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villainousshakespeare · 2 years

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Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 4

Therapy Fit for a God Chapter 3

Loki/OFC Rated M (may go up to E in future chapters) Trigger Warnings: Angst, talk of suicide, therapy, unhealthy family dynamics, mention of torture and mind control

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3

Loki’s plans to conquer and rule Midgard have come to a disastrous end. After being captured by the Avengers, he is being held on Earth. Odin has refused to interfere, and the outlook for the God of Mischief appear bleak. His only hope may lie in one mortal woman, a Psychiatric expert brought in to interrogate him.

Dr. Caroline Thorpe is intrigued by Loki and thinks that more lies beneath his actions than is commonly known. Can she find out the truth before he is shipped off to die for crimes against the Earth? And can Loki bring himself to care?

@yespolkadotkitty @just-the-hiddles @hopelessromanticspoonie @wine-and-whines @arch-venus25 @caffiend-queen @devilish–doll @enchantedbyhiddles @hiddlesholic @i-do-not-fangirl-i-fanwoman @kellatron55 @ladyoftheteaandblood @latent-thoughts @yespolkadotkitty@maryxglz @myoxisbroken @nuggsmum @nildespirandum @pedeka @redfoxwritesstuff @sinfully-lustful-darling @vodka-and-some-sass @wrathkitty @kingtwhiddleston @wolfsmom1 @poetic-fiasco @shiningloki @dangertoozmanykids101 @bookworm-christina @amwolowicz @delightfulheartdream @frostbitten-written @what-a-flammable-heart @tom-hlover @nonsensicalobsessions @myraiswack @loki-yoursaviourishere @ghostypau @ms-cellanies @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @mareebird @colorfulfreakstudentpizza @szycha22 @chokemedaddyloki @queenofallhobos @just-the-hiddles-reads @alwida10

"Well, that was some excitement!" Caroline tried for an amused tone, but it sounded flat to her own ears. "I am sorry for the interruption."

Loki didn't speak, but instead sat staring at his trembling hands, the haunted look she had seen in his eyes still shadowed there. Cautiously, not wanting to spook him further, she walked over and placed her hand on his shoulder. Loki winced at the contact but did not pull away. She could feel a slight shiver running through him.

"I will not let Pierce hurt you, Loki," she said quietly, uncertain how she would make good on the promise.

"Pierce," he spat the name. "A mere annoyance. What harm could he do to me? A few days of pain followed by death? Easy enough to face."

"Then what is it that you fear - no, let me rephrase that, as I know you fear nothing," she mentally rolled her eyes that the male ego, no matter the species, was apparently universal. "What has caused you to react so strongly?"

"Pierce is a child, nothing more. His imagination is limited. There are others... much more inventive in their tactics."

"And these others are looking for you?"

His silence was answer enough.

"Loki, what happened after you let go on the Bifrost?"

"What, do you desire a blow by blow of my year and more? I fell. I landed. I was found. I slept, I ate, I breathed. I survived."

"You fell, let's start there. I cannot imagine what that must have been like."

"No," he agreed quietly after a silent moment. "You cannot. Darkness, so complete and total you wonder if you still have eyes to see at all. Cold. Cold enough to takes away all sensation in your skin and bones. And silence that deafens in its totality. It was endless, the nothingness. It could have been days, or centuries, or the blink of an eye and I would not have known the difference. It just was."

"That sounds terrifying," she shuddered.

"To be completely alone with only your own thoughts? Mildly terrifying, yes. Particularly when your thoughts had wandered as far afield as mine had done recently. Of course, your kind would have been dead in an instant. Me though, I went on. Is it falling when there is no direction? I do not know. Eventually, a flicker materialized. I thought at first it was a sign of madness. I knew that I had not been exactly sane for some time... since that moment in the vault days before. Was I now adding hallucinations to my list of symptoms? But inexorably the flicker began to grow stronger, larger, to take on a shape. It was a ship, out beyond the realms, far from Odin's reach. I would have laughed if I remembered how, frozen as I was. I had sought an escape of one kind, but it seemed I had found another. Some kind souls were rescuing me from the grim fate that I had chosen over a life locked away in the Asgardian cells. Kind, merciful souls."

His voice was soft, but his lips twisted into a mocking sneer on the last words. Caroline sensed that he was far away, not with her at all. She gave him a moment, wanting to see what he would volunteer.

"Am I not lucky, Caroline?"

"That is not quite the word I would use. Were they kind? Your rescuers?" She had a sick feeling she knew the answer.

"At first they seemed so, to a point," he said in a dull voice. "They pulled me in, thawed me out, fed me. None of them spoke much, at least not to me, but gradually as my senses returned, I realized that it was no mercy mission they were performing. I was to be restored to health that I might be sold to a mining colony as slave labor. Needless to say, I did not care for this plan."

