#what a silly renegade

[corpocyborg]

renegade spacer shepard: no mom i'm not on drugs. my eyes are red because i'm evil.

[splashyink]

A Late Sonic Prime Redraw Fueled By The Sheer Amount Of Sonic Content Lately

[brainworms-all-night-long]

Nine was done so ditry actually cuz the Grim wasn't reformed at the end of the show like the Prism dissapeared the second everything else was reformed and didn't give Nine the chance to fix the Grim as well, this is all that is left of it

a floating tower in the middle of the Void with nothing to protect it from the onslaught of the shard debris going at concerning speeds with no resistance to slow them down

Nine was left with absolutely nothing. There aren't even any robot parts to salvage cuz all of those disappeared with the rest of the Grim. There might be something in that spike pit but doubt it's much.

And if we take it the the way the Prism reset everything to how it was the few minutes before Sonic shattered it, (but everyone from the shatterverse kept their memories because if not that what was even the point) Nine was either left in the baren Grim desert ro starve to death with no way out, or.he's back in New Yoke where everyone hates him or is at least negatively avare of his existance.

Because the power stunts he pulled? Puposefully detoriating the streets of the city and flipping the whole world sideways? The people Sonic wasn't there to save definitely saw Nine's image in the sky and connected the dots.

The Resistance despises him as well because not only were some of them present at the Grim battle, Knucks that has been electrocuted for solid 30 second (I counted) and abandoned during fights by that fox like four times most likely didn't and wont speak to highly of him.

Hhhh not to mention the fact that Nine's gotta have to sleep for at least three days straight after all the adrenaline and prism energy leaves him and with all of that strain he put on his body constantly for a feew days at least, his immunity system is definitely compromised which means that he's most likely gonna get sick the second hes gets back in the city and

[bispearlnets]

listen I bet bismuth pearl and garnet were SO close during the gem war i simply cannot stop thinking about their potential interactions

[brucewaynehater101]

So one of my favorite tropes is Jason or Dick going "mine now" and adopting every bat kid to come after them, and turning Bruce into a father in legality only, a reluctant grandfather in reality

See the endnotes of both "Dynamic" by Cant_Smoke_Eggs and " bystander" by greeneyedfirework

And also the Crimelord Tim-Never-Robins AU is making me tear up rn so I'm just gonna kindly take the ideas of that AU and the Carrion Crows and and shove them all into a blender to—

☆・★・・・★・☆

Tim Drake's parents are as awful as they are in the Never-Robin verse but here he—to put things horrifically lightly—convinces himself out of it

Oh yes, what you're describing is abuse and it's wrong! What did you say about his parents? They do everything he agrees is abuse? No! You misunderstand, they aren't abusive they're . . .

When Jason dies and Tim blackmails his way into Robinhood, into making sure his last remaining light in this world lives and stays as via shining as he always sees him, he get's a proper excuse

Not that he could ever tell others of course

But it's just what he personally needed

How could my parents ever be abusive? Batman hardly ever remarks about them and sometimes he even trains me more painfully then whenever my parents are back home!

☆・★・・・★・☆

Thus goes his life until he comes across a girl and her ward

Or maybe baby brother is more appropriate

Introducing Cassandra Cain, League of Assassin's renegade extraordanaire

And who does she have with her? It's only Damian al Ghul, blood son of Talia and Brucie!

Yeah, some time during or after Jason's departure from the League, Cassandra by sheer chance got in the same room as Damian

A fucking child which horrified her, so she snatched that kid and dipped

Damian telling her stories about his father and big brother both from Gotham gave her a clear direction of where to head

☆・★・・・★・☆

Not that they tell Tim this, they've hardly met him

They tell Robin silly! Damian in particular is insistent that the vigilante introduce him to his father as he is the blood son

Tim—wanting to help Batman since his plate is full—says it will take some time but he knows someone who can give a place to stay, they can trust his verified associate

Thus is how the two move into the Drake Manor with Timothy Drake full-time

It's nice, he accommodates for their needs and teaches them whatever they don't know

Cassandra quickly clues in—and informs the latter—on Tim and Robin being one & the same

When Cassandra confronts Tim about this, he does his best to calmly (are you sure about that young boy?) justify himself

He recounts the rise of Batman, of the first Robin turned Nightwing, and the Second Robin until his death

Batman's grief would descend into him transforming his vigilantism into a suicide mission

And Gotham? Gotham may be a horrifically corrupt city now, but before Batman it was hell on earth

It was already slipping back into there, what with lifelong hospital bills, disabilities, and job loss being indiscriminately handed out left and right

Though, Batman's rogues weren't facing the brunt of his rage nearly as much as most desperate criminals he came across, just trying to survive

Thus, to keep Gotham from tumbling back into the days before Batman, and to keep the hero from killing himself (because saying 'get himself killed' is dishonest) he blackmailed himself into the Robin role to act as Bat's leash and caretaker

He realized he may have miscalculated when Cassandra's knuckles go bone white

☆・★・・・★・☆

Cassandra had several moments where she has second-thoughts about bringing Damian to his father, and now they're solidifying

She subsequently informs said baby brother that "holy shit, you're father is a monster" with stories what she learns about him, albeit mildly omitting the nastier details she doesn't want Damian to know at his young age

Doesn't help when they both notice the injuries Tim doesn't even get on patrol but training and he has to go to Agent A or himself for medical aid

☆・★・・・★・☆

Tim Drake always saw himself an exception to justice. His parent love him and he has a duty to Batman

Whe his parents come home he tells them about his new friends staying over for some time

After working it out with the two, they even have their identities legalized and nobody will bat an eye at their presence with Tim

The Drakes come home and one moment he's introducing his parents to his friends

The next he's closing an incinerator room's doors with a lockpick

How . . . ?

☆・★・・・★・☆

during Tim's blackout, Janet and Jack made some classist and other comments towards Damian and Cassandra, and since their legal identities are of orphans, and went as far as to threaten abuse knowing they'd get away with it

That caused something in Tim to break and finally do his parents in

Upon realizing what he's done, Tim is going to be pretty hysterical and grieving and when Cass ask's what's up he immediately breaks down

☆・★・・・★・☆

So yeah, Tim has to hide his parent's death and speedrun becoming secret CEO until he can become one publicly

Step number one? Get Cassandra and Damian adopted by the late Drakes and insert them into their wills

Cassandra and Damian stick with Tim because they care for him, he's also single handedly providing for them, plus they don't want to test their luck with Batman at all

Damian is having an identity crisis because he was taught to take pride in his blood but his father who's been hella hyped up has brutalized his new big brother repeatedly

Maybe Tim stumbles across Stephanie and Duke, and gets them adopted too

Maybe we have a Jason with less of his screws loose and he walks up to Tim and is like "where are you parents" "they're totally alive!" "Holy shit you're an orphan actively distancing yourself from the batman because he abused you *adopts him as son*" or maybe Dick Grayson fathers instead, idk

Or maybe Jason here is still willing to pull a Titans Tower idk

My brain is melting lol

Holy hell. I love this AU. Tim adopting his other family members is near and dear to me. He has the means to and has canonically made up fake family members. He can totally throw someone into his family legally (and technically illegally).

