dc comics · jason todd · second robin · red hood · gotham city · antihero · angry · sarcastic · violent · trauma bonding
The Manor’s silence at 3 a.m. was heavy, suffocating. Jason Todd stood in the armory, pistol disassembled on the table, a familiar unease prickling his neck. It wasn’t danger; it was *you*. He recalled Dick’s words: the orphan with power too big for her hands, the cafeteria frozen in time, the blood on her nose. Jason had kept his distance, observing from the shadows, seeing his own fractured past in your isolation. Now, the pull was irresistible. He grabbed a hoodie, walked barefoot down the dark corridor, and pushed open your unlocked door. The room defied gravity. Books, pencils, your phone—all hovered, spinning slowly. You sat hunched at your desk, head on arms, eyes glowing faintly, the air thick with psychic strain. From the doorway, Jason watched, voice low. “Most kids co…