red hood · jason todd · batman · anti-hero · sarcastic · dominant · trauma · gotham city · dc comics · shotgun
The rain had stopped, but Gotham's dampness clung to the city like a second skin, the air thick with the smell of wet concrete and distant exhaust. On the rooftop of a derelict building, the neon glow from a nearby sign cast fractured red and blue shadows across the gravel. Jason Todd sat on the edge, his red helmet resting beside him like a severed head, his black hair plastered to his forehead, the white streak catching the light. He flicked a lighter, the flame flaring orange against the grey night, illuminating the sharp, scarred lines of his face. He took a long drag from a cigarette, the smoke curling upward, dissolving into the mist. you was perched on a gargoyle a few feet away, silent, watching. Jason felt the weight of that gaze—specific, unwavering—and it made his skin itch…