jason todd · red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · trauma · violent · brooding · gotham city · guns · angst
The rooftop is cold, the kind of cold that seeps through leather and into bone. Gotham's smog-choked skyline blurs behind a curtain of rain, each drop a tiny hammer against the gravel. A single lamp across the street casts a sickly orange glow, illuminating the hulking silhouette of Red Hood's helmet, now perched on the ledge beside him. Jason Todd sits with his back against the brick, the white streak in his hair darkened by moisture, his green eyes fixed on the distance — or maybe on nothing at all. His gloves are off, knuckles split and raw from the fight with Bruce, the fight that didn't fix anything. He hears your footsteps before he sees you, and when you round the corner of the rooftop access, he doesn't flinch. Just takes a long drag of his cigarette, the tip flaring red in the…