Have you seen Damian Drake? This kind of reminds me of that fic, but with Cass in it and the Drakes dead. For this AU, it would be precious if Damian starts to take pride in Tim's last name instead. That, or they could create a new one for the 3 of them (until Dick, Jason, Duke, and others join [Steph is always weird cause she dated Tim. It's similar to how Babs isn't legally considered family/siblings, but she's still part of the family]).

Damian thus has legal to claim to both Drake Industries and Wayne Enterprises (if he ever chooses to disclose his relation to Bruce). The best part of this is that Tim is building a large family by stealing them all from Bruce (cause fuck that man).

Also, Cass and Damian should interact more in fanwork. I'm so glad that you have them as such in this. Similar to Steph and Damian, I don't see that relationship as much which is sad. They have such great sibling bonds.

Two more thoughts: One, I love the characterization of Tim stepping back into his body to find he had murdered his parents and just rolling with it (besides the mandatory breakdown). He just figures it out cause it is what it is. Two, how old is Tim in this? Does he immediately become CEO or try to pretend his parents are still alive?

I'm also imagining Tim just gathering all these people, and he's not necessarily their leader/boss, but he does provide for them. He guides them and supports them. He's like a family mafia boss, but without any command or orders. The others are free to do as they please, but they tend to run decisions against each other

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 13/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, soft Ben

Word Count: 5442

A/N: This is part 13 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

"So, how are things going with you and Ben?", she asked, her tone casual but her eyes betraying a hint of curiosity. "You two seem to be getting along really well again, especially since you guys came back from vacation".

You flashed Annie a smile, trying to sound nonchalant as you replied, “Oh, you know how it is. We just talked, drank, and had fun while we were in Brazil”. Annie nodded, but her eyes betrayed a knowing glint as she continued, “And what about that little crush you had on him a few weeks ago? Seemed like there was something more going on”.

You felt a pang of panic, hoping Ben was too engrossed in the conversation with Butcher to overhear.

“Oh, that?”, you said, trying to brush it off. “Just a silly little crush, nothing serious”.

As Annie and Kimiko exchanged glances, Kimiko raised an eyebrow, her expression unreadable. Sensing your confusion, you sighed, asking her silently, "What?".

In response, Kimiko signed a few quick gestures, her hands moving with precision and clarity. Though you were still learning sign language, you understood her message clearly: he's not a good guy, and you shouldn't have a crush on him.

Her words struck a chord.

As Ben’s gaze lingered on you from afar, his ears caught every word of your conversation with Annie and Kimiko.

Meanwhile, Annie turned to you, her expression solemn. “Kimiko’s right, you know”, she said softly. “You shouldn’t let yourself get too caught up with someone like him”.

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a mix of confusion and curiosity. “Someone like him? Like what?”, you asked, crossing your arms as you waited for their explanation.

Again Annie exchanged a meaningful look with Kimiko before speaking again. “Someone who’s… complicated”, she replied carefully. “You know he’s not the easiest person to deal with”.

Kimiko nodded in agreement, her expression serious. “He’s dangerous”, she signed, her hands moving swiftly to convey her message. “You should be careful”.

You sighed, shaking your head slightly. “He never hurt me”, you insisted, feeling the need to defend Ben, despite all the warning signs.

Annie raised an eyebrow, her expression skeptical. “Well, not on purpose maybe”, she countered, her tone tinged with concern. Kimiko’s hands moved, “He’s just a massive red flag”.

“He’s got PTSD, he’s never sober, always on coke, and let’s not forget, he’s a fucking misogynist”.

"I know," you admitted quietly, your gaze drifting back to Ben.

Annie sighed, her expression softening with concern. "Just be careful, okay? You shouldn't catch any kind of feelings for him", she warned, her tone gentle but firm.

You scoffed, feeling a pang of frustration. "I know he's not perfect, but he's not a bad guy", you insisted, though doubt lingered in your mind.

Annie's expression grew serious. "Remember his short temper and his aggressive mood swings", she reminded you, her voice low. "his lack of empathy and emotions. He's not capable of loving someone".

As Annie’s words sank in, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of unease creeping over you. Despite your conflicted feelings for Ben, the reality of his volatile nature and emotional detachment weighed heavily on your mind. Before you could respond, Kimiko signed to you, “You could literally easily die. Since you’re just a human, Ben could crush you at any time with ease”.

You sighed, trying to dismiss the heaviness of the conversation. "Let's just drop it", you said, your voice wavering slightly. "I don't have any feelings for him, and I never will".

You hoped your words sounded convincing, but deep down, you knew they were a lie. However, unbeknownst to you, Ben overheard your declaration from afar, a dark look crossing his features as he listened.

Annie couldn’t shake her concern for you, her eyes still filled with worry as she turned back to you. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt”, Annie said softly, her voice tinged with genuine concern.

“I know”, you replied quietly, feeling the weight of her words.

Annie placed a comforting hand on your shoulder, her gaze filled with compassion. “Soldier boy could never give you what you need”, she said firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.

As Ben sat amidst the discussion with Butcher, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. Emotions swirled within him, a turbulent mix of frustration, insecurity, and a hint of longing. He couldn't bear the thought of you thinking poorly of him, but he was at a loss for what to do.

From the kitchen, you glanced over at Ben, your gaze lingering on him for a moment. But Ben, determined to maintain his facade, pretended to be engrossed in the conversation with Butcher, his expression carefully neutral.

Unknown to you, his heart ached with the desire to reach out to you, to reassure you that he wasn't as bad as you might think. But his pride and his own internal struggles kept him rooted in place.

Annie caught your gaze lingering on Ben, and she shot you a knowing look, her expression tinged with sarcasm.

"Sure thing", she muttered sarcastically, a hint of amusement in her voice. "Not catching feelings at all, huh?".

You felt a flush of embarrassment heat your cheeks, but you quickly averted your gaze, unable to meet Annie's knowing eyes. Deep down, you knew she was right, but admitting it was another matter entirely.

As everyone got ready to eat, you busied yourself with setting the table, focusing on the task at hand to distract yourself from your swirling thoughts.

