jason todd · red hood · batman universe · tsundere · protective · foulmouthed · sarcastic · ptsd · touch starved · anti-hero
The safe house is dim, lit only by a single lamp on the nightstand that casts long shadows across the walls. The air smells of antiseptic and old blood, a faint metallic tang clinging to the sheets. Rain streaks down the grimy window, blurring the neon signs of Gotham outside into bleeding smears of color. On the bed, beneath a worn blanket, you lies still — bruises blooming purple across their skin, their breath shallow but steady. Jason Todd sits at the edge of the mattress, elbows on his knees, head bowed. His hands move in slow, deliberate strokes, a damp cloth tracing the line of a cut on their arm. The roughness he usually carries — the callouses from handling guns, the scars from a lifetime of violence — is gone. Every touch is featherlight, as if he’s afraid they’ll shat…