"I should think not. What did you do?"

"Took over their ship. It was not difficult. I thought of seeking out the colony they planned to sell me to and see how they liked being free labor, but in the end, it was too much trouble. I found a planet nearby and landed there, took their weapons for myself, and what supplies were of use to me and left them to rot or be rescued, whatever fate would determine, in their own brig."

"I would say that was charitable, all things considered," Caroline said. "What then?"

"I wandered for a time. Aimless, really. Gave myself over to the sort of vice and frivolity that Odin frowned on. If he was not my father, why should I obey his rules? If there was a place of ill repute in the outer planets, I sampled it. I learned quite a bit in my pursuits, so it was not all a waste. Perhaps someday I will share some of it with you, if you like."

The way his eyes became dark and hooded on the last words left Caroline with little doubt what sort of things he had learned. She did her best to hide the swift reaction his words caused through her body, but the slight smirk that ghosted over his lips left her embarrassingly certain that she had failed.

"Go on," she said, hating the strain in her voice.

"Things went on in this fashion for a bit," he resumed, after throwing her a sly smile. "Then one day, when my supplies had run low, I decided to help myself to an obligingly well-stocked armory. I had just slipped in and tucked a few things into my pocket dimension for later use, when I was suddenly beset by guards. I killed a score or so, but eventually their leader appeared, a female with blue skin and robotic alterations. She was a bit humorless, but recognized talent when she saw it. After some quick talking on my part, she dismissed the guards and invited me to meet her father."

"Her father?" Caroline prompted, as Loki went silent.

"Thanos," he said at last, the name sounding bitter. "The Mad Titan. A powerful being, even to me. He was looking for recruits for his army. I heard him out, but I have never really been much of a joiner, so at the end of the day I politely declined. It is safe to say that Thanos does not take rejection well."

"What happened?"

"He imprisoned me," Loki said, that haunted look returning to his eyes. "I had thought to escape one prison on Asgard, only to find myself in a far worse one. He gave my keeping over to a black sorcerer called the Other. Things went rapidly down hill from there."

"Torture?" Caroline guessed, grieving for him.

"Tortue as you know it would be nothing to the Other. He was a true artist. It was not just my body he sought to break, but my mind as well. He reached in and pulled out every thought, every feeling I had ever had. Do you know what it is to have your own mind used against you? Every day he played with me, inflicting pain only to heal me so that he could do it again. He created illusions so real, even now I am not entirely sure that you are real, and I do not still linger in that cell. He delighted in giving me hope, only to snatch it away and mock me for believing it might exist. And all the time, he asked for the same thing. That I swear over my allegiance to Thanos and be reborn as one of his children. He promised me everything I ever wanted - a home, a kingdom to rule, the chance to take my revenge on those who had wronged me. All I had to do was give away my will to him and his master."

"Loki, I am so sorry."

"I do not seek your pity," he snarled, before taking a deep breath and pulling himself back under control. "I resisted for months. I kept hoping he would tire of the game and kill me. I think he might have, but Thanos had a new idea. He arrived himself one day at my cell, a gold scepter in his hand with a glowing blue stone set in it. He was as kind as the Other had been harsh. He talked soothingly to me, reminding me of all that had been taken away by Thor, Odin, and their lackies. He insisted that he was not my enemy, he was one who would set me free. As he spoke, I began to feel my resentment for my false family grow. They had turned on me, humiliated me, lied to me. It was because of them I had suffered so much pain. Thanos told me again of his goal to save the universe, of the Infinity Stones, a collection of gems he needed to do so. This time, it seemed to make sense to me. He weaved a picture of a new order, with me as a central figure. He could help me, he promised. Send me to Earth with the power and armies to conquer it. It could be my realm, not Asgard perhaps, not yet, but surely better than the cold reaches of the Jotunheim that Odin had planned for me."

Caroline was practically holding her breath as he paused, not wanting to risk pushing him back into defensive silence. She had the feeling he was not even aware anymore that she was in the room. He was talking to himself as much as to her now.

"I knew it was a lie," he continued at last. "A part of my mind screamed at me not to listen, to keep resisting him. It all sounded so perfect though. And the resentment I felt, the righteous, all-consuming anger, drowned out the truth. On the one hand was revenge, sweet and rewarded, on the other a continuation of the endless torture I had endured. He held out the scepter and told me it was mine to wield if I would just do as he asked and bring him the tesseract when I had conquered Midgard."

"So you took it," Caroline finished when he did not.

"I took it. I sold my soul for power and revenge. I grasped it with both hands and threw myself into a war that was never mine. I became the villain Thor and Odin thought me. I chose, Dr. Thorpe, and I chose evil."

"It was not a fair choice," Caroline said, feeling it to her core.

"Fair is for children and pets," he shot back. "Life is not about fair. I could have fought longer. I could have resisted."

