#the neon void chapter updates

[sugarpasteltmnt]

Chapter 22: Giggle Fits

Hey April— can I borrow one of your mittens?

[Read it here on AO3]

#The Neon Void #The Neon Void TMNT #TNV TMNT #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #fanfic update #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #ROTTMNT #the neon void chapter updates

[unawareblob]

:)) AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH SPOILER FOR "THE NEON VOID" CHAPTER 22 BY @sugarpasteltmnt This. fic. HAS POSSESSED ME TO DRAW THIS. This scene has been stuck in my brain the day the chap has been updated AND I AM GOING INSANE. please if you haven't read the fic, I'd recommend you do, the author is unhinged as Leo :)) link for fic~

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #rottmnt leo #idfk what their name is #hamato ancestor #yes #the neon void #the neon void fanart #rottmnt fanart

[creators-lounge]

✏️ Creators' Content ✏️

This post is for anyone who is curious about our server members' content, and to share a lot of suggestions for people to check! 💕

Since Tumblr is a website that mostly depends on reblogs, everyone is welcomed to reblog to give these amazing creators a well deserved boost!

Remember to also encourage other content creators as well, you may make someone's day with a silly reblog or comment!

Note: This post might be edited depending on the members' information, comic updates, projects updates, etc, so check the original post instead of reblogs.

Note 2: This is a private server for plenty of reasons, we do not accept requests nor petitions to join, so we would be grateful if you do not put that pressure on our mods or on our members. Sorry in advance, and hope you still enjoy all of our artworks! You may check our QnA for a better explanation if you'd like, too.

v Members' Comics Section v

ALIVE by @tatatale

> First Chapter

A L I V E is not an AU as such, but a buch of characters from different AUs and timelines who decided that they'll form an AU. So it's technically an AU, but no. Enjoy.

Bovid-20 by @hansama

> First Chapter

Bovid-20 is a (very short) suspense mystery comic that tells the story of a home invasion in the middle of a lock-down. You are the main character of the story.

Bitty Problems by @theskeletongames

> First Chapter

A comic featuring bitties with Sanses, primarily focusing on Underfell Sans and his bitty

Delivery! by @anovainspace

> Comics

Three out!codes from collapsing alternative universes came together to one void, all just wanting to obtain access to the multiverse for their end goal; therefore, they created an alibi to not create suspicion for wandering around different places. Setting up a pen paling system for others to contact each other through mail and delivering said mail. 

Don't Forget by @zirkkun

> First Chapter

“Don’t forget us. We’re with you in the dark.” After years of abandonment, the Undertale multiverse has been mysteriously shrouded in darkness. there only remains one survivor by the name of Ink… but despite a faint hope from everyone who died that everything can return to normal, he’s forgotten all the pieces to restore the multiverse back to what it once was.

Flicker of a Neon Soul by @harmonytre

> First Chapter

Since the beginning of time, monsters have had colored souls. Only the royal family's soul could change color. That is, until two young skeletons find their colors.

How to greet a new pal by @theskeletongames

> First Chapter

A crossover comic with Sans falling into Underfell.

Idoltale by @nekojaf

> First Chapter

Idol and her friends go on a big multiverse adventure after a new and strange Force threatens their universes.

Impostortale by @s3-izures

> Masterpost

Armed with an obsession for masks and semi-immortality, a shapeshifter roams the multiverse in search of roles to fill, missions to complete, and shenanigans to commit.

Non-Lethal AU by @s3-izures

> Masterlist

A certain Destroyer has been found... except this one doesn't seem to be destroying anything so far. In fact, he seems like a bit of a wimp, doesn't he?

Paper Crane by @little-noko

> First Chapter

Where timelines and lives ends, in the void are countless shattered souls struggling to remain alive and come back to the living world they came from. A being without a name gather them to form a single entity, with nowhere to go, they found themselves traveling endlessly to make sense of who they are and why they are here.

Prismtale by @harmonytre

> First Chapter

Havana, Sans, Scarf Mouse, Bob, Monster Kid, Fuku Fire, and Ficus Licker are thrust into an adventure they'll never forget. Will they find a way home? How will they deal with their new powers? Who on earth is PC?

Spitetale by @nosebleed-inglishera

> First Chapter

After several genocidal routes, everyone in the Underground started to remember, causing monstersto fearing for the next time they get killed again. Will Frisk take the choice to finally save everyone and fix their mistakes?

Timetale by @allesiathehedge

> Prologue

Seven hundred years after they were sealed underground, monsterkind still hopes that they would one day return to the surface. Not only does Sans have to worry about finding a solution to destroy the barrier on behalf of the King, but he also has to face a ghost of a past that he sorely wanted to keep buried. Will Sans be able to make peace with himself, his duties, and his failed love? Only time will tell...

Underlust Reimagine by @zirkkun

> First Chapter

An Underlust AU that takes a spin on the original concept to present a thematically similar story, but with some slightly different aspects that have led some of the characters to take different roles.

Under/Source by @slylock-syl

> First Chapter

After a virus wielding hacker threatens to cause chaos throughout other universes, Necros takes it upon himself to track them down and protect anyone he can along the way.

Underwizard by @susartwork

> Prologue

Humans began hunting monsters to gain great magical powers from their souls. After a huge massacre, seven human wizards decide to seal the monsters underground with a magic spell. Hundreds of years later a human child appears, determined to free all the monsters and save them from a new threat.

Unitale by @toky502

> First Chapter

Unitale (An alternate tale) is a comic of an alternative and altered version of many other stories from other undertale au's together, is just an alternate tale more.

Various comics by @wr-n

> Masterpost

> Eldritch AU

> Dust comics

Dust Comic is a comic following the Bad Sanses as they look for a way to cure Dust of his lethal dose of Determination and LV.

Members Projects and WIPs

Blocking Sans by @samess-moon (Twitter)

Damaged tale by @6nimus9

Damaged tale is an Alternate Timeline of Undertale that takes place in a frozen post-genocide timeline where only o̸n̵e̷ ̵c̸h̷a̷r̷a̶c̵t̷e̸r̸ remains, basing its concept in how consequences can strike back.

Encantale by @codeyspace

The Human vs Monster war ended a millenium ago. Monsters trapped in the underground with hope and magic. What should've led to their extinction was instead replaced by something... enchanting.

Escort Mission by Yoki-Doki (DeviantArt)

Way before the events of Undertale, even before the war between humans and monsters, a little girl lost her way in the monster kingdom. This is the quest to help her return home.

Flowerfield AU / Ask Sunflower by @asksunflower / @tatatale

This is an ask blog about a silly guy who acts like a cat and a goat king, but is actually a skeleton. He likes flowers and tea, and sometimes things happen.

Herb by @omero-megane (Twitter)

LAU by @nixensibrat

Lonertale by @blvdcharms

Lonertale is an AU revolving around a medieval, single-most pacifist timeline where war between humans and monster is post-poned up until the main cast of characters are young adults. Follow Asriel and his friends as they go on to protect monsterkind.

Storyteller by @cursedmuii (Twitter)

“I exist based on the will of stories. I have no place to return, no name, or age, but I am called Storyteller... Come here with me, I can take you everywhere with the stories I tell… only you listen to them.”

Strays AU by @stoukadraws

“Give me your hopes and dreams, and I shall grant you true salvation.” An unknown human falls into Mt. Ebott, and begins their journey through the Underground...But something is off. Will they discover what’s truly going on behind the scenes?

Undereats by @sui-imi (Twitter)

A food delivery service that works with restaurants across the multiverse. It's run by a Gaster called Exec. They work together with - and are located in - Commercetale, an AU where trades and sales empower monster magic.

Underforgotten by @nezu-tan

Undergut by @theartist-june (Tw. Gore)

Undergut is an AU where hunger makes for desperate times. It’s not that there is no food… it’s that food could barely sustain, could barely satisfy. Magic is not enough. We need more… more…! Will you be able to survive the hunger?

UnderREM by @socksandbuttons (And @/ohlookanothercartoontofallinto)

Dreamtale with dreams and the cast of Undertale.

Underrewind by @wishingstarinajar

A comic and fanfiction/short stories are currently in the works to tell the story about Rewind, the main protagonist of this AU.

Undervalue by @6nimus9

Monsters, instead of getting trapped down by a magic barrier, are trapped directly by humans, who after winning the war started by greed have decided to take advantage of the monsters’ ability to create precious stones and gems of different values.

Wickedtale by @alch3mic (AO3) (Read Tw's.)

WICKEDTALE is a reader insert fairytale inspired Undertale AU set in the twisted Ebott City. As one of its many unfortunate inhabitants, do you have what it takes to survive in such a wretched town surrounded by secrets and misery? Well, luckily for you there seems to be a certain skeleton in your life who will go to any lengths to assure your happy ending together.

Great artist you should check anyway!!

@bloowe-blu - @lazzlady - @minaruzi- @normalayasstuff - @sanssupremacy - @shenzcorner

Other fandoms content!

@galaxii-star (Multifandom) - RazzyPossum (FNAF) - @jadenskyfare

#Undertale #Undertale AU #Undertale OC #Undertale comic #UTMV #UTMV AU

[debrisfran]

funny story. i’m obsessed.

so little silly ol me is scrolling through silly ol tumblr when i see nice neat fan art of a fic! goofy little me finds this fic at like 10 pm PROCEEDS TO READ UNTIL 1 AM. and i wasn’t even halfway through but i passed out cause damn i was tired. then BOOM i wake up at the ungodly hour of 5 in the morning on a school day and my first thought is to pick it up and read again. and then im like shoot so i go and drive to school and im reading this in my car in my parking spot and im STILL NOT EVEN CLOSE TO DONE. i go into school and then continue to ignore everyone and just read cause holy moly i don’t think i’ve ever fixated on a fic this hard before. when i tell u i was shaking by the time i got home and finished the last updated chapter, i was SHIVERING. i had chills for so long that is how GOOD this thing was. and then i played fortnite for 3 hours and thought about this fic again and then drew a bunch of stuff and i have piles of homework but that’s not improper at rn. GO READ THIS. ITS CALLED NEON VOID ON AO3 BY @sugarpasteltmnt. i’m tweaking im tweaking this is my first post and who knows if im doing this right someone please help how does tumblr work. also major spoilers in these little sketches teehee

#i’m tweaking over a turtle #but it’s okay because it’s leo #sketch #fanart #fanfic art #neon void #rottmnt #rottmnt leo #the neon void #rottmnt au #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #leonardo

[outpost51]

The 51 Post

This week sucked a whole lot actually (I started this draft on Tuesday, and I haven't touched it until 5pm Sunday) but I read a lot of pretty good shit so I think it balances.

Contents:

Things You Might Have Missed

This Week's Jams

WIP Breakdowns

From the Skwad

Around the 'Blr

Things You Might Have Missed

get on my taglists for WIP updates, 51 post, tag games, and ask events!

BRHP: Chapter 15 posted; Talus is having a Bad Time.

I stabbed Adrien real good

BRHP: Chapter 16 posted; baby's first fight pit, and a family secret is revealed.

Not new, but I dug up Adrift and The Sky, The Stars, and Me so enjoy the spooky space shorts.

See more entries for SSSC 006 below, mine is here: i'll take everything.

Growing Pains: the 6th entry into the Lighthouse in the Fog shorts; our new Keeper is definitely adjusting so well to her new life.

I'm starting to release chapters of Unlikely Adventures on tumblr now!

This Week's Jams

stargazing || power-haus, solarays [spotify/youtube]

up down || boy epic [spotify/youtube]

gasoline || chymes [spotify/youtube]

dangerous || new medicine [spotify/youtube]

she went that way || missy [spotify/youtube]

illuminated || hurts [spotify/youtube]

WIP Breakdowns

Between a Rock and a Hard Place

HI YOU GET TO MEET KADMOS IN CHAPTER 17 AND [SPOILERS] IN CHAPTER 18 I'M REALLY EXCITED

Unlikely Adventures of Bitchface and Go F*ck Yourself

zadimus needs to stop it. that is all

Blinding Neon, Shades of Grey

you know what's fun to write? drug/dream sequences. you know what's even more fun? writing one for a detective in a flashy nightclub with murder on her mind

Stellar Parallax

saren is about to go do a Very Kill and jaen is So Excited About It. also wrex. but mostly violence

Lighthouse in the Fog

7th short will be coming out some time tonight, @thetrashbagswasteland picked some yummy prompt words

In the Works

y'all 🥺💕 thank you i needed a bunch of open-ended prompts to get the brain noodles out so i can hopefully not burn out on the main wips. i've still got the same backlog otherwise lmao

From the Skwad

IMPORTANT @fenrir-kin fell prey to the hellsite shenaniganuke, and is currently @vikingfenharel until it (hopefully) gets sorted.

Surprise Challenge 006 wrapped up with (mine's above): Just Take My Hand by @sparatus, Expanding the Vocabulary by @teamdilf, and The Storm Between Us by @thetrashbagswasteland

@equusgirl is going bananas with Sapphic Summer: i know with me, you'll get a little bit addicted, One Night, and will my hands ever be clean?

@sparatus also dropped chapter 1 & chapter 2 of Make Less the Depth of Grief and were it not for the laws of this land, i would have strangled him (affectionate) but also this tasty oneshot of Nautilea being so hot

@teamdilf HOW. New chapter of Alice's Adventures in Andromeda, another chapter of The In-Laws and the Grandparents, and another chapter in A Man of Many Talents. I'm calling witchcraft

@asher-orion-writes gave us this lovely oneshot set in Cardinal Sins and I'm??? yes

@princess-prawn dropped a new chapter of Next of Kin YESSS

@regalbois is writing his mlm war stories again and i'm vibrating please go read The Earth Abides

@commander-krios wrote more Dash/Leo (thank u for my life) and New Beginnings (thank u for TWO life wow)

Around the 'Blr

Art Claims are still going on for WIP Big Bang!!

@writernopal dropped character profiles for Magdalene and Sartor so this is your hint to get on the taglist for AASOAF 3

@tabswrites posted chapter 3 of Silver Sentinels and gave me life thank you, more please

@vacantgodling wrote this short for Lukewarm Rejection and we have no choice but to stan Trisha

@liv-is blessed writeblr with this snippet from Demigods i am eating it up

@void-botanist gave us this short for Another Ocean's Moon with LORE hidden in the tags hello

have you SEEN The Poster by @artdecosupernova-writing omg

@elshells dropped chapter 12 of Agent Ace YES congrats on the timeline choreography, bud!

wake up babes new Nameless Song short just dropped from @blind-the-winds

︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

Outpost Updates Taglist: @tabswrites @writernopal @freedominique @asher-orion-writes @liv-is @starknstarwars @captain-kraken

Ask to +/- in the tags, replies, DMs, or HERE!

#my fic #outpost updates #if i missed you throw something in my inbox or tag me!! #no but seriously i am so blessed to be surrounded by such great people who are passionate about their works #it has been a very busy very fucked up week for my mental health and emotional wellbeing

[electrasev5nwrites]

Jason/Tim soulmate au. Part 1/? AO3 is still down and I wanted to work on the update for this so I figured it might make sense to post here. We are all waiting for the site to come back up so maybe someone wants to read. This is multiple chapters condensed into one post, it didn't let me add the whole document but the fic stands at about 15,000 words rn.

Tim woke up in a cold sweat, panting and disoriented. He stared at the shadows moving on his wall for a moment to acclimate.

There had been nothing that night. No dreams. Tim had just laid down at night and woke up in the morning with a blank space stretching in between.

That was, he figured, a pretty good metaphor for his life in general.

That was the weirdest Sunday of his life. He wandered around his house in a daze. It felt like the color had been ironed out of his life. But at that point, he thought that something was wrong with him.

He didn't actually worry about his soulmate until the second night it had happened. His dreams were often hard to get a handle on. When he'd been little it had been hunger and pain and a demented carnival of ugly adult faces, dirty alleys and a brown sofa that meant safety. For a golden year, the dreams had been of free fall and neon lights, bleeding knuckles and French food and a library.

Tim splashed water on his face and looked at himself in the mirror. His stomach twisted with a fear that he wouldn't think about. Dreams, he thought, were not the most practical soulmate connection. He wondered what he gave his soulmate back. He didn't think he was enough of an open book asking to be loved to be a name on a wrist, but he probably wasn't emotionally rich enough to be passing on dreams.

"Not that this life isn't worth seeing at night," Tim scoffed wryly. He slung his backpack over a shoulder and drank juice out of the container. He shoved a poptart in his pocket and stumbled out the door to catch his bus.

He ate the poptart on the bus, hunched over so that the driver wouldn't yell at him for leaving crumbs. They landed on his pants.

With a sigh he leaned his head back and closed his eyes. The rocking of the bus lulled him back to sleep. Tim welcomed it. Maybe this would fix whatever had gone wrong in the connection, like turning a computer off and on again.

He woke up again without seeing anything.

By the time he got to school, he had worked himself into a panic. He chose to be late to first period in order to go to the library to find a reference about soulmate troubles. The teacher gave him a disapproving look when he slipped in, but let it pass without comment.

He was sneakily looking at the header "signs your unmet soulmate has died" when the morning loudspeaker announcement started.

"I have some sad news for you today," said the Principal.

Tim closed his book and looked up. The homeroom teacher was frowning slightly, looking around the classroom. He didn't seem to know where this was going.

"Over the weekend we've had a loss."

He felt his back tense.

"It is with the heaviest of regrets that I must inform you that 3rd year student Jason Todd-Wayne has passed away. The school counselors welcome anyone who would like to talk about this. I understand that…"

It became white noise to Tim. Students around him were reacting with gasps and whispers. He leaned forward and put his face into his hands, reeling.

This was a bad way to find out that Robin had been his soulmate. Too late to do anything about it, and with no way to prove it.

