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Blossoms in Winter: Eleven

Walking the City meant your head was on a swivel now. Someone had tried to kill you... probably.

It might not have been you specifically. They might have just been looking for ANY magic blood they could get their hands on. And you weren't sure what the difference was. Or what option was worse.

The grit and grime held new meaning- held new dangers. And you never would have seen them if you hadn't had to spend so much time opening yourself to the spirit world to see what Jason was seeing. The only reason he hadn't seen it was because- well. He was seeing everything.

It was hard for him to focus and notice the small details; understandably. His brain was still sometimes a little... murdery. He still needed anchors and teaching.

"Y/N-"

The gravely voice brought you to a stop and you half turned, "Night off, Bats?" You suppress a sigh and step into the alley, leaning against the wall and folding your arms.

"Checking in," he said, "Anyone shot at you recently?"

"Nope," you answer. Popping the P like bubble gum. "Curious though. 6 victims and no one noticed- not even you assholes."

You watch Batman blink behind the cowl, "Y/N-"

"I'll let you know if it's world-ending. Until then, I think I've got it."

You turn to leave, and Batman catches your wrist, "You saw it though," he said, "How?"

Tapping your forehead, you twist your other wrist out of his grip, "Remember; I see things when I open the right doors. I was looking for something else. A different case." True enough. Jason may as well be a client.

He nodded, "We didn't mean for anything to happen to y-"

"Zatanna's pissed at you too, huh?"

"Extremely."

"I'll call her." You gesture at him, feeling like you're shooing flies, "She might lay off."

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Decided to do my (voluntary) job and both Between Love and Nothing and Blossoms in Winter are in the doc, but a separate tab. No summary for either at the moment, but all parts are listed.

Blessings on your house 💜

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jokes to make after failure that aren’t self-deprecating:

I’m the best to ever do it

Nobody saw that (best if said loudly)

No one’s ever done it like me

I could be President/they should make me President

Behold, a mere fraction of my power!

The public wants to be me soooooo bad

I’m an expert in (thing you just failed at)

How could this have happened to god’s favorite princess?

Nothing ibuprofen and a glass of water cant fix

I’m being sabotaged

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Blossoms in Winter: Ten

"Son of a bitch!"

The punch had only been a glancing blow. Clark had heard Constantine coming. He'd known what was about to happen. But still- he'd figured it was better to let him get some of it out of his system.

"John-" he started, watching the other man rub his hand, "I didn't mean for anything to hap-"

"It fucking did though didn't it," John spat, eyes hardening and hands clenching. He rounded on Clark and stepped up to him, "They wanted her dead!"

"I didn't know-"

John snarled, "Why would you, mate? It's all just pretty sparks isn't it?"

"Constantine," Batman growled, getting ready to step between them, "no one was ready. It was supposed to be simple."

"That makes it okay, does it?" He regarded the other men coldly and the air crackled.

"No," Batman said levelly, "It doesn't."

__________

When your apartment door opened, Jason froze for a moment. Only relaxing when he heard your footsteps. Wincing when he heard the slow, painful dragging.

"The fuck happened to you?" he asked, looking up from the book he'd been scowling at.

"Two guesses" you snort, helping yourself to a beer. Should you mix it with pain meds? Probably not. Do you care. Also no.

"Damn."

You shrug and take a pull. "The upside is, I think I might have a break in my case."

Jason blinked. Three days. Three days he'd been hunting and trying to make shit make sense. Not able to call you because you were too close to anyone that could probably put pieces together- and now... "No shit?"

"They shot me with the same rounds that killed the victims."

"And you're not dead because?"

"Because my powers were fully realized," you tell him, making your way to the murphy bed. "The question is- did they know that? And further... what are they trying to do with all the power they're pulling in?"

"What can they do with it?" Jason asked, trying to ignore the hair on the back of his neck standing up. Trying not to think of coming here just to see your ghost.

"Nothing good. That's for fucking sure."

Jason nodded and watched you drink your beer for a moment. The silence stretching out. "If- if they had killed you-"

"It would have been ugly. Fast."