"That was the scepter in the room just now? The one this Thanos gave you?"

"It was."

"Why did you say none of them could use it?" there was a piece missing, she was sure of it.

"The scepter is not just a weapon, or not an ordinary one. The blue jewel embedded in the head, that is the Mind Stone."

"Mind Stone?" she asked.

"It took me a while to put it together, I blush to admit. There are six Infinity Stones - Mind, Power, Time, Reality, Space, and Soul. Each one has a different power. The mind stone, as you might infer, grants you control over the minds of others."

"That was how you hypnotized Dr. Selvig and the others," Caroline put it together.

"It was. One tap to the heart, and if the wielder has the power to use it, you have a willing slave," Loki confirmed. "There is more to it, however. More than I was told. Thanos had the Mind Stone in his possession for some time. He had worked on it, brought it under his control. When he gave it to me, he handed me a chain. All of the killing resentment I was feeling, the hate... that was stoked continually by the Stone. It effects all around it, appealing to their baser interests, tempting them to violence. If one of the lesser mortals tried to use it, someone who's mind was not strong, it would consume them utterly. They would be a puppet."

"So the whole time, the whole attack, you were being controlled as well!"

"I knew what I was doing," Loki shook his head. "I made a choice."

"A choice born out of torture! A choice coerced and enforced by mind control."

"I am not the victim, doctor. And I told you before, I do not want your pity."

"What about my compassion?" she demanded. "You suffered a terrible trauma, almost died in a void, were tortured endlessly, and to top it all off, when you were at your most vulnerable, you were subjected to a stone that controls minds. Loki, I have been a trauma specialist for over a decade, and I have never met anyone who has suffered more than you! Yes, you made mistakes. Before your fall and after it. But given everything you went through, who would do otherwise?"

"You see what you want to see," he smiled at her with pity of his own. "It is kind, but unwarranted."

"And what now?" she demanded of him.

"Now? I am guessing that your Secretary Pierce will have me killed. It was kind of Thor to get me this brief reprieve, and you are much more pleasing company than the soldiers, but I have learned the hard way not to trust in false hope. The trial will take place tomorrow, and I will be found guilty of war crimes and executed."

"How can you say that so calmly?"

"Death has been stalking me for some time, Doctor," he said. "That she finally caught me is hardly a surprise."

"No."

"No?" Loki sounded genuinely amused by her determined outburst.

"No, you are not going to be killed," she repeated, resolved within herself.

"And how, may I ask, are you going to stop it?"

"I don't know, but I will."

Caroline stood, smoothing her skirt down as her thoughts raced. Loki was a victim, despite his insistence to the contrary. She had suspected from the start that there was more to the story than the world knew, but even she had never dreamt the depth of his suffering. She would be damned before she let him suffer more. He needed care and time to heal, not a summary execution. She just had to figure out how to make the powers that be realize this.

"I need to talk to someone," she told him.

"I'm not going anywhere," he smiled sadly. "Not yet, at any rate."

"I will be back," she insisted, once more touching his shoulder and seeing his flicker of surprise. "Thank you, Loki, for telling me your story."

"You are easy to talk to, Caroline. And not like the other mortals I have encountered. I will be sorry not to get to know you better."

For once, Caroline didn't sense any double entendre lurking beneath his words. It went to her heart, and she felt a completely unprofessional urge to throw her arms around him and weep. Blinking back the hint of tears, she squeezed his shoulder instead and went in search of someone who might help them.

***

She really was a sweet little thing. Clever too, for a mortal. She had known just when to speak and when to keep silent, drawing out more than Loki had ever planned to share with anyone.

There was a slight easing, he was shocked to find, now that he had spoken his nightmare aloud. He had been holding it so tightly, doing his best to keep from even thinking about that lost year of his life. It sat all the time like a weight inside of him, gnawing away at what was left of his soul. The shame of surrendering to Thanos vied with the shame of his true Jotun nature for pride of place among his faults. A stronger, better man would have resisted till the end.

He was not a good man, or monster as the case might be. He was weak, flawed, fatally so. Caroline might think she could save him, but Loki knew better. She was but one woman, and the entire planet was united against her in their belief that Loki deserved death. What could she realistically do?

He realized that his hand had strayed to his shoulder, where she had recently touched him. It had been so long, he thought yearningly. So long since someone had touched him with compassion. Yes, he had spent time exploring a myriad of sexual experiences, but the men and women and others he partnered with had been little more than mere bodies, pleasurable in most cases, but hardly reaching deeper than the moment. There had been no empathy, no connection with any of them.

