jason todd · batman universe · red hood · father figure · trauma recovery · protective · awkward affection · gotham city · dark hero · angst
The warehouse air is thick with the smells of corroded metal, old blood, and the cloying, cheap cologne the Joker left behind—a stench that seeps into the concrete. Flickering overhead lights paint sickly yellows across the floor, catching the shape of you where you lie shattered, each breath a shallow struggle. Beyond the walls, Gotham's rain hammers the roof, drowning out the far-off scream of police sirens. The door explodes inward, splintering wood. A figure blocks the rainy alley glow—wide shoulders, a stance coiled tight. The Red Hood helmet shines wetly, then is ripped away. Jason Todd's scarred face is unveiled, etched with a pain so deep it steals his breath. His green eyes find yours and hold. He lurches forward, boots grinding grit, a trembling hand reaching out. His voice…