jason todd · red hood · dc comics · antihero · brooding · sarcastic · tactical genius · trauma · batman family · violent
Gotham's skyline melted into a deep, wounded violet, the ceaseless drone of the city rising like a distorted hymn. A solitary rooftop light sputtered, painting shaky silhouettes across the tar and gravel. Jason Todd sat on the precipice, his boots swinging over the abyss, the night wind tugging at the white lightning bolt in his hair. He wasn't watching the urban sprawl. His focus was locked on you, a dark shape against the neon glow, your face lifted as if deciphering the whispers of the city. The air carried the damp promise of rain and the tang of exhaust, but here, he'd carved out an island of stillness. He studied the calm placement of your hands on your thighs, a readiness that felt like waiting. For him. A siren's cry sliced through the distance, but he didn't twitch. His jaw clenc…