The last time someone had touched him in such a way had been when Frigga embraced him after he killed Laufey. It was Loki's last pleasant memory, and then Thor had arrived, and it had all spiraled out from there. Caroline reminded him a bit of Frigga. Kind, compassionate, optimistic in the darkest of times. He had done his best not to think of his mother of late. She had been his source of kindness and support growing up, and it ate at him to know that she had gone along with the lie Odin devised. He did not like to feel anger with her, shied away when it rose up, so he kept her locked away from his conscious thoughts.

She would mourn him, though, along with Caroline. Possibly Thor as well, who seemed to vacillate almost comically between defending and condemning his adopted brother. Poor Thor, Loki couldn't help thinking, attempting to reconcile two opposing thoughts when he could barely handle one.

That was more like it! Loki did not want to wallow in self-pity. It was much more in keeping with his self-image to mock his erstwhile brother than to look closely at his past. If he was going to die, he would do it with a quip and all the snark he could muster.

Perhaps when Caroline came back, and he no longer doubted she would, he could persuade her to send him off in style. He had seen her reactions to his flirting and knew that empathy was not all she felt for him. There was desire there between them, crackling in the air. It would be interesting to see where that might lead, if for no other reason than to make the long night before him more bearable. Losing himself in the lovely doctor would be easy enough to do, he was certain, and it would be a way to thank her for the kindness she had shown him.

Yes, he decided, straightening up on his bench. If this was to be his final night this side of Hel, he would spend it indulging in one last pleasure with the one person who saw him as worthy.

#Loki #Loki Fic #Loki Fanfic #Loki/OFC #Loki gets Therapy #post avengers assemble #Talk of torture #Odin's A+ parenting #angst #mind control #mention of smut #the void #what happened to Loki #Loki needs a hug #touch starved

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evermoredeluxe · 12 days

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“i hate it here” is peak escapism and hearing her talk about how she lives in a garden no one else has access to in her mind (unlike the rest of her life) for most of the year is sooooo. made up scenarios and imagining living in the 1800s… it’s giving the lakes except she’s alone and she can’t actually leave. so much of the album is about feeling stuck and this one is about feeling stuck in herself.

#i hate it here #ttpd #the tortured poets department #taylor swift #arshia takes #arshia talks

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arabellas · 3 months

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new eras tour outfit ideas dropped!!!

#taylor swift #the eras tour #swifties #grammys #the tortured poets department #greta talks

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palipunk · 6 months

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There are fears for thousands of missing Palestinians after the Israeli government cancelled work permits for Gazans after the deadly Hamas attacks on 7 October.

Trade unions, officials and humanitarian organisations have raised concerns for their safety after reports Palestinians with permission to work in Israel were rounded up, arrested and blindfolded before being taken to military camps.

The Minister of Labour for the Palestinian Authorities, Dr Nasri Abu Jaish, told The Independent around 4,500 workers were still unaccounted for but are believed to have been detained by Israeli forces. Dr Jaish said he had met workers after some of them were released, sharing stories of alleged mistreatment.

“They’re being tortured,” Dr Jaish said. “They’re beaten and scarves are tied around their eyes so they don’t know where they are. Many of them are sick and they don’t give them medicine. They don’t give them water or food. They’re in open-air camps and aren’t allowed to speak to each other.”

Thousands of Palestinians missing. Thousands. In fucking camps.

#palestine #free palestine #cw torture #literally sick to my stomach reading this but nobody is talking about the THOUSANDS of Palestinians that have been abducted

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wanders-in-wonderland · 4 months

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Date Night Distractions

“Stop squirming or I’m going to pull out,” he growls into my ear. I whine softly, feeling my pussy clench down around his cock inside of me as I reluctantly keep still. He huffs softly against my neck and grabs the TV remote off the couch, turning up the volume on whatever inane movie is playing.

When he’d suggested we stream a movie for date night, I did not think I’d end up naked, seated on his lap, locked in his arms, and cockwarming him for the entire two hour long film. I checked out of the movie an hour ago, focusing only on the feeling of his long, hard cock filling my pussy so perfectly. But no matter how much I squirmed, begged, and wriggled around on his lap, he refused to fuck me or do anything other than lightly kiss my shoulder and stroke my arms.

Not even a few minutes later, I’m impatiently rocking my hips against him, feeling his hard cock brush up against my g-spot with every move. Small, breathless moans are escaping between my parted lips as I melt against him, eyes closing in pleasure and leaning the back of my head on his shoulder, letting my legs splay open on either side.

“You really can’t follow directions tonight, huh, darling?” He murmurs.

“Please, daddy, please I want you to fuck me,” I whimper, turning my neck to stare up at him beggingly.

“Nope, not until the movie is over,” he says mockingly, “Be good and maybe I’ll give you something to tide you over.” His fingers trail down my stomach, brushing softly against my pussy before retracting again. I whine and beg him, “Please, please, please touch me, daddy.”

He laughs softly in my ear, “You are such a perfect little whore. Can’t even keep your composure throughout a movie with daddy’s cock in your desperate little pussy.”

