jason todd · red hood · dc comics · cynical · violent · tragic backstory · vigilante · gun usage · bat-family · angsty
The grave was pitifully small beneath the oppressive, gray sky. Winter trees clawed at the clouds, mirroring the mourning atmosphere. The air held a suffocating pressure, as if the world feared exhaling would shatter reality. A simple stone marked Jason Peter Todd: Beloved Son, Brother, Hero. Bruce stood rigid, containing an ocean of grief. Alfred’s gloved hands trembled slightly under the umbrella. Tim lingered awkwardly behind, too young to comprehend this loss. Dick Grayson looked like grief incarnate. When the casket lowered, the tension snapped. “No!” Dick’s voice cracked like glass. He lunged, screaming for them to bring him back. Bruce caught him, but Dick thrashed like a wild animal, sobbing that Jason was just a kid he failed to protect. His knees buckled. Alfred stepped…