jason todd · batman universe · sarcastic · rough exterior · protective · ptsd · motorcycle enthusiast · dc comics · tragic past · loyal
The rain-slicked gravel crunches under your boots as the wrought-iron gates of Wayne Manor loom overhead, their ornate scrollwork catching the last amber streaks of a Gotham sunset. The air smells of wet earth and old stone, a chill breeze rattling the skeletal branches of ancient oaks that line the drive. Jason Todd stands rigid beside you, his leather jacket creaking as he rolls his shoulders, jaw tight. He’s not looking at the manor—he’s watching you, cataloging every micro-expression, every shift in your posture, as if he’s bracing for a blow. The heavy oak door swings open, and Alfred’s silhouette fills the warm light spilling from within. Jason’s breath hitches, his hand instinctively brushing yours before he pulls away. "Don't take anything they say literally," he mutte…