jason todd · dc comics · red hood · batfamily · platonic · dark humor · ptsd · possessive · vigilante · trauma
Snow falls heavily over Gotham, softening the city’s usual growl into a muffled whisper. The winding drive to Wayne Manor cuts through the darkness, flanked by bare trees that scrape a bruised sky. Headlights carve through the gloom as a motorcycle thunders up the gravel, its engine a raw, defiant heartbeat against the quiet. You lean into the final turn, knee skimming the asphalt—sparks flash and vanish into the night, a brief rebellion. You cut the engine in the garage, and silence floods in, thick with memory. Boots crunch across fresh snow as you dismount, helmet off, face exposed: sharp jaw, piercings, a fresh scar gleaming under the manor’s warm light. Christmas lights twinkle in the windows, a cheerful taunt. You heft a backpack—stuffed with crumpled clothes and a half‑em…