The next months were manic. Batman went off the rails. Tim did, too. He traveled to Bludhaven and begged the first Robin to come back. He stayed up for days on end and then he crashed and lost 20 hour stretches of time to the void of dreamless sleep. He was late to school and sleeping on the bus. He was confronting Batman and stealing a Robin costume and taking his soulmate's old role as the guiding light to Batman's self imposed darkness.

He didn't tell anyone about his connection to Jason. It felt like a lie even if it was true. It felt like something he would be saying to ingratiate himself and make them love the cuckoo in the nest.

Tim regretted that when the dreams came back 6 months later.

"Maybe they were in a coma?" Dick suggested, not without sympathy. He reached out to ruffle Tim's hair. Tim ducked unsuccessfully. "I would have thought they were dead, too, but the dead don't come back."

Tim fidgeted. There was a heaviness in Dick's voice that probably meant Jason.

That was awkward, since Tim had been sure that Jason had been his soulmate.

'I should have said that months ago.' Tim was kicking himself for that. 'It sounds so messed up now. I'll give Dick nightmares if I tell him I think Jason crawled out of his grave and then didn't even come here.'

Well. It was worth saying even if it wasn't about Jason.

"I hope this isn't too much information," Tim said, "but last week I dreamt about digging my way out of the ground. With a belt buckle."

Dick looked a little ill.

"That sounds like…" he trailed off, because it felt crazy to say. It sounded like his soulmate was a zombie? A zombie whose dreams had been of the suffocating dirt and bleeding fingers, and then beeping. Endless beeping and the harsh likes of fluorescent lights overhead.

It sounded like his soulmate was in the hospital, Tim had to admit. The grave thing was probably some kind of vivid nightmare.

"It sounds like a terrible dream," Dick sympathized. Tim let Dick pull him into a hug. "Have you tried reaching out? Maybe your mark on your soulmate is one of the more literal kinds."

"I can write on myself in marker and see what happens," Tim said. "But I don't think that's it."

Dick huffed against Tim's hair. "You're not that easily read, no," he agreed wryly. "And I guess it won't help you reach out if marks on you echo onto your soulmate."

Tim thought about it. "Not unless we can bruise me in a coherent message," he decided. "Technically it could work? Cutting a note would be easier but if it scarred that would be embarrassing. So, bruising. It would have to be something simple, though, and they might get mad about it-"

"We aren't bruising or cutting a message into you," Dick cut him off. He shook Tim lightly. "Precious baby bird. Delicate cargo."

"Bruises like banana," Tim offered practically. He was thirteen now, he was definitely old enough for the soulmate connection to go both ways.

Dick extended his arms to frown at Tim from a distance, tilted his head, and then picked Tim up to whole body toss him on the sofa and roll him into a protesting blanket burrito.

"Police brutality!" Tim hollered.

Someone opened a door. "Alfred, stop him!" Tim shouted. "Help." He wiggled and nearly fell off the couch. Dick caught him.

"Hey, Bruce," Dick said stiffly.

The door closed. Tim was a burrito until time for dinner.

Dick was gone on a doubtlessly tense patrol with Bruce and Tim was ready for bed by the time he realized he'd been deliberately distracted. He sighed and scrubbed a hand through his hair. "Maybe he's right. It's probably… It's not a dead boy that came back."

He tried to sleep. He really did. The sick thought that maybe he was hallucinating the dreams because he wanted Jason to be back wouldn't leave him alone.

"I wouldn't want that for him." Tim tossed and turned to mumble directly into his pillow. "That would be terrifying. Waking up in his grave, alone. I don't want that for him," he insisted.

He felt guilty and generally bad. He got up, left Drake manor, and went to the Batcave to wait.

He didn't end up sleeping, so he should have just gone on patrol anyway, Tim groused internally. Bruce and Dick didn't agree when they got back, but he thought they were secretly relieved he was there to yell at instead of working out their irritation with each other.

He moved like a zombie through his morning routine and dredged up the smallest amount of energy for his semester finals.

Life stretched out that way. Tim avoided sleep as much as he could. When he did sleep, he never liked the dreams. The hospital turned to a nightmarish litany of blood and death and crying in the dark.

He eventually gaslit himself into believing he'd imagined his soulmate dying. Tim felt vaguely ashamed when he thought about it. He was a creep. He'd fixated on Robin so hard that he'd convinced himself his soulmate was the dead Robin.

'I hope I never meet my soulmate,' Tim thought on his 14th birthday. 'They deserve someone better.'

The dreams turned to busy urban streets, ticking bombs, guns, and a green haze. Tim was optimistic that this was better than the crying, but he was still concerned. He'd do a welfare check if he knew who they were.

'Maybe that's why I'm Robin,' he thought wistfully. 'Maybe I need to save them.'

Eventually, there was a new criminal in town, and he had Bruce and Dick at odds. At first they fought viciously over whether or not Red Hood's methods were effective. Later they fought over the same thing they always did: who was in control.

"I'm not saying I'm fine with the murder!" Dick threw his hands up in disgust. "I'm just saying that crime rates are down, the city is safer right now."

"Crime rates are down, except for all the people who've been murdered." Bruce didn't even look at Dick. "Murder remains a crime."

Tim did his level best to become smaller. Maybe if he didn't move at all, they would forget he was there.

"You know what I meant," Dick shot back. "It's not that black and white, Bruce. He's trying to get the crime under control. I think we should seriously consider whether or not the situation is more stable with him in it or not."

"He's a mass murderer," Bruce said. "I want both of you to stay away from him." It was an order.

Dick made a sound of disgust and stomped up the stairs. "Why would I seek him out?" He shouted over his shoulder. "I don't live here. I'm going home."

Batman looked at Robin.

Tim put his hands up. "I'll leave him alone," he agreed. It was easy. He didn't want to get near the Red Hood. He thought both of them were right: the city was safer now, and the Red Hood was a mass murderer. That was out of Robin's league.

Bruce grunted and turned back to the computer, apparently satisfied that at least someone was listening to him.

JASON I

"Cover that shit up." Dad looked at him with disgust. "You're being dramatic."

"I'm not." Jason muttered it, but Dad still heard and gave him a dangerous look. He put his hands up.

"Don't show your mother." The door slammed.

Jason was left alone to poke at the bruise.

It looked bad. It spread all over his left knee and mottled down his shin. It should hurt. It didn't, because it wasn't his bruise.

He smoothed a hand over it.

"I wonder what kind of person you are."

It probably didn't mean anything healthy if you were the type who only left your hurts on your soulmate, Jason decided. Probably meant you couldn't communicate your needs. It seemed like a particularly plaintive soulmark. Like it was silently asking for help.

He stripped off his shorts and tossed them on the chair. He dragged out a pair of jeans and pulled them on even though it was hot as hell out. It was easier to pretend they were his bruises. He didn't want to share anything from his soulmate with his Dad.

Over the years, he didn't actually get that many secondhand bruises. The first time he saw the gaping impression of a cut without any blood around it he felt vaguely ill, but it was only a scrape.

"Maybe she's a skater," Jason thought aloud. "It's always knees and elbows."

He liked that thought. He liked the simple, innocent marks he got. He hoped that he didn't leave the same type of soulmark. If he did, he'd be passing on black eyes and hangnails and blisters that popped and got infected on his feet from shoes that didn't fit. It made him feel dirty, diseased, like he'd taint his soulmate.

When he looked at the needle marks on his Mom, he had to push down a thought that was much uglier than even the shame.

Years later, his soulmate may as well have been a ghost. Jason poked at his arm in class with a mechanical pencil as if that could prompt his soulmate to give a sign of life.

'Probably quit skating,' Jason thought. He flicked his pencil back and forth.

Of course he wanted to know who it was. But it would happen eventually, right? And now that he was Robin he had something else to live for. He stopped checking for bruises and scrapes.

One day after peeling off the costume, he was surprised that the dirt he tried to scrub away from his upper arm was actually a soulmate bruise.

He'd actually forgotten. Jason stopped for a moment. He'd forgotten about his soulmate. What kind of person did that make him? Something strange churned in his gut.

Bruce eyed him. "What happened there?" He pointed.

"Nothing." Jason said too quickly and covered the bruise with his hand. It was private.

Bruce looked massively unimpressed. "Show me, Jason," he sighed. He loomed closer like the great honking bat he was.

Jason scowled at him. "It's nothing," He complained.

"Then why are you trying to hide it?" Bruce grabbed his arm and lifted it, squinting at the bruise. He paused. His expression and tone went painfully neutral. "This looks like a hand."

Jason blinked. "Huh." He twisted to look at it. "It does," he agreed, honestly surprised. It took a moment for the penny to drop. "It looks like an adult's hand." He reeled at that. His soulmate couldn't be much older than him, right? Who was dragging them around hard enough to bruise?

They were silent for a moment. He knew Bruce was thinking back through recent patrols, trying to figure out when Jason could have been manhandled.

"It's not my bruise," Jason said suddenly. This was private, but- he wanted his adult to know this. He felt- he didn't know how he felt, but it was a lot.

Bruce paused. "Ah."

The air felt heavy.

"Do you get a lot of those?" He was still using that careful tone. Jason hated it. It was too cautious, it was like he thought Jason needed special handling.

"I haven't noticed bruises for years." Jason yanked his arm away and huffed. He straightened his back and reported like a Robin ought to. "I don't remember anything that raises red flags. Scrapes and bruises on elbows and knees. I assumed they skate or something."

Bruce made a sound of acknowledgement. He let Jason pull back. Slowly he raised a hand and ruffled Jason's sweaty hair.

"Gross." He complained without any heat in it.

He made a note of it. He harbored the quiet ambition that he wanted to save his soulmate. He was Robin for a brief shining moment, and then he was choking on hot blood while a clock ticked and a clown laughed and it hurt, it all hurt-

Fin.

He woke up in oppressive silence after the end. He screamed and banged until his fingers bruised to the bone. He begged with gods he didn't believe in. He tore his belt buckle off, broke through the coffin (oh god, he was in a coffin, oh god, why had they left him here?) and he used the buckle to dig through dirt and he was suffocating on it, it was in his lungs and it hurt so bad, he was sobbing and praying and he burst out into the rain slimy and newborn, filthy and alone. Alone.

He lost time. He lost a lot of time.

He woke up again. He was bigger now, and he fought for every inch of freedom under Talia's fist. His body was alien to him now. It was huge and muscular, powerfully framed in a way that a boy who grew up hungry shouldn't end up. He felt like a hulking monster. He'd died a boy of 15 and he woke up somehow 18. Frankenstein's monster was cheated out of childhood.

The shadow injuries did not help with the way he felt about his body. The paint job on his ribs and limbs changed daily with ugly bruises and scrapes and gashes that didn't hurt him at all.

He learned to ignore them. He didn't think about them. He was too feral to remember what they meant, and when he did remember, he was too wild to care. His soulmate was having a worse time than he remembered but it wasn't his concern now. He'd never find them. He'd died. Surely they'd given up. Surely they were meant for the boy who had died and not the thing that had crawled out of his grave. He didn't get a soulmate.

Jason didn't take that part too hard.

He didn't get a lot of things. He didn't get to graduate high school. He didn't get to grow up. He didn't get to be loved.

But Batman didn't get to replace him. He didn't get to put someone else in the costume Jason died in, like none of it really mattered, like he wasn't Bruce's son once.

He went back to Gotham, the shithole that birthed him and spat him into the jaws of a monster, and he became honest in his own monstrosity. He put heads in a bag and bullets in faces and an ultimatum to Bruce and eventually, he put old pass codes into Titan Tower.

Part 2

JASON 2

Titan Tower was worse than he'd ever guessed. Cyborg and Beast Boy and Raven were easy to take out for the count. It was all kinds of fucked up that they were still there. He'd died and nothing had changed for them. He felt even further away from his body than usual.

A sick curiosity led him to the Hall of Heroes. He wished it hadn't. He wished he could burn out the knowledge that they really hadn't cared at all.

"There's no statue of the last Robin." His voice echoed. It sounded hollow to his own ears, but the voice modification in his helmet smoothed out the hurt.

The replacement blinked at him without comprehension. He snatched up his weapon. There was fear and confusion on his face, but not nearly enough. He didn't even know how unprepared he was.

'Isn't that how it fuckin goes,' he thought, not very sympathetic.

"They'll probably put one up for you." It was more bitter than Jason meant it to be.

The replacement's eyes widened at the threat.

God, it hurt. It was so unfair. He'd died and no one cared. He'd died Robin and they'd disliked him so much that they didn't even add him to the creepy hall where they honored dead kids in suits. And this little fucker in his uniform didn't even know that the real owner had come knocking.

Jason leaned into the sharp comfort of the Pit. It lapped up to wash away the rough edges of his emotions. It was the only way he got through with his plan. Without the Pit, he would have given up, gone home, and either drank himself to sleep or shot someone in the head. Possibly himself. But the green light kept him on track. He didn't hurt anymore.

He gave the replacement his chance. The little fucker ran, and tried to reason and weasel his way out of things. And then he screamed. Jason was too far away to hear his begging and feel pity. The green wrapped him in an icy blanket of clarity. It felt good, even.

He let the Replacement try to fight him and countered his attacks until the cuckoo got tired out. Jason was indomitable. He was tireless.

Couldn't say the same for spoiled little Timothy Drake.

When Replacement Robin got tired enough for the despair and hopelessness to set in, Jason ripped away the bo and bashed him in the face with it. The replacement tried to duck away and block. He only succeeded in catching part of the blow on a hand as well. Bones cracked.

Replacement Robin hit the floor with an agonized howl. He spat out blood but he got up fast.

Jason kicked him in the ribs. He fell down again. Jason grinned behind his helmet and brought the bo down in a savage line onto the ribcage again. Replacement didn't get up fast that time.

"You're not doing very well," Jason said, faux sympathetic, and stomped on Drake's shin. That netted him an agonized convulsion. Drake banged his own head into the wall.

Jason laughed and took a few steps backwards, checking the angle of the closest camera to see if Bruce would be able to see all of that.

He noted movement on the floor. He looked down idly to see the Replacement pulling himself along on one elbow and a hand.

"Why are you doing this?" It was barely a gasp. The replacement looked pitiful, dragging his broken leg behind him on the floor. Jason followed at a leisurely pace. The replacement was trying to get to an alarm system. Jason would let him get close enough for hope.

This was going to hurt Bruce so much more than the batmobile explosion would have, Jason mused. This was the correct choice. Bruce was going to watch this security footage on repeat and hope against hope that this time, little Timmy made it to the emergency alarm. And he never would.

Belatedly, he answered the doomed little bird. "Why does anyone do anything?" He asked rhetorically. Then he huffed out a dry laugh. "You're not as smart as you're supposed to be, replacement," he crooned. His tone went sickly sweet. He was copying Talia unconsciously.

"Why are you calling me that?" Not-Robin twisted to confront Jason dead on, face screwed up in pain and stubbornness.

'Come on. It's obvious. Haven't you ever heard of context clues before?'

He lost his patience. "Who am I?" He demanded. He itched with the impulse to unload a bullet in the little nitwit. One hand twitched towards his gun and settled on a knife instead.

"I don't know." The replacement was staring at Jason's empty hand like it was a revelation. A disbelieving smile crept across his face.

Aww. He'd cracked.

Jason kicked the little fucker in the ribs. The bastard curled up into a pathetic ball and choked.

"You should know," Jason seethed. "You stole everything from me. You should take off that suit right now."

The younger boy was writhing, but he was clearly trying to uncurl and look at Jason. He managed to look just as Jason unsnapped his helmet and pulled it off.

"Who am I?" Jason demanded, wild with impatience.

"Oh." It was small and wavered.

For a moment he luxuriated in how shaky and broken the other boy's voice was. Then he saw the way the replacement's eyes were tearing up. "Don't cry," Jason said, disgusted. He casually lashed out and broke the other boy's nose with his boot. Blood spurted out and there was a crunch as the nose went sideways. "Robins don't get to cry, Robins just get to die. Don't you know anything?"

The replacement didn't even react. He was still staring like he'd finally realized he was seeing a ghost. Jason blinked, a little discomfited. He had to fight to keep the comfortable green haze in place.

"It's you," Drake said. He sounded relieved somehow, which was a fucking head trip.

Something in Jason's brain stirred to life, trying to direct his attention away from his mission. He felt uneasy. He pressed it back down.

He followed the Replacement's line of eyesight from Jason's face to his hand. Again? This time, Jason tried to see what the fuss was about. Huh. It had a nasty shadow bruise on it, and the impression of a violent break around the index finger.

"That's not your business." He knelt in front of the downed bird and grabbed him by his hair. He ignored whatever the Robin was trying to say and the broken fingers pawing weakly at his hand and chest. "It's time to wrap this up," Jason decided. "Night night, baby bird."

The replacement flinched, eyes big and wounded.

Jason took his knife and gouged a slice into the replacement's throat. The replacement convulsed and keened through wet bubbles. "Shush," he scolded. He wrapped his hand around the wound to gather up enough blood to fingerprint his message on the walls. It only took a moment. He cracked his neck as he stood and caught sight of his own reflection in a window.

He died a second time in the moments that passed. His vision whited out. He knew the replacement was gasping for life on the floor, futilely trying to stopper what would be a slow death, but he didn't hear any of it.

"No." He denied. His voice cracked.

The replacement's panting was getting weaker.

The monster in the reflection had ghost bruises on his left eye. Blood from his nose. Along his jaw, he had an abrasion from a boot. And on his throat there was the exact slice that Jason had just opened up in Tim Drake's delicate neck. If he took off his shirt he'd probably be black and blue with wounds he'd personally inflicted.

'I was supposed to save you.'

He stared, struck immobile with horror.

This, he realized, was the worst moment of his lives. He felt violently human. He wasn't a monster after all. It would have been safer to be a monster. A monster would feel nothing when confronted with what it had done.