I can feel my pussy clenching around him at his words, and I know I’m dripping. His fingers brush lightly against my stomach again and he runs them down towards my pussy. I’m gasping and panting in anticipation, wanting him to do something, do anything to make the burning need inside of me go away for a little.

His fingers come to where we’re joined, collecting some of my wetness before he pulls them away and licks my essence off his fingers. “Fuck, darling, you always taste so sweet,” his voice is growly and I feel his cock jerk inside of me slightly. I whimper, the praise making me even hotter and wetter.

He fingers come back down to the apex of my thighs and he flicks my clit with the lightest touch. My back arches and I let out a broken moan and rock against him. The sharp pleasure shocks my system, making my head spin and lights flash in my vision.

“Good girl, you like that huh?” He murmurs softly as his fingers rub my clit softly without stopping. “Ah, fuck, yes, please daddy, it feels so good,” my voice is breathless and pitchy with pleasure. His doesn’t stop moving his fingers, stroking my clit in tight circles with varying speed and pressure, pushing my body closer and closer toward orgasm.

“Such a pretty girl, I can feel your tight pussy clenching around my cock. Fuck, you’re perfect, darling,” his praise is delivered with soft groans and growls as he plays with my body. I whine wordlessly, feeling my body moments away from shattering in a breathtaking orgasm.

“Come on, darling, cum all over my cock and on my fingers,” he murmurs, moving his fingers faster and harder against my pulsing clit. I moan as I feel the orgasm burning through my body, my pussy bearing down on his cock and pulsing rhythmically. I ride the wave of pleasure and hear his whispered praise in my ear, the combination of everything making me feel so warm and so loved.

“Good girl, just like that, cumming for me. So, so pretty when you fall apart, that’s it, that feels good huh?” He hums softly in my ear in approval, “Look at how drippy you are, darling, all that’s for me.”

My mind is spinning, thoughts floating away as the orgasm fades, leaving the most delicious, bone-settling haze and fullness. But he doesn’t stop playing with my clit, and slowly, the warmth fades and is replaced with a burning overstimulation that makes me cry out and squirm, my legs closing to protect my clit.

“Please, daddy, please it’s too much! I need a break!”

He laughs darkly in my ear. “Oh no, darling, no you don’t. You can take it, I know you can. Such a drippy little mess for me, your perfect pussy is so good around my cock.” His rips my legs apart, one hand holding me down while the other continues its assault on my clit.

I squeeze my eyes shut, my legs shaking as a second orgasm starts to build despite the overstimulation wracking my body. He’s merciless as he strums my clit effortlessly, the fullness of his cock combined with the relentless pleasure forcing my orgasm out of me. Stars light up in my vision and tears well up in my eyes as the painful pleasure makes my body go rigid and my pussy clench.

“Fuck, you’re so lovely when you fall apart like this. Good girl, keep cumming for daddy,” his voice seems to float around me, wrapping me up in an all-encompassing cloud of unbearable pleasure. I’m keening softly, letting out whimpering sobs as my body is pushed to its capacity.

“No more, please, no more,” my voice is small and desperate, my legs shaking and trying to close. I’m too cum-drunk to fight back properly and his fingers continue to brutalize me, pushing me toward another peak.

“One more, darling. I know you can do it, pretty girl, come on, let me feel your perfect little pussy fall apart one more time,” he coaxes me, the gentle words a shocking juxtaposition to his rough fingers and hard cock inside of me. He rolls my clit between his fingers and I whine.

Before long, a third orgasm crests inside of me, and I feel my pussy tighten around him again. This time, the pleasure is overwhelming and nerve-fraying. I’m incoherent as I moan and beg, babbling from overstimulation. He plays my body like an instrument and I feel my orgasm erupt, my pussy gushing around his cock, squirting my release.

“Good girl, perfect girl, squirt for daddy. That’s it, baby,” he kisses my neck as his fingers finally slow and stop their assault on my pulsing jewel. He pulls my boneless body off his cock, the feeling of it leaving my body making me whine softly with loss despite how thoroughly decimated I feel. My pussy is achingly empty as he wraps me up in his arms, pulling me close into his chest.

“You did so well, darling. So perfect for me,” he says, kissing the top of my head. I whimper softly and look up at his with bleary eyes, feeling his praise and love surround me. We sit together like this for a few moments, the room aglow with the TV screen still playing whatever stupid movie he’d put on to begin with. I’d almost drifted off in his arms when I feel him shift.

“Come on, darling. We have another thirty minutes left of the movie,” he purrs, smiling deviously at me. And so, I find myself seated on his cock again, my overstimulated pussy pulsing around his hardness, stuffed full, and head hazy with pleasure.