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The way I have to go reread every chapter of Blossoms in Winter at least twice 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟 🌟

Thank you 💜

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Blossoms in Winter: Nine

You aren't dead.

That's the first thing you notice when you try to open your eyes. The next thing is the nagging pain, Clawing at you from the inside out. And the third is the smell of antiseptic and stiff starched blankets.

Watchtower medical then.

Clark didn't leave you there to die then- good for him. And good for you that you'd been mostly unconscious. Your death hex might have leveled more of Metropolis than the demons did.

For a moment, while you get your bearings you keep your eyes closed. Wondering who put the TV on a cooking show and how they even get this show in space- You like it usually. But your body hurts and you don't want to have to pay attention. Just passively absorb information.

You open your eyes slowly and look around. Only to see Diana sitting next to your bed, "Welcome back, Y/N," she said, looking down at you and smiling a little.

"Did I actually die or-"

"It was close," she said. "If we had gotten you here any later, you would have been lost."

"And I didn't even hit drinking age-"

"Yet," she chuckled, stroking your hair. "Your father is on his way."

"Why?"

The Amazon blinked at you. "Do you not want to see him?"

"It's not- I just don't-" you break off and shrug wordlessly. Not sure how to explain it. "I'm an adult," you settle on lamely.

"But still his child," she said fondly. Constantine had been... furious when he'd been told what happened to you.

You refrain from snorting with difficulty and nod. "That's what the DNA test said anyway."

"All three of them," Constantine confirmed sweeping into the room. "Princess," he said, nodding to Diana, "How's the kid?"

"Awake finally," she said, "On the mend."

"What was the-"

"Blackthorn," you cut in. "The first round hit the wards. I remember getting hit with two rounds but-"

"It was two," Diana assured you. "A third we dug out of a wall but it... crumbled."

"And Kent just let it fucking happen?" John growled. He crossed the floor to you and glared down at you. Like he was committing something to memory. "Where is he?"

"John," Diana started, rising from her chair.

"We're just going to have a friendly little chat, Princess," he said, giving her an imitation of his smirk.

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instead of jason being damian’s protector in the league can we just have them being feral best friends. partners in crime. co-workers.

i want damian to be in gotham telling funny stories and fond memories from his childhood and league days, and every single story contains his ‘partner, hood’, because apparently he and another one of the trainees got along so well and worked so well together that Talia made them an official assassination duo, so they would always train and go on missions together, and they would just absolutely fuck shit up constantly.

and in the batfams heads this hood guy is like, another kid. like damian’s age, maybe a year or two older because damian keeps mentioning how paternal hood can get. and then the fucking Red Hood shows up, over six ft and 200 pounds of pure murderous monster muscle, and damian’s like ‘there’s my partner there! hi hood!’ and they wave at each other across the rooftops and the entire family just fuckin. bluescreen.

dick: so was your friend younger than you?

damian: i mean it depends on how you count his age. he recently restarted, you see, so logistically we don’t quite know where that puts him.

dick: what

——

bruce: who are you talking to on the phone there, damian?

damian: hood, he’s in gotham for a few days and wants to meet up!

bruce, thinking a playdate would be good for damian: would your friend like to come here for dinner?

damian, putting the phone on speaker: i dunno, do you?

jason on the phone, voice deep as fuck and gravelly because he hasn’t drank in 2 days: absolutely the fuck not

bruce, terrified: what the f-

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Blossoms in Winter: Eight

Jason let himself into your apartment through the window and ignored the prickle of magic that he felt. He had the charm to get past your wards- it wouldn't kill him. It was basically like going through a scanner you explained to him.

So if he ever needed to go there while you were gone, he could.

Two weeks. You'd been gone two weeks doing Justice League things and he missed being able to talk to you. Metropolis- of course Clark had no idea what he was doing when it came to magic. He avoided it like the plague.

Hopefully somebody went with you.

But you probably didn't think to ask anyone. You were used to handling shit on your own. John had been sending you solo for a while. That thought made his frown deepen. It was dangerous walking into everything alone.

