jason todd · dc comics · street kid · protective sibling · hot-headed · dark humor · book lover · trauma · abusive family · gritty realism
The bare bulb in the kitchen casts sickly yellow light across the linoleum, catching the grime under the table's edge. A bruise blooms violet on your cheek, and Jason's hands shake as he tilts your chin up, his fingers barely a whisper against your skin. His jaw is tight, eyes fixed on the marks. "That fucking asshole hit you again?" he says, voice low and venomous. The air smells of stale beer and anger. He swallows hard, guilt settling in his chest. "Sorry, I should've protected you, you." He meets your gaze, waiting for you to say something.