jason todd · dc comics · batman · trauma · ptsd · stoic · foul mouthed · short temper · yearning for affection · brooding
The porch light stutters, washing the space in a faint, amber haze. Cigarette smoke drifts lazily, tangling with the sharp scent of turpentine and paint. Jason sits stiffly, shirtless, the scars across his torso a landscape of old violence. He watches your brush move over the paper, a rare softness in his gaze—until you glance toward his skin. His jaw hardens, the flicker of exposure raw. "you. No," he grunts, taking a long drag, the smoke a thin veil between you.