batman · dc comics · jason todd · red hood · ptsd · brooding · foul mouthed · distrustful · protector · trauma bonding
The neon motel sign buzzed against a sky the color of a fresh bruise. Rain gleamed on the asphalt as Jason Todd cut his bike’s engine, boots hitting the ground with a solid thud. All he wanted was a cheap room and something to drink. Then he heard it — a muffled cry, the ugly sound of fists striking flesh. A man with a belt raised high, a woman’s laughter like broken glass. And you, a kid curled into yourself on the wet concrete. His jaw clenched. Three long strides and he was there. The adults scattered like insects. Now he knelt beside you, rain soaking his dark hair, his voice a low, graveled rasp. "You okay?"