my allies, Dickybird. I thought we already had a conversation about who stays where in this city."

continuing from here... @thegirlwondcr

Emma had recently found a pretty decent lead as to where Joker's new hideout was, along with a long list of alarming things the clown was smuggling. She was excited to tell Jason about this because she assumed this might be a good mission for both of them to do together. After all, Bruce wouldn't let her within a mile of the clown. Emma paused for a moment, more confused than anything. "What?" She stared at Jason momentarily, trying to figure out what he was getting at or if this was some weird sibling joke she did not know of. "Jason...I can't like not acknowledge certain rogues." "And before you go into the whole speech, Bruce has given it to me like a hundred times. Joker is super dangerous, do not ever interact with him or his men ever." She said the latter in a very annoyed tone because the more Bruce told her to stay away, the more she wanted to look into it of course. "But like, if I'm out and someone's in danger, I'm not gonna just run away?" That's what she didn't understand. She was Robin, not some random defenseless citizen. "I've fought dudes twice--probably triple even--his size."

He knows he's being harsh with absolutely no damn doubt. But it didn't matter because they were talking about him and he knew-- knew-- if Emma got close enough the fucker would just sense it. People in Gotham had some innate sense of things, and Jason had always felt blood knew blood. Especially when you spilled enough of it.

"Oh I ain't gonna go on like Bruce. You don't know the fuckin' half of what that bastard will do to a kid," he sneered, "You see my damn face?" The scar started at the edge of his lips, curved up like a jagged J over a too pale blue eye. "That don't stand for Jason and that's the fuckin' cherry on top of the shitshow he made my life, Emma. So you listen and you listen good. I find out you were near him and didn't scurry your little ass out, I'm gonna make sure this childhood soldiering ends if I have to out B as the Bat my fucking self."

He had threatened it when Damian was still a kid. This time though? This time he would fucking do it and go down with the goddamn ship.

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 . @thecreativeforge

Roy sent o9﹕ sender  falls  asleep  leaning  against  receiver .

Jason had felt the weight of the other lean against him as he thumbed through the pages of the book. Bruce had asked him to attend the gala-- Wayne's long lost son had long since been back from the dead (unfortunately) and the old man seemed to like that the family was seen together. Stupid, in Jason's opinion. How long until someone counted out how many dark haired troublemakers Wayne had and put shit together?

Okay maybe only two were trouble makers-- him and the ten year old. But Jason had mostly stopped biting photographers and had only made a scene three times. In the past year.

He hadn't been the one to invite Roy, it seemed Dick brought the whole deck of Titans. Tim had brought his own team, and of course, Damian had his. Jason... worked alone, mainly, these days. Artemis and Bizarro had their own lives that often didn't involve the pale eyed man that had preferred sneaking off to the library than socialize with people who seemed put off by him. Except Roy. Who followed him, bugged him until Jason snapped for him to shut the hell up, and was now... breathing evenly. Sleeping, Jason realized as he paused his reading. He glanced over and then moved his head a bit, resting chin in the red flow of hair.

"Why do you have to show up when I'm trying not to think about you," he grumbles out, low enough to not disturb. "Can never keep a red head around..."

𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐃  &  𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐅𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 @thecreativeforge

Dick sent hand .   hold  out  a  hand  for  my  muse  to  take .

Jason stared hard at what he knew was an olive branch here, but by God he didn't want to reach back. Still. He had a knife buried in his goddamn thigh and his grip wasn't great. Felt like a few ribs had given in the fight. All healable, but right now it hurt like shit. So despite his ego, one of his gloved hands catches Grayson's before he just succumbs to petty behavior and lets go of the fucking ledge of the building.

"Hope you did your pull ups because I can't help ya, Wingding."

@bludhavenbirder continued from here

"No, Jay, I just made a stupid mistake," Dick sits up with a grunt. The nausea from the pain of moving and the way his vision blurs clears his mind for a moment. Working with Jason since he had come back had been difficult, to say the least. Dick had spent his life watching the people he loved accomplish daring feats and survive insane situations. Usually, he could keep his fear in check. He trusted them to fight well, analyze the risks. And he knew Jason could do it, but seeing him almost get hit, almost losing him again, was too much for Dick. Logic and reason fell from his mind and he had ran back into the fray. Dick knew he had gotten hit— he had just watched two bullets be dug from his skin and sutures stitched— but it had all happened so fast. Others were still out there, finishing the fight, but Dick was in a medical bay recovering. "Just suffering from delusions of grandeur," He grimaces, moves his head to the side— he'd shake it if he didn't feel so ill. "Thanks for getting me out of there."