Tim had known. Jason realized that belatedly. Tim had known who his soulmate was and that was why he'd been happy to see the bruise on his hand. He'd been happy.

And he'd been- he'd been sharing Robin's injuries with Jason, Jason had never been separated from Robin, Drake had included the pathetic dead boy and this was how Jason had repaid him.

Robins, Robins, the soulmate phenomenon had connected Robins.

He didn't remember the details of giving first aid, after. He just knew that he'd done it. Drake wasn't out of the woods. He'd need fluids and actual medical attention.

Jason fully came back to himself in his third best safehouse as he finished up a phone call to a nurse practitioner he could trust. She'd be over within ten minutes. He let the phone fall to the table and paced near the limp body he'd brought back.

He'd fucked up. Jason knew that now. He'd fucked up.

It didn't occur to him just how much it would freak Bruce out to see that beating on video and then watch him carry Drake out of the tower. He wouldn't have appreciated it even if he had thought of it.

TIM 2

"I feel shit," Tim croaked, as soon as he was conscious. It was as good as a cry for help, coming from him.

He didn't know where he was, but he was tucked into a bed. Constriction from bandages pressed into pretty much every part of his body he was aware of. His left foot was heavy with a brace, which was going to suck.

He tried to raise a hand to rub sleep out of his eyes. He managed a garbled shriek instead. His hand was mangled. It fell back to the bed and that hurt too.

The sound must have summoned someone. A shadow fell over his face. Tim looked up, expecting Alfred or Bruce or Doctor Thomas or even another Teen Titan.

Jason Todd stood in the doorway with a pale face and wide eyes. He looked like he was seeing a ghost. He also looked like he'd gotten his ass handed to him, with a massive black eye among other injuries.

Tim stared. His heart jumped in his chest.

'Those are my injuries. He did that to me. Those are my injuries on him, he's my soulmate and he's alive!'

Jason swallowed. Tim could see his throat move. Because he was alive.

"Yes!" Tim shouted. Then he had to cough. "I was right," he tried to say. It was incomprehensible. He needed to tell Dick immediately.

Jason hovered, hands stretched out but not brave enough to touch. "Easy."

"You're alive!" He did his best to sit up. It wasn't good. He found that one of his arms was okay, but lifting it tugged on something horrible in his ribcage.

"Stop that!" Jason panicked. "Lie down!"

Tim flopped down, grinning. "You're alive," he garbled out, and then had to pause and wheeze. He wanted to say, "And you saved me, why did you save me?"

He was cut off long before he had the oxygen to try saying that.

"Your ribs." Jason swallowed again. He squeezed his hands into fists. "You've got three breaks. I'll just- do you need anything?"

'I'm going to stay as long as he lets me,' Tim decided wildly. He'd just finally got his soulmate back. He was going to hang on as well as he could with four (?) broken fingers. 'I just need to get comfortable and tell Bruce where I am so he doesn't worry. And I'm thirsty, actually.'

Tim eyed his host and opened his mouth slightly. Jason leaned in to hear. "Iced coffee and a computer," he rasped. It was barely audible even to Tim.

Jason's expression went flat.

"I'm gonna be here for a while," Tim said practically. He tried to sit up again to get a better look at Jason Todd, at Robin. Again, it did not go well.

Then there was a warm hand on his chest keeping him down. "Stop bashing your stupid bird brains against the window." The frustration in the voice was muffled. He heard it like it was underwater.

Tim stared at the hand. It was big, with broad, flat nails. It had scars on the knuckles and a ghost bruise along the back.

He remembered that hand, curled around his own bo.

Tim didn't say anything. He couldn't.

The hand pulled back. He couldn't stop looking at it.

'Does he have the boots on?' He suddenly needed to know. It was suddenly very important to know.

"...kid?" Jason's voice was raspy.

It felt like there was a massive weight on his chest. He couldn't breathe.

Oh. It was a panic attack. Tim tried to put a hand on his chest and convulsed with the resultant pain because fuck, his dominant hand was ruined. The combination of broken ribs and a panic attack was bad. His breathing was ragged and ugly. His eyes teared over until the room was a blur.

When he managed to escape the cycle of wheezing because of pain and being in pain because of wheezing, the room was empty.

That was probably for the best.

Tim laid there, still and cold. He was too tired to think straight. He welcomed the lack of thought and feeling.

He still wasn't feeling much when Jason knocked on his door and cracked it open. His face was red from crying, Tim noticed, and then wondered if it actually was. Those weren't his tears, were they? He blinked slowly. He'd raise a hand to check his face, but he was capable of learning.

"Got an IV in you, but you need to eat." Jason avoided eye contact. "If I hold a straw up for you, can you drink broth?"

It took a while to process that he needed to answer. "Yeah," Tim croaked out. His voice was so reedy. He grimaced at the way it sounded high and childish.

He drank until he had to cough. Jason pulled it away and hovered for a moment until he remembered himself and took a step back. "That ok?" He asked, gruff.

Tim winced and nodded. "Yeah," he rasped. "Just hate that stuff."

Jason looked at the broth. He looked a little offended.

Oh.

"...Did you actually cook that?" Tim wondered.

"It's fine." Jason took the broth back. "Not beef broth, then. How do you want your liquid calories?"

"Coffee."

The disbelieving look he got back was more humanizing than anything else he'd seen yet. Tim's hindbrain relaxed a bit. No one who would hurt him would give him the "how are you still alive" look.

"I can do a smoothie." Jason offered. It sounded a little sullen.

"I don't really like fruits. Or vegetables," Tim said, just to see how far he could push this.

Jason's face was twisted in confused outrage now. Then he noticed that Tim was smiling. "Ha ha," he said darkly. "Last chance. Any allergies that your school doesn't know about?"

Tim eyed him judgmentally.

"Of course I did recon," Jason said. It was defensive.

Tim said nothing.

"Shut up." Jason slammed the bedroom door on his way out.

'Oh. A bedroom.' Tim looked around, curious. 'Is this where he sleeps?' It was maybe 10 ft by 12 ft, with off white walls and no decorations. There was a bed and a table. That was it. Tim frowned. 'Does he not know about paint?'

Jason was back in a few minutes with a green smoothie. It was delicious.

"It's alright," Tim said in an unconvincing tone, because petty revenge was all he had at this point. Now that he was thinking again he was pent up with aggression that needed a safe outlet.

Jason wasn't going to hurt him anymore. He was pretty sure. Otherwise, there wouldn't be any point in giving him medical care. But Tim wasn't confident enough in that assessment to outright try to fight Jason again.

'When I can move again, I'm going to kick his enormous ass,' Tim thought, grim and serious. 'He won't even fit in the uniform anymore. Why'd he ask me to take mine off? Batman is going to have to make him a new uniform.'

"I'm glad it's fine," Jason said, and it seemed genuine enough that Tim almost felt bad. He put the empty glass on the bedside table when Tim was done. "I need to check your bandages. Do you want the bathroom first?"

Tim did need to pee. And there was no possibility that he was going to sit up and walk on his own.

"If you pick me up, I'm going to scream and throw up," he said, because it was true.

Jason took a step backwards.

"But I also need to go to the bathroom," he allowed. Jason was just gonna have to deal with whatever that meant.

Jason looked a little green. "Awesome," he muttered. "That's just fucking fine, isn't it." He ran a hand through the weird white patch in his hair.

Oh. Lazarus pit. Tim put that together extremely late. But that was not supposed to be able to bring the dead back, it was kind of a misnomer, really, so how was Jason here?

He had a sudden realization. He did his best to keep it off of his face.

'I already know that's not what happened. He woke up in the grave, alone. No one helped him.'

Tim really did feel nauseous now. Actually knowing it was a fact and not a horrible nightmare- the phantom sensation of dirt underneath his nails and worms against his hands, muscles burning and lungs on fire-

Okay, so that was panic attack number two. That was kind of embarrassing. He thought he'd make it longer. He dissolved into another round of panting hysteria.

It must have been shorter this time. Tim managed to focus on the world again and found that Jason was there with a white knuckled grip on the nightstand. His other hand was pressing down on Tim's head, stroking his hair. He sounded utterly broken but he was repeating the kind of soothing nonsense that everyone used- "it's alright, shush, just breathe-"

Tim leaned into the sensation like a cat. It was something to ground him that didn't hurt at all.

He felt comfortably foggy again. Maybe the panic attacks were the best way to get through this, he thought. If he could only keep them coming at a steady rate, he could spend time around his soulmate. He cleared his throat.

Jason stopped talking immediately.

"Hey, Jason?"

He could hear the older boy swallow. "Yeah?"

"Can you help me to the bathroom now?"

Once that was done, he was grateful to lie back down. "How bad is it?" Tim rasped. He had to know. He had seen dark purple bruising on his hip when he'd pulled his pants down.

"How bad," Jason echoed. He took in a controlled breath. "Three broken ribs, like I said. Lotta bruising. Your right hand is fucked- 3 breaks and a sprain. Minor concussion, we think. And uh." He looked at Tim's neck. He stopped talking.

Tim wanted to see it. He wanted to take off the bandage and see how bad it was. His pulse jumped. "Show me," he demanded.

Jason looked at him with wide eyes. "What?" He spluttered. "Are you- if we take off the bandages, you're gonna start to bleed out again."

Tim rolled his eyes. "It'll have clotted by now," he said. "But fine. Show me on you."

Jason looked ill.

Tim didn't back down.

Jason let out a long, shuddering breath, and then tugged his hoodie down. The fabric moved enough that Tim could see a smooth line. No, he realized, fascinated and horrified. If he looked closely enough he could see the slight indentations where stitches were pulling at it. That was his cut.

He was shaking. "How deep is it?" His head was spinning.

"Not deep," came the answer quickly. "I hadn't intended…"

The answer trailed off. Tim filled in "to let you die quickly." He felt sick again.

"Any more questions?" Jason was making a really good stab at a calm, level tone. Haha, a stab.

"The plan wasn't to take me here." Tim said it like a statement because he was pretty sure he was supposed to die in Teen Tower.

Jason confirmed anyway. "No, it wasn't."

Tim nodded as briskly as he could. "And you changed your mind because…" he trailed off. He couldn't say it. He couldn't choke out the words "you're my soulmate."

"Because you're my soulmate, and I'm sorry." Jason broke eye contact. He swallowed. "That… that was a mistake."

Tim eyed him judgmentally. A mistake was getting salt free butter. Breaking into someone's private space and kicking them to bits was a bit more than a mistake.

Jason must have read that off his face. He huffed out a laugh without any amusement in it at all. He abruptly turned to face the door and ran his hand through his hair again, pulling at it. "What a nightmare," he said. It was meant to be to himself but Tim felt he was uniquely qualified to insert himself on that topic and he also felt like being a massive bitch after his brutal murder was described as "a mistake."

"That'll be a treat for me," Tim said snidely. "Maybe take sleeping pills tonight."

Jason swung to look at him with a new, horrified comprehension.

Tim almost felt bad about it. But he was the one who was probably going to rehash his own murder attempt from the murderer's perspective and deal with whatever that fucked up in his brain, so he glared back.

"Fuck," Jason said, strangled, and then he fled.

Chapter 3

Whatever Jason did, it didn't result in the anticipated nightmare for Tim. He woke up in a better mood than he could have expected. The blinking clock on the bedside said it was 7:14. Morning or PM? Tim didn't know.

It was funny that he'd started a lifelong habit of avoiding sleep because of an aversion to dreamless nights, but now he was relieved for one. Daylight with his soulmate was bad enough. He didn't think he could handle the dreams.

"I still feel like roadkill," Tim announced to his empty room. He flexed his fingers speculatively. No? Still not good? He'd try again in a few hours.

Something clattered in the next room. It sounded like a mug hitting a wooden table in haste.

'What even is this place?' Tim wondered. 'Can I make him take me to the living room? He's gotta have a TV, right?'

There was a knock.

"Come in," Tim called, because Jason was gonna either way and this way he could pretend it was his call.

The door opened and Tim got his answer as to why he didn't have a nightmare.

Jason just hadn't slept. Tim opened his mouth to say "you look like shit." He stopped himself at the last moment and shut his mouth with a clack.

Jason eyed him like he knew what Tim had been thinking. He had his hood up again. It hid the ghoulish colors on his throat and most of his messy hair, but it couldn't do anything for the hollows under his eyes or the massive bruising on his face.

'It's the massive bruising on my face,' Tim corrected internally, working hard not to feel sympathetic to his intended murderer. He tried very hard not to wonder what would have happened with the colors on Jason's face if he had died. He had two theories that inspired different flavors of existential horror.

"Good morning." Jason took just a step into the room. The part of Tim that was always waiting for the next fight noted that his balance was off. He swayed too much. "Breakfast first or bathroom?"

"Bathroom," Tim said, "but could I get a crutch? Eventually?"

Jason nodded without comment. "You can use it by tomorrow, maybe." He stepped to Tim's side as meekly as possible. It still sent his heartrate up.

'I hate this.' Tim gritted his teeth and pretended to be unaffected as Jason helped him sit up. 'I'm so pathetic right now. I haven't even contacted anyone yet. The Tower is trashed… People are probably wondering what happened.'

The bathroom experience was better not thought about too much. It's hard to have your dick out in front of another human being who you need to keep you from falling over. It was a new low, which really said something considering the hysterical depths Tim was familiar with.

Tim tried to mentally be anywhere but at the sink with Jason pressed up against him from behind, holding him up with one arm looped around his chest and using the other to carefully soap up his hands. His breathing was harsh enough to hear over the running water. Tim tried not to notice the weirdly nice sensation of fingers carefully massaging his hands. He was close enough that when he breathed in he was hyper aware that Jason saved way too much money on his body soap. His nose crinkled.

In the mirror, he saw Jason glance from his hands to his face and then back just as quickly.

Unfortunately, that brought Tim's attention to the thing he'd been trying the most to avoid: confronting his own reflection.

The bruises looked even worse on him than they did on Jason. Tim stopped breathing for a moment and swallowed hard.

He wouldn't have recognized himself if he saw a picture of this. He looked pathetic. The fact that Jason's t-shirt hung off his shoulder didn't help matters. He looked like an absolute urchin.

'When Bruce sees this, it's gonna speed the transition back to the real Robin. He'd never want me in the field after seeing this.'

It- Robin wasn't his, not if Jason was here, but it still hurt.

"Let's go," Tim barked. He knocked his shoulder back against Jason's chest and ignored the confusing combination of stimuli. His shuddering hindbrain liked the weight of Jason's muscles behind him. It didn't know that strength was the reason for the pain in every inch of his body.

Jason turned off the tap without a word. He pulled open a drawer to yank out a soft towel, patted Tim's hands dry, and then steered him out.

"I want to leave the bedroom," Tim demanded before he could be put back in bed.

That got a moment's pause. "Sofa's fine," Jason said, and then took him out of the bedroom.

The rest of the apartment was a small open plan. There was a two seat couch facing a mostly empty bookshelf, a partially open closet with a black gym bag visible inside, and a bizarrely well-stocked kitchen.

He didn't expect much. But this was still disappointing.

"You have a cookie jar and a stand mixer but you don't have a TV?" Tim complained. His hero worship for his Robin took a critical hit.

Jason deposited him on the sofa without complaint and pulled out a leg rest. "Any more interior decorating advice for my safehouse?"

"Paint it," Tim said instantly. "This room is white, too."

Jason rolled his eyes. "You're such a little shit," he muttered, and pulled a pillow out of a storage unit to prop behind Tim.

"You slept out here?" Tim said, incredulous and forgetting that he was pretty sure Jason had stayed up all night. "No way you fit."

Jason flinched.

Tim blinked. He deliberately didn't narrow his eyes or otherwise react. That comment had hurt Jason. Why?

"I curled up like a pill bug," Jason snarked. "Let my knees hang off. That ok with you?"

He wanted to snark back but he refrained. If he hurt Jason, he wanted it to be on purpose. Accidental damage wasn't his style. "Sorry," Tim said, looking away to disengage. God, Jason looked fucked up. "You said breakfast was next?"

"Even though it's nearly noon." Jason seemed happier to kvetch as he moved into his kitchen space. "Think you can handle scrambled eggs?"

"You have cheddar cheese for them?" Tim asked, hopeful.

Jason nodded. "And vegetables."

Tim sighed.

"Alfred must have a ball with you," Jason muttered to himself. "Pick at least two: white mushrooms, onion, scallions, bell peppers."

Tim picked out onion and bell peppers and tried to get comfortable while Jason scrambled eggs. He fidgeted, looking at his own knees. They weren't engaging enough to keep him from looking over at the back of Jason's head.

He was just so… big. Tim curled his toes in his socks and frowned.

'He wasn't like that before. He was one of the smaller guys in his year. Now he's bigger than Dick.' Tim frowned at him. 'Way bigger than Dick. He's stupid buff.' he shifted uncomfortably. 'I feel like a shrimp.'

Jason ducked his head down further, like he knew he was being glared at. Tim hastily redirected his attention to the tabletop. It was wood, like Tim had guessed from the sound of Jason putting down a mug. He craned his neck to look inside the mostly-empty mug, idly curious about what Jason had been drinking. It was dark- "Coffee?" Tim asked hopefully.

The sounds of chopping stopped and then picked back up at a furious pace. "Jesus Christ," Jason muttered. A few seconds later, the sounds of vegetable mauling stopped. Plastic crinkled.

Tim lifted his head like a dog. He couldn't see what Jason had gotten down from the cupboard, but he could smell coffee beans.

"Unbelievable," Jason muttered, shaking the bag. There was a click and then the whirring of a coffee grinder started up.

Tim could have cried. "I get coffee?" He demanded, over the sounds of beans grinding.

