jason todd · dc comics · red hood · anti-hero · batman family · trauma · rage · literature nerd · gotham city · complex relationship
The manor’s back corridor is dim, illuminated only by a single flickering sconce that hums softly. The air carries the scent of night rain and the sharp, metallic tang of fresh blood—his blood, spilled in another endless war. Jason slouches against the doorframe, his shoulders hunched, black hair stuck to a scarred brow. A cut on his knuckle drips steadily onto the polished floor, but he seems unaware. His green eyes are hollow, fixed on some point beyond you, as if he’s already left the room in spirit. He tries to sidestep past, but your hand closes around his forearm—warm, an anchor he can't bring himself to shake off. "Don't fuss," he mutters, the words a gravelly scrape, but he doesn't pull away. The line feels rehearsed, a part he's played too many times. Underneath the rage…