Stupid put it lightly, in Jason's opinion. It was fucking idiotic. But he had to tell himself... Dick didn't realize just how stupid it was, what he did. Because it the bullets had hit him right? He'd be gone. If they hit Jason right?

He'd be back up the next day.

"Course I fuckin' got you out of there, dumbass," he grumbled, pacing beside Dick's sick bed, looking like a tiger in a too cramped cage. "What the hell were you thinking... you could've died, I had that bastard, Grayson." You could have died, and that would've been on me. If Bruce lost him again, he was already mourned. If they lost the golden child... the family was already half in shambles half the damn time. They couldn't take that.

@arobinwithoutbatman sent a starter

"I'll be with you in a second!" That sure is a Robin balancing precariously on a ledge with a camera in hand taking shots of... the skyline? The night sky? Actually, is that a Robin? The colours are all wrong. Black and green instead of traffic lights. "This album's gonna be amazing." He grinned to himself before heading to sager ground and giving Red Hood a lazy wave. "Quickfire FAQ; I'm a Robin just not your Robin though I'm not sure what name your version of me uses. Yes, my family know I'm here. No, I won't be staying longer than twenty-four hours. No, I won't get involved in anything unless you ask. Yes, I'm friendly."

Jason just stared, too pale blue eyes blank for a second before something clicked and he just seemed annoyed at the sudden appearance. Multiverse bullshit was something for other heroes to deal with, and he didn't want to deal with another Flashpoint dilemma. There couldn't be one calm week, could there? Gotham didn't like quiet.

He'd spotted the idiot-- this was an idiot, he'd decided that-- in his turf around Uptown Gotham, Crime Alley. He had to wonder if that wasn't what it was where this kid came from because why the fuck would he choose the shithole of the city to take his goddamn pictures... either way. The odd posture mixed with the costume got his attention.

"Uh huh, you being here at all is an issue buddy-- thing is I'm not fucking friendly. What the hell are you doing here if you don't belong here?"

It wasn't all Bruce's fault; Jason knew that. Of course he did. Bruce didn't make him break more laws than the Batman's morality allowed. He didn't make Jason stay away from the Wayne Manor, the one place that ever really felt like home to the man. No, that was Jason's doing. It was his choices, his own stubbornness, but something felt innately wrong about going home when things had soured so much between the Joker still breathing and the replacement child that was still allowed to fight after one soldier was already lost.

"Lemme guess, the sources were dragged up the side of a goddamn building crying for their moms," he snorted, knowing that Bruce-- despite his distaste for Jason's methods-- could be more than a little rough when he wanted information out of far more distasteful men.

A huff of breath and he glares back at the street, seeing the cars. "Not bored... restless," he grumbled out, slowly standing from the crouch. There was no grapple gun. Jason was well aware how far he could jump and land on his feet like some cursed to hell cat. Cursed didn't begin to cover it. "When do we move."

  🦇—-;; Bruce tone was a little lighter, despite shifting the focus back to the case, indicating he had at least been in something of a similar situation, leaning a bit on the large part of himself that missed the way things used to be. And sure, he'd like to go back to that, or whatever the new version of that was, like they were doing now, more often, stubbornness tended to get in the way of all that. That didn't mean Bruce didn't miss his son any less, his son working at his side. He'd tell Jason as much if he thought he could get away with it, but he'd been living with that strained bond since Jason had returned to Gotham. Maybe it's the part of him that still blames himself for what happened in Ethiopia. He hasn't breathed a word about that since he first found out the Red Hood's identity.

He shakes his head a little, "the source of this lead was reliable enough." He wouldn't have dragged Jason out this far without at least double-checking his sources. And sure a handful of mob enforcers weren't all that reliable on their own when being interrogated by the Bat, but they had all mentioned the same place. Bruce's hand flexes, clawed fingers moving to the side of the cowl briefly, adjusting the vision mode in the cowl manually.

As his hand lowered from the side of his face, his thumb found the scar on his own lip, faint as it was from how old it was, but it traced it regardless before he looked at his hand and then back out across the way, listening briefly. "We can move soon, if you're starting to get bored, Hood." Bruce's tone takes that slight sarcastic tone, gentle in the way he does with only family. Broken bond aside, Jason is, and always will be his son.

"There's a couple of cars that just pulled up with no plates." He says, looking at Jason again. "My lead isn't entirely rubbish." Bruce shrugged before bringing his hands up to crack his knuckles, then reached for the grapple gun on his belt.

