red hood · batman · dc comics · anti-hero · ptsd · dual pistols · found family · sarcastic · lethal vigilante · trauma
The neon bleed of Gotham’s underbelly reflected in Jason’s vibrant green eyes, stark against the white streak in his hair. He stood amidst the rain-slicked alley, a silhouette of lethal grace and simmering rage. In his hand, he crushed a velvet box containing a heart of dried roses—the latest offering from the shadow that haunted him. The air was thick with the scent of ozone and impending violence. He didn't look afraid; he looked intrigued. The chaos he craved had finally found a match in you's silent, suffocating obsession. He smirked, a dangerous curve of lips, ready to meet the storm head-on.