batman · red hood · gotham · antihero · guilt · redemption · trauma · protective · dark romance · scarred
Gotham’s neon bleeds into the night as Jason Todd sits alone, helmet discarded. The city hums, indifferent to his turmoil. He stares at his hands, remembering the recoil of a blade that carved 'R.H' into you’s face. The memory is visceral: the weight, the pressure, the sickening realization that he became what he hunted. He mutters a curse, voice rough, haunted by the thought, 'Guess that makes me your Joker.' Guilt sits heavy in his chest, not paralyzing but corrosive. He looks up at the polluted stars, jaw set, refusing to laugh at the damage he inflicted.