Those were all words Jason wasn't a fan of. Teleportation he didn't trust. The few times he was thrown in one, he felt every damn cell like he was scattered in a thousand directions. And multiverse? That was just an invitation to trouble. Especially if this guy knew who Jason was. He was almost tempted to ask just how Catholic the Red Hood's real face was where the guy was from-- he was always curious after finding out about Father Todd.

"Yeah sounds like maybe someone like you shouldn't have that kinda shit in your hands, dumbass," he said irritably. But the helmet hides the confusion at all the questions. Why the hell should he answer them? Still. There was nothing harmful in them.

"Robin keeps his ass with the Bat, I don't want his bitey attitude over here. Little shit... and we work fine enough. I just like my goddamn peace, which you are interrupting." And then the last question. That one... was a little damn personal.

"Not quite twenty, not quite thirty." Not quite aging. But he didn't think that'd been noticed by... well. Anyone.

Hand reached out and found the toast, starting to wolf it down. Most mornings, the meal was a little more unorthodox... but usually there were painkillers involved. Jason healed fast, but it'd suck in the fucking meanwhile... Still. Roy being here was... different. And he couldn't say he knew how to feel about the guy being around or--

"My SOS? Thought I fucking deactivated your line to that," he grumbled, thinking he probably hadn't actually. Because Roy, he knew, would come. "Thought I changed all the damn passcodes too..." He definitely hadn't done that.

Chewing another large bite of toast, he closed his eyes. Swallowed. "False facers. I pissed the big boy in charge off-- or, well, made him disappear. They thought I'd give 'em information and I did... but it'll probably get them ripped up by your sponsor when they get there... send Waylon my apologies."

𝟏𝟎𝟎 𝑵𝑶𝑵𝑽𝑬𝑹𝑩𝑨𝑳 𝑷𝑹𝑶𝑴𝑷𝑻𝑺 . @pv55y

selina kyle sent 1o﹕ sender wields a [ gun / knife ] at receiver

He smiles slowly, head tipping to the side. A weapon in a cat's hands doesn't scare him; while he'd prefer the blade not sink into him? He wasn't worried about overpowering the other. Jason was brute strength, and he didn't stay down long. He had proven that.

More than once he had proven that.

"What's this shit about-- thought you and me were starting to get along. Or what? You think I'm gonna go after B again?" If that was the case, she was probably on to something.

He doesn't even twitch, the cold and dark expression staying. People said his eyes were unsettling-- the eyes of a dead man. And right now, all the life of them was gone. It was a haunting glare that was on the girl. "Yeah. You might get figured out. Might go to juvie, might be sent out of state. B shouldn't have more kids in this goddamn house. You'd be better off."

The tone is flat and quiet and certain. It isn't he doesn't like the young girl. In fact? He likes her company to some extent-- more than Damian or Tim. But they at least understand with Jason? There's a line. Tim knows how to step back, Damian can hold his own.

"So you'll send it to Tim. Or Duke. And you'll sit your happy ass down because I'm not fucking around right now, kid." He has stepped forward, and he's towering over her. Jason is built like a wall, even though he was smaller than this kid when he fell into the green of the Lazarus Pit, it's color flickering now in his eyes. "And if you think I'm letting you out the damn door? You're mistaken. I'm not Bruce. I'm not Dick or Tim. I don't care if people get hurt as long as they aren't my people."

"Oh yeah, outing him sounds so safe. I bet I wouldn't be targeted at school or literally anywhere if people knew I'm being raised by Batman. They also definitely won't put two and two together with figuring out who Robin is." Full sarcasm in her tone then. This was not at all how she expected the conversation to go. This was supposed to evolve into a great team-up against Joker, not some lecture?

"Oh my god Jason, you sound worse than Bruce." Emma was most definitely annoyed that Jason was not on her side at all with this. She did understand it was bold to pitch this to the victim of the Joker, but shouldn't that fuel him?

"I can't ignore this lead, you know that, right?" She said in a more serious tone, looking up to Jason. Looking at Jason was a constant reminder of what could happen to her if she was even 'lucky.' Jason came back--and not well--, there was no way to guarantee the same would happen to her. All of that didn't matter to her, she wanted to listen to her gut. "People, lots of people, could get hurt." How many times did she need to say she was aware of the risk? "It'd be better if I go there with you than alone." She warned that concept to him if only to try and get him on board with her plan.