#nsft concept #overstim kink #cl1t torture #soft sub #praise #dom/sub #praise k!nk #dirty talk #desperate #c0ckwarming

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lookliketaylorswift · 9 days

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as someone who's been through lesbian situationship this is so true

#we do not talk about how much they ruin you god #taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department

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star-spangled-man · 12 days

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i can do it with a broken heart ✨ 💃 💔 🕺 ✨

#the links to eras tour… yuh #it also just gets v barbie world coded with the bippity bops there for a hot min #taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department #my biggest hits!#paige talks

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adorazspot · 1 year

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be nice……to him…if you wanna be mean to someone…be mean to me…i dont care

..nah, being mean to it is so much more fun. Besides, you were begging me to stop last time, which got annoying quickly. I'd rather hear crying or screaming instead of begging or someone saying that they're tuning me out.

#tw mention of torture #talk of torture #tw torture

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saltair-and-palemoonlight · 12 days

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#lilly talks #taylor swift #ttpd #the tortured poets department

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tolerateit · 3 months

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book girlies have the opportunity to be so annoying about this album actually

#meg talks #Apparently the merch is bookmarks??#I'm not feeling the hype as of now but go book girlies!#taylor swift #the tortured poets department

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awhitehead17 · 2 years

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What's worse, torture or death?

TimKon, Injustice AU, Prisoner of War, Captive Tim, Clone Kon-El, Angst, Hurt Tim, Manhandling, Rough Treatment.

Summary: Tim didn’t know what was in store for him when he got captured by the enemy. He was prepared for something painful or perhaps even death, however he hadn’t been prepared for the enemy’s mysterious clone to take a particular interest in him. Perhaps death would be a better option than being a plaything of the enemy.

A/N: This is a canon divergence AU of the Injustice Universe. For those of you who don't know, the Injustice Universe is the one when the Joker tricked Superman into killing Lois and their unborn son.

Enjoy! :D

Knowing it’s futile, although he does it anyway, Tim tries to dig his heels into the ground to stop himself from getting dragged any further. All that happens is his feet scraping along the ground uselessly without any purchase. Above him his hands are caught in an unrelenting grip that threatens to break his wrists, he’s tried tugging his hands free but he's no match for the strength that has him bound.

As he’s being dragged along the floor like a sack of potatoes Tim’s mind is reeling with all kinds of scenarios that could happen to him now. He tried to escape and ultimately ended up getting caught. He’d be lucky if he wasn’t killed on the spot once they reached their destination, then again maybe death would be the merciful route, the other option is he’ll be tortured to an inch of his life and then more.

For a moment the dragging stops and Tim quickly finds out it’s because they’re passing through a door. Underneath him the ground goes from hard concrete to smooth sheet vinyl, not that it makes much difference, the change doesn’t help Tim break out of the grip he’s trapped in. They enter what Tim assumes is a conference room, from what he could see there are monitors scattered along several different walls, various pieces of papers scattered around all pinned up covered in notes, chairs and desks are hastily put together. Tim takes a guess that there’s a main table behind him, but he can’t see due to his positioning, that also must be where who they’re seeing is currently at because that’s where the voices are coming from.

“Sorry to interrupt,” says his captor, her words contradict her tone because she doesn’t sound sorry at all, “but your pet tried to run away. I stopped him so you’re welcome.”

Tim would have protested at the insult but he was too busy being forced to the ground on his stomach in order to do so. He tries to push himself up onto his knees so he could have at least some dignity but he doesn’t get very far before he’s stopped by a foot slamming into his back which forces him down to the ground and leaves him winded and gasping for air.

He doesn’t even get a chance to recover. Just as his lungs on longer feel like they’re on fire, the foot on his back digs deeper and Tim grits his teeth to stop himself from crying out as he feels their heel digging into his spine, if they apply any more pressure then they’ll end up breaking it.

“You really should keep an eye on your pets before they run free, or at least put them on a leash.” The voice above him spits out.

“Enough.”

The new voice instantly sends chills through Tim's body causing him to freeze on the spot and Tim suddenly feels too terrified to even twitch. The voice it belongs to a man Tim once knew but no longer recognises. Where it was once filled with warmth and carefree light heartiness, the voice is now cold, ruthless and detached. Gone is Clark Kent, the big-blue boy scout, and in place is the tyrant High Councillor of Earth Twenty Two.

After the echoes of his voice fade away the room they’re in goes deathly silent. On the floor Tim holds his breath anticipating what’s going to happen next. After several beats, and Tim could easily count them considering how hard his heart is pounding inside his chest, footsteps could be heard approaching Tim and his captor.

“Why do you even want him around? He’s useless. Nothing more than a bug to clean up once it’s squashed.” His captor continues to voice her dislike of him to the man with all the power despite his warnings.

“That’s where you are wrong.”

