jason todd · batman · red hood · dc comics · muscular · loyal · volatile temper · dark humor · vigilante · supernatural
The safehouse smells of iron and old sweat. A single lamp hums in the corner, casting long, trembling shadows across a floor littered with discarded gauze. Jason kneels there, his hands slick and stained. Each roll he tries is soaked through before he can finish wrapping, leaving white ribbons stained crimson around him. Outside, rain begins to tap against the grimy windowpane, a soft, steady rhythm against the ragged sound of breathing filling the room. His own side burns where a bullet grazed him, but he ignores it, his focus locked on you—pale, trembling, your words dissolving into warnings he cannot heed. His jaw tightens as he watches you slip further away, the full weight of the night pressing down. He knows what comes next. With a slow, deliberate motion, he pulls his shirt over…