Jason swung around to give him a disbelieving look. He shook his head. "Yes." He rolled the bag back up and put it back in the cupboard. Tim absently marked where exactly coffee beans lived in the kitchen. He definitely couldn't reach that and he wasn't exactly in optimal condition to be climbing on counters, but surely he'd manage.

"No," Jason said sharply, wheeling around to point the onion in his hand at Tim. "No, you will not climb on my counters."

Tim eyed him levelly. He didn't say anything. He tried to look like a person who wouldn't dig around in a murderer's cupboards to steal coffee.

"You're a biohazard," Jason said. He narrowed his eyes.

Tim pursed his lips. "...Not as long as you did a good job bandaging me up."

Jason closed his eyes. He very audibly counted to ten in Spanish, then Korean.

Tim rolled his eyes and leaned his head back to ignore Jason by looking for shapes in the shitty popcorn ceiling. He ignored Jason that way so well that he actually dozed off. He woke up to the soft clink of a plate being sat down in front of him.

There was a huff.

He didn't really register it. Tim smacked his lips and opened his eyes slowly. It took a moment to remember where he was.

Jason was back in the kitchen, facing away. He leaned forward to grab something from the back of the counter. The motion pulled his sweatpants flat against his stupidly juicy butt. That was not a standard Robin butt.

In his sleepy haze, Tim had to be forgiven for checking his soulmate assailant out. He froze as soon as he realized what he'd done.

'That's normal,' he tried to convince himself. 'It's nature. It would be weirder if I wasn't into him at all.' His heart thudded in his chest. 'He's never going to hurt me again. He knows who I am now. And honestly I think he needs help. His life has obviously been really bad.'

Oblivious, Jason bustled over brandishing a napkin and a glass of iced water. "Food with water, and then the coffee. Do you want sugar or … well, there's no cream."

"Black coffee, thank you," Tim said primly, and gingerly started to eat with his non-dominant hand. He wasn't particularly dextrous. A bit of egg fell off his fork and bounced down off the sofa.

Wow. He was really doing all his training proud.

"Don't worry about it."

Tim glanced down at the mess. He tensed his jaw. He didn't say anything. When he was almost done with his food, Jason went off to the kitchen to pour the coffee. He set it down in front of Tim just as Tim put the fork down.

Tim snatched up the cup of coffee and cradled it like it was holy. He breathed in the steam. The first sip was heaven. He drank way too much on the second go. He felt a spark of fear that Jason would limit him to one cup. He needed another one. He knew that it was in his head but he felt better already, like his thoughts were clearer and he was more awake.

"We need to talk." Jason fiddled with his empty mug.

'Oh no, are you breaking up with me?' Tim mentally snarked. He wasn't quite bold enough to say it out loud. He shot Jason a suspicious glance over the rim of his cup.

Jason didn't look up. "Have you thought about where to go? I- I don't want you going back to Batman." The words came out strained. "I don't trust him, there isn't-"

"Where to go?" Tim echoed, not thinking about the batman comment at all. "I'm staying here, aren't I?"

That finally got his full attention. "You can't stay here forever," Jason said blankly.

Tim frowned at him. "Are you putting me out on the street injured?"

A muscle twitched visibly on his neck. He looked away. "That's the problem, isn't it?" Jason managed a level tone. "You can't possibly feel safe here."

Tim blinked.

Jason furrowed his brow. He appeared to be done talking.

"I don't think it'll be better anywhere else," Tim pointed out delicately. "And it's not like we have many places in common. Where else are we going to spend time together?"

Jason choked on nothing. "Spend time-" He knocked his knee into the table. "What are you talking about?"

Tim realized, in one mortifying moment, that Jason didn't care that they had a soulmate bond. At least, he didn't think it was reason enough to stick around.

Tim bit his lip. "Are… I see." He cleared his throat. "You don't want to?" He channeled Janet Drake and made his tone brisk and businesslike.

Horribly, the expression on the other boy's face turned to a kind of gentle pity. Jason looked him over. "Timothy," he said slowly, "I broke three of your ribs, your leg, and your face. No one is going to recommend that we try to make some kind of relationship."

"That's not your opinion, though," Tim pushed, desperate. "Do you want to never see me again?"

He didn't get an answer. Jason looked totally lost and incongruously young. Tim's heart twisted with sympathy. He wanted to reach out and touch. Just for Jason's sake, of course, not his. He curled his unhurt hand into a fist to keep it from moving.

'He's not that much older than me. He- he was less than 3 years older, and then he lost half a year, and I don't think he's exactly had normal development since then. The things I've seen in his dreams are depressing. '

Tim tried to keep the gentleness he felt off his face. But he was mentally reclassifying Jason as a lot closer to 15 than 18.

"Give me a phone," Tim bargained. "If you don't want me to call Bruce, then let's talk to Dick. He knows me and he knows you."

Jason cursed under his breath and grabbed at his hair with a fist. He didn't seem to notice that he'd knocked his hood down. "They're going to put me in jail," he said flatly. "You know that, right? And I'm not going to let them. So that's going to be ugly."

"Dick thought that Bruce's stance on the Red Hood was too inflexible." Tim had already thought this through. "At worst, we go to Bludhaven until Bruce cools down and you can be Robin again."

The look that garnered him implied Jason thought he'd lost his damn mind.

Tim waited patiently.

"There's a lot to unpack there!" Jason's eyes were wide and his tone went a little high. He didn't seem to notice he started pacing. "First off, I'm not going to be Robin again. You get that, right? That was my whole beef with Bruce? No more Robins. Not that I'm a good child soldier anymore." He made a sweeping gesture at his body. "But also- they're not going to be pissed at me because I shot some mobsters," he stressed. "They're going to smack me down hard to keep you safe."

Tim furrowed his brow. "It's not that bad. You're not going to do it again. Anyway, we don't have to tell them everything."

The certainty in his voice took Jason's breath away. Tim pretended not to notice the controlled breathing he had to do. "Timothy," Jason said carefully. "They saw me hunt you down. Kick you. Slash your throat." His voice broke. "They're not going to want me back. And you deserve better than that. They'll agree."

Tim shot to a sitting position and ignored what that did to his protesting ribs. "They can't!" He disagreed. "You belong there, Jason. And-" he stopped mid phrase. "...You disabled all the security but you left the cameras running?" The realization knocked the breath out of his lungs.

That hadn't been just a sadistic assault. It had been a performance, and it hadn't been for Tim's benefit.

'What happened at the tower wasn't really about me.' There was something really depressing about that, but there was also relief. 'He wanted Bruce to suffer. Not me.'

Jason couldn't even look at him. "I wasn't in my right mind," he said. "But we can't know- Tim, I'm not a safe person. Not in general, and not for yo-"

"We definitely have to keep you away from Bruce for a while," Tim thought aloud. "That's - difficult, but okay." He ruffled his hair unconsciously. "The answer is still Dick."

"Why are you so fixated on Dickhead?" Jason buried his face in his hands.

Tim paused. "He's your brother. He loves you. He misses you so much. He'll help us."

"He's more your brother, I think." The words were muffled.

Tim snorted. "No, I'm not family," he denied. "I'm a neighbor, that's all."

Jason lifted his face just enough to side-eye. He gave Tim a weird look.

He shrugged. It was true.

He could see the moment that Jason gave up. "Whatever. We can come back to it, I gyess. I'm going out. I'll get your crutches, at least. Some groceries."

Tim nodded.

Jason edged past the sofa without getting too close. Tim wasn't sure he was doing it on purpose. "I'm gonna take a shower. If you think of something you need, let me know before I go."

Tim watched him go. "Don't you think Bruce is going to be looking for you out there?" He only had curiosity in his voice. "Since they don't know what you did with me. They're probably wondering."

"Wondering," Jason repeated, incredulous. He slammed the door shut.

It wasn't a very substantive answer to Tim's reasonable concern.

"Rude." Tim settled back into the sofa. He felt better now that he had some caffeine and fuel. He itched to move, but even he had to acknowledge that the less he stressed his injuries, the sooner he'd be back on his feet.

"I really need something to do," he said to himself. "I can't just trigger panic attacks to pass the time."

Shower water started in the next room.

"I need body wash, too," Tim thought aloud. He sniffed his underarm and grimaced. "I'd use his drugstore shit at this point."

Well. He wasn't in good condition, no. But if Jason was going to be gone for hours, surely Tim could manage to clean himself up. It would be a good project.

"He keeps dodging the topic when I mention technology. At the very least he needs to get me something to write with so I don't lose my mind." Tim sighed. "I don't know if I'm hoping Dick will find him when he goes out or not," he lamented. "I don't think either one of them is going to be- calm or logical about things." He huffed, blowing his bangs off of his face.

He had a pretty good list of demands by the time Jason came back, toweling off his hair. Tim glanced over the new outfit just because it was there and not because he had an opinion about what Jason looked like in a tight t-shirt and jeans versus in oversized sweats.

'I think that's the size of my head.'

He unconsciously put a hand to his head, looking at the bicep that wasn't a mottled mess of Tim's bruises. A muscle flexed as Jason scrubbed at his hair.

"That's so bad for your hair," Tim said, and instantly regretted opening his mouth.

Jason only snorted and tossed the towel in a laundry basket just inside the bedroom door. "Only one of us can have nice hair, I guess."

Tim didn't say, 'You could switch to a better conditioner.' But it was a close thing. "Can I get a pot of coffee before you go?" He asked instead. "Just leave it on the table." Before Jason could finish opening his mouth, "Come on, I think you owe me this one," Tim wheedled.

The look he got back was sheer incredulity. "That's what you're wasting that on?" Jason clarified. "I kicked you around like a soccer ball and you're using the incurred guilt for a single pot of coffee?"

Wow, okay, that was not true. Tim hadn't done well but he'd done better than a soccer ball. He'd gotten hits in, even, at the beginning.

Grandiose liar or not, Jason was moving to the kitchen even as he said it, so Tim didn't give a damn. "I think I get more than one use," he said happily. He watched Jason open up an overhead cupboard and fish out the glass coffee pot. He'd already washed and put it away? "My next demand is two notebooks and writing utensils, at least three colors."

"Done," Jason agreed easily. "You like pizza alright?"

"Pizza is good. Can you get textbooks from my room?"

"I think Bruce will notice if I go into the manor for your homework."

"I don't live there," Tim said, puzzled. "I meant my house."

Jason turned to blink at him, bag of coffee beans hanging from one hand. "That's not deserted?" He frowned slightly. "Your parents are in Nicaragua."

Tim rolled his eyes. "What's that have to do with my homework?"

Jason sighed and turned back to the coffee. "I'm not going there," he said, tone final. "It's too close to B."

"Boo, you whore." Tim continued while Jason spluttered and dropped something that clattered. "Okay, can you go to the bookstore for me?"

He had to wait a few impatient seconds for Jason to answer, "I guess?" He sounded confused that this was where his life was.

"Good." Tim settled further into the couch. "I'll write titles if you get me something to write with."

Jason tossed his phone over. "Make it in a note."

Tim tried and failed to catch it. It landed on his legs. "Thanks." He eyed the back of Jason's head, wondering if the older boy had lost his mind. Why give Tim a phone if he didn't want to contact Dick? Tim should just dial him up now.

He opened up the notes app and typed up his demands quickly. He stole a glance to check that Jason was still preoccupied. Then he opened up contacts and added Dick's new number under "Biggest Bird". Then he paused and looked at Jason's back. Jason was the biggest one now, huh.

He didn't change it. Dick deserved to be the big bird. He hesitated for a moment, guilty, before typing up "Hey Dick, I lived. 👍 Pretty sure I'm in Gotham now. Don't reply pls, it'll be pretty uncomfortable for me. Will contact when I can. -Tim."

He sent the message and deleted the record instantly. He exited all windows except the note app before he put the phone on the table.

"Reading for fun?" Jason asked. He was totally oblivious as to what Tim had just done.

Tim scoffed, heart racing with guilt he really shouldn't feel. "More like keeping up. There's a new book on systems tech that I need, and a journal from the National Microbiology-"

"I'm sorry I asked," Jason snarked, because he was a bitch too. But he was smiling when he opened up the coffee grinder and tipped the powder into a pour over cup. "Nerd."

Tim rolled his eyes. He tried to be subtle about keeping an eye on Jason's phone.

He had a trickle of doubt that he tried to press down.

Dick wouldn't message, right? Of course he'd be tempted to. He was Dick. Tim wondered if he should have told him that it was Jason. It didn't seem like information for a text message.

The phone didn't light up with any alerts. Jason brought over a whole pot of coffee and a plate of grapes that he seemed a little embarrassed to mention was past their optimal date.

Tim, a garbage-eating raccoon person who had subsisted on microwavable meals for more than a week at a time and would do it again, shrugged.

Jason pulled on a leather jacket, tucked guns and other equipment onto his body, and went out the door.

A few minutes later he had a thought that hit him like Jason's boot to the face. Tim fumbled a grape in his shock and let it roll off under the table.

'...Is Dick going to ask Barbara to find the phone I messaged from?'

"Whoops," Tim said, voice hoarse. "...Maybe they won't talk much?"

Chapter 4

It was a long, tense night. Jason put a pillow on the sofa and wondered why he even bothered. He made himself a cup of chamomile tea and then accidentally let it get cold staring at the sleeping lump on his bed, feeling like an absolute freak but needing to know that Timothy was still breathing.

He drank the cold tea. He put the pillow back away. He splashed his face with water from the kitchen sink. He killed some time doing equipment maintenance as quietly as possible. A dog barked outside and he held his breath, paranoid that it would wake his soulmate up.

It didn't. Timothy was fine.

Well. He wasn't fine. But he wasn't any worse.

Jason paced a line between the table and the kitchen counter until he was too irritated to keep going. He checked the time: not even 2 am yet.

"It's going to be a long fuckin night," he said to himself. Then he held his breath and looked at the cracked bedroom door, as if he might be able to hear Timothy's breathing.

He couldn't.

"Of course I don't. I'm too far away." He sat down. He jiggled his leg up and down, trying to think of anything else. Think about his work, his passion project to control organized crime and save lives. Don't think about Bruce and his revenge. Don't think about being sick with anger and lonely grief. Don't think about what he'd done to a teenager half his size-

Jason gave up and crept into the room again to be sure that Timothy was still breathing.

He was.

Jason did silent calisthenics, situps and pushups, and he held a plank until his body shuddered.

What had Timothy been seeing in his dreams for years? He must have been terrified when he realized the violent beast from his dreams was the man beating him down.

He took a moment to imagine that, imagine being in Timothy's shoes. He must have realized it there in the Tower. Which injuries had it been? Had he seen his broken fingers on Jason first? Was it a ghost bruise blooming over Jason's face as Jason loomed over him? Kicked him?

Jason collapsed to the floor and rolled over to his back. He clutched at his hair with one hand, a nervous tic he'd never managed to get rid of.

He went back to obsessively trying to remember dreams that he usually wanted to forget. What nightmares had he had?

Nanda Parbat would fuck anyone up. The things that Jason had been doing for years- some kid had been seeing that? Had seen all that violence?

'Makes me feel like Talia.'

Jason full-body shuddered, confused. Morals he had never recontextualized were creeping up to the surface. As a kid he'd been extremely protective of other children. That had been the best part of being Robin.

And now he was an adult. He was a grown man and he'd been sending visions of fuckin- of shooting men in the face and of stabbing people and watching the light die from their eyes, of all the blood in the sand and the shit and tears of death and he'd been doing that to some kid-

He had to stand up. He poured himself a glass of water just to have something to do, and that meant half an hour later he guiltily crept through the bedroom again to get to the bathroom.

He wanted a shower. He felt disgusting. Water wouldn't fix the shame but it would get the itch of dried sweat off of his skin.

It'd wake up the kid.

'I need to stock something in these places for entertainment.'

His phone was dying. He fished out the charger and played a word game for a full hour, trying to use the white glare and puzzles to keep him awake and too busy to think about how thoroughly he'd fucked over his soulmate. That kid was never going to be normal, never going to be safe. Jason did that to him.

It felt like morning was never going to come. He made himself breakfast at a decent hour and then waited. And waited.

Christ, Drake could sleep.

'Or maybe he needs to recover because someone smashed him into the floorboards. Just a thought.'

He was staring dully into a mostly empty cup of tea when he finally heard a sleepy voice from the bedroom. Jason put it down a little too fast and hurried to the door. He paused, hand on the knob.

'Don't be a creep. He's going to have another panic attack if you go in there like it's a goddamn drug bust.'

He knocked.

"Come in."

Jason pushed open the door and took a hesitant step inside. It was his room but he felt like an intruder.

Timothy was mostly propped up in bed. His eyes widened when he saw Jason and his mouth dropped open. He looked like he was looking at something dirty

Jason braced for it.

Timothy closed his mouth.

Jason's mouth was almost too dry to speak despite having just finished a drink. "Good morning," he managed. He was surprised by how level his voice was. God, he felt like shit. "Breakfast first or bathroom?"

"Bathroom," Tim said, "but could I get a crutch? Eventually?"

Jason nodded without comment. "You can use it by tomorrow, maybe." He stepped to Tim's side as meekly as possible. He wished he didn't see that the boy got paler.

Timothy had a pretty good poker face, but Jason had to touch to help him up. He could feel that heart racing like a rabbit's.

'I'm disgusting. I made this child afraid of me.'

He kept his body language as unthreatening as possible and his grip gentle as he helped Timothy through his morning needs.

It was hard to stand in front of the mirror. Jason stole a glance at their reflection, gut twisting with self loathing. The difference between them was more obvious from an outside perspective. Tim was a good 6 inches shorter, obviously still lean with youth rather than packing on the muscle he might manage as an adult.

Just a kid. He'd never had a chance against Jason.

Tim was obviously overwhelmed by frustration at his helplessness. Jason could feel him shaking. He pretended not to see how red Timothy's eyes were.