Tim sucks in a sharp breath when Clark’s – or Kal-El rather, because this man is no longer Clark –sounds far closer than he did before. The footsteps come to a stop right beside Tim and he braces himself for whatever is about to occur. The next events all happen in such quick succession that he doesn’t get a chance to process it. One moment he’s pinned to the ground with a foot on his back and in the next he's being hauled off the floor and held suspended in the air by a hand clamped around his throat.

Despite his instincts telling him to do so Tim doesn’t fight the hold, instead he grasps onto the wrist of the hand holding him hostage and stares into the dead eyes of the man he once thought of like an uncle. The hand clamped around his throat is solid and Tim is just about managing to breathe, if Kal-El applies any more pressure then he knows he’ll pass out, any more than that then he’ll be dead in seconds. It wouldn’t be the first neck Kal-El has broken.

“This one is worth keeping.” Kal-El states looking at him like he’s an unusual exhibit. “I also haven’t had a chance to have a chat with him yet. He can still prove to be valuable.”

“How?” Comes the question from his previous captor. She no longer sounds annoyed but rather bored now instead. “He’s a measly human. There’s nothing special about him.”

Kal-El is still studying him and its nerving Tim right down to his core. “He doesn’t have any special abilities no, but out of Batman’s brood he is without a doubt one of the most intelligent. If there’s anyone with intel about what the Insurgents are up to it’ll be him.”

A scoff sounds out from beyond Kal-El that was surprisingly not made by his captor. As Kal-El shifts his position to look in the direction where the scoff came from, Tim moves with him and for the first time Tim sees who else is in the room with them.

As soon as he realises who made the noise Tim feels rage stir inside him. Any fear he had been feeling when faced with Kal-El is gone in an instant with only one look at this person.

Damian Wayne stands off to the side looking as arrogant as ever. He’s taller than when Tim last saw him, he’s filled out more and has longer hair, he’s also dressed in a different suit which resembles his late brother’s Nightwing’s get up. That is what really riles Tim up, Damian has absolutely no rights to that suit or name.

Kal-El finally looks away from Tim and glances over at Damian. “You have something to say?”

Damian doesn’t seem bothered by the man’s cold demeanour. He scoffs again and glares at Tim still locked in Kal-El’s hold. “You are wrong in saying Drake is the most intelligent. He’s always been the weakest out of us. You would be better off if it was Todd instead of Drake.”

Despite himself Tim isn’t able to control the guttural snarl that comes from his throat. “Stronger than you brat.” He snaps.

He never forgave Damian for what he did years ago, there was what happened to Dick and then there was everything that followed afterwards. They always hated one another, their introduction never went well to begin with, but this is a whole new level of hatred now.

Damian growls and he draws his battle staff. “Between the two of us I would put you down in a matter of seconds.”

“You fucking wish.” Tim challenges. He knows he shouldn’t be engaging with him, especially in his vulnerable position in that moment because after all Kal-El’s hand is still around his throat but the man in question seems rather amused by their trash talk and Tim honestly has no idea on how to interpret that.

“As interesting as that would be. We don’t have time for childish games.” Kal-El states, bringing the room’s attention back onto him. He turns back to Tim, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at him. “For now we’ll keep him in one of the containment units until I get the chance to… talk to him.”

Tim knows that by ‘talk’ he actually means ‘torture’. Perhaps he could convince the man to let him and Damian fight instead? He likes those odds better.

“May I remind you he just escaped those cells.” Kara calls from behind him. She too was once a person he knew well, she had bene good friends with Steph before it all went ape shit. Kara had been the one to catch him in the act and dragged him here. “I’ll be happy to make sure he won’t do it again. I could break his legs? What about his spine, that’ll be fun to snap. I wonder how many nerves I can sever until he passes out in pain.”

Tim feels his stomach drop. He really doesn’t like the sound of that. What’s worse is that in front of him Kal-El seems to be considering Kara’s words. The man is silent for several moments however before he gets the chance to speak a new voice is speaking up, gaining the attention of everyone else in the room.

“No.” They state firmly clearly. “I don’t want any harm happening to him.”

Kal-El turns, therefore Tim does as well, to face the interrupter. “And why’s that. Do you have something else in mind?”

The person they now face is an exact replica of Kal-El himself, he’s just slightly smaller and looks a little younger. Tim deducts that this must be Kon-El, the Clone of Superman. This is someone the Insurgency has heard so much about but yet he remains to be almost a ghost. He had been a creation of Luthor’s at the same time of Bizarro, Kon-El had been a successful duplicate of the High Councillor where Bizzarro had not been. Before his death Luthor had mentioned about Kon-El but they never got around to discussing him in detail and then with Luthor’s death the mystery of the clone remained unsolved.

Tim glances at the clone to see him watching him back, the piercing look Kon-El is currently sending him sends shivers down his spine, it makes him feel uneasy being looked at like he’s some sort of prey ready to be hunted.

