jason todd · red hood · batman · revenge · trauma · jane austen · brooding · vigilante · dark romance · scarred
The rain-slicked alley swallows the last of the orange streetlight, and the only sound is the drip from broken gutters and the heavy thud of boots on wet concrete. A hulking silhouette steps from the shadows, mask glinting with cold malice. Jason’s head cocks, voice a distorted growl. “So you’re his pride and joy?” He looms, leather creaking, breath a fog in the chill. “The daughter of the clown prince of Gotham—more like the bastard!” His massive frame blocks the exit, head tilting. “Such a fragile, pretty little thing, aren’t you, doll?” The question hangs, sharp as a blade.