I’ve been reading this book, and it inspired some Jason Todd hcs (which i’m not sure have been done before so bare w me)
So there’s this discreet home for female victims of domestic abuse in The Narrows, Gotham, and I say discreet because, well, it’s an official place of business but it’s not registered - just in case some of these women’s jerk ass husbands/boyfriends come looking for them for one sick reason or another.
But on the whole, it’s a well guarded place where women (and possibly their kids) from all over the country can rest until they get back on their feet. It’s funded by Wayne Enterprises, of course, but money can buy only so much security. And again, the men in question are stubborn asshats, and stubborn asshats can be dangerous.
Though, the place is guarded by a mask, one notorious for being a bit trigger happy. Red Hood.
Jason had known about this place since he was a kid, having grown up in that shittier part of a shitty city, but with everything he’s been through in the last few years, he hasn’t thought about it for a long time. Not one seemlingly normal day, when he rescues a woman from a mugging - a woman who happened to be the owner of this home for mistreated women.
She was just as he’d remember her, when she’d stand watch from within those fenced up walls, with a no-nonsense look on her face even after almost being mugged. Like she was prepared for any attack, despite her aged face. He’ll never forget those stern yet warm greyish green eyes that had looked upon him with pity as he walked past the home every day in search for a new illegal way to obtain money - back in the days his father was dead and his mother had resorted to drugs and alcohol to keep herself in a flase state of happiness.
She had offered him a bed in the limited space she had at the time, but he always rejected her help. Mostly because he knew her cause was a righteous one, and reply along the lines of “Don’t worry ma’am, save that bed for the helpless. I’ll be fine.”
to which she’d always respond with, “Don’t call me ma’am, it makes me feel old. But you reconsider my offer when your back’s against the wall, y’hear?”
He did consider her offer, quite a few times, especially after his mum died - but by the time he could make up his mind, he had stolen the wheels of the wrong - or right, depending on how you look at it - car.
As the memories of this place’s existence came flooding back, and because he’s a giant softie, he followed the middle-aged woman back to the home from the shadows that night, and kept a vigilant eye on the building - just to check on the state of things. The place seemed to be running smoothly, but he had a feeling there was more to it than that. Since this was a discreet haven, any unwanted guests were probably never reported to keep the reputation. So, he placed some of his own security cameras and sensors.
Surely enough, within 2 nights of this building coming to his attention, he spotted a man trying to climb the fence as his buddies taunted the occupants of the home. Little did they know, they’d be receiving a knuckle sandwich from the most feared outlaw in Gotham city.
Least to say, word got around, and no one really dares invade these women’s lives for as long as they’re in Gotham - and depending on the intelligence of the men in question - outside of Gotham either.
Though word also spread among the occupants of the building, women and children alike started regarding the red hood as their guardian angel, and the kids of some of the victims would even stick childish drawings of him on their windows, or leave him braceletes they had made. Jason almost fried the contacts in his mask with tears from looking at them. Occasionally, he’ll even get requests from the females, such as
“If you see my husband, Gregg - kick him in the dick for me.”
And the next day, they’d receive a video, front view, of the guy getting kick in the nuts - if they were ever dumb enough to show their faces around this place again.
Not all of the batfamily knows of this little community of red hood fans, except for Bruce and Barbara, because they make it their business to know. Yet, both are supportive of Jason’s work.
It was all pretty fulfilling for Jay too, making active changes in peoples’ lives without having to resort to murder. And even though his mother and father had never come to this point in their lives as a married couple, he felt a bit of retribution there. He had wished his mum had got help from these kinds of people, far back then, instead of the drugs and the booze - which somehow eventually led her to joker.
So here he is, on his normal patrol route, temporarily stopping at Gotham’s Home for Women as he’d occasionally do a few times a week. That’s when he heard the familiar voice of the owner from atop the roof.
“I guess you really didn’t need my help after all.”
She was leaning, hunched over the window sill, her frizzy, thick, curly, dark hair lightly luminated by the moonlight, showing some grey stray hairs within the fuzzy mass, neatly held into a bun. She idly held a cigarette in one plump, bronzish-brown hand, and stared into the distance.
Jason wasn’t surprised she had discovered his secret identity in the slightest. As a kid, he had always considered her a wise woman, and he wasn’t just some other dumb kid.
“Yeah, well I just wanted to thank you. My clients have been feeling a lot safer when you masks started frequenting here more. I don’t know how you got here, and I’m not judging. I just wanted to say - I’m proud. I just have the feeling not many people tell you that.”
“Uh, thanks.” he thought back to his recent rekindling relationship with his dad, “But I’m starting to hear that phrase more often.”
“So . . . do I get to call you ma’am now?”
“Get your arse off my fucking roof.”
And for the first time in a long, long time, Jason let out a genuine, hearty laugh that echoued throughout the guarded institute.
