ooo, tell me about Tara Time Loop!
Yes this is the fic I've been stuck on for over a year even though it's so close to finished
It's set in YJ, with the idea that Tara gets to redo the 24 hours between her alerting Deathstroke and the finale as many times as it takes to get right. But she keeps on getting it wrong, and not realizing she doesn't have all the facts, and people keep on dying- so can she get it right before she loses it? (And I am 100% going to tag it 'everyone but Halo dies' so. A lot of death. I lost count of how many times I've killed Brion.)
It's a really fun character exploration!
Have a snippet:
She didn’t bother answering him. She strode forward, staring at Bedlam. “I used to hate you more than anyone. But now I see you are a mere pawn that wants to be king. How pathetic.”
“Tara, you were working for Deathstroke? How could you?” The words caused her to snap her head towards Brion. The crowd, the camera, other heroes, even the Markovian government official in the background no longer mattered.
“How could I? How could I? Did you think that once I was rescued I would be your sweet little sister without any scars, so eager to be saved? Did you think that I would forget about the fact I was alone at the embassy because you invited me there and then abandoned me? Or how about the fact that for all the ‘poor Princess Tara’, the people of Markovia did nothing to rescue me and instead made sure I would not be able to return home even if rescued? Did you expect me to just fall in line as you decided to become a murderer, kinslayer, and usurper? Because if nothing else, I have never killed someone I shared blood with!”
Brion took a step back from her and raised his hands, bafflement and horror painting his face. Normally Tara would have stopped and apologized. She should be more well mannered as she was raised. He couldn’t have known, she kept this from him. Normally Tara would not have judged the brother she loved so harshly, tempering rage with love.
Normally Tara could keep her worst impulses in check.












