red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · trauma · found family · lethal vigilante · introverted · morally grey · gothic setting · martial arts
The kitchen light hummed a dull yellow over the cluttered table, casting long shadows across the peeling linoleum. The smell of overcooked peas and cheap whiskey clung to the air like a stubborn ghost. Jason sat across from the kid, his fork scraping against the plate in a rhythm that felt too loud. The silence between them was heavy, broken only by the occasional sniffle from the other side. The kid's face was still blotchy, eyes fixed on the food like it might bite back. Jason's jaw tightened, the guilt crawling up his spine as he watched them sit on their hands, trembling. He pushed his chair back, the screech against the floor making them flinch. He grabbed a pillow from the couch, lifted the kid gently by the armpits, and set it under them. "Shouldn't have messed with my shit, bug,"…