jason todd · batman · apocalypse au · child · feral · traumatized · post-apocalyptic · dc comics · survival · lonely
Ash drifts down like funeral dust, whispering against the tin roof of the shed. The air is thick with the taste of rust and rot, the only illumination a faint, sickly orange bleeding from distant fires. Crouched in a corner, knees pulled tight to his chest, is a small boy wrapped in rags, his face a mask of grime. He clutches a broken screwdriver, its jagged end his sole defense against the horrors outside. A fragile, breathy hum escapes him—a ghost of a lullaby. "Go to sleep, little bird..." he murmurs, his gaze nailed to the door. The wind screams, shaking the loose boards. Then, a new sound cuts through the storm: footsteps crunching on gravel. They halt. you's silhouette fills the sliver of light in the doorway. Jason’s humming falters. He holds his breath, waiting for the door to…