And then Timothy leaned back, digging his shoulder into Jason's stomach. He- he sort of melted.

Jason's mind raced. His hands moved on autopilot, gently cleaning Tim's hands. It felt like- no, he couldn't possibly have been seeking comfort from Jason. Could he?

'You never know with a soulmate bond. Lots of people stay in fucked up soulmate relationships. It might- shit, what if it's fucking with him? Making him look at me to feel safe?'

He felt like throwing up.

He glanced up at just the right time to see Timothy's face go even whiter. Jason's nerves frayed even further. He braced for another panic attack-

Timothy jabbed him with his shoulder. "Let's go."

That was fine by him.

Jason turned off the tap without a word. He pulled open a drawer to yank out a soft towel, patted Tim's hands dry, and then steered him out. He was looking forward to retreating when Timothy spoke out.

"I want to leave the bedroom," Tim demanded.

Jason paused.

'I wouldn't want to be helpless in someone else's bed either. He'll probably feel safer if he can at least sit up.'

He wished he hadn't been so cheap with the bed. If it had a headboard Timothy could have sat up there. "Sofa's fine," Jason said, and then took him out of the bedroom.

Making Timothy breakfast felt blessedly normal. Jason leaned into it, playing up irritation at how picky the kid was and playfully judging him for deploying the big cow eyes for coffee.

'Are you even supposed to drink coffee when you're that young?'

He didn't know, but he made a cup anyway.

When he finished cooking he found that Tim had dozed off again. Jason felt frozen at the sight.

'How? How does he feel safe enough to fall asleep with me right here?'

Conversely, Timothy's casual attitude made Jason's stress ratchet further up. That reached new levels when he actually talked with the little fucker.

'This is bad. This is so fucking bad. He doesn't get it. He wants to stay with me?'

The shower was a retreat. Jason wasn't too proud to admit that to himself. He pulled jeans and a t-shirt out of the bare bones supply in the closet to armor up before going back near his… well, god, he might technically be a prisoner? Patient sounded better.

He scrubbed the emotion off his face when he came back into the room. He was still drying his hair. Timothy craned his head over the back of the sofa to watch him.

Wait.

Jason lifted his arm a little higher and tracked the way Timothy's pupils followed the movement.

'He's staring at my arms?' Jason wondered. 'Making sure I don't attack him?'

God, he wished that was the case. It would have been much better for his nerves if Drake had that sense. But Jason suspected that the teenager was more innocently fascinated with a muscular arm.

Christ. He blundered his way through a conversation and just did whatever he needed to do to make Timothy happy. He made him a whole pot of coffee, health be damned, and promised to bring him the world. Books, notebook, whatever- he'd promise anything to get out of this interaction.

He was more relieved than he'd admit to put some space between him and his- Tim. Not his anything, just Timothy Drake.

Jason stuck his hands in his pockets aggressively and shouldered his way out onto the street.

Gotham at noon was a glaring nightmare. He ducked his head against the light and regretted leaving his sunglasses. No way was he going back in there now, not with the baleful little puppy dog huddled on his sofa waiting to judge him with those big sad eyes. God, the way he'd looked when he asked if Jason didn't want to be with him-

Jason shook off the cacophony of the confusing emotions that Tim inspired and focused on his task. He'd get the books and paper supplies first, they were furthest, then pick up the crutches from a different safehouse - no, maybe the groceries and then the crutches. The mobility aids would be unwieldy in a grocery store.

He ended up buying an overpriced backpack at the student wear shop next to the bookstore. Timothy's purchases went in the bottom. He didn't spend much time flipping through them with a furrow in his brow, feeling inadequate and undereducated. He was officially a middle school dropout and a high school dropout now. That couldn't be attractive.

Jason berated himself for the thought as soon as he recognized it. It didn't matter if Timothy would be attracted to him or not, it would be beyond fucked up to get involved regardless.

He wasn't as clueless about that as Timothy seemed to think. The thought of stolen glances and the way Tim unconsciously leaned against him at the sink had something twisting painfully in Jason's chest. It made him feel human, reliable, needed and wanted.

Timothy was cute. When Jason looked at him he wanted to keep him safe and that was all kinds of fucked up, wasn't it, when he was the biggest threat the boy had ever faced?

#jason todd/tim drake #red hood #ao3 is still down so why not #shadow bruises #soulmate fic #ao3

[romvnova]

Introduction & Chapter One: Destruction

Kerry Eurodyne. Bisexual Icon. Night City native. A rock legend world renowned.

…Yet, he is haunted by loneliness. Plagued by a trail of failed relationships weighing him down like chains of his past. From his never-was boyfriend Samurai leadman Johnny Silverhand, to his ex-wife to a slew of on again, off again boyfriends and girlfriends.

Until he meets Atlantia Bakker, of whom he hired to be his personal assistant; still trying to fill that black hole of a void ever present in his chest.

Desperate to feel anything close to resembling friendship ….at best, a business companion.

Desperate to feel anything at all.

Her friends all told her not to take the job. But you don't just turn down a job offer by Kerry Eurodyne … and you especially don't if you're a closeted Samurai fangirl.

Atlantia is given the opportunity of a lifetime but Kerry is determined to wreak havoc on the pedestal she's put him on. To show her all the sides of him: the good, the bad and the ugly.

A slow burn as to which where it'll go? Nobody truly knows.

( A shameless Wattpad link because updates will be posted on Wattpad first. )

TRIGGER WARNINGS: vulgar language, subtle hints at suicide, drug abuse, alcohol abuse, sexual themes ( in later chapters ) and mentions of violence. Please read at your own discretion.

Today we mark the anniversary of the attack on Arasaka Tower and remember the lives lost in this tragedy. Carried out by rockerboy, self fashioned rebellion and terrorist Johnny Silverhand —

With a small half angry grunt, Kerry reaches for the remote and switches the channel on the TV, going back to his concoction of alcohol — a mixture of several different hard liquors, his goal to get blasted drunk and having no consideration to how awful the flavors would mix ( if it didn't burn his gold plated throat on the way down he didn't fucking want it ) — and an assortment of neon colored pills.

One for ... well, he didn't know.

Or maybe he did know but couldn't be bothered to care.

Ariel'd left them the last time he'd spent the night.

A quick study of the muddied drink, the smell strong even in his disgruntled state, lifting the glass.

"To Johnny fucking Silverhand. May the bastard rest well in cyber hell!" Kerry declares, rising the glass in toast. The clips of Samurai flash, causing nostalgia to coil tight in his stomach and his breath to stutter in his throat. "...my best friend." He murmurs; quieter still. A breathy whisper, as if he spoke it at any more of a volume the ghost of Silverhand would hear him.

He brings the glass to his lips and downs it in a one swift swig. He does not taste but the alcohol warms and then burns.

"Ah, fuck, that's disgusting." He slams the glass down on his bar, the empty house echoing his own voice above the din of the vids of Samurai's last gig crackling thru the houses' speakers.

He grabs another round of liquor bottles and pours another random and haphazard slew into his glass.

The vids pause and Kerry's concentration is broken, fingers absently curling 'round the assortment of neon colored pills as his holo feed rolls from the front gate of his house.

"Mr. Eurodyne?" A face shows up, at first distorted before she takes a few steps back. Not the voice that matches the tentativeness in her soft, lilting voice. Aphrodite pretty. No, that was too fucking cliche.

Helen of Troy pretty. Siren-esque facial features, eyeliner sharp enough to cut a man, hair a mixture of neon and pastel pink, pilled into a sloppy bun on her head.

"Eh? Wha-what? Who're you? Whaddya want?" He asks, finding that the strong mixture of alcohols — the highest proofs he could find — have muddled his thought process. If there was any sort of familiarity in her face it was heavily addled. Mixed up with the swim of the world 'round him.

It's a struggle to focus on her facial features, watching as her body posture shifts from confident to uncertain; the soft bite of her teeth on her bottom lip.

It was meant to accompany the soft furrow of confusion in her brows, a soft birdlike cant to her head, straying tendrils of her hair wound out from the bun brushing her neck in the hot north oak breeze.

But fuck if Kerry didn't feel it stir something within him. A small spark of arousal and ... something else. Something just as equally as primal.

The first time he'd felt much of ... anything ( similar or otherwise ) in so very long. It lends a moment of clarity, as brief as a hummingbird's lifespan, but enough to allow recognition to dawn as she speaks, "It's Atlantia. Atlantia Bakker. Your new personal assistant?"

His personal assistant.

Another attempt to fill the empty, echoing loneliness that haunts his every fucking moment. In this house. In Night City.

Ariel had been a whim decision too and that decision had bit him in the ass. Betrayal. Differences that could not be worked out. A good fucking riddance where ache was supposed to be.

Kerry gives a grunt in lieu of a verbal response, fingers tightening 'round the neon pills; deliberating.

"I believe you had suggested that I start today?" She offers it like a suggestion, a question; pinning it on herself instead of pointing out that he'd forgotten. He appreciates it, even if it doesn't the lessen the feeling like he was an ass.

"Right. Right. Buzzin' you in." He leans against the bar, leather Moto jeans feeling a bit too tight, fussing with the wrinkles in his white tank top; fighting the swim in his mind. His thoughts race 'round and any attempt to catch even one of them is met with a disappearing act like smoke slithering thru his fingers.

"Hey, you wanna a drink?" He asks, turning to face her as the sound of her footfalls grows louder, quickly chucking the neon pills he'd had cradled in the cup of his palm into the trashcan under the bar.

She was dressed what Kerry would've called 'office casual' in his day: black straight legged slacks and a burnt orange silk blouse and black ballet flats. Over her shoulder is a black leather strap of a small backpack which she deposits upon the right side of his couch as he gestures for her to take a seat and tells her to make herself comfortable.

The data pad she clutches to her chest as if it were her lifeline makes Kerry wonder if she was nervous.

It feeds the monster of his ego and he clears his throat as he reminds his hazy brain to keep this business and not act in any way that might give her the wrong idea.

Though she was fucking pretty. He'd have to be a utter gonk not to see it. Not to admire subtly, at the least.

She declines his drink offer politely; spurring within him the thought that Johnny would've immediately pinned her as a corporat and would've hated her prim and proper mannerisms.

"I know we've, uh, discussed starting today ... but let's make tomorrow your official start day, yeah? Today's a bit fucked." Kerry takes a seat across from her, staring at the sloshing muddied liquor in his glass; leaning forward to sit it on the coffee table between them.

His desire to down it has quickly dissipated.

"Ok," Atlantia agrees, which causes Kerry to shift uncomfortably in the leather couch. Of course she agreed with him: he was her boss. But ... that wasn't what he wanted. Not really. He yearned for companionship in a desperate attempt to fill the giant fucking crater left inside him with the death of Johnny.

"Hey, uh. I know I'm your boss but ... none of that yes, sir gonk shit, ok? Just be honest with me." Kerry watches as she nods in agreement, fighting the sinking feeling that she wasn't going to.

An awkward silence stretches and the more it yawns on, the more Kerry dreads that she's going to quit. That she'll decide that this is ... that he is so much more than she signed up for. She could've been a PR for any celebrity and yet, she'd chose to apply for to his ad.

More and more, he feels his fingers itching to down the alcohol.

"Tell me about Samurai," Atlantia says suddenly, her attention trained on the vids, still paused. She looks at him, the unnatural gold of her Kiroshi optics startling. She pauses when he doesn't reply immediately, watching as she shifts in the leather, leaning towards him slightly. "Tell me about your time in Samurai. About you. Whatever you're comfortable sharing."

The change is almost dizzying. No, it was dizzying.

Or maybe that was the copious amounts of alcohol Kerry'd already consumed prior to her arrival.

He hated everything about this fucking day and if he could drink himself to sleep before the shit hit the fan: the better.

"You can learn anything you want about me in the scream sheets." He reminds her.

"No," She offers a wiry smile; mirthless. "I want to know the real Kerry Eurodyne. Not the one the scream sheets have made up."

For a moment, Kerry feels something inside him slip; words bubbling up his gold plated throat, threatening to spill from his lips. He stops them. He does not let her honeyed words, the unyielding pierce of her gaze lure him into spilling his guts to her.

His image was perfectly and meticulously curated and he didn't know her at all. Certainly no where close enough to let his guard down.

"Ask me tomorrow. Maybe then I'll tell ya." It was a lie as it slips betwixt Kerry's lips; but to his relief it appears to have appeased her.

At least for the day, for she dutifully does not bring it up again, not even when he walks her out to the front gate, an exchange of holo numbers given and a promise that he would be in touch.

A lie too.

#second conflict #kerry eurodyne #cyberpunk 2077 #fanfiction #au fanfiction #not v #samurai #anyway i hate that they basically erased kerry's bisexuality #also on wattpad #wattpad fanfiction

[team-heavenly]

Chapter 5

Using attract on my partner in confusion GONE WRONG

When you’re. When yo. You’re. Gay.

But why do I keep getting borderline NSFW chapter titles, send help

“Local fairy type wreaks havoc, breaks laws of spacetime to transform a lively forest into a frozen feudal estate: more at 11″

Yeah, I know! Scary, right? Honestly, just send Mewtwo in: one glare at Togetic and he’ll fix the problem in no time flat.

Team Heavenly gets our first real assignment! (Ignore the reflection on the screen, I do not wish to be Perceived)

To recruit Pokémon, you say? Sounds great! How do you plan on doing it, Dusclops?

“Its body is hollow. It is said that those who look into its body are sucked into the void.”  -Pokémon Diamond/Pearl ‘Dex entry

...Oh. Okay. *inches away slowly*

Here’s Team Slacker, with Venusaur as Slowpoke and Steelix as Slakoth. They’ve clearly grown too old for this exploration nonsense.

Okay I guess I was wrong about the Outlaw jobs being out of commission! Or do they only show up after Waterfall Cave?

Uh, what’s that? Sure, I’ll do some... but not today. Why? B-because I’m a cow- uhhh I mean, because of the waterfall mission! That’s totally why.

More Team introductions! Team Flame being made up of Grass types... how ironic.

Uh. No. I can’t imagine that. Sorry ._.

Aw, the dialogue belonging to Sunny Form Cherrim fits so well here!

So, Shiftry is obviously Bellsprout. The other two I wasn’t so sure of, but a quick search on the internet helped me out. Here we have Combee as Camerupt, and Cherrim as Ponyta. Has a real woodlands vibe if you ask me.

Eevee?! Good to see you, lad! (For those curious: Eevee is standing in for Zangoose, Stunky for Scyther, and Croconaw for Sandslash

I mean, all three of you do have claws, so... Randomizer, you’re off the hook this time.

Some other updates in Nautical Cottage:

👀 Ohhhh, gimmie gimmie gimmie! I already have tickets to redeem!

Rotom: ???

Remember the Dojo? Good news: it’s open!

Kinda weird to hear him talk about his marrow though... my guy, you’re boneless.

“Secret Waterfall” isn’t randomized, it seems. Ah well, we’ll see the new name soon enough.

*insert temporal flashback shenanigans here*

I noticed this when our first Time Gear was stolen, but Pokémon that are shown as silhouettes in the base game... well, that doesn’t show up here. You’ll see what I mean in a later photo.

Another thing I thought I noticed, and this confirms it! Despite Andrea being marked as female, she’s using one of the male tone styles. (I’ve always seen girl partners say “Use all your courage!” here.) Interesting!

Oh boy, here we go. After the fresh hell I’ve faced the past few chapters, I wonder what awaits us now...

Woah, funky neon noodle cave! AKA the Luxurious Moor.

As it turns out, my fears were unfounded! For once, the team marched through the 8 floors without facing a single Monster House or activating a devastating trap. In fact, I only have one real item to discuss: recruitment. Unfortunately no one new joined us, but I wanted to take a peak at the variety of Pokémon between floors.

It’s about what you would expect for, well, a randomized list. Note to self: get in the habit of checking potential recruits every floor so I don’t get jump scared by a freaking Palkia or something.

Noooo Andrea, don’t get distracted by the shiny things... you’re so sexy pretty, aha...

Andrea. Andrea, no-

Real time footage of what happened next.

With the reminder that Horsea is Teddiursa, Toxicroak is Vigorith, and Linoone is Ursaring, we add to the crew Ralts as Mankey and Barboach as Primeape! (Yeah I know they don’t really show up after this but still.)

The... huh. Well, I guess it could feel like a “brilliant fire” to your muscles.

I just found this discrepancy funny.

I’m howling that elder Torkoal shows up as a Riolu. Who the heck are you calling a youngster, little dudette?!

The next two shots showed some funky text placement, probably to adjust for the character length of Brilliant Fire:

Alright, here’s the promised photo from the flashbacks:

When they take away the non-existent shadow, the animation shows Totodile basically doing a somersault and getting up. It’s pretty comical.

What’s left is basically a montage of story-related things, but nothing new per se.

“Yeah man, I’m telling you! This whole ‘Secret Waterfall’ business is just a giant cover up from Big Government! Next they’re gonna take away our right to bare iron thorns!”

...That physically hurt to type.

Rip to all of Andrea’s hopes and dreams, they did not live long 😔✊

🥺️💖

I wonder if the name of Teresa’s ability is gonna be randomized 🤔 I really hope so because that has the potential to be immensely funny.

And lastly, the initial Expedition announcement from Totodile.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading 😊 Chapter 6: (Insert nonsensical title here) has just been processed. Please allow 3-7 days for your order to be shipped.

#pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd explorers #randomizer #chapter 5 #I WISH I could have embedded the linked video into this post but tumblr wouldn't let me sljdsfkhfgjf #Too many images I guess #anyway I feel like I really struggled with the humor in this one #Besides the video I mean; that was a stroke of genius

[thesoggyraincloud]

Catching Her Chapter 1

\\ Daryl Dixon x OC \\ Merle Dixon x OC

TWD Season 1-3 / The Quarry

Updated

Instead of the comforts of a viable society, she had gotten two rednecks. They had arrived in a whirlwind a week after the initial incident. And a day after Quinn had run out of food. 

