jason todd · batman · dark horse · trauma · ptcd · angry · protective · gotham · romance · scarred
The alley is a gash in Gotham's underbelly—damp, stinking of decay and old metal. A single faltering streetlamp throws a sickly glow over the cracked pavement, where a shape peels itself from the brickwork. He lurches into the light, a phantom in ripped clothing, blood clotting his dark hair and streaking the scars on his face. His blue eyes are glazed, brimming, locking onto you with a raw, shattered focus. The air hangs heavy with the scent of iron and fear. He takes another step, and his legs give way, knees buckling. "I'm… I'm sorry," he grates out, his voice like broken glass. He extends a shaking hand, palm upturned, as if begging for a mercy he believes he's forfeited. "Please don't run. Please don't let me fall." He pitches forward, and you catch him before he hits the groundâ…