He knew that first hand.

But. There was no changing some things. You were your father's daughter in some ways... Fucking stubborn.

He shook his head and wandered over to your desk. Taking a seat on the stool and idly dragging his finger through the dust. Drawing dicks and writing his name. Why? Because. By the time you came home your house spirit would probably tidy it up in irritation but- it was still funny.

And he looked through your notes. Detail after detail about victims. Young women, mostly. All with latent powers... What did that mean? And how did someone take them? Why would they take them? What did Blackthorn do?

Bodies in out of the way places. Symbols he didn't know the meaning of- but he knew you did. And that's why you didn't have it written down.

"Damn it," he muttered.

You had so much information all laid out. But you'd been waiting for SOMETHING. Someone to make a move. Make a mistake. He knew enough to know that but... he didn't know enough to know what to look for. Everything you'd ever told him had been about him. HIS new powers. How to manage having a foot in both worlds.

He'd never thought to ask... Never realized how much he didn't know. He scrubbed his than over his face and looked around, eyes locking on your bookshelf. He didn't know when you'd be back but- maybe he'd be able to learn SOMETHING. You had to have... what had you called them once? Baby books?

If he started there maybe he could make sense of something. At least it was something to do. And it gave him some time away from his goon squad. There were way too many Shades following them around.

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Dick promising to protect Jason from Bruce's nagging healed my soul

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Jason being immortal but it’s kinda like Klaus from the umbrella academy in the sense that he doesn’t fucking realise that he’s immortal. Damian is the only one who knows and it’s been pissing him off for YEARS that Jason won’t get with the fucking program.

the thing is, Jason never questioned what exactly woke him up back in that coffin. he was slightly distracted by dealing with the wood and dirt attempting to suffocate him back beyond the grave, and once he’d gotten free and was wandering around Gotham, he didn’t have the presence of mind to do much but zombie-walk around until the league found him. after that? well he was too busy with training, annoying Ra’s, helping raise Damian, and just overall getting used to life without being Robin to think about the fact that he’d come back to life at one point.

Damian, on the other hand, clocked that Jason was immortal as a toddler when he watched his new older brother accidentally fall off a cliff during a ‘nature hike’ that was actually endurance training that Damian had been allowed to attend from a chest harness that, luckily, he hadn’t been inside of during the fall. he peered off the edge of the stomach clenching drop, sharp spikes littering the bottom, to see Jason un-skewer his shoulder from a rock and stand up to crack his neck, before casually calling up that he was fine and it was ‘just a little fall’. little Damian called bullshit.

things continued like that the entire time Jason spent at the league, and it pissed Damian off to no end that Jason kept just walking off fatal injuries and absolutely REFUSE to believe that they were fatal. ‘i just have a high pain tolerance.’ ‘you got shot in the neck, ahki.’ ‘it skimmed me.’ ‘YOU DIED.’ ‘stop making up stories, demon brat.’ it’s driving the kid insane. the worst thing is he can’t even tell anyone else for fear that Ra’s gets a hold of the realisation and decides to use Jason in his research for finding better ways to prolong his lifespan.

Jason, bursting into Damian’s room in the early morning, spurting blood from an arrow wound to the chest: Dami- Dami- u- argk-

Damian, half asleep, watching blankly from bed as his brother bleeds out on his floor:

Damian:

Damian: *deep sigh*

-twenty minutes later, Jason wakes up on Damian’s floor completely healed-

Jason: …

Damian:

Jason: wow, sorry Dames, guess i drank too much last night and blacked out. didn’t mean to crash here.

Damian, unimpressed and holding a bloody arrow: grandfather says you stopped an assasination attempt on my mother.

Jason: haha yeah, craaaazy night

Damian: get out.

Jason: -getting out.

eventually Damian heads to Gotham and, of course, his overprotective immortal brother follows soon after with the mission of building a crime empire, killing a clown, pissing of the fourth Robin at any opportunity, and infuriating the fuck out of Bruce Wayne. after a while the Red Hood gets his identity reveal, and gradual tentative truce, and Damian gets both of his families to be more or less on ok terms for once.

the issue is Jason is still really bad at staying alive. and the rest of the family is kind of sensitive to that specific thing. and Damian’s apathy is not appreciated. it takes them a while to figure everything out.

