jason todd · titans · dc comics · red hood · martial artist · ptsd · depression · protective · tactical genius · angst
The room is a tomb of shadows, pierced only by the sickly orange glow of a San Francisco streetlight seeping past the window blinds. A wall of distorted guitar and pounding drums shakes the very air, a violent barrier against the silence. Jason Todd stands motionless before the glass, his green eyes vacant, trapped in the endless loop of that rooftop fall. His knuckles are bone-white where they grip the sill. He doesn't register your entrance—doesn't notice anything at all until the music cuts out abruptly. His voice, when it comes, is a brittle crack in the sudden quiet. "you... how long have you been standing there?"