Tw Wounds - Blog Posts

He was- he was- ithurtithurtithurtithurtithurt- dying. The moments were ticking down, blood dribbling down his face and from so many wounds his vision swam.

How long had he been there? Too long. B was- he was coming, right? He had to be. His dad was coming for him. But... what if he was too late? There was a bomb, and Jason HURT and he could barely move or think or- he was crying.

He face screwed up at his sobbed, and even that hurt the cuts on his face, the J on his cheek where that-that LUNATIC carved it into him. Salty tears stung at his cuts, and his ribs ached as his breath stuttered. He didn't know what to do.

He didn't know what to do.

He didn't want to die. He didn't want to.

But he was just laying on the ground, bleeding out as a bomb tick tick ticked down.

Maybe it was reflex. Maybe the thoughts of impending death brought it to the forefront. Catherine came back for him. He wanted to stay for his dad. He could do that, right?

Jason began to pray. 'Please, let me live. I don't want to die. I don't want to leave dad or Alfred, or even Dick. I'm not ready. Please, please, please help me.'

His breath stuttered and his chest ached as cracked and broken ribs pushed painfully inside him. "Please..." He whispered. And then the bomb stopped ticking, and Jason knew no more.

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There was a cacauphonus Boom across the empty desert, and Bruce almost felt his heart stop in his chest. No no no, he couldn’t be too late. No no nononono- his thoughts only grew more frantic as he approached the smoldering pile of rubble that used to be a warehouse.

Please let Jason be out, please not my SON-

"Robin!" He shouted, voice cracking across the smoldering rubble as he dismounted his cycle and sprinted towards the still smoking rubble. "Robin!" He yelled again, voice breaking as he started sprinting along the edges, ears straining to hear something, anything-

There. At the back, barely outside of the smoldering wreckage was an unmoving pile of red, yellow, and green.

Bruce knew he didn't have the meta gene. He had checked multiple times. But in that moment it felt like he teleported to Jason's side as he fell to his knees next to his baby boy. He was covered in ash and blood, face pale around a red, carved J (don't think about it, don't let your blood boil, Jason needs a father not a murderer-) and eyes closed behind his torn mask. Fingers to pulse fingers to pulse, where wherewherewhere-

There. There. Right there was his son's heart beat. The wheezing rise and fall of his chest. Alive. Alive. His son was alive.

Batman did not cry. But Bruce did. He looked at his wounded, broken son and cried as he called the Batplane on his wrist computer. It was better not to move Jason, he reassured himself as he checked for spinal injury. And if it was because he felt like he would undoubtedly collapse again if he tried to stand up was just a plus.

"...dad?" Jay whispered, and Bruce started crying all over again.

"I'm here, I'm here Jaylad,"

"He came,"

"Who?"

"Death," Bruce's heart jolted. "Told 'em I couldn't go yet. He saved me. He came and he saved me...," Bruce heard the roar of incoming engines and hastened to make sure it was safe to move Jason. Jason had passed out again after his cryptic words, and Bruce was trying to ignore the feeling it left in his gut.

Jason had his beleifs, and Bruce had always supported him in them. Bruce himself was Jewish by his mother. He had heard of Jason's Death God and helped gather supplies for Jason's small altar that he prayed at.

Bruce didn't really believe in any God. But in a world of monsters, myths, and aliens...

"Thank you for saving my son," Bruce whispered into the air. Even if he was wrong, and speaking to no one and nothing, it didn't hurt to say it.

Bruce lifted Jason into his arms and approached the already lowered stairs to the Batplane.

God-Brother

Jason Todd is pagan. His religion is not anything related to any pre-existing cultures, but something that's based on a throw-away comment by Catherine Todd after one of her worst trips.

"He was so kind," she said in between mutterings, somewhat delirious and dangerously dehydrated. "Didn't push me to follow. Just took my hand and guided me back."

Jason Todd, who knew that her mom had almost died that time, always thought that the Death God had granted Catherine more time to be with him. That is until she took too much and not even a soft-hearted God could bring her back to life.

That faith remained after he dedicated prayers to his God; the world seemed to tilt just right when he remembered to speak to Him. It was almost like having a guardian angel.

Jason wasn't aware how right he was.

The young king fled, leaving his old life behind with the people he used to call family, to much of a monster for them to love

Amazing lineart by @thestarsofpines

Finally Danny and Wes had escaped the army of thralls sent after them by the ghost that captured them, Danny trying to block out Wes screams of how this is all his fault

“If it wasn’t for you phantom, I would never had been in this situation, but no you had to taunt the powerful war ghost” Wes rambled, causing Danny to whip around and growl

Danny threw his arms out, almost hitting one of the creepy bone pillars “I get it Wes, this is all my fault, but I think I made up for it by laying my life on the line to protect you.” He turned back around and started walking deeper into the castle “now lets just find our way out of here and we can do back to never talking”

Wes scoffed, but followed Danny deeper into the halls of the labyrinth of a palace, eventually they found a large door, presumably to the throne room

Danny nodded to Wes and pushed the door open with a loud creek of old wood, the throne room being illuminated by the flames of the figures crown as they sat atop their stone throne 

The bright flames blocked the figures face as they slowly approached carefully, clearing their throats

The figure raised their head with an amused grin “Well, well, well, look what the cat dragged to my door” sitting on the imposing chair was none other than Jeff Jefferson, Danny and Wes’s least favorite person “well don’t be disrespectful to your majesty” his smile turned smug as he glared down on them “bow down…”

Both males collectively whispered under their breaths “Shit..”

This amazingly detailed and truly worthy of our lord and savior Jeff was made by the wonderful @ovytia-art

Piece for the GK fanwork exchange event on Twitter !

I am normal about Vasily's wound... (lying)