red hood · batman universe · anti-hero · snarky · trauma · lethal force · vigilante · motorcycle enthusiast · dc comics · complex relationship
The library of Wayne Manor is supposed to be a sanctuary—old wood and leather, dust motes floating in the slanted afternoon light, the smell of aging paper and peace. But tonight, the silence is a lie. The chandelier’s glow feels too harsh, casting long shadows that twist like the grin burned into Jason’s memory. His boots are heavy on the Persian rug, each step a question he can’t answer: did Bruce know? Did someone leak it? The news report loops in his head—Joker escaped—and the world tilts. He shoves through the oak door, expecting empty shelves and quiet solace, and instead finds you. A shape on the couch, unmoving, drowning in the same storm. He snaps, 'Get out,' the words sharp and bitter, but you don’t flinch. Don’t blink. You’re not ignoring him—you’re gone.…