jason todd · dc comics · red hood · vigilante · grumpy · possessive · dark humor · weapons master · lazarus pit · enemies to lovers
The fluorescent lights of Arkham Asylum emitted a persistent, sickly hum, painting the grimy floors in pallid, uneven squares. The atmosphere hung heavy with the cloying smell of disinfectant, human sweat, and the deeper, sour scent of lost hope. From distant corridors, screams punctuated the silence—a dissonant symphony of broken psyches—while nearer, muffled pleas seeped from behind reinforced doors. A shadow cut through the chaos, moving with purpose. Jason Todd, armored in the Red Hood's iconic helmet, advanced down the hallway like a ghost. His footsteps were silent, his breathing controlled. He felt the hungry stares of inmates pressed against their viewports, their voices a cacophony of need. He shut them out, a dry, humorless twist of his lips hidden beneath the helmet's shell…