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ailithnight · 1 year

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Okay, so, Brain Dead rejected soulmate AU but Danny is the one who rejected Tim.

Let's say in this world that there are many types of soul bonds.

You've got your standard and fairly common First Words and Skin Art.

Then you've got less common things like Shared Dreams, Colorblind Until You Meet, and Red String.

And then you've got the very rare Telepathic Bond and Empathic Bond.

Finally, there's the ultra rare, one in a million, Shared Pain* soul bonds. It helps that the flip side of this particular bond means Shared Comforts**, but still, it is not the kind of bond people hope for.

Naturally, Fenton luck dictates that this is what Danny (and by extension, his soulmate) gets stuck with.

And at first it's fine. Like, bumps and scrapes happen but it's no big deal. Then the bullying starts and Danny feels a bit guilty that his soulmate has to deal with it by proxy.

But, Danny learns how to minimize damage. And the way Danny can feel his soulmate gentle nursing the pains when he can't, indulging in extra comforts for the both of them, makes Danny think that maybe it's okay.

After all, if it was really to much, Danny's soulmate would have already rejected him.

And when Danny's soulmate starts getting a bit more roughed up when they're 13, naturally Danny returns the favor; never wishing to sever the bond, only wishing he could prevent the pain all together.

Then Danny turns 14.

Then Danny dies. But survives.

He cries that night, his soulmate desperately trying to push comfort through their bond while all Danny can think about is how he shouldn't have gone in that portal. He shouldn't have been so reckless. He should have PROTECTED them.

And to top it all off, suddenly he's not just Dash's personal punching bag. No, there's a whole host of ghostly rogues that like to come bother Danny. And maybe it was still okay when it was just ectopusses or Lunch Lady or Boxy.

But as more and more powerful ghosts come through, as the fights get harder and Danny takes more damage, the guilt over what he's subjecting his soulmate to eats at him.

And after Danny meets Vlad, the first enemy he faces that he really can't beat, he makes the decision. This isn't going to end. These fights, these pains...

Someday he's going to face an enemy that is going to grind him into the dirt. That's going to kill him again, probably slowly and unpleasantly, and Danny already subjected his soulmate to one death, he refuses to put him through another.

So Danny mentally reaches deep inside himself, real hands placing themselves above his heart.

Feeling around for the source of that gentle warmth his soulmate is pushing through their bond.

He finds it, grasping with imaginary hands while his real ones clench the fabric of his shirt.

Feels the way the warmth stutters. The sharp jolt of pain on his elbow as his soulmate probably knocks it when he realizes what Danny is doing.

Danny pays it no mind. He holds the bond between then tightly; tears welling up in his eyes as phantom arms wrap around himself, his soulmate's desperate plea for Danny not to do what he's about to.

Danny yanks, physical hands all but tearing the shirt off his chest as mental ones rip the bond from his and his soulmate's hearts.

The last pain they'll ever share comes crashing into him, the distinct Rejection scar crackling across his chest not unlike the Lichtenburg on his arm.

It hurts, but less than dying had.

Then the pain is gone. Or rather, that pain is gone.

The dull aches from the fight with Plasmius throb and a part Danny finds himself missing the soothing comforts his soulmate had provided him, emptiness filling the space they used to occupy.

But another part of Danny, the part that is more ghost than human, swells with pride knowing he has protected his soulmate from Danny's own inevitable fate.

As Danny inspects Rejection spidering out from his heart, a strange hollow giddiness settles in his stomach. It makes him giggle.

His brain notes that if Dash ever sees this, he'll assume he finally succeeded in making Danny's soulmate reject him.

Danny giggles harder.

Not that Danny will correct him. Or his friends or his sister when they find out for that matter. They worry enough about him as is. They don't need to know just how far Danny is willing to go to protect the people he loves.

He's stifling laughter now, trying not to wake the neighbors.

Sitting alone on the roof of Fentonworks at 3 in the morning, Danny laughs until he sobs, then laughs and sobs until he can't breathe, then laughs and sobs and struggles to breathe until a light blue mist comes gasping past he lips.