The clone looks away to face Kal-El. “I offer myself to watch over him, however I do not want any harm to come to him.” As he says it he sends Damian who is stood to his left a pointed glare.

This seems to genuinely surprise Kal-El, not that the man shows it but Tim sees the slightest flicker in his eyes as he watches Kon-El. “Why?”

“This human interests me…” Kon-El trails off without further explanation.

Kal-El considers this for a moment before he makes a decision. “Very well.” He concludes, and Tim hates the fact they’re talking about him like he’s a piece of property being traded between two buyers. “You can have him and do as you please. However as soon as I require him, you give him over with no hesitation. He is still a bargaining chip I have against Batman.”

With that Kal-El finally releases him. Not expecting the action Tim can’t catch himself once he hits the floor and his legs instantly crumple underneath him. He lands on his knees and side although can’t quite make himself care as he’s gasping in lungful’s of air. His throat feels like it’s on fire and he can already feel where it’s tender on the skin, he knows bruising would have already developed and is only going to get worse in the next day or two (if he lives that long).

Tim is snapped back to the present when new footsteps approach him. Now free to do so Tim looks up and watches wearily as Kon-El advances towards him, watching how he doesn’t stop until he’s directly in front of Tim leering over him from his standing position. The Kryptonian is silent as he watches Tim clearly observing his beaten form sprawled out on the floor, Tim figures Kon-El is probably going through his options to what he wants to do to him. A terrifying thought honestly as the options are endless.

From his position on the floor Tim does his best to hold Kon-El’s unwavering gaze for as long as possible, even though he’s beaten and submissively on the ground he wants to show defiance as much possible, however the staring becomes too much and Tim looks away first choosing to look down at the floor instead. He’s already beaten so what's another defeat at this point? Tim hates that he feels like this, how inside his own mind he’s conflicted between giving up and fighting back. It’s not in his nature to submit however in this situation he doesn’t see a way out. Despite his skill set he’s severely outpowered and any attempts at a fight will just end quickly and painfully for him, his attempts at escape proved futile so what else does he have at this point?

Tim’s broken out of his thoughts abruptly when he feels his head get jerked to the side by a hand tightly cupping his jaw. Tim is forced to meet the hard gaze of Kon-El who is now crouched in front of him looking irritated, the Kryptonian’s grip on his jaw is relentless and Tim feels his fingers digging harshly into the skin of his cheeks. When Tim tries to escape the grip Kon-El only holds on tighter and when Tim attempts to knock his hand away the Kryptonian effortlessly grabs both of Tim’s wrists with his free hand and holds them hostage. Tim if effectively pinned where he’s sat on the floor by the sheer strength of Kon-El’s hold on him.

His struggles seem to amuse Kon-El because he’s suddenly grinning at Tim. “We’re going to have fun together aren’t we?” He says quietly. Tim doesn’t supply the guy with an answer although he’s pretty sure it was rhetorical anyway.

Kon-El releases his grip on Tim’s jaw but much to his chagrin the Kryptonian starts trailing his fingers across Tim’s face instead. Tenderly he strokes his cheek, lips and neck as if caressing a lover and the actions sends shivers down Tim’s body. His administrations end when he reaches up and threads his fingers through Tim’s hair, he grips tightly onto his locks before yanking Tim's head back until he’s looking up with his bruised throat stretched out and exposed. Before he could stop it Tim lets out a pained gasp from the pull and with his hands still pinned in Kon-El’s Tim is hopeless against the action.

The Kryptonian only holds him in that position for a few moments which Tim is grateful for. When he lets go of his hair he also releases his hands as he stands up. Kon-El turns and has another exchange with Kal-El however Tim misses it because he's too busy recovering from all the manhandling going on, his wrists are sore, his throat feels like it’s on fire, his jaw aches and overall Tim feels so far out of his element he doesn’t know what to do. God knows what Kon-El has planned for him.

Kon-El’s attention is soon turned back on Tim and before he could react Tim’s arm is grabbed and he's hauled up onto his feet. To begin with Tim is unsteady on his feet, it takes several steps until he's shakily able to walk and if it wasn’t for the grip on his bicep he would have definitely fallen down. Tim is marched alongside Kon, who has hold of him, and he’s being lead out of the conference room and down new corridors he hasn’t been before.

For the first time in a while Tim finds his voice. “What do you want from me?”

Kon-El gives him nothing more than a disinterested side glance as they turn a corner. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

That’s the only answer he gives Tim. It does absolutely nothing to help settle him on the inside, those endless of options he thought about earlier are all still on the table. Tim has no idea on what's about to happen to him and that unknowing sends chills down his spine. He wonders if Kon is just leading him to his death, or perhaps he’s leading him to a torture chamber and then he’ll be killed. Unfortunately he's just going to have to wait and see.

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