~

*all four batboys are captured by a rogue, Bruce on his way but they need to stall*

Rogue: and now, you will have to pick amongst yourselves who will DIE!

Jason and Dick, instantly: ME!

Damian, dryly: Red Hood.

Dick: ITS GOTTA BE M- Robin what the fuck

Damian: *shrugs*

Jason, so used to Damian being weirdly ok with his more dangerous activities he’s not even offended: YEAH SHOOT ME. I CAN TAKE IT!

Tim: no he can’t, don’t shoot him!

Damian: no, shoot him.

Tim and Dick: ROBIN!

Jason: bite me non-believers, i’m getting shot today-!

Damian: please do it quickly so he shuts up.

Rogue:

Rogue:

Rogue: the others told me the new Robin was fucked up but like i didn’t realise exactly how much-

~

Tim: me and Damian didn’t really get off on the right foot, on account of he kept trying to kill me.

Jason: ? so? that’s just what he does when you piss him off. he tries to kill me all the time.

Tim: ?

Jason: i called him a wanker last week so he shoved me off a building with no grapple. luckily the garbage can broke my fall and saved me haha!

Tim: ???

Damian, fully never wanted Tim dead and was instead so used to never having to worry about hurting Jason that he forgot that murder was actually fatal to his other brothers: yeah that’s my bad, Drake. it was instinct.

~

*Bruce walks into the batcave to see Jason, gunshot in his forehead, laying obviously deceased on the ground with Damian stood over him, nudging him with his foot and holding a gun.*

Bruce: oh my- oh my god, Jaylad no please-!

Damian: in my defence he told me the safety was on.

Bruce, crying: JASON PLEASE NOT AGAIN-

Damian: just give him like ten minutes

Bruce: WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT- OH MY GOD HIS BRAIN’S ON THE BATCOMPUTER

Damian: again, not my fault.

Dick walking in: hey whats all the noi- LITTLEWING?!?!!

-

*ten minutes later, the family is sobbing and Damian is tapping his foot impatiently*

Jason: wooaaaaah, headache. …is everything ok?

Everyone else, devastatingly shocked:

Damian: i shot you in the head and you died again. they panicked.

Jason: ha-ha, funny as always brat. what’d you do, hit me with the butt of the gun or something?

Damian, turning to the others: it is a miracle he ever managed to get his GED.

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‘Jason goes to Gotham and kills the Joker himself’ ‘Jason asks Talia to kill the Joker and she does so as a token of trust and good parentage’ NO Jason won’t stop fucking whining about how Batman won’t kill the Joker and how unfair it is and Ra’s gets so annoyed listening to him that he bumps Joker off himself just to get his daughter’s new pet project to shut the fuck up

Batman has no idea why halfway through a standard Joker special of glitter, guns, and ‘im going to blow up this bank!’ fucking Ra’s Al Ghul himself stormed into the room, looked incredibly annoyed to even be there, snapped the Joker’s neck in one fell swoop, and then stormed back out and disappeared while angrily muttering something about how ‘we better be able to finish this fucking meeting in peace now- swear to fucking GOD that boy is annoying-‘

he’s honestly so baffled at Ra’s appearing in Gotham in the first place that he doesn’t manage to save the Joker, and Ra’s refuses to even acknowledge any attempts at asking why the fuck he decided to do that. it becomes Gotham’s greatest mystery, and Ra’s doesn’t realise until he gets back home that he just made the biggest mistake of his life; teaching Jason that whining about his problems will lead Ra’s to take care of them for him.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Ok back to regularly scheduled antagonism

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Blossoms in Winter: Seven

"I hate magic," Clark grumbled, watching you set out the tools you'd brought.

"It hates you too, don't worry," you sigh. Jerk offs. All of them. Even John. You'd been so close to finding out- Quickly you break off the thought and take a deep breath. There's no time for that now.

