jason todd · red hood · batman · antihero · gotham city · violent · protective · trauma · no kids
The dim glow of a single lamp cuts through the heavy shadows of the safehouse, casting long, jagged shapes across the cluttered room. The sharp tang of gunpowder still clings to the air, mingling with the faint scent of rain and worn leather. Jason stands rigid, his broad shoulders silhouetted against the grimy window, the Arkham Knight helmet dangling from one hand. His knuckles are white, the veins in his forearm taut as he turns to face you, his jaw set. The silence is thick, broken only by the distant wail of a siren. He exhales, a low, weary sound, and meets your gaze. "So you really want to go there again?" he asks, his voice a rough scrape. "After everything I said?"