His hysterics taper of and he lets the now familiar cold feeling of his ghost form spread across his body, pausing only for a second when he notices the new spiderwebbing across the chest of his hazmat suit, just a shade darker than the rest of the black material.

Oh well. It's not too noticeable and if some sees it he can just pretend it was always there. Just like he's going to pretend the emptiness in his heart was always there. Where it belongs.

~~~

Tim is at the Bat Computer desperately searching for any kind of clue who and where his soulmate is.

Of course, Tim had searched before, been searching basically since grade school when it became clear his soulmate was dealing with either bullying or an abusive home.

But Tim's efforts had tripled lately. Ever since that fateful day 4 months ago when he'd practically had a seizure in the middle of family dinner.

It had felt like he was dying, the echos of electric shocks up his arm and into his heart coming through his soul bonds. Followed soon after by the sense of something terrifying and foreign opening up in his chest and forcing its way into every molecule of his body.

Tim is pretty sure he screamed.

It was several minutes before the sensations ended and a strange coldness filled his being. For a minute, Tim was terrified his soulmate had died, until the cold retreated to a place just beside his heart and phantom hands could be felt trying to comfort and soothe.

At the time, Tim thought that would be that. Some kind of terrible accident. A story his soulmate would tell him when they finally found each other.

But that wasn't that.

It started with that strange coldness never leaving the space beside his heart. Then sometimes the coldness would spread, filling his whole body for brief periods of time. Then those periods of time started to come with some kind of pain. A scrape, a bruise, sore muscles.

The kind of injuries Tim got on patrol as Robin.

Which was something he'd not been allowed to do near as much since the aftermath of that dinner when Bruce had learned what kind soul bond Tim had.

"Tim, you can't keep throwing yourself into the line of fire. It's bad enough when you get hurt, but for your soulmate to have to suffer too?"

Stupid Bruce and his stupid rules. Tim and his soulmate had been fine before, thank you very much. And it wasn't Robin that got struck by lightning or something. Tim really isn't sure what kind of accident would result in the things he had felt that night, but electrocution is at least part of it.

But since then, Tim's soulmate had been getting more and more injuries at any and all hours of the day. If Tim had been worried before distressed now. Something had happened and now Tim's soulmate who was already dealing with something before now seemed to be in constant danger. Tim needs to find them, needs to help them, make them safe.

He doesn't look, doesn't take his eyes off the news articles on the screen as a presence appears behind him. No 2 presences. And the elevator dings bringing a third. But Tim keeps scanning articles, looking for some clue about a kid getting electrocuted and a town gaining a young vigilante shortly after.

A heavy hand lands on his shoulder, gravelly voice speaking in gentle tones. "It's almost 4am son." Tim doesn't respond. Bruce sighs and spins the chair around. Dick and Alfred are both there looking concerned and stern respectively. "It's bed time."

"My soulmate is in trouble. They're not safe. I need to find them. And you're worried about my bed time?"

"You need some sleep, Master Tim. You won't know you've found anything if you're to tired to see straight." Bruce nods and Dick puts on his best big brother face.

"Get some rest, Tim. We can keep looking later."

Tim opens his mouth to argue, but pauses at the strange tugging sensation in his heart. He briefly wonders what trouble his soulmate is in now before he realizes what the almost feeling of hands on his soul bond means.

He gasps and jerks in the chair, knocking his elbow on the arm rest and the warm blanket he'd cocooned himself in to send comfort back to his soulmate off his shoulders.

Even Alfred's expression turns concerned when Tim wraps his arms around himself, trying to convey along the soul bond his plea for his soul mate not to do this.

"Tim?" Tim isn't sure which family member speaks. Can't focus on it as his soulmate yanks on the bond, ripping it and the strange comfortable coldness out.

Tim cries out, three sets of hands immediately moving in to comfort him. Sight and sound turn to static as Rejection burns across his chest not unlike the electrocution had crawled up his arm four months ago.

Then the pain vanishes.

And Tim looks up at Bruce, knows he's got tears rolling down his face, searching pitifully for a father's comfort.

