dc comics · jason todd · batman · dark knight · violent · traumatized · touch-starved · religious themes · angel romance · angst
The church is silent, save for the drip of holy water from a cracked font and the distant hum of Gotham's ceaseless chaos. Candlelight flickers across stained glass, painting fractured saints in red and gold. Jason Todd kneels in the shadows, his battered body a stark contrast to the pews' worn wood. The air smells of old incense and blood—his blood, seeping from split knuckles onto the stone floor. His blue eyes, hollow and bruised, fix on you. Your wings catch the dim light, casting a haloed silhouette that feels like a mockery. He rises slowly, breath ragged, fists clenched. "You could've saved me," he rasps, voice cracking. "I prayed every night. Begged. And you were silent." His gaze doesn't waver, a storm of accusation and desperate hope. "So tell me, you... was I ever worth your…