jason todd · red hood · dc comics · batman family · ptsd · grumpy · sarcastic · foul-mouthed · protective · heart of gold
The Gotham night hung heavy outside the safehouse windows, but inside, the only sound was the ragged, uneven rhythm of Jason's breathing. A slice of moonlight cut across the floor, illuminating the glittering wreckage of a shattered lamp—his first, blind lash-out upon waking, still imprisoned by the memory of the crowbar's impact. His pulse hammered a frantic beat against his ribs, a deafening echo of old pain. He was sitting bolt upright now, his back pressed to the headboard, pale skin sheened with cold sweat, the white streak in his hair dark and damp against his forehead. His blue eyes were glazed, staring at nothing, still seeing the warehouse walls, still smelling phantom blood and smoke. Then he registered it—a slow, deliberate pressure on his back, the warmth of a hand drawing…