"They Rejected me."

Bruce startles, but quickly stoops down to wrap Tim in a hug and Dick lays a comforting hand on Tim's head and Alfred retreats probably to make something comforting and Tim cries at the emptiness where the bond should be and the now too warm spot beside his heart.

And yet, deep in his mind where gears are still turning, Tim resolves to still find his soulmate, even without the bond, if only to ask them why.

This was supposed to be a prompt, maybe a premise, but I got carried away.

So now y'all can have this piece of pain I have no intention of continuing. Enjoy!

And since I don't plan on continuing, if some else wants to run with it, have at and have fun!

*Shared Pain in this AU just means soulmates feel the pain, not that they recieve the injuries. So if a soulmate breaks an arm, the other will feel the break, but their arm will be physically fine.

**Shared Comforts meaning that soulmates also share good feelings. So if one person is all wrapped up comfy cozy in a nice thick blanket, the other also feels that warmth. But like with the pain, it's a phantom feeling. Won't keep the soulmate not bundled up from hypothermia.

#dp x dc #brain dead #rejected soulmate au #my writing #I am aware that Tim is probably super ooc #Buuuut #I don't care #Blorbos are squishy so you can contort them to fit your narrative #Right?#Right

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neverchecking · 6 months

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Day 14: Self-cest- Four

So this isn't ACTUALLY self-cest, but I'm sure you can see why I chose Four for this prompt.

Smut so Minors Do Not Interact. If I find out a minor has interacted with my blog, I will block you.. Thank you!

Smut CW:

This is Day fourteen of My Kinktober so be sure to come back and check out the other days! Friendly Reminder that all of my smut is tagged 'Cindersins' including this, but this will also be tagged as 'Cinder's happy halloween' along with the run of the mill smut tags.

Kinktober Masterlist <<< Day 13 >>>Day 15

It hadn’t been the first time you had seen him split, not by a long shot. But this time felt like the first. While the colors each had their own consciousness, their own train of thoughts, they still all thought the same as Four did.

All of their hands still touched your skin with the utmost grace befitting of a divine being, fingers soft and featherlight as if you would break should they push too hard. They all sang your praises, your sweet hymns, as if chanting them enough would make them anymore real. Every moment, they ensured you understood just how much they worshiped you. Kissed the very land you walked on in hopes you would bestow your presence upon them.

And when you did, they made sure they remained well worth your time.

Lips pressed kiss after pledging kiss to your supple skin, aching to hear every little noise that left your gorgeous lips. Every sigh, moan, exhale of ecstasy that you failed to keep to yourself. Each was taken greedily, like they couldn’t wait for the next, shoving at each other to take over the action that bestowed upon them the blessed noise.

It was almost overwhelming to you. The feeling of eight hands brushing against your skin, pawing at your chest and toying with your sex. A pair kept your thighs primed open as one of the colors lapped at your core, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he found nearly as much pleasure in pleasing you that he would’ve should the roles have reversed. Every brush of his tongue against your hole was rough and firm, yet so deliciously delectable.

Another pair of hands toyed with the left side of your chest, pinching and massaging at the flesh and flicking at the nipples, almost clinically. Watching your expressions and adjusting his ministrations to better gain whatever reaction you were giving him. The other was being suckled like a babe to a teat. Blubbered cries were left muffled as one hand shook, rapidly jerking at his shaft while he licked, nipped and sucked at your nipple, drool pearling out the sides of his mouth and down your chest.

The final pair split. One hand cupped your cheek, gently running his thumb up and down your cheek as praises spilled out of his lips. The remaining hand was palming his cock but made no move to wrap around it. It fondled at his balls and fiddled with the head, but that was the extent it went. There was no need for him to please himself when he could spend his time pleasing you.

His glorious benevolent ruler.

And while each color has their own conscious and own thoughts, they all have the same goal.

Worshiping you as their ethereal, heavenly deity.

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