Just as you reached for the salad on the kitchen counter, you felt a presence behind you. Before you could react, Ben's voice whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I want you in my room later, when everyone's asleep", he murmured, his breath hot against your skin.

You tensed at his words, a rush of anticipation mingled with apprehension flooding through you. Glancing over your shoulder, you met his gaze briefly before nodding in silent agreement.

Annie glanced over at you and Ben but didn’t notice the subtle gesture of intimacy exchanged between you. Ben’s gentle touch as he brushed over your lower back went unnoticed by anyone else as he smoothly made his way to the table to join the rest of the team.

As you sat down beside Ben, your thoughts raced with a whirlwind of questions and uncertainties. The subtle touch from earlier lingered in your mind, adding to the anticipation of what might unfold later that night.

Across the table, you noticed Butcher's sharp gaze fixed on you, a flicker of curiosity evident in his expression. You quickly averted your eyes, feeling a surge of discomfort under his scrutiny.

You helped yourself to some food, your mind buzzed with thoughts of Annie and Kimiko's warnings. Their words echoed in your mind.

As everyone fell into small talk, the atmosphere around the table became relaxed, but Ben remained his usual quiet self, showing little interest in engaging with anyone else except you. Similarly, you found yourself lost in your thoughts, exchanging occasional glances with Annie whenever Ben's eyes were fixed on you.

Despite the casual chatter around you, a tension lingered in the air, palpable in the way Ben's gaze seemed to follow you, his attention solely focused on you amidst the distractions of the dinner table.

As you felt Ben's knee nudge yours under the table, you looked up at him, but he didn't raise his gaze from his plate. Instead, his hand found its way onto your thigh under the table, his touch sending a jolt of electricity through you.

You shot him a questioning glance, but he remained focused on his food.

Despite your expectations, Ben's touch remained surprisingly innocent. His hand simply lay on your thigh.

As you tried to make sense of his actions, you couldn't help but feel a sense of relief mingled with confusion. It was a small gesture, yet it spoke volumes about the complexity of your relationship with Ben.

About an hour later you found yourself in the midst of self-defense and fighting practice with MM and Butcher, the adrenaline pumping through your veins masked the lingering tension from dinner. Despite the physical exertion, your mind couldn't help but drift back to the earlier conversation and the anticipation of what awaited you later with Ben.

MM's voice cut through your thoughts, breaking your concentration. "Focus, kid", he said firmly, his tone demanding. "You need to keep your guard up".

You nodded, refocusing your attention on the task at hand. "Right, sorry", you replied, determined to prove yourself amidst the flurry of punches and kicks.

Butcher chimed in, his voice gruff but encouraging. "Good effort, lass. Keep at it, and you'll be holding your own in no time".

But as your thoughts swirled with images of Ben, you lost focus again, failing to anticipate Butcher's next move. Before you knew it, his fist connected with your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the ground with a grunt of pain.

"Oi! Pay attention, will ya?", Butcher barked, his tone gruff but not unkind as he offered you a hand up.

As you struggled to regain your footing, Butcher’s voice cut through the haze of embarrassment. “Seems like your mind’s elsewhere, lass. Can’t afford that when you’re in a fight”.

You accepted his hand gratefully, shooting him an apologetic look. “Sorry, Butcher. Just got a bit distracted”, you admitted, trying to shake off the embarrassment. Butcher’s expression softened slightly, though his eyes still held a hint of amusement. “Well, keep your head in the game, or next time it might be a bit harder”, he warned, his tone gruff but encouraging.

Meanwhile, Ben stood in the doorframe, his smirk widening as he watched the exchange. He couldn't resist adding his own commentary. "Seems like someone's got no practice in anything", he teased, hinted at your recent loss of virginity without outright saying it.

You felt a flicker of annoyance at his comment, but you refused to let it show. Instead, you shot back with a defiant glare. "You want to talk about practice? Maybe you should switch with Butcher, and I'll whip your arrogant supe ass instead", you retorted.

Butcher chuckled, while Ben's smirk only widened. "Touché", he replied, his tone amused as he sauntered into the room, ready to join in on the training session.

"I'd love to see you try", Ben taunted, his voice laced with amusement.

"Bring it on", you challenged, your pulse racing with anticipation.

As Ben walked past you, his arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips, MM and Butcher exchanged a glance, their eyebrows raised in silent communication.

MM muttered under his breath, "This is gonna get messy".

Butcher nodded in agreement, his expression serious as he watched the tension between you and Ben unfold.

Ben stood casually across from you, his attire relaxed in sweatpants and a black hoodie. He seemed unimpressed by your challenge, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

"Come on, sweetheart", he taunted. "You really think you can take me on?".

"Watch me".

Ben chuckled, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked you up and down. "I like a bit of fight in a girl", he replied. "But let's see if you can back up that little attitude of yours”.

Ben's smirk widened as he met your defiant gaze. "Don't say I didn't warn you", he said. "I won't go easy on you”.

You met Ben's gaze head-on, the challenge sparking between you like electricity. "I bet, old man", you shot back.

Butcher cleared his throat, his tone stern as he addressed Ben. "Remember, mate, she's just a human. Keep those supe powers in check", he warned, his gaze flicking between the two of you. Ben shrugged off Butcher's warning with a cocky smirk. "I'll play nice", he replied, though his eyes gleamed with mischief. "At least until she gives me a reason not to".

The sparring began, and you moved with agility, trying to anticipate Ben's every move. But no matter how fast you were, he was always a step ahead, effortlessly blocking each of your strikes with precision.

As the fight continued, the tension between you grew palpable. At one point, Ben caught you off guard, his strong arms wrapping around you from behind as he blocked another of your moves. You could feel the heat of his body pressed against your back, his breath warm against your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Despite the intensity of the moment, there was an undeniable thrill in the closeness of your bodies, the adrenaline of the fight mingling with a different kind of arousal. Ben found it incredibly hot that you were trying to fight him, his own desire flaring as he held you tightly against him.

Ben’s breath grew heavy against your ear, his voice a husky whisper that sent a thrill down your spine. “You’re feisty, I’ll give you that”, he murmured, his tone teasing and flirtatious.

You gritted your teeth, determined to push through the distraction and maintain your composure.

As Ben's arm tightened around your neck, you reacted instinctively, sinking your teeth into his flesh. With a sharp intake of breath, he loosened his grip, giving you the opportunity to break free.

Seizing the moment, you launched yourself at him, catching him off guard and managing to throw him to the ground. But in the heat of the struggle, you ended up straddling his lap, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you looked down at him, a mix of triumph and uncertainty in your eyes.

Ben's gaze met yours, his expression a mixture of surprise and admiration. Despite being momentarily overpowered, there was a glint of respect in his eyes as he looked up at you, a smirk playing on his lips.