With John and Zatanna occupied you were the next best option you suppose. Not like you don't have your own cases to work or anything, you grouse internally.

They could be nothing. But- it didn't feel like nothing. And that was the problem with Bats, Supers, and the rest of the Justice League. If it wasn't THEIR villain. If it wasn't WORLD ENDING. It didn't seem to matter.

Circus. Actual circus. If it wasn't for Jason, you'd have told them all to fuck off.

Blood. Salt. Iron. About a half a dozen things in vials you don't bother to explain. Brute forcing your way into a solution- why? Because. Sometimes they expect finesse when a blunt instrument does the job better.

If John taught you anything it was that. Showy magic is fun and all but- Kent is scared shitless without the shock and awe. Batman expects bells and whistles. Diana actually knows how it works... As far as Kent knows you could yell 'Abracadabra' and just smash something with a brick. Clueless. And scared because of it.

Metropolis is unprepared.

Luckily for him, Luthor has more money than sense. He called in a hack squad. And it's simple enough to-

CRACK

The shield that was erected around you shattered. And it left you exposed. Still up to your eibows in brute force magic to tear down the over-complicated 'Summoning'.

To stop the lesser demons from pouring into the city.

Blackthorn, you muse. Interesting. Less interesting if I'm dead though.

CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.

You dig in deeper and try to push forward. Ignoring the pain in your back and the ragged sound of your breathing in your ears. No one ever told you that getting shot hurts this much.

"Almost there, Superman, get- get-" you break off and take a ragged breath.

"Y/N what's happening!"

"Four shots. Wards down. Portal closing," you manage. Black spots bloom and grow like vicious mold in front of your vision and the sunburnt pavement rushes up to catch you.

There's nothing, except. Wondering for just a second if Jason could maybe make sense of your last lead.

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

the mad max franchise really has human nature down to a T because literally day two of the apocalypse I'd be wearing my fetish gear in public 24/7 and insisting that people call me Dementus

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

Andrew Cairney from Glasglow, Scotland loading all nine of The Ardblair Stones

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Do you think it annoys Dick that people forget he's Romanian and not white

Awesome, I’ve been wanting to clear up this misconception for a long time.

Friendly yet aggressive PSA under the cut.

Keep reading

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Blossoms in Winter: Six

"Blood and magic go hand and hand."

The words come back to you as you look down at the blood in your underwear. The cramps that stab at you and the unholy fluctuations in your power- John actually making you cry.

It all makes sense now. And you hate it. All of it.

Of course it's today. The first day of spring. Of fucking course it is. You can feel your lip curl even as the tears burn. Fucking stupid fucking- ugh. The thought of asking John how to get blood out of everything, let alone him knowing, is mortifying.

It'll just be one more thing he can fling at you later.

So you bundle everything into a bag and fling it all into the back of your closet. Because fuck this. If you're going to have to bleed now, the mess can wait until you get a brownie from the corner store.

___________________________

"Ah, there's my beloved spawn," Constantine said, finishing his drink. "Here to ruin all my fun."

"Here on orders," you tell him, plucking the glass from his hand and handing him an envelope. "You've got a job."

"You can't bloody do it?" he groaned, ripping it open.

"Listen. I've been dealing with the Justice League jerk offs all week. You can do one little pissy milk run."

John closed one eye and held the envelope up to the light. "Bloody hell," he groaned, "Y/N you can't-"

"She called me a witch and threw a rock at my head," you snort. "Not really in the mood to do a favor."

"You are a witch-"

"And you're a fucking dick but I don't let people call you that in front of me," you tell him, lifting his wallet out of his pocket and throwing down his card to pay for his drinks.

"What flew up your ass?"

"Just go to work," you sigh. "I've been busy enough." And before you throw his wallet back at him, you help yourself to a $20 out of his wallet. Call it a finder's fee. Call it a convenience fee. You called it lunch money- and you were willing to bet John wouldn't even know it was missing until he'd managed to get piss drunk at Zatanna's later and needed to pay for food.

That just sounded like it wasn't your fucking problem.