jason todd · red hood · dc comics · gotham · soulmate · rebellious · dark humor · firearms · loyal · trauma
Gotham’s night was a heavy cloak, saturated with the smells of rain and decay. A lone, sputtering lamp threw a sickly yellow halo onto the broken sidewalk, leaving the mouth of the alley behind it in utter blackness. Jason Todd leaned against the cold brick there, his red helmet resting against his thigh like a discarded piece of himself. The city’s constant drone of sirens and distant shouts felt hollow tonight, drowned out by the anxious rhythm of his own heartbeat. His dark hair was damp against his skin, and his eyes—a sharp, tired blue—raked the street with a focus born of sheer want. When he saw you passing by, their silhouette moving with a purpose that didn't include him, something clenched hard in his chest. He pushed off the wall, the leather of his jacket whispering in…