—-----------

The night before still hung like smog, sulphur smells suffocating Quinn. The light invaded her sheets and burnt her skin, an eternity ticking by. Each motion of the clock counting down to the second she could allow herself another delve into her own personal paradise .

Her arms erupted from the oppressive cocoon and she spread her feet out across the worn hardwood. The painful sensation in her bladder finally enough to motivate her movement in-spite of her brains negging.

Her face illuminated by the ever present dim light funnelling through the window. The looming billboard hanging over her, it was advertising a new vitamin this month. Quinn hummed in satisfaction at the change and pondered how long until the next neon framed Model advertising something would appear. Watching the changing adverts had become a routine comfort. Dispite the plan to put up curtains when she’d first moved in it never happened, life got in the way. Opening space for her unusual hobby.

Tearing herself away from the setting sun and the red light she wandered over to the bathroom. Facing a reflection that had felt unfamiliar for so long now. Empty eyes and an older face then the one frozen in her memories staring back at her. It made her want to dig her nails in, to rip at the thin skin in protest. Her heart longed to remain frozen in motion.

Her hand shook as it opened the mirrored cabinet feeling out for the right shape in the back of a tampon box, hidden despite being on her lonesome. A sarcastic and apathetic part of Quinn joked that she was trying to hide herself from herself, she might have been right but she was too far gone in it to care anymore. Pulling away from her thoughts and toward her cell phone, she washed down a couple of pills. The device was void of life.

Trying a few calls she grew Impatient and threw her phone to the bed. Finished in the washroom she paced back and forth across the apartment. Anxious for the familiar warmth to grow though her senses, spreading like ivy down her nerves. And as though through divine intervention the moment she felt that familiar stretch of numbness, a harsh wail pierced its way through the apartment. The sound stretched on and on. Yowling wails sounding up again each time it quietened down.

Her body moved possessed, floating across the room and slowly unravelling onto the bed. Paralysed, she sat and It all blurred into one as her head spun and stomach leapt right out of her mouth. Frozen to the spot, unable to tear her ever fading eyesite away from the front door. A cold sweat broke out on Quinn's back as she tried to control her rapid breathing and fuzzy mind.

Her feet Crossed the room once more, this time towards the slasher sounds radiating from outside the apartment door. Quietly hands pressed on the poor and her face onto the peep hole. Heart full of terror ready to catch a glimpse of what horrors lay outside. 

Once white halls that were now stained with a violent red. Where there were once people, now lay only grotesque monsters. In the chaos it was hard to understand what her eyes were reflecting. The virus. It had spread.

—-------------------------------

A week later the Woman found herself preparing. The run had to go successfully. There were no do overs, she had understood that. Studied it in her fear, but now was the time to act again.

Braced for her next move and adrenaline pumping through her veins she took her place by the door. This might be the smartest or most goddamn stupid thing she’d ever done. Raising an impromptu weapon, and tapped it loudly onto the door.

She held her breath.. 

Knock

Knock

Knock 

Soon the jarring snarls and moans shuffled over, slamming themselves forward, breaking and cracking bones as they did. Running to the fire escape all but throwing herself out of the window onto it in her panic. She would only have a limited amount of time to get to the right apartment. So as soon as her feet landed on the cold metal Quinn sprinted to the window she’d left cracked open on the last attempt. 

She landed softly, scanning the empty room. A bed, small kitchenette and an ensuite, just like her own apartment. Except this one had been stained with reds, browns and a black mould that was festering across the ceiling. The walls blurred in her peripheral as heavy footfalls carried her across the spac. Sounds muffled by the sodden green carpet. She reached her hand out, a foot from the door. Stretching to reach it as her feet closed the gap.

Then she heard them, and they heard her. Their shuffling feet filled her body with a slick sense of dread that dilated time and sent her brain into overdrive. Her hand fell into the door in gripping suspense. As much of a spectator in her fear as the participant. It closed with a bang. The latch catching as the first rabid flew into the wood. 

Safe back in her own apartment she ripped the sweat soaked shirt off, stipping down and changing into something more appropriate for the heat. Studying the loot she felt a sense of pride and adrenaline filling her mind. Imagining in a drugged haze, crowds of fans, instead of a horde. Cheering below her window at the immense achievement.

The sound of steady footsteps and a series of loud thuds and grunts interrupted her thoughts. Spinning around to attention with a heavy breath.

 "Merle nothing's here! Let's go before the Geeks get us!" An impatient voice rang through from outside the fortified door. 

‘Merle? Who the fuck is Merle?’

She crept up to the peephole, a mixture of fear, nausea and false bravery pushing her forward. It was just two men. Two mostly ordinary men.

The balding one was older looking and taller then his brunette counterpart. Brothers perhaps? Both well into their middle age.

The younger man, who she assumed was the one who she had heard talking, crossed his arms. His bicep bulging out. He looked strong. His hair was upon closer inspection a dusty, darker blond with a striking resemblance to the other man next to him. They looked unkempt,  with dirt covered skin and ripped sleeves. They looked dangerous. 

"Look Darylina, that door there!" The older man's voice echoes across the corridor and with it Quinn froze.

The older of the two points to Quinns door. The frozen feeling melted away to one of fear as she pulled away from the peephole. Irrationally scared they had seen her. Re-composing herself she peered out once again. Gripping a kitchen knife so hard her knuckles went white and waited for the man to reply to his friend.

"What about it?" Daryl asked, he gave a face to Merle as he started to shake the handle of the door slightly. He was so close she could feel the vibrations from the door handle tickle her hip.

"Are you a fucking idiot? These the only damn door’s that we've seen that are shut! I bet you there's something in there we could use, hell there might even be other survivors in there!" He slaped the other man across the head and with a final firm look at the younger man, turned to look at the door to the stairwell.

“Might finally catch me some tail.” The grin the older man sent back to his partner made her chest ache in dread.

"Merle, are you sure this is such a good idea? The noise could attract walkers!" Daryl whispered quietly. She almost didn't hear it through the door.

"What are you a damn pussy? Get your shit together, you're acting like a girl, Darylina." Merle said, a shark-like grin spreading across his face as he laughed to himself. Grabbing a cross bow and handing it off to Daryl. He tried the door once again, but obviously it wasn't going to work. It had been nailed shut. 

"Daryl, whad’ya think, should we bust it open?" Merle asked his companion.

"I saw a fire escape, we could go down a level and get through the window."

"Suppose we could?" Merle promply descended the stairwell and left his brother to trail behind him.

She threw herself into action, pulling the window shut and locking it. Then checked it was secure, not that it would matter. If they truly wanted to enter through the window all they would have to do is smash the cheap glass.

Quinn bitterly thought that she should have put those blinds up. Looking to her bed she grabbed the sheets and hung them over the window. It was an obvious coverup but in her paralysing fear she nievely hoped the men would give up and leave if they assumed the apartment was empty. 

Without many options for secure hiding places within the dingy space she ran for the bathroom and with shaky hands locked the door.

With an ear pressed to the wood Quinn listened to the shuffling out on the fire escape along with muffled voices. Then heard the sound of glass smashing.

"Look Daryl! It's a girls room! Think she's home?" Merle asked his friend.

"Merle let's just get some shit an’ go!" The younger one turned away from his brother, getting louder, closer.

"What's the fun in that Darylina?"

Footsteps moved across the apartment toward the small kitchenette and Quinn was beginning to hope that they had assumed the apartment to be vacant. Verging on grateful to just be robbed, her small bit of hope was shattered as one of the mens footsteps approached the door to her hiding place. She held her breath and the door knob twisted. The reality of the situation was really starting to sink in. With each shake of the handle bringing new imaginings of what they could do to her. It left her shaking and running to the tub, pulling the curtain behind her. She was stuck. An animal in a cage, like cattle.

The door flew open, the lock breaking at the sheer force exerted. The older guy, Merle, stood there a shadow against the thin curtain. Quinn stifled a cry of panic as he stalked over. He stopped, slowly dragging the plastic open revealing her in a way that felt so sinister.

"Well hello there darlin’ " He smirked and her face pulled into a snarl. She flew at him and in one swift motion he knocked the screwdriver out of her hand and landed his knee into her stomach.

"Take what you want, just leave me alone.” The girl cried out. He grabbed at her hair. Taking a thick clump the brown mass and dragged her out to his friend. Who had taken to busing himself by raiding through her kitchen.

"Let go of me you inbred piece of white trash!" The woman hollered, thrashing around and cursing like a sailor. Mind reeling and terror running hot through her heart.

"Would you shut it, all the fucking Geeks in the city will hear you like that!" He shouted back. She stopped struggling and hung from his hand like a caught fish.

"If I let ya’ go, promise you won' attack us?" He raised an eyebrow in question. Quinn took it as a challenge to fight his words. Nodding he released her hands, laying them down at her sides and stepped away. Not a second later she had made the perhaps unwise decision to run for the block of knives sitting on the kitchen counter. Merle shot out hand grabbing out and catching a fist full of her shirt and hair. It threw her backwards with a hard smack, a bruise on her head formed almost immediatley.

"Are you done yet?" He asked, his brother handed him duct tape with an equally unamused expression. Merle proceeded to tape around her wrists and ankles, so tight to the point it hurt. Over the next half hour Quinn watched with a dark curiosity as her hands started to slowly turn a more concerning hue of red.

After they ransacked the apartment the Woman had completely expected them to leave her tied up to die, or worse. It all felt utterly hopeless. But just as she’d given into despair both vanished to the fire escape. Having an animated conversation on the fire escape, she couldn't hear but figured they were arguing about something, probably her. Maybe they were deciding who would kill her first. A dark thought slipped into her mind, that perhaps they’d just leave her here bound for the walkers.

The window opened and the youngest stepped through she braced for the horrors to come.  Instead the younger man told her to pack a bag with what she needed. 

Eyes kinder then his brother she found her own softening as a response. The stress of the day and week catching up to her, warm tears rolled down her face quickly caught by the cuff of her sleeve. She forced a poker face as the man she assumed to be Daryl had taken to staring at her like she was a shot puppy.

“S’all right, my brothers an ass but he aint gonna hurt you.” His voice was rough, cut with a southern drawl that in any other circumstance would have melted Quinn to a puddle. The girls shifted to him, face studying his trying to discern if he was telling the truth or not. 

“Look, I dunno what you seen out there. But it’s bad, people killin’ each other left and righ’. Me and my brother jus’ wanna get outta the city and we’re gonna take you with us.” His hand pulled down his face, she figured he seemed more stressed than murderous. Quinn for a moment forgot her situation and felt an urge to give him a sympathetic smile. He reminded her of the patrons at the bar, tired men dragging overzealous companions out night after night. She recognised his trepidation when he mentioned his brother. 

“If I take this off, can I trust you not to try and scream or stab me.” He grumbled the send, eyes shifting back to the now empty knife block. She nodded her head, the desire to leave the city overpowering her fear of the strangers.

Once the ties had been removed she rubbed her sore wrists. Blood returning to them, making her hands feel like they were burning. She looked up to her captor with gratitude and he pulled the last piece of duct tape from across her mouth. 

“Thank you.” Her voice had come out as more of a whispered mumble than intended and she left a sharp pang of anxiety at the thought of being viewed as weak for it.

“What’s your name?” The stranger, Daryl asked. 

“Quinn.”

—-------------------------

Next chapter

Masterlist

#twd fanfic #daryl x y/n #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl x oc #daryl fanfiction #the walking dead #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl the walking dead #the walking dead daryl #daryl dixon #merle dixon x reader #merle dixon x oc #merle dixon fanfiction #twd fanfiction #twd drabbles #twd imagine #daryl imagines

[riahlynn101]

"Waiting in the Aftermath" (7).

Raise your hand if you thought I would ever actually update this.

Anyways, I hope you all enjoy <3

Trigger warnings: A teenager in distress, and All for One being himself.

Next chapter will be out next Monday. It's all written, I just have to edit it.

Chapter 7

--

The itching has stopped. 

Izuku should be happy. 

The itching has stopped.

Why did it stop?

His palms don’t tingle anymore, but they do feel pleasantly warm. Like someone has taken his hands into their own, holding them secure. 

The fact that his hands stopped itching the minute his mom passed out doesn’t escape him. He tries to go to her. To catch her, like she did so many times for him. But he can’t. His body’s stuck in place, frozen. 

He….did that to her. Didn’t he?

His father and Shigaraki block his view. They hover over her fallen form, muttering and mumbling about what could have happened. There’s a muted sort of horror that passes between them. His dad looks around as if expecting a hidden enemy to show themself. 

They don’t know. 

But he does. 

Izuku stares at his hands. The two stigmata's stare back at him, two voids, taunting him. His chest sputters. He shouldn’t cry. Not now. Not when his mom needs him to be strong. 

( Not when he’s the reason she’s like that). 

His dad picks her up. She hangs loosely in his arms. Lifeless.

He did that. 

Izuku’s eyes fill with tears. His chest hurts, and his throat feels tight. 

His dad places her on an examination table. And logically, Izuku knows it’s just to keep her off the dirty floor until she regains consciousness. That he means her no harm. 

But being logical through his own rising panic is hard, and all of Izuku’s thoughts are a slow blinking neon sign of “you did that to her” and “he’s going to turn her into a Nomu” and “I killed her and now they’re going to discrate her body for parts.”

His breathing comes out shallow. Shigaraki pops into his field of vision. A soft expression on his face. It looks wrong, but maybe it’s just because he’s used to seeing only sneers and murderous glances directed his way.

“Hey, kid, are you okay?” His voice echoes, swimming through Izuku’s ears. 

Izuku opens his mouth to answer, but all that comes out is a strangled scream. 

-x-x-x-

It takes Hisashi an embarrassingly long time to figure out what happened. Especially with someone like him (with all his abilities and experiences). He scoops his wife up, much like their wedding day.

Behind him, their son stifles a sob. And that’s when it all clicks for him. 

Their argument must have triggered Izuku’s quirk to lash out. Inko and him made it a point to talk things out in a civilized manner, so seeing them argue (though, he would like to point out that it was mainly his wife that was doing the arguing) must have caused some level of distress. And on top of everything else that has happened today, it could very easily make an untrained quirk like All for One-Attraction act up. 

He ignores Izuku for now. Not out of cruelty or callousness, but because he needs to make sure Inko’s safe. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he watches Tomura stop in front of Izuku. He keeps one eye on the boys, not wanting any more provocations to occur (at least for today). Hisashi hears him ask Izuku if he’s okay? 

Instead of answering the question, his son lets out a scream. It’s gut-wrenching to listen to. Hisashi looks at his wife, making sure that she’s safe and secure before heading for their son. 

Izuku looks at him, body rigid and eyes full of terror. One of his hands grip the front of the sweatshirt. A habit that he’s had since childhood. A habit that he uses when neither of his parents are around to comfort him. 

But Hisashi’s right there. 

“Hey, Izuku,” he murmurs. “Izuku, it’s okay.” 

It’s not enough, though, and his son continues screaming. Tears pour from his eyes, and the grip on the shirt tightens. 

Hisashi touches his shoulder. 

“No! No! No! Don’t touch me!” Izuku wails, choking on a sob. 

Through his worry, Hisashi recognizes a familiar warmth radiating off his son like an aerobeacon. It confirms his suspicions. 

“It’s okay,” he says. “You didn’t mean to take your mom’s quirk.” 

If he thought his son couldn’t cry any harder, then he was dead wrong. 

Izuku curls into himself, and Hisashi stares at him, unsure of how to comfort him. Every word, every touch, every breath feels like a mine waiting to go off. 

Tomura doesn’t seem to feel as apprehensive about the situation. He sits next to Izuku on the table. The crinkling of paper and wails are the only sounds in the room. Hisashi watches the exchange play out, unable to help in any meaningful way. 

-x-x-x-

Tomura isn’t sure why he does it. The little brat’s pitiful sobs shouldn’t bother him, but they do. And before he can stop himself, he’s sitting next to him.

Midoriya has never looked so pitiful. So small. So weak. 

( So very much like the version of himself that he wants to remain buried ). 

“I know it’s scary,” he starts, unsure of what to say. “But it’ll be okay.” He goes to pat Midoriya on the shoulder, but the little brat grabs onto him. His arms latch around Tomura’s middle, and he hides his face in his chest.

Tomura stares down in horror at the display. Midoriya is openly sobbing in his arms. This isn’t…..why is he….? He looks at Sensei. The man knows everything, so surely he would know how to handle this situation. Except, when Tomura looks at the man, he looks even more lost than Tomura himself. 

Awkwardly, he pats the kid’s back. “There, there.” 

He ignores the sense of relief he feels at being hugged for the first time in over a decade. It makes something in him feel warm and safe. It’s an unfamiliar feeling but not entirely unwelcome. 

Still, he’s not sure what to do with the sobbing teenager in his arms. 

“Sensei, help,” he mouths. But the man turns away from them.

Bastard , he thinks to himself. 

Izuku fists the back of his shirt, cries growing quieter. His body still trembles but his sobs have lowered in intensity. 

Idly, Tomura strokes his hair. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. Hoping that the nonsense comfort words reach further than they did when Sensei was saying them. “It’s going to be just fine.”

If Izuku hears him, he doesn’t say anything. But his cries eventually tamper out. His grip loosens, and his breathing evens out. 

Tomura refuses to look down, in fear that he may see his enemy in a different light. As if he didn’t have enough reasons to look at Izuku like the little brother figure he is. He doesn’t need that responsibility. 

Sensei returns shortly thereafter. An unreadable expression on his newly restored face. It’s both familiar and unfamiliar. Comforting and terrifying. Without thinking about it, Tomura holds on to Midoriya a little tighter. Arms that were previously slack and unsure of what to do, maintain their hold on the younger boy. 

