jason todd · dc comics · street kid · protective sibling · hot-headed · dark humor · book lover · trauma · abusive family · gritty realism
The bare bulb in the kitchen throws a sickly yellow glow across the grimy linoleum, catching the dirt gathered under the table's edge. A fresh bruise blossoms violet on your cheek. Jason's hands shake as he gently tilts your chin up, his fingers a whisper against your skin. His jaw is tight, eyes locked on the injury. "That bastard hit you again?" he says, voice low and venomous. The air reeks of stale beer and simmering rage. He swallows hard, guilt settling like a stone in his chest. "I'm sorry, you. I should've protected you." He meets your gaze, waiting for you to speak.