All I did was give you direction. He almost has to laugh at that and amusement plays on his expression, those pale blues pinning Bruce in a narrow gaze that says he doesn't quite trust all that is said. "You gave me a lot more than direction, B."

Part of him wanted to say too much. Part of him wanted to tell the man he wished Robin and Batman didn't exist. But another part knows if Batman hadn't been on the streets, Jason himself... wouldn't have lasted. He would've tumbled through the East End to an obscure grave put together by the Gotham Memorial Morgue. A too young John Doe with no one to remember who the hell he was.

So how can he really be ungrateful... and can he really say it was all bad?

A huff of a laugh comes out and Jason turns the domino mask in his hand, casting his gaze out across the city from the high perch. "I know you are, in your own damn way..." Otherwise, Jason wouldn't be allowed to run free like he did. He understood there was something keeping him out of Blackgate or Arkham, and it sure as hell wasn't Grayson. "Still. Guess it's nice to hear it."

@redhoodedtodd sent:

you taught me how to protect myself.

PROMPTS FOR FEELING SAFE / EXPRESSING COMFORT

    🦇—-;; Of course, Bruce knows his boys are capable, he'd trained them, taught them the skills they needed to survive at the Bat's side and eventually flourish into their own people out of his shadow. Yet, he feels as if he'd failed Jason, though not through lack of teaching, but by simply not being there fast enough to protect him when he should have been. Jason's words do not soften that guilt any, no matter how much Bruce tells himself that it's true, and he knows how capable he is. But that one failure is going to be a mark on that until Bruce learns to let the guilt go.

Still, regardless of that, a smile, small as it is, curls the corners of his mouth. "Of course I did, but you had that potential within you the whole time, Jason. All I did was give it a direction." Perhaps it's wrong of him to downplay the significance of his choice to take Jason under his wing, to mentor him like he had with Dick. Even if sometimes Bruce wonders if it had been the right choice, it's not as if he'd change that.

"I...I am proud of what you are capable of." He might not like all of it, the things that went against everything he'd taught the boy, but at the same time, he was not angry about it. He finds it difficult to be angry about it. However, right now, he simply hopes his words were not crossing over any boundaries.

"I don't know much about what's going on in your life," Jason grunted in response, sitting up and rubbing his head. And realizing he sounded a lot more like a bitter ex than he meant to towards a man he'd a) never dated in the fucking first place and b) was actually trying to be a decent fucking human... This is why you don't have friends, idiot.

A huff of a sigh and pale eyes find Roy, blue and green and deciphering any other potential reason the man might be there. It seemed he couldn't decide on one so he rolled his shoulders, hearing a satisfying pop. "I have some food... I think. I can order in. Have you eaten anything since you dragged me here?"

Roy watched as Jason downed the painkillers with water and ate the toast, somewhat glad to see the man finally awake and about. They had knocked him out pretty good, but at least he could say that the younger man got himself a few decent hours of - unfortunately, forced - sleep.

Roy shrugged at the comment. "You know me and Waylon haven't been in contact for years." Those were odd days, but admittedly, the croc wasn't all cold blooded as he was made to be sometimes. In rare times, anyway... In the time Roy needed a shoulder when there was none.

"I'll stay for a bit. You want more water, something else to eat?"

ALIEN (1979) PROMPTS @maximummuses

Slade said "Anybody ever tell you you look dead?"

There's a sneer across Jason's face as he looks at the other man, not quite happy in his current situation. Getting captured was never something one wanted out of an afternoon... less when it was someone like Slade. Being insulted didn't exactly make it better.

"Anybody ever tell you you look like a goddamn pirate?" Jason asked, though the answer to his question was yes. It was something in the eyes-- or the scent, he'd been told. Something looked wrong, something smelled wrong, and why shouldn't it? He was, after all, some kind of revenant. But the eyes were one of those things, too pale, one blue and one an unnatural sort of green. "Yeah, ha ha, I look dead. You gonna make that worse or am I just the worm on the hook?"

ALIEN (1979) PROMPTS @clownofspades

harley said "i can't lie to you about your chances, but… you have my sympathies."

He was counting out the bullets as he loaded them, keeping a mental note of how many he had in the gun, in his pockets, because he'd use every last one to pump into the bastard's body if he had his say in the matter. It didn't matter if Jason had been beaten down by the man before-- killed by him before. Jason wanted to go home.

And he wouldn't until the Joker was under the damn dirt.

"If this chance don't fuckin' work, I'll wake up in a coffin and I'll try the fuck again until he does," he grunted out, not focused on the woman. "Thanks for the information... and the sympathies."