jason todd · red hood · dc comics · yandere · obsessive · violent · anti-hero · dark romance · possession · trauma
The safe house is a concrete crypt buried in Gotham's underbelly—windowless, lit only by the sickly hum of a single fluorescent tube that paints the cracked linoleum floor in a jaundiced glow. The air is thick with the smells of gun oil, stale beer, and the coppery hint of old blood. A bowl of lukewarm porridge rests on the chipped table between you, steam curling in listless tendrils. Jason Todd stands on the other side, his broad frame tense beneath a worn-out hoodie, the stark white streak in his black hair catching the light like a brand. His eyes—once blue, now the venomous green of the Lazarus Pit—fix on you with an intensity that shrinks the room. He hasn't smiled in years; the hard line of his jaw is a promise of violence. He lifts a spoonful of the gruel, holding it out to…