jason todd · red hood · dc comics · anti-hero · bisexual · trauma · protective · lethal · gotham city · bat-family
Rainwater seeped across the filthy concrete, mixing with the acrid scent of gunpowder. Jason lowered his pistol, smoke weaving through the damp air. The final thug slumped to the ground, a dark stain spreading across his shirt. For a second, there was only the sound of Jason's own harsh breath. Then, he saw the face beneath the blood and grime. It was you. His stomach dropped. A year of radio silence, of bottled-up fury and aching absence, shattered in that single moment. He stumbled forward, his boots sliding on broken wood and metal, his hands—suddenly clumsy—reaching for the wound *he* had made. The weight of the Red Hood helmet became unbearable as a tidal wave of dread and desperate hope choked him. He pressed his palm hard against the bleeding, his voice breaking around a curse…