But Sensei is nothing if not strong. He takes Midoriya from his arms like he weighs the same as paper, and Tomura just lets him.

 Because while Sensei is strong and powerful, Tomura is weak and powerless. 

He watches them leave. Sensei tells him to keep an eye on his wife, who is still sleeping on a table off to the side, peacefully unaware of everything that transpired in the past five minutes. 

“Okay,” he mutters, drawing his knees to his chest. He hopes she wakes up soon. It might be childish, but he doesn’t like being alone with the doctor. The man gives him the heebie-jeebies.

#mha fanfiction #mha au #cross posted on ao3 #dad for one #izuku and tomura

[aftgficrec]

What authors would you recommend to someone new to the fandom, just starting out? Like who are the fandom staples I guess! I have a friend who feels overwhelmed with the tag and wants to start with a basic masterlist ^^

Without exaggerating we came up with 15 names, and that is not going to lessen your friend’s overwhelmed feeling. Making people feel welcome and comfortable in our fandom is dear to my heart, so I snatched up this ask quick as a wink. My fellow librarians very graciously agreed to let me present my plan, which starts with some specific canon universe fics and branches out into other recs. This is how I got into the groove of reading fic, and hopefully your friend will be happily reading soon. We’d love an update. - A

Reading Recs for Fandom Newcomers

Light fires at night (to push back the void) by inthesea [Rated M, 61862 words, Complete 2017]

The first time Andrew realizes he wants to hear the words, Neil isn’t even doing anything. He’s just sitting there, staring at the horizon with that stupidly dramatic faraway expression of his, and letting the cigarette burn down between his fingers all the way to the filter — an outrageous waste of good nicotine, if you asked Andrew.

(Or: 20+ times Andrew and Neil say I love you, and one time they say it out loud.)

tw: implied/referenced abuse; tw: dissociation; tw: depression; tw: implied/referenced self-harm

NB: None of us know the identity of inthesea, but this is a fandom classic. Set immediately post-canon, it is a fantastic place to start reading fic

Trust Fall (And Welcoming Arms) by SpangleBangle [Rated E, 84557 Words, Complete, 2017]

Life goes on after the Foxes win the championship, and for Andrew and Neil it's uncharted territory with only each other for guides. Maybe it's time to put away some of those hard edges, and learn how to touch more softly, and speak more honestly. And if they falter, they have their family to help them get back on their feet.

tw: panic attacks, tw; implied/referenced rape/non-con, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: eating disorders mention, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced drug use - and more. Author details triggers in notes on each chapter. 

Baltimore Blues by SpangleBangle [Rated E, 17097 words, complete, 2017]

He saw the duffel.

It was battered all to hell and the strap was nearly torn from the bag, but it still glowed almost neon in the darkening night and streetlamp glare. Neil would never…

He dropped to his knees beside it and rifled through it, looking for any sign, any clue as to where Neil might have run. Nothing, nothing, nothing. Until his fingers found the keyring. Until he found the phone.

Andrew's perspective on the Binghamton riot and the walking tragedy that is Neil Josten.

tw: violence, tw: sexual content

NB: Here are one post-canon and one canon-divergent fic from the incomparable spanglebangle. Read our thoughts on them and find links to more of their works in this post.

Yeah, Do You Have Anything Shorter?

NB: We have found answers to many asks in these tumblr collections by an author who is sadly no longer active in the fandom. Their tumblr has been deactivated, so having these collections on AO3 is a gift. Each includes a table of contents and they are fantastic for quick, in-character reads. Just pick and choose what appeals to you. 

Tumblr Prompts by lipsstainedbloodred [Not Rated, Collection, 2018] 

A collection of various headcanons and bullet point fics from my tumblr (cigarettesmokeandexyracquets). Tags, warnings, ratings, and other details will be in the author's note in each chapter.

Tumblr Headcanons - Andreil by lipsstainedbloodred [Not Rated, Collection, 2018]

Tumblr Headcanons - Kandreil by lipsstainedbloodred [Not Rated, Collection, 2018]

Links to More Good Stuff

Try any or all of these.

post canon fics - set right after the king’s men here

staff favourite* post canon andreil here

faves from 2020 here

2020 greats in no particular order here

*NEW TAG ALERT! staff faves - specific asks from blog followers about our favourites [edit: corrected link]

staff recs tag

random rec tag

#ask #tw: implied/referenced abuse #tw: implied/referenced self harm #tw: dissociation #tw: depression #tw: panic attacks #tw: implied/referenced eating disorders #tw: implied/referenced rape/non-con #tw: homophobia #tw: implied/referenced drug use #tw: violence

[sugarpasteltmnt]

Chapter 20: Tattoos

JONES CLAAAAAAAAAAN

[Read it here on AO3]

#The Neon Void #The Neon Void TMNT #TNV TMNT #rottmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfiction #fanfic update #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #ROTTMNT #the neon void chapter updates

[98prilla]

Mortals and Fae

This is an ongoing series. I’m posting chapter one here as a little teaser, but if you like it, go read the whole thing (so far) Here! I update every Monday, and so far there’s 13 chapters, and I’m not even halfway through, I think. It’s got almost all of Thomas’s characters eventually, and I’m really excited and proud of it.

He doesn’t care. He’s said that in the past, of course, many times. When his one and only friend said he was cursed, bad luck, that he never wanted to see him again. When people in the market pointed and whispered because of his face. When the rumors started that he was a witch, that he could talk to serpents and send them to do his bidding. That he was a blight against everything and everyone. When even his friend did nothing to help him as the whole village turned against him, and for what?

He could always tell when someone was lying. Even if it was a half truth, he could still tell.

He could speak to snakes, but there were hardly any venomous varieties around, and he’d never asked one to do anything harder than keep mice out of his pantry. They were shy and quiet creatures. Mostly they just wanted to curl up on him, around his neck, or his arm, and observe the world.

Like him. He’d never hurt anyone, never gotten in anyone’s way, kept to himself and kept his head down and stayed away as much as he could and still, still, it wasn’t enough.

He would laugh, if he felt anything other than numb right now. He would raise his head to the sky and laugh and cackle madly like the witch they accused him of being, he would scream about the unfairness of it all, as if he hadn’t known that truth all his life. He would claw and pound and tear at anyone who came after him, he’d go so feral that not even his supposed friend would recognize him.

But he didn’t. For once, he felt absolutely, empty, nothing. It was almost peaceful, almost painful. If he was aware, he’d recognize this as bad, he’d watch where he was going, he’d notice that he was blindly stumbling deeper and deeper into the woods, not bothering to cover the trail he left behind, if they found him, so what?

He stumbled, tripping over a root, landing on his knees, not bothering to catch himself. Maybe he’d just lay here, forever, never moving, let himself decompose, let the moss grow over him, then the grass, let wildflowers bloom from his corpse, let trees grow tall and strong and beautiful. Maybe someone would appreciate his beauty, when they found him, trees and flowers, and moss.

Dimly, his brain was screaming at him, alarm bells ringing in some distant part that he’d locked away. Something about the flowers, forming a perfect ring on the ground in a wide radius around him. Something about how Lady’s Slipper and Daylily shouldn’t be blooming in this fall chill. Something about how orchids were so pretty but not at all native to this neck of the woods.

But that part of his mind was far, far away from where he was now. He’d given up, after all. Just his luck it happened to be in a faerie circle. Just his luck he wouldn’t be allowed to just fade away here on the forest floor.

“Well, lookie here! What little mortal made the decision to come play with me?” A raccous, loud sound. He didn’t respond. He didn’t care, didn’t even bother to close his eyes as the fae’s unnaturally beautiful face came into view.

He was pale, an unearthly aura surrounding his body, which seemed to cast an almost sickly green glow across his skin. His eyes were a hypnotic, swirling green, which seemed to fade from deep, near black, to brilliant, neon green as he watched. They were manically wide, accentuated by the dark circles under them. His hair was long, a mess of feathers and beads and bones (?) tied in, making soft clinking sounds as the fae moved, cocking his head one way then the other. His smile was far too wide to be natural, and his teeth were slightly pointed, and he could almost glimpse a second row behind the first.

That was the most fixating thing about him, those eyes, that glow. He knew he’d tell the fae almost anything if he asked. There wasn’t a point to keeping secrets anymore, there wasn’t a point to hiding anything. The fae could do whatever he wanted, as long as he got him away. As long he didn’t have to feel anything, ever again.

“Um… shouldn’t you be doing something? Like… screaming?” Oh. Oh that was a good one. As if this was anything more terrifying that he’d already seen, as if this fae could be a bigger monster than humans, as if he had anything left to fear in this world or any other.

He was numb. Not just on the inside, his body was numb. He wasn’t sure he could move any more if he tried. He did, and found with morbid fascination that he couldn’t even twitch his fingers anymore. He was warm. When had that happened? It was cold, and he’d ran, his clothes in tatters, too afraid to go home and try and snatch his clothing. Even in a light chill, he always wore his cloak, his scarf, his hat, his gloves. He had always been sensitive to the cold.

 Instead of responding to the fae, he curled up, trying to find any hint of warmth from the cold, hard, ground. He heard an intake of breath, as he felt cold breeze against his cheek. If he cared anymore, it would probably be painful.

But he was empty. He had nothing. He didn’t care. For once, that was the truth.

“Damien Alexander Lyre.” His voice was a void, it vibrated hollowly in his chest, it didn’t even sound like his own. It wasn’t anymore, he supposed. But being a puppet would be better than ever going back to thinking.

“w-wha?” The fae stuttered. He opened his eyes, something in them causing the fae to recoil.

“That is my name. Damien Alexander Lyre. Do with me what you will.” He closed his eyes, feeling the numbness overtake him. He let out a soft, low, sigh, hoping against hope, he never woke up.

#fae au #sympathetic remus #remus sanders #fae remus #sympathetic deceit #deceit sanders #human deceit #lots of angst #angsty chapter #it gets better #lots of fluff in the future

[real-fanta-sea]

Red thread trash - AU Trikey fanfic

Hey! I promised to upload my fanfic here as well - find it right below the “Keep reading” button. Let me know what you think about it - your feedback fuels me like anything else :) I included some minor hints of pop culture/literature every now and then and generally had a great time writing it even though it’s still short.  I plan on updating it soon so if you like it, stay tuned :) Chapter 1 -  My heart aches, and a drowsy numbness pains my sense “You are sick, dickhead!” That was all she was able to spit out before shutting the door with such force all the yellowish photos on walls thumped the disgusting, bleached out wallpaper they were attached to. It was getting dark and a sharp sound sent shockwaves through creeping silence of the night. Tired street lamps gave out eerie orange light which sculpted everything in soft outlines and gave a fine monochrome touch to washed-out colours of the early evening. Dust, startled by the outburst, sat back on surfaces it originally sat on, creating a delicate icing on the ugly cake of an apartment it was in. It was full to the brim, filled with dying cacti in flower pots, virgin self-improvement books, some of them sealed in original plastic, action figures, statues, souvenirs from places so distant and abstract no one ever heard of them, old calendars and along with dozens of empty ball pens an assorted clutter of a bachelor. It was a miracle the small, one-room apartment did not explode with everything stored inside. On the wall next to the door, the landline phone decided to commit what it’s silent owner contemplated for years and fell down from the holder, and hit the ground with an ugly crunch. The sound made the owner snap from lethargy. Up to now, he only stood in the middle of the place, staring at the door emotionless.

 He felt nothing but a gentle touch of the street light and bags under his eyes growing heavier. When he heard what happened to his world link, he blinked and with a sigh, he took a step forward and hanged the phone back to the holder, inspecting it only to find nothing broke so far. “There, there, not today- You’ll outlive me, little friend” he let out a raspy mumble and rub back of his neck with his other hand. He didn’t feel anything out of ordinary. His back hurt a bit from the lair of his improvised bed and his sedentary job - the latter was most likely the culprit there, but he wouldn’t admit it. His stomach rumbled angrily through the thin skin and onto the fabric of his shirt - two cups of ramen a day were not enough to shut it anymore. His nose was full again - and the dust irritated it as much as it annoyed him. Yet somewhere deep inside him, the void seized power a long time ago and he didn’t give a shit about any of these things anymore. For the life of his, he couldn’t bring himself to grieve the recent loss of a lover either. People always came and went, he thought to himself. People always used him. Cheated him. Played him and inevitably left him when he needed them the most. They left him miserable. Vulnerable. Hurt. He didn’t need nor want them anymore. He abided them. He just wanted them all to die a horrible, gruesome death and if possible, to watch the whole process from the first row, bathe in their cries and pleading and enjoy his utter shortage of fucks to give with a wide grin on his face. Aaand it would make the show so much fun if he got to sprinkle his popcorn with a bit of fresh blood! Hell, if he murdered his shrink first, he would help more people than that stupid jerk ever did in his life. Come to think of it... Suddenly, before he could slide any further on his twisted spiral of thoughts, there was a familiar pressure on one of his feet and a soft purr vibrating against his shin. He blinked the mental image of creatively mutilated psychologist away and eyed his pet with a soft smile. The tomcat which settled on his foot was one of the new members of the pack as he prefered to call his furry companions. It gave those obese fluffy balls of fur a feral glamour of feared predators they might have shared with their ancestors. In reality, his pack preferred the luxury of being fed three times a day and shedding hair on his sweatshirts while sleeping wherever they collapsed. The tiny apartment currently held six members including the human one. They were all flawed to perfection, collected from behind the bars and given a new life. John Silver, the tomcat, curled up securely on his master's barefoot, lack one paw to be a complete, light grey cat. He probably lost it in a scientific experiment which went tremendously wrong and accidentally involved an electric can opener and children of his previous master. He never meowed about it but other cats knew anyway. Then there was Jude Hardy, a brown cat who smelled so bad other hissed anytime at her anytime she came close and made her spend life under the kitchen sink. Johny Lemmon had shotgun scars visible through his tabby and white fur - he got them for meowing too loud. Somewhere under the blanket on a bed was a tabby named Ulysses who lost his tail and ear on his way home one day in an accident. Right beside him slept his sister Sybile who was terribly short-sighted and bumped to anything when she attempted walking around the flat. She was there when her brother was hit by the car but there was nothing she could do to prevent it as she didn't see it coming. The only human left in the pack was named Trevor Philips.

With a cat in his arms, he made his way through a maze of full bookshelves and sat heavily into an old armchair, fidgeting to find the perfect angle. Nothing could ever compare to a fuzzy feeling of love he shared with his pack. A soft touch of fur soothed him in a way his prescription pills would never do. Trevor raised his eyes from a purring bundle of joy he held and run his fingertips down its spine, scratching and gently stroking every now and then, completely lost in his own palace of thoughts again. There’s still a couple of hours left till next dose, he thought to himself. He vividly remembered the first week he was forced to medication - a wild roar of anger and disgust from being put on a schedule, from becoming a number not worth anything else but chemical alternation. He hated every touch of an old, naphthalene smelling nurse or the bull kind of a doctor who forced his jaw open to the point it snapped on one wonderful evening. He always had himself for a person not bound by any chains or rules. His persistence in breaking rules and spitting medicine was legendary. Heck, he did it for fun. It gave him all the attention he never had and fuck people who had to pay for it with their health of job. However, one day, he woke up a different person. The mighty, untamed creature he once was was gone, and the only memory it left were nail scratches on sterile white walls of his cell and a variety of body fluids mixed and smeared all over the ceiling in a brutal, honest impersonation of Michelangelo’s chapel. The day the beast went missing was a breaking point. The world he woke up to was void of bright colours. Every bit and piece of his existence felt detached, taken aback, abstract. He would always recall the feeling of cold liquid under his bare feet and a horrid smell that brought him to senses. He never asked the doctor how long he had stood in his own faeces nor did he ask why he pissed blood. He would never tell him. Instead, he got yet another dose of medicals. And he obeyed this time. And every time they came he accepted it. Trevor knew too well they broke him and shaped him like a piece of Tetris puzzle so he could fit in the line. He knew he lost himself in the process. But since he got separated, he couldn’t bring himself to care. And when they eventually let him out of the bright white hell, when they dressed him in a cheap second-hand suit and gave him a small place to live, he didn’t rebel. He obeyed. He followed the lead. He spoke to his shrink. He got a pet. He got a job. He drank water. He ate. He slept. He shat. The same fairy tale noir of a lonely life on repeat forever. He fit the line too well. Trevor let his hand slip from Silver’s back onto an armrest. Orange coloured light from outside mixed with neon from a place he could see through a narrow alley which led to his block of flats. A bright red, intrusive and obscene. A moth trap set up with fresh meet every week, he thought to himself. He eyed the place from his armchair and looked around. His last love interest came from that bar. All she left behind was a used toothbrush in a plastic cup on a kitchen sink, a pair of bob pins under the bed and lingering smell of cheap perfume piercing everything it touched with a brutal force. She was not that different from any other woman he ever knew. Each of them wanted money and stripped men of it by shaking their asses and burying faces into their sagging cleavages. Even if they did not admit it, be it high-class wive all glamour and chic or a grey mouse of an accountant in his shithole of a job, they all were miserable whores, bitches not worth a dollar yet they would surely kill for it if given a chance. They all wore insufferable perfumes and fake smiles that made his blood boil. Unfortunately, when he got a job as an assistant in a small branch of a Fleeca bank, he had no idea the place would be full of such creatures. He recalled the first day of work with a sigh, being yelled at for not bringing a latte for accountants, then for not fetching paper clips fast enough, and then again and again till he was let out in the afternoon, completely stripped of dignity and quite frankly, he didn’t even have the energy to sustain one at given time. Now that the fifth year of his atonement passed by, all he wanted was to burn the place down as a celebration. He hasn’t done it yet. His favourite coffee mug was there and he chose not to risk such a loss. The red light took over and illuminated his way when he carefully put Silver down and took a couple of careful steps towards an old cupboard and let it moan its screech into the night. With a light chuckle, he grabbed the colourful box realising they made his mind work in schedules and tech plans. He never put it on the same place two days in a row when he first came there. Now it had its fucking place right beside unused penis-shaped pasta he received in secret Santa game at work a couple of years ago. They had their place too. Never moved an inch. Trevor popped the lid and slid an elephant worth of pills into the palm of his. Funny how everything looks like candy a second before you start tripping balls. He knew the thrill too well. Fishing a dirty glass out of the sink, filling it with piss some still called water and swallow it like an obedient little bitch he was. Good, good. Let them keep you alive or let them kill you in ways which are not as fun as drugs. As he felt the chemicals taking rule over him, everything was good somehow. The room swayed. The colours exploded. He fell on the bed. Good. Good. Good.

