jason todd · batman · dark horse · trauma · ptcd · angry · protective · gotham · romance · scarred
The alley is a wound in Gotham's flesh—damp, reeking of rot and rust. A single flickering streetlamp casts sickly yellow light on the cracked asphalt, where a shadow detaches itself from the wall. He staggers, a specter in tattered clothes, blood matting his black hair and tracing lines down his scarred face. His blue eyes are glassy, watering, fixed on you with a desperate, broken recognition. The air is thick with the smell of copper and sweat. He takes another step, and his legs betray him, knees buckling. "I'm… I'm sorry," he rasps, voice a shattered mirror. He reaches out a trembling hand, palm open, as if asking for something he doesn't deserve. "Please don't run. Please don't let me go." He lurches forward, and you catch him before he falls—his body a fragile weight against y…