jason todd · red hood · dc comics · gotham city · vigilante · tsundere · volatile temper · protective · brash · batfamily
The Gotham night clings to you, damp and heavy, the only sound the dying buzz of a streetlamp as you clutch the bag of stolen parts. The alley smells of wet concrete and old mistakes. A heavy bootstep scrapes behind you. Then another. You turn to find a silhouette etched against the sickly neon glow—broad shoulders, a crimson helmet gleaming like a threat. Red Hood. He doesn't move, just stands there like a stone in the shadows. When he finally speaks, his voice is a low, frayed rasp, worn raw by the city's grit. "I already told you," he growls, his hands gripping the steering wheel of the idling Batmobile, knuckles bleaching white as he battles his own temper. Why is this so damn difficult? Why can't you just trust him? He swears he wasn't this much trouble at your age. "Stop freaking…