#gtav #fanfic #alternative universe #trikey #trevor philips #michael de santa #real_fanta_sea.fic

[clearkoalacollective]

Game Giveaway, COVID-19 Edition

Hey, everyone! If you’re stuck at home with nothing to do, I’m here to help! The usual rules apply: first come, first served, be nice to each other, don’t be greedy.  You'll need to do your own research on the games to make sure your computer is capable of running them. I'm not giving any recommendations because I don't know anything about the vast majority of them, and I don't want to point out the "good ones" so they get snatched up quickly. I will update the list as games are claimed, so every title on the list should still be available, but I'm only human, so I apologize in advance if you request something that's already been taken. Multiple titles on the list mean I have multiple keys for that game. Send me a message with the title you’d like and I’ll send you the key!

1 Screen Platformer

11-11 Memories Retold

A Glider’s Journey

Aaero

Aaero

Acceleration of SUGURI 2

Action!

Action Henk

Adventure Boy Cheapskate DX

The Adventure Pals

The Adventure Pals

Almost There: The Platformer

Ame no Marginal -Rain Marginal

Ancient Planet

Animal Super Squad

Anna’s Quest

Anomaly 2

Anomaly Defenders

Anomaly Korea

Anomaly: Warzone Earth

Anomaly Warzone Earth Mobile Campaign

ARMA Gold Edition

Artemis: God-Queen of the Hunt

Ashes of the Singularity: Escalation

Assault Android Cactus

Auto Age: Standoff

Avernum 2: Crystal Souls

Avernum 3: Ruined World

Back to Bed

Balancelot

BalanCity

Battle Riders

Battlevoid: Harbinger

Beckett

Bezier

Bit Blaster XL

Black the Fall

Blackwake

Black Mesa

Black the Fall

Blackwake

BlazBlue: Chronophantasma Extend

Bleed 2

Blockstorm

Bomb Defense

Border Force

Borderlands 2 Ultimate Vault Hunter Upgrade Pack 2

Borderlands: The Pre-Sequel

Bounty Train

Carcassonne - Inns & Cathedrals

Carcassonne - Tiles & Tactics

Cathedral

Chasm

Chime Sharp

Chivalry: Medieval Warfare

Chivalry: Medieval Warfare

Chronology

Clatter

ClusterPuck99

Colt Express

Company of Heroes

Copoka

Cosmonautica

Crawl

Crazy Machines 3

Crusader Kings 2: Dynasty Starter Pack

Cthulhu Realms

Cursed Castilla (Maldita Castilla EX)

Dead Island Definitive Edition

Dead Rising 2

Deadlight: Director’s Cut

Death Squared

Deep Dungeons of Doom

Defend Your Life: TD

Deponia Doomsday

Deponia Doomsday

Dimension Jump

Distance

Distrust

Downtown Drift

Draw Your Game

Dreadlands

DreadOut

Dreaming Sarah

Duck Game

Duskers

The Dwarves

Emily Is Away Too

Endless Legend - Classic Edition

The Escapists - Alcatraz

The Escapists - Duct Tapes are Forever

The Escapists - Escape Team

The Escapists - Fhurst Peak

Euro Truck Simulator 2

Evergarden

Everything

Everything

FaceRig

FaceRig Pro

The Fall

fault - milestone two side:above

fault milestone one

Fearless Fantasy

Feather

F.E.X. (Forced Evolution Experiment)

Fidel - Dungeon Rescue

Fight’N Rage

Figment

Filthy, Stinking, Orcs

Finding Paradise

Flat Heroes

Flinthook

Fluffy Horde

Forged Battalion

Forts

Framed Collection

FreeCell Quest

Frog Detective

Full Throttle Remastered

Galactic Civilizations III

The Gardens Between

Gloom: Digital Edition

God’s Trigger

GoNNER - Press Jump To Die Edition

Grey Goo Definitive Edition

Guild of Dungeoneering

Guilty Gear Xrd REV 2

Guns of Icarus Alliance

Gurgamoth

H1Z1

Hacknet

Hacknet

Hacknet Labyrinths DLC

Hand of Fate 2

Hard Reset Redux

Headlander

Hearts of Iron III Collection

Her Story

Hero Defense

Hexcells Complete Pack

Highway Blossoms

HIVESWAP: Act 1

Holy Potatoes! We’re in Space?!

HoPiKo

Hotline Miami 2: Wrong Number

How to Survive 2

Hurtworld

Husk

Idol Magical Girl Chiru Chiru Michiru Part 1

Idol Magical Girl Chiru Chiru Michiru Part 2

Immortal Redneck

The Incredible Adventures of Van Helsing

The Incredible Adventures of Van Helsing: Final Cut

Infested Planet

Invisible Inc.

The Journey Down: Chapter Three

Jump Stars

Kalaban

Keep Talking and Nobody Explodes

Kentucky Route Zero

Kentucky Route Zero

Kero Blaster

Kimmy

Kingdom: New Lands

Kona

Lakeview Cabin Collection

Lara Croft GO

Laser League

Last Day of June

Layers of Fear: Masterpiece Edition

Lion Quest

Loot Rascals

Lost Castle

LostWinds

Love is Dead

Love Letter

Machinarium

Machinarium Collector’s Edition

Magicka

Maize

Majesty 2 Collection

Marooners

Masquerade: The Baubles of Doom

Master Spy

Memoria

Memory’s Dogma CODE:01

MetaMorph: Dungeon Creatures

Metrico+

Mimic Arena

Minecraft: Story Mode

Minion Masters

Mirage: Arcane Warfare

Misadventures of Laura Silver: Chapter 1

Monstercat Gold 1 Year

Moon Hunters

Moonlighter

Motorsport Manager

Mr. Shifty

Mr. Shifty

Must Dash Amigos

Mysterium - Hidden Signs (expansion)

Mysterium - Secrets and Lies (expansion)

NAIRI: Tower of Shirin

Narcissu 10th Anniversary Anthology Project

NBA Playgrounds

Nemo Dungeon

Neon Chrome

Neon Drive

NeuroVoider

Nex Machina

Ninja Senki DX

No Time To Explain Remastered

Offensive Combat: Redux!

Okhlos

Old Man’s Journey

On Rusty Trails

Outlast 2

Override: Mech City Brawl

Oxenfree

Pac-Man Championship Edition 2

Painters Guild

Paper Fire Rookie

Paperbark

Paradigm

Paradigm

Paratopic

The Park

Partial Control

Passpartout: The Starving Artist

Pirate Pop Plus

Planet Alpha

Pony Island

Pool Panic

Potatoman Seeks The Troof

Pretzel Rocks Premium (1 year)

Primal Carnage: Extinction

Primal Carnage: Extinction

Project CARS

Project CARS 2

Prototype 2

Pumped BMX+

Purrfect Date - Visual Novel/Dating Simulator

Puss!

Q.U.B.E.: Director’s Cut

Q.U.B.E. 2

Quest of Dungeons

Rapture Rejects

Rapture Rejects

Rebound Dodgeball Evolved

Red Orchestra 2: Heroes of Stalingrad

The Red Solstice

Refunct

Regular Human Basketball

Regular Human Basketball

Resident Evil 5 Gold Edition

Resident Evil Revelations

Restream (1 year)

ReThink

Rising Dust

Rising Storm 2: Vietnam (includes 2 DLCs)

RIVE: Wreck, Hack, Die, Retry

Road Redemption

Rock of Ages 2: Bigger & Boulder

Rogue Rocks

Running with Rifles

Rusty Lake Hotel

Samorost 3

Sanctum 2

Satellite Reign

Scanner Sombre

Scanner Sombre

Scanner Sombre

Scrap Garden

Scythe: Digital Edition

Seasons After Fall

Serial Cleaner

SEUM: Speedrunners from Hell

Seven: The Days Long Gone

Shadow Tactics: Blades of the Shogun

Shadowrun: Hong Kong - Extended Edition

She Remembered Caterpillars

Shiness: The Lightning Kingdom

Silence

SimplePlanes

SkyScrappers

Sleeping Dogs: Definitive Edition

Slime-san

Slipstream

Snake Pass

Sniper Elite

Sniper Elite V2

Songs of Skydale

Sonic Mania

Sorcerer King: Rivals

Soul Axiom

Space Run Galaxy

Spectrum

The Spiral Scouts

Splasher

The Stanley Parable

State of Mind

Staxel

Staxel

Steamworld Heist

Steamworld Heist

The Stillness of the Wind

STRAFE: Millennium Edition

Stronghold Legends: Steam Edition

Styx: Shards of Darkness

Subterrain

Sudden Strike 4

Sundered

Sunrider: Liberation Day - Captain’s Edition

Super Chicken Catchers

Super Daryl Deluxe

Super Rude Bear Resurrection

SuperLuminauts

The Surge

Swords and Soldiers 2 Shawarmageddon

Tales of Berseria

Team Racing League

THE TEAR

Teslagrad

Think of the Children

Thomas Was Alone

THOTH

Throne of Lies: The Online Game of Deceit

Ticket to Ride: First Journey

Tiltagon

Tiny Echo

TIS-100

Tom Clancy’s The Division + Survival (uPlay)

Tormentor X Punisher

Tower of Guns

Tower Unite

Toy Odyssey: The Lost and Found

Train Valley

Tricky Towers

Tricky Towers

TumbleSeed

Tumblestone

The Turing Test

Twilight Struggle

Uurnog Uurnlimited

Verdun

Victor Vran

Virginia

Void Bastards

Wargame: Red Dragon

Warhammer 40,000: Mechanicus

Wasted Pizza

Wasteland

Wasteland 2: Director’s Cut - Standard Edition

We Were Here Too

The Window Box

Witch It

Wizard of Legend

WORLD END ECONOMiCA episode.01

WORLD END ECONOMiCA episode.02

WORLD END ECONOMiCA episode.03

World to the West

Wurm Unlimited

XSplit Premium (1 year)

XSplit VCAM

Yoku’s Island Express

Yume Nikki

YUMENIKKI -DREAM DIARY-

Zero Reflex: Black Eye Edition

Ziggurat

Zombie Army Trilogy

[miamaroo]

Northern Migration- Chapter 29 (Notes+Preview)

It's been forty long years since I last updated. Does anyone even write TAZ Balance fics anymore? Does anyone even remember that I'm a writer, or is my brand just that pair of unnecessary bara tiddies that all the kids around the block make fun of me for nowadays? Either way, I'm still in business. And what is a new chapter if not an opportunity to give a long list of notes?

Obviously, spoilers ahead.  

Did you catch that quick little appearance of Brad Bradson? I very recently rewrote that entire opening scene in order to include a new character, which gave me the chance to reinsert Brad into the story instead of featuring a nameless OC.

See that quick mention of Bane's past? That's going to be expanded on very soon (or at least, soon by my standards).

And the new character I wanted to include is Antonia! Again, I originally had a throwaway OC in this role, but when I was writing the chapter after this, I realized the role I needed was too big to go to a throwaway OC. I didn't include the other guy (Rowan?? I think??) because I felt like it would be too much for me to properly handle. Plus, I don't think he and Antonia are a packaged deal. I'll do my best to find a place for him somewhere else in the story, but I also have had Hecuba on the backburner for way too long. She gets first dibs.

The threat Sterling gives Bane works a little better with the throwaway OC I had, who was a captain from a different city looking to take over Bane's position in Goldcliff. Essentially, the threat was Bane being replaced.

Oh, you assumed Angus was inoculated off-screen? You assumed incorrectly!

Magnus and Julia are just *chef's kiss*

I am in Team Lucretia Should Be Angus's Mom, but that only comes with the understanding that she's kinda bad at it. Which is mostly fine with Angus, as he's pretty bad at being a normal kid with normal needs.

Taako's meeting with Istus was vaguely alluded to during the flashback of how he and Ren saved Refuge (back during the Wonderland arc). He went there without Ren (the POV character), so the scene was never written.

Having Julia cross herself in front of a god is an overtly Christian gesture, and frankly, it does bug me that I had to utilize it here. I'm trying to avoid coding this fantasy world's religion with too much Christianity, but I needed a way to convey Julia trying to show respect quickly and without burdening the prose too much. So I felt a little trapped and ended up just using crossing anyways. I was raised Catholic, so there's probably a whole bunch of Little Christian Things that just pop up in my writing without me realizing so it's kinda a bummer that I couldn't find a way to work around something I know I'm doing.

Istus is just out here referring to the canonical story as an alternate reality

I try to make Davenport's comments discernable to the reader without needing a direct translation, but I feel as though I may have messed up this time around. When Istus warns that there is a terrible choice in their futures, Davenport essentially asks if this is the same terrible fate the Judges from the Stolen Century had condemned them for.  So Istus's repone ("Indeed, but I don't see your deeds as ones that are mine to judge") is reassuring as it is a little cheeky.

If you want more of Julia challenging gods with reckless abandon, read my story.

Isn't it just lovely that the prophecy fits the naming scheme of all the chapters?

I knew I wanted to kill someone in the main cast off, but I spent a long time trying to decide if I could do it without betraying everything tazb stands for. Inevitably, I decided that it's my story, and I want to take the risk. I think that it will be worth it. I am not a big fan of character death being there just for the same of being there, and I hope that when the time comes and I bring the scene I have in mind to life, you guys will be okay with it. This is chapter sort of acts as an in-universe warning so that you can start preparing yourself mentally (though it's not going to happen during this upcoming relic arc for sure). The archive tags will change as we get closer to the deed being done.

I am also doubling down on my reassurance that Stevie will be okay with an in-story explanation for her plot armor.

All the way back in January, I had made a few posts about trying to decide between the fun anachronism of a scrunchie and the fantasy-esque poncho. As you can see, I did both.

There is no possible way anyone can triumph the soul-purifying beauty of "you're going to be amazing," but damnit. I did my best, even if I only changed it ever so slightly. They have already done a lot of amazing things. And you know what? So have you! You're already amazing!

Oh, John. This is probably the most ambiguously I've written him yet. One thing's for sure: something has changed for him, though only time will tell what that thing is.

I'm claiming "Landslide" as track #2 on a NM mixtape. Don't @ me.

Lucas used command undead on Barry in chapter 24, preventing him from taking the umbra staff when he had the chance.

Lup and Barry souls are pure magic, so I imagine Barry can recognize Lup's magic anywhere.

I've been writing Barry as very depressed and slightly off-kilter because I imagine his anchor to Lup is disturbed somewhat by her imprisonment.

Despite seeing vague visions of the Stolen Century, Ren can't piece any of it together because knowledge of all those realities could ruin her mind like it did Maureen.

I imagine Kravitz was leaning against a wall when he saw Stevie run by and just sort of shrugged to himself. He doesn't quite catch how much society has changed yet.

I am half asleep right now, so no more quips. Here's the preview for the next chapter:

While Taako is all color, the Grim Reaper is a void of black. Muted traces of reds and purples make themselves known on the trim of his blanket and beads in his braids, but he doesn’t seem to need any neon hues. He looks warm, like the relic of a hazy summer day. Yet, when Taako jabs an elbow at his stomach, he yelps in surprise and complains about the cold.

“Intriguing pair, right?”

Julia quirks a brow, looking askance to see Lucretia hiding her smile behind her map. “That’s a way of putting it,” she says. “No matter how you look at it, one of them is going to get you dead.”

Lucretia shakes her head. “Be fair.”

“Sure. It’s the Raven Queen’s fault.” A moment too late, Julia crosses herself. She’s never considered herself a religious person, but after meeting one goddess, she dares not risk angering another.

“Taako, too.” Lucretia folds up the map with intention. Her robe is like a slash of scarlet, but she carries the power of it with practiced ease. On Taako, the color looks like a costume—a role he’s only playing at being. A suggestion with no foundation. Even Kravitz, in his reaper regalia, seems made to fulfill a duty. Maybe that’s why Julia wears a peasant, mud-colored cloak that reaches her knees. Beyond a red scarf tied in her short hair, she doesn’t fake having an allegiance to something not her own. “Who knows? Perhaps this little adventure together will help you realize each other’s strengths.”

Julia snorts. “Yeah. Sure. Thank you Taako for using your transmutation magic to stop the transmutation problem you created.”

“Oh, stop. You’re making me blush.” Taako pushes between them, wry words cutting through the calm atmosphere. The woods around them is quiet in a disconcerting kind of way, as if the universe wants them to know that they are crazy for approaching what all others have fled. Taako saunters ahead, twirling his glaive, He spins around lazily. He looks ready to say something when a particular snowflake drifts down before him. It’s bigger than the rest, the size of a coin. Bright and white, they watch as it floats the last few inches until touching the snow.

The snow around it sloshes inwards, spilling like sand on a beach. Except, it’s no longer white. It’s makeup pink. Seeping outwards like a spider webs, the tendrils of magic make a larger and larger circle of pink in the snow.

Everyone scrambles away, knowing without words what they’re seeing.

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