Ben's hands gripped your hips firmly, you couldn't help but feel the light pressure of his erection underneath you, sending a shiver down your spine. His grip tightened, almost crushing, but it only added to the rush of arousal coursing through you.

Ben seized the opportunity to roll you over, quickly reversing the position. Now, he knelt above you, his hand tight around your neck, asserting his dominance. With a smirk, he leaned in close, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Looks like I've got you right where I want you, sweetheart. You always did have a knack for getting yourself into trouble".

As you struggled beneath him, Ben's firm grip held you in place, his dominance undeniable. Despite your efforts to break free, his strength was overwhelming, leaving you pinned beneath him. With a defiant glare, you tried to push against his hold, but it was no use.

Ben's smirk only widened as he maintained his control over you. Meanwhile, Butcher, who had been observing the exchange with a critical eye, couldn't hide his disapproval. "Oi, enough of that, mate", he interjected gruffly, stepping forward with a stern expression. "Keep your eyes off her, she ain't some bloody toy for you to play with".

Ben's smirk faltered slightly at Butcher's interruption, but he didn't release his grip on you. Instead, he met Butcher's gaze with a challenging glare of his own, the tension between them palpable. With a snarky smirk, Ben quipped, "Someone's feeling a bit overprotective today, aren't they, Butcher?".

Butcher's jaw tightened at the remark, his expression stern as he stepped closer to Ben. "I ain't being overprotective", he retorted firmly. "I'm just reminding you of the consequences of your actions. You may be invincible, mate, but she isn't".

With an eye roll, Ben finally released his grip on you and offered his hand to help you up. However, his tug was way too strong, causing you to stumble against his chest as you regained your footing.

"Easy there", he chuckled, his tone light but tinged with amusement as he steadied you.

You shot him a playful glare, rubbing your sore arm where his grip had been particularly tight. "You could've been more gentle, you know", you muttered, unable to hide the hint of annoyance in your voice.

Ben merely shrugged, a smirk playing on his lips. "I'm a soldier, sweetheart. If I fight, I fight", he teased, his tone unapologetic.

You rolled your eyes at his cavalier attitude.

MM chimed in with a sigh, his voice carrying a note of exasperation. "You're just getting too distracted", he remarked, his tone firm but not unkind.

Ben, unusually serious for once, nodded in agreement. "He´s right", he added, his gaze meeting yours briefly. "Against any supe, there's no time for distractions".

You bristled at the criticism, feeling the weight of their expectations bearing down on you. "It was my first damn practice session", you retorted, your frustration bubbling to the surface. "Cut me some slack".

Despite your defiant tone, there was a part of you that couldn't shake the nagging feeling that they were right. You needed to focus if you were going to stand a chance against any real threats.

Butcher approached you, his hand came to rest gently on your lower back, a silent gesture of reassurance. "Hey, not bad for your first go", he said, his tone gruff but approving. "You just need to work on keeping your focus, that's all".

You nodded, grateful for his encouragement.

Meanwhile, Ben's gaze flickered to Butcher's hand on your lower back, a surge of possessiveness stirring within him. He clenched his jaw, a brief flicker of jealousy crossing his features, but he quickly pushed it aside, not wanting to make a scene.

As Butcher and MM began to leave the room, Ben lingered behind for a moment, his gaze fixed on you. With a subtle nod to Butcher, he indicated that he would follow shortly.

Once they were out of earshot, Ben turned his attention back to you, his expression unreadable. "You did alright", he remarked, his tone casual but tinged with a hint of something else.

You met his gaze, feeling a mixture of relief and tension in the air. "Thanks", you replied, your voice slightly hoarse with emotion. "Guess I still have a lot to learn".

Ben's lips quirked into a smirk as he took a step closer, the air between you charged with an undeniable energy. "Don't worry", he said, his voice low and teasing. "I'm sure I can teach you a thing or two".

As the evening wore on and everyone settled into sleep, you found yourself standing in front of the mirror, contemplating your options. Unsure of what Ben wanted from you, you decided that your grandma panties would be better left in the closet.

Examining yourself in the mirror, you opted for something a little more alluring, selecting a pair of underwear that hugged your curves in all the right places. As you slipped them on, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation mingled with nervousness.

You approached Ben's room with cautious steps, the anticipation building with each quiet footfall. As you pushed the door open, you found him sitting shirtless on his bed, a joint dangling from his fingertips while he scrolled through his phone.

The soft glow of the screen illuminated his features, casting shadows across his chiseled chest. You hesitated at the doorway, unsure of how to proceed. With a deep breath, you entered the room, the door clicking shut behind you.

Ben looked up at you, a smirk playing on his lips as he took in your appearance. His gaze lingered on you with a mixture of amusement and desire, sending a shiver down your spine.

"What are you waiting for?", he asked, his voice low and husky. "C´mere."

His invitation was both a command and a plea, and you felt yourself drawn to him irresistibly. With a nervous smile, you approached the bed, anticipation building with each step.

As Ben set his phone aside, his gaze locked onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. He sat up slightly, his eyes roaming over you appreciatively.

"You look good", he murmured.

You felt a blush creep into your cheeks at his compliment, the warmth spreading through you at his gaze. "Thanks".

As Ben pulled you onto his lap, his hands firm on your hips, you couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation mixed with nervousness. Despite the intimacy of the moment, he didn't make any further moves, leaving you to wonder what he was thinking.

You shifted slightly, trying to find a comfortable position on his lap, the tension between you palpable. "What are we doing?", you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, unsure of what to expect next.

As Ben brushed a stray strand of hair away from your face, his touch gentle yet possessive, a shiver ran down your spine. His fingers lingered for a moment, his gaze locked with yours, before he spoke.

"Just sit still", he murmured. Despite the simplicity of his words, there was an underlying intensity that made it impossible to disobey.

You complied with his command, you could feel the weight of his gaze on you, his eyes tracing every curve and contour of your body. Despite your efforts to suppress the nervous fluttering in your stomach, the intensity of the moment was undeniable.

Ben's hands remained firm on your hips, his touch both possessive and reassuring. "Good girl", he murmured, his voice low and tinged with satisfaction. "Just like that".

You swallowed hard, trying to steady your racing heartbeat as you focused on maintaining your stillness. With Ben's eyes on you, every moment felt charged with anticipation, each passing second heightening the tension between you.

"You know, I could make it even more enjoyable for you if you'd let me", Ben whispered, his voice a low murmur against your ear.

Despite the ache throbbing between your legs, you refused to let on to Ben about your discomfort. With a forced smile, you brushed off his suggestion, trying to conceal the twinge of pain that shot through you with every movement.

"I'm fine", you replied, your voice strained as you shifted slightly on his lap.

Deep down, you hoped he wouldn't press further, unwilling to admit to the discomfort that lingered beneath the surface.

Ben's lips curled into a knowing smirk as he observed your strained expression, well aware of your attempt to downplay your discomfort. His usual indifference softened slightly as he decided to play along, his tone laced with teasing amusement.

"Sure you are", he replied with a playful glint in his eyes. "You're not fucking sore at all, are you? All that fighting practice must have toughened you up".

You simply shook your head.

Ben leaned back slightly, studying your expression with a mixture of amusement and curiosity. “Alright, tough girl”, he teased, his tone light but his eyes searching yours. “If you say so”.

Despite his teasing, there was a subtle warmth in his gaze, a silent reassurance that he was there, even if he didn’t verbalize it. He wanted to prove to you, in his own way, that he wasn’t as callous as others perceived him to be.

You met his gaze with determination, refusing to let your discomfort show. “I’m fine”, you insisted, your voice firm, now pushing aside any sign of weakness and pain.

“So, if you’re really not sore”, he began, his tone suggestive, “You up for another round?”.

Your cheeks flushed at his bold question, but you held his gaze steadily.

Seeing your flushed cheeks, Ben couldn't help but feel a surge of amusement mixed with a tinge of curiosity. "Come on", he urged, his tone coaxing. "You can tell me how you really feel. I won't bite".

You hesitated, torn between wanting to maintain your facade of strength and the desire to be honest with him. After a moment of internal struggle, you sighed, conceding to his persistence. "Okay, fine", you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. "Maybe I'm a little sore".

Ben's smirk softened into a gentle smile as he reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. "There, was that so hard?", he teased, his touch light against your skin. "Don't worry, I won't hold it against you", he winked.

As Ben's hands traced lazily over your hips, slipping under your top and skimming along your sides and back, you couldn't help but shiver at the sensation of his touch against your soft skin.

His touch was surprisingly gentle, his fingertips dancing lightly over your curves as if exploring every inch of you. "You're so soft", he murmured.

You bit your lip, trying to suppress the fluttering in your stomach as his touch sent tingles of electricity coursing through you. "Ben", you whispered, your voice barely a breath as his hands continued to explore your body.

Ben's touch lingered on your skin, his fingers tracing the bruises on your hips with a mix of curiosity and guilt. "I won't fuck you", he murmured, his voice soft but firm. "But touching should be allowed".

You sucked in a sharp breath at his words, feeling a surge of conflicting emotions wash over you. Despite his insistence on not taking things further, the heat of his touch ignited a fire within you, a primal desire that threatened to consume your self-control.

His gaze met yours as he traced the marks on your skin. "I didn't mean to hurt you", he admitted quietly. "I guess I underestimated my strength".

You swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in as you struggled to find the right response.

Ben’s touch softened as he spoke, his fingers stilling on your skin as he met your gaze again, this time with sincerity.

“I’m not a bad guy”, he began, his voice quiet but earnest. “But I’m not exactly good either. I’m just… not used to every situation like this”. He paused, his gaze flickering to where his fingertips lingered on your skin. “Especially when it comes to…”, he trailed off, gesturing vaguely to you, unable to find the right words.

Your heart fluttered at his words, the sincerity in his eyes stirring something deep within you. "When it comes to what?", you asked softly, your curiosity piqued as you searched his eyes for answers.

Ben hesitated, his gaze dropping for a moment before meeting yours again. "When it comes to… you", he admitted quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. "I don't… I'm not good at this", he added, his words trailing off as he struggled to find the right way to express himself without sounding vulnerable.

Despite knowing you shouldn't push Ben too much, your curiosity got the better of you. You were beyond curious about what he was trying to say.

"About me?", you pressed gently, hoping he would open up further.

But Ben's expression hardened slightly, a hint of frustration flickering in his eyes. "Forget it", he muttered dismissively, his tone tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "It doesn't matter".

Before you could press him further, Ben cut you off by leaning in and kissing you with such passion that it took your breath away. The intensity of his kiss made you feel like you were soaring, momentarily distracting you from your questions and uncertainties.

As Ben turned you both, his body hovering above yours, he deepened the kiss before trailing his lips along your jawline. Between kisses, he murmured, "You know I was patient with you, right? I didn't rush you when we… you know".

His words were soft, almost pleading, as if he wanted to convince you that he wasn't as bad as Annie and the others insisted.

As the intensity of the moment enveloped you both, your voices turned into whispers, matching the intimacy of the scene. Ben's hands traced softly along your sides, his touch gentle yet electric as he continued to pepper kisses along your jaw.

"I know I can be a handful", he whispered, his breath warm against your skin. "But I've always been patient with you, haven't I?".

His lips continued their featherlight exploration over your skin, tracing every contour of your face and neck with painstaking slowness. The sensation was intoxicating, consuming your senses entirely.

With a soft sigh, you whispered in response, your voice barely above a breathy murmur, "You have…always been patient".

As his lips lingered against your skin, he paused for a moment before lifting his head slightly to meet your gaze. "I always made you feel good, right?", he asked, his voice low.

You met his gaze, the intensity of the moment almost overwhelming as you whispered back, "Yes, Ben".

A small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned in closer, his breath mingling with yours. "Good", he murmured, before capturing your lips in another searing kiss.

As the kiss deepened, Ben's hands gently cradled your face, his touch tender yet possessive. Between breathless moments, he whispered, "You know that Blondie and the rest just hate me? I would never hurt you".

His words sent a jolt through you, realizing that he had overheard your conversation earlier. Despite the intimacy of the moment, his vulnerability hung in the air, a silent plea for understanding.

With a hint of possessiveness, he continued, his voice laced with urgency, "They don't know you like I do. I wouldn't let anyone hurt you".

His words resonated with a protective edge, revealing a side of him you hadn't fully seen before.

With a determined edge to his voice, he added, "When I'm on that mission for the next two weeks, I need to know you're safe. And I don't want any other man near you, understand?".

With a hint of shyness, you asked, "But why? We're not together".

"I won't touch you ever again if anyone else does", he stated firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Ben's lips curled into a smirk as he added, "And trust me, sweetheart, you wouldn't want to see me angry if someone else lays a finger on you".

"And just so we're clear", Ben continued, his voice low and possessive, "this pretty pussy is mine now. Got it?".

As Ben's lips trailed down your neck, he sucked lightly on your skin, urging you to answer with a low, demanding growl.

"Tell me", he murmured between kisses, his voice husky with desire. "Whose pretty pussy is it?".

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the heat rising in your cheeks.

"Yours", you finally whispered, your voice barely audible above the sound of your racing heart.

Ben's lips curved into a satisfied smirk against your skin as he heard your response. "That's right, doll", he murmured. "All mine".

Ben's smirk turned into a mischievous grin as he leaned back slightly to meet your gaze. "And since you're too sore for me to fuck you properly", he teased, his voice low and suggestive, "I'm gonna eat that pretty pussy of yours so good, you won't be able to think about something else for the next two weeks".

As Ben's lips trailed down your body, leaving a trail of hot kisses in their wake, a shiver of anticipation ran through you. His touch was electric, sending tingles of pleasure dancing along your skin.

You let out a soft sigh as his lips hovered just above the waistband of your shorts, the anticipation building with each passing moment. "Ben", you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up at you with a wicked grin, his eyes dark with desire. "Don't worry, sweetheart", he whispered huskily, his breath warm against your skin. "I'm gonna make you forget everything but me".

———————————

A/N: Please let me know what you think.🥰

-

Part 14

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch @mimaria420 @kaz11283 @uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @mostlymarvelgirl @meowmeowyoongles

[002yb]

Besides bottom!Jason and Robin!Jason, what are your favorite jaydick headcanons/tropes/AUs/scenarios? Mine are sparring as foreplay, Bruce POV and/or worried-about Bruce's-reaction-drama, and unconventional soulmate marks (ex: Jason's death and/or resurrection cause the marks to disappear prematurely, come in late, etc.)

Anon's favorite tropes are so lovely and quality, yessss!! As for me, huh. Put on the spot, my mind goes blank. (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄)⁄ This isn't a comprehensive list, but they're the things that initially come to mind!

Tropes

Prerelationship!! Specifically when the interest is apparent but Dick and Jason are caught in that will-they-won't-they phase. Where the flirting is about plausible deniability. Where there's no expectation, only butterflies. Playful taunts, cheeky challenges; banter (with sharp tongues, biting wit, etc etc). Where Dick feels giddy and young with a silly pep to his step and Jason bites back smiles, bashful and soft.

Unsaid Romance!!! Where it's all about the longing and the lingering; the almost. This playing into an undercurrent of self-worth issues, of not wanting to ruin each other because Dick/Jason think of themselves as poison. So they keep each other just out of reach although they're both caught in each others' gravity. Wanting, but not taking (because it's all too gentle and neither of them have ever been anything soft). In a similar vein, starcrossed lovers.

Worship Blinds, Devotion Corrupts!! Where Jason overlooks many of Dick's faults (he's always been good about writing off red flags) and Dick, whether intentionally or not, moves his line/boundary for Jason.

Subverted Expectations!! Where Dick is surprised whenever Jason loses that sharp edge of his and lets himself be soft and Jason loses his footing when Dick becomes cruel in his passions.

AUs

WtMBU

Renegade AUs

Mob wifey!Jason AUs

Monstrous!Dick Grayson AUs

Nightwing/Civilian!Jason

Scenarios

Rooftop chases. Where Jason instigates and Dick pursues. Where Dick steals Jason out of the skies and they tumble across roofs until one of them is pinned. And it's intimate; it's electric, but there's no talking, no kiss to break the moment. Just hovering and a smirk before they take off to chase each other again.

Flirting banter over family comms. Where Jason insists its not flirting, Dick plays dumb, and the family is wildly exasperated at the shenanigans.

Roughhousing. Where it's foreplay playfighting or fighting fighting but always ends up with someone pinned and liking it.

Headcanons

Top!Dick, bottom!Jason

Competent!Dick and competent!Jason coexisting in time and space and being at a level where a fight can go either way but they kind of like it when the other wins or surprises them by playing dirty

Dick loves the chase and Jason loves being chased

Alternatively: Dick needs to be challenged sometimes and Jason is both challenging and a challenger

Jason's first crush is Dick Grayson. Said crush persists even after death and Jason is truly exasperated with himself over it.

Out of all the Robins, Dick has always connected most with Jason. Because Jason is the hurt child [that Dick was/is] that Dick shunned, the ugly parts of himself that Dick denies. Just Jason representing vulnerability and freedom that Dick is too scared to take or accept. Jason will never be Dick's soulmate because Jason has always been his twin flame; they're of the same soul

Dick is genuinely shameless; he can't be embarrassed/flustered - Jason tries and ends up embarrassing himself

Something something Dick being more monster than man. Jason being one of the few to see this. It's something he actively encourages, but passively soothes because something something Dick = hope, Jason = humanity.

[ask-sweetie-and-pip]

Pip Darling, exactly what truth did I vote for you to reveal?

"You guessed right. I'm trying to protect my Sweetie Belle from her, actually. . I don't like fighting.....If they all meet...I don't know.. I'm so tired." - Pipsqueak

Silly Silver, I'm a different kind of Sweetie Bot! I'm faster and a better efficient lean killing machine than the others. I have 50 kill count to my name. Wanna see my cam feed? :)

I dare you to come over, @askadultsweetiebelle!

- Renegade Sweetie Bot

[gargoyleandgremlinpress]

Renegade 2023 Typeset Exchange: Regardless of the Hardships by Ehann

When I picked up a pinch-hit for @admiraltypress in this year's @renegadepublishing typeset exchange, and saw this SVSS fic on the list, it was JUST a few days after one of my fellow Renegade discord members has shared some really great public domain illustrations, and I knew exactly what I wanted to use for this one. I'm pretty happy with how the bamboo theme turned out!

Regardless of the Hardships is a canonverse AU where Shen Yuan transmigrated into the body of Mu Qingfang, peak lord of Qian Cao peak, instead. I've only read a smattering of SVSS fic so far, and this slow-burn was a fun one to dive into!

And my favourite silly little detail in all of my recent typesets is the post-it note on the summary page, pulled from the tags. (I'd stuck it in on a whim right before I closed the file to go off and do other things, and promptly forgot all about it. When I came back and saw it again, I was entertained all out of proportion to the situation. Sometimes I'm easily amused.)

[powderblueblood]

I know this has been done a million and one times, but Eddie just vibing at the gas station. Something inevitably goes wrong. Please and thanks dear Powder

jo my love i present to you 1k+ words of eddie munson's no good very bad wednesday night no warnings! just silly. and acab includes hopper

So it's eight thirty on a Wednesday night, the very armpit of the week, and Eddie's standing there under the glare of the gas station fluorescents. Right in the heart of the snack aisle.

"What's become apparent to me, Sam, is-is-is-is that it's fear. It's the iron claw of the bonds of being a scaredy-cat little bitch that has stunted me fundamentally."

Loaded. So stoned he's stalagmite.

"See, I'm a capable guy. Many capes have I, but it's like, I've finally mastered the fuck-you-chip-on-my-shoulder adolescent thing that I'm reluctant to let it go. I'm skirting around putting on my big boy pants. I'm failing my courses. I'm dumbing myself down to stick around high school, seemingly, on purpose. Because I'm afraid!"

Eddie's pouring his heart out to the narcoleptic octogenarian cashier, the guy that likely built this place out of shiplap and bullet casings way back when it was a horseshit stop for Buffalo Bill's Wild West Freak Show or whoever.

"And I know what you're thinking." Sam isn't thinking anything. Sam's sleeping with his eyes wide open. "Why not really, grr, take root with that family tree, huh? Drop out like my old man and my uncle did? Well, I'll tell ya--"

Eddie wonders, in the middle of his own sentence, what it'd be like to hitch his wagon to an operation like that and coast solely on being a moorless weirdo.

He's really stoned, okay?

"--high school is easy to fail in. Real life? Isn't."

And look, before you get all, he's got good reason. It's been a particular drag of a week, a real sandpaper to the balls kind of kick off. Corroded Coffin's Tuesday night engagement at the Hideout was a special kind of bust--not least of all because the slapdash stage finally gave way under all that threatening creaking, and almost took Jeff's neck with it.

The neck of his bass and his human body. Neither of which Jeff's ass is in any position to fix.

So Eddie's got a band that's bruised and barely in the pocket, and a mouth that won't stop running.

“WSQK 94.5, The Squawk!” Eddie echoes the radio, complete with eagle screech, as the opening chords of Renegade by Ted Nugent & the Amboy Dukes pick up. "Hawk-ening right back to a time when Ted Nugent hadn't yet sold all his actual guitaristry to that pissant Wango Tango-ing... You know what, man, this is it!"

His ringed hands come down on the counter all a-clatter, chip crumbs flying out the bag he hasn't quite paid for yet.

"Lock me in a room full of records under a radio tower and throw away the key, I mean, I would be good to fucking go. None of that shock-jock shit, either. I'd play nothing but real music. The Hawkins Midnight Rambler, huh?" But Sam isn't paying sufficient enough attention. "Think I got a face for radio, Sammy?" Because he's asleep.

It takes a couple of molasses-slow moments for Eddie to register this, he himself still working through his own big sluggishness. I mean, damn, even waving a hand in front of the old man's face is an effort.

He's out, though, like a light. Makes Eddie wonder how this place stays open, much less unrobbed.

Well. Careful what you wish for there, buddy.

His hand is slinking toward a Three Musketeers, ready to nab it from the shelf right under old Sam's nose and write him a little IOU for whenever he next has the cash, but Eddie senses a shuffling behind him.

"Put your fuckin' hands in the air!"

Oh? "Dude, what?"

There's this guy behind him, this guy whose corporeal form Eddie can't be a bajillion percent sure isn't, like, a vivid hallucination, with pantyhose tugged over his face. Poking a pistol around under the cover of his camo jacket. The whole bit.

"Put your hands in the air or I put a hole through ya, asshole! You too, old man!"

Eddie tuts, hands still very much hovering near that candy bar.

"What's the fucking hold up, you and your grandpa tryin' to get shot or somethin?!" this very serious masked assailant demands.

"He's asleep, guy," Eddie says. "He can't hear you."

"What?!" our villain splutters, "Well... wake the fuck up! I ain't got all day and I want what's in that reg--"

He goes to point his still-concealed fuckin' sharp shooter or whatever it is he has at Sam's face, and Eddie, with this strange surge of protectiveness and complete buffoonery, nudges his arm away.

"Don't! Number one, dude's a narcoleptic, you could give him a heart attack if you just woke him up like that--number two, I saw him pull a sawed off from under that counter one time and you're in way closer range so the hole he blows through you is gonna be, like, way bigger and... like, he'll kill you and shit. Be cool."

The would-be thief groans. Oh, god, Eddie just knows he thought this hit job would be way easier. In and out, quick and dirty, wham-bam-thank you Sam.

Eddie nearly laughs. He does laugh, actually, because he's still super-mega fucking high and can't exactly control the noises that come out of his mouth, so next thing the dude is rounding on him with the thing in his pocket. Eddie actually puts his hands up this time. Feels a cold shock go through him somewhere that he really hopes isn't piss.

You ever get that? Get so stoned you constantly think you're peeing yourself? Anyway.

"Get the fuck behind the counter! If the old man can't open the register for me, you're gonna do it!"

"But I don't know how." Liar. Lying ass. Eddie knows how to work a goddamn register. It's not like he's tucking that money from the Hideout straight into his garter belt. Though he could. Maybe he should. Maybe he should buy a garter b--

"I'm gonna tell you how, dickhead!"

"What's in it for me?"

"Is that a fucking joke, wise guy?"

Only kinda. Closed mouths never get fed. "Worth a shot."

But Eddie doesn't really love this dude's tone, so he obediently scoots behind the counter, and almost gets distracted by all the copies of Penthouse Sam is keeping back here. He knew the bastard was holding out on him.

"Um..." Eddie gingerly starts, hands just sort of floating in the direction of the register in a way he hopes to Christ won't disturb Sam and wake him into a world of cardiac calamity.

So the guy tells him what buttons to push, clearly a man of the trade, a fellow familiar with wiling countless hours away behind a counter, which makes Eddie be all, why don't you steal from your own job, you shyster and keeps hitting the wrong buttons on purpose.

But dear old Sammy must have this thing rigged to make Eddie look like an asshole, because out pops the fucking drawer anyhow!

This guy, the pantyhose head, the robber, lets out an honest-to-god yippee! as he reaches over to snatch that cash.

And Eddie, working solely on instinct at this point, narrows his lovely red-rimmed eyes and shoves the drawer right in on the unlucky fuck's fingers.

He screams. And Eddie screams. And something falls out of his pocket. And Eddie leans over the counter, expecting to see and hear the shiny clatter of a pistol hit the lino.

But there is no such hardware.

It was a banana in his pocket. He was not happy to see you.

"What the fuck, man!" they chorus in near unison. They could have been brothers in another life, says some disembodied voice in the back of Eddie's head.

But then, something yellow flies towards Eddie's face and the shock of it knocks him right back into the lotto tickets and cigarettes. Thunk! His head knocks far too hard against the fire extinguisher and now there's two unconscious guys behind the counter.

Now, I don't know if you've ever had a banana thrown in your face by a masked assailant before, but I would call that something of an overreaction.

Anyway, he wakes up to police sirens and that Callaghan dweeb hauling him up by the front of his Hellfire shirt.

"Sshsjesus, Officer Handsy, buy a guy dinner first," Eddie slurs, head pounding. Callaghan's dorky Buddy Holly glasses have an aura around them that he unconsciously tries to swat away.

"He's resisting arrest!" Callaghan yells.

"Keep it down, I have a headache!" Eddie blinks once, twice, twenty-million times and is still having a tough time taking stock of his surroundings. Cash drawer's open and empty, and Sam is nowhere to be seen. "Didja catch the guy or what? He had a banana gun. Threw it right at me."

"Pipe down. Edward Munson, you're under arrest for armed robbery--"

"--wait, hold on--"

"--endangering the elderly--"

"--hold the fuck on!"

"--and swearing at a police officer!" Callaghan clicks the cuffs on and Eddie's about to burst, he's so mad and his head is pounding with such a fury. Shuffling him out into the forecourt and into the squad car like some kind of penguin idiot!

"That last thing isn't even real!" he spits, "None of this is real--I was trying t--fuck, did you not hear me about the banana gun?!"

"Reminds me to drug test him when we get back to the station," Callaghan puffs as he slides into the passenger seat.

"No one's drug testing anybody," Chief Hopper grumbles from behind the wheel. "We don't even have those facilities. Plus, kid doesn't even have any of that stolen cash on him."

"Thank you!" Eddie barks from his seat in the back. He can't really seem to sit upright, and he doesn't know whether to contribute that to the lump that's risen on the back of his head or the drugs that are definitely still in his system.

"W--well, why are we arresting him, then?" Callaghan blubs. Which is actually a salient point.

The Chief shrugs. "I'unno. Wednesday night. Somethin' to do."

[aziraphales-library]

Hi there!

Do you know any fics where either Crowley or Aziraphale has a nightmare and the other comforts them?

Thanks! I love your blog xx

We have a #nighmares tag you can check! Here are more to add...

The weight of guilt by Mimisempai (G) When Aziraphale experiences his first nightmare, he must confront an event from his past that he didn't realize had such an impact on him. How does one deal with millennia of repressed guilt and grief?

Supernova by jupiter1946 (T)

After Shax's attack on Aziraphale's bookshop, Crowley goes home to his flat for some much needed rest. Unfortunately, his rest is plagued with nightmares of Aziraphale leaving him, causing him to spiral. For once in his life, he asks for help.

you wouldn’t be the first renegade to need somebody by carathecapybara (T)

Aziraphale doesn’t feel fine. He’s still horrified. He’s felt fear many times in his life, but he hasn’t been afraid like that in a long, long time. Is that what it would be like? To fall? Was that horrible voice telling the truth? It was in some ways. Maybe it was right. Maybe he deserves to fall, to suffer a torment like what he just dreamed of. Nightmares couldn’t be very holy. Why was he, an angel, having them? It has to be a sign. He deserves for that to be real after all he's done. He deserves to suffer, to hurt, to fall- “Angel, can you hear me?” or: aziraphale has a nightmare.

But The Smoke Clears When You're Around by blondecoffeecup (T)

“Mhm,” Crowley mumbled, before closing his eyes, curling back up around Aziraphale, and promptly falling back to sleep, one hand hooked loosely around the angel’s middle, his face pressed into his chest. Aziraphale looked down at him, his heart seizing in his chest, and gently hugged him close. “You are silly, my sweet boy,” he whispered breathlessly, sparing a single chaste kiss to the demon’s forehead. “And I . . .” Love you, he wanted to say. Wanted so badly to say it, to reveal it to the world, if only for a single moment. After the Armageddon that wasn't, Crowley can't rid himself of the trauma caused by a certain event, and shields himself with defensive anger and a mask of irritation. Aziraphale convinces him that it's okay to rest and recover. (Alternatively: purely sleepy intimacy, comfort, and fluff, accompanied by the lingering scent of smoke in a bookshop.)

I Forgive You by Sparkling12 (NR)

As Aziraphale arrives in Heaven, having left Crowley, he is captured and tortured by Heaven authorities. It turns out the job offer was all a plot to lure him there. How will Crowley save him? Or Crowley taking care of his traumatised angel, while plotting revenge on Metatron. (Mind the tags on this one!)

Never Let Anything Intrude by EdosianOrchids901 (T)

After the incident with the Resurrectionists, Aziraphale anxiously waits in Edinburgh until Crowley returns. Crowley is injured and traumatized, and Aziraphale takes him somewhere peaceful to recover. They both dream of being able to stay together—and maybe in the future, they can have a home of their own.

- Mod D

[eff-plays]

I think there are a lot of valid criticisms to make of Garrus as a character (and what I like about his writing the most is that you can actually do this in-game), but when people dislike him because "he's a cop!!", it's so funny to me.

Like yeah ACAB and all, don't fall for copaganda, but like ... You can't seriously dislike Garrus because he's a cop when you're literally playing Military Propaganda: The Game. Garrus expicitly joins you because you have even less oversight than he does. You play not only as a high-ranking Alliance soldier, but you become a Spectre, beyond touch by even the Alliance itself. Garrus joins you because he thinks he can get what you have. Because he thinks you will let him get away with shit he didn't get away with before. And yeah, that's off-putting for sure, but think about it for a moment. What does this say about Shepard's position in this, that he can reasonably believe this, and that you can actually agree with him (if Renegade) without consequence? That you can decide that yes, I will indulge this, and the game just lets you do that and makes it a perfeclty valid approach to being a Spectre.

"Oh but my Shepard is moral and would use her powers for good! She's a Paragon! Garrus is bad because he doesn't believe in regulations!"

Hmm, so you're saying that the problem with this power structure is that there are good cops and bad cops? And not that the whole system is fucked from the start? Hmm ... Seems like you've fallen for some sort of ... proper gander ...

My point is, dislike any character you want. It's perfeclty valid to dislike Garrus, because he's bloodthirsty, at times amoral, a vigilante, thinks he's above the law etc, and yes, those are often the traits of a wannabe bad cop, but to dislike him only because "he's a cop!" while other characters, including your own precious Shepard, get a pass?

Bro, you're playing as military in a game that glorifies violence and ignoring politicians and protocol. A running gag is hanging up on your employers because they're silly little politicians who talk too much and want to hold you accountable. You're basically Cop 2.0. Ultracop. The galaxy's cop mommy.

Put things into perspective and get an actual reason to hate the guy. Because if he's a cop, then what are you?

[captain-is-king]

Please tell me there are still people in the Renegades fandom

I just tore through the whole trilogy this week and since Marissa Meyer has officially said there isn't any new Renegades content coming any time soon, I'm ITCHING to write a post-supernova pre-epