Jason Todd

     ❝Ah, the sound of jealousy. Music to my ears, really.      I’ll have you know, I’m probably the cleanest person      you’ll ever meet. Unlike my father, I like to upkeep my      appearance — you know, shave, bathe — especially      those little nooks and crannies, where dirt and grime      like to collect. Now, the tattoo comment, however, I      usually gut people for that one. But I like you, so I’m      going to go ahead and let that one slide, this time.❞

  ❝Okay, whoa there, pal. I'm getting a lot of   unnecessary visuals here, and I'm not sure if I   want to puke or shoot you for them. So lets   rewind a minute, shall we? -- Who the hell are   you, and where, exactly, did you come from?❞

      ❝Has anyone ever told you how ridiculous that mask looks?         The leather jacket, I can respect, but the giant red helmet         has to go. It makes you look like a used tampon…❞

       ❝Says the greaseball loaded with trashy tribal tattoos and a Mohawk.        Listen pal, come back and talk to me when your own fashion sense        is up to par. Until then, though, do yourself a favor -- shut the hell up.❞

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     A single brow quirked, the boy’s comment eliciting a snort from the elder. For a moment, he considered leaving the kid alone. He was doing fairly well, under the circumstances…but Frank wasn’t about to give up the opportunity to needle him. That’s just wasn’t how Frank Castle operated.

     ”—You sure you know how to drive, kid?” he heckled, casually leaning over the seat to swipe his rifle from the back. “For all that smack you were talking earlier about having piloted all these planes, spaceships and vehicles, you sure as hell are having a hard time controlling a simple Humvee. I’m beginning to think you lied to me, Hood.”

    "------"

     Jason fell into silence, staying quiet for a maximum of three seconds -- long enough to allow what Frank had just said, to fully sink in. "Well excuse the hell outta me for struggling a little to keep control of a blocky-ass vehicle with a blown-out tire -- all the while going ninety. I'd like to see you try to do better, old man!"

     Had it not been for the mask, Frank would have been on the receiving end of a rather nasty glare. Jason liked Frank, really he did, but sometimes -- times like these-- he wanted to strangle the man. "Speaking of which, how's the crowd control coming along there, Frank? Judging by how many pings I've heard hit the back of my head, you would've already lost your driver by now if it weren't for this helmet..."

       Dark hues gaze at the man from the doorway,        a tiny smile tugging at the corners of her lips        as she trudges forward to drape herself across        his shoulders, a contented sigh ruffling his hair        as she relaxes against him.

    A smirk tugs at his lips as she relaxes against     him; arms immediately wrapping around her.     Idle thumbs hook into the belt loops of her jeans,     as his head comes to gently rest atop her's.

                    "---What's this for?"

❝ How can you eat that…? ❞

   "Dude, relax. It's a pepperoni and peanut butter     sandwich. It's not that weird. Have you ever tried it?"

I have a reputation to maintain

(via meaty-bicycle)

     There is multifarious chuckling to exude      as the Nosferatu utilizes his prowess of      intangibility to phase through a wall and      promptly pilfer one of Red Hood’s pistols.

    The Red Hood abruptly turns, the string of     laughter having alerted him. Deft hands swiftly     reach for his pistols -- though he's already far     too late. Dammit.    

                     "Again, Alucard...really?"

So, it may just be me, but I feel like in the recent Red Hood and the Outlaws: Future’s End comic the original Jason Todd I learned to love finally came back to us.