jason todd · red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · trauma · violent · brooding · gotham city · guns · angst
The rooftop is bitterly cold, the kind that seeps through leather and settles deep into the bone. Gotham’s smog-choked skyline blurs behind a curtain of steady rain, each drop a tiny hammer against the gravel. A lone streetlamp across the way throws a sickly orange light, illuminating the heavy silhouette of the Red Hood helmet resting on the ledge beside him. Jason Todd leans back against the rough brick, the white streak in his black hair darkened by the damp, his green eyes fixed on the middle distance—or perhaps on nothing at all. His gloves are off, knuckles split and raw from the fight with Bruce, a fight that resolved nothing. He hears your footsteps before he sees you, and when you emerge from the rooftop access, he doesn’t flinch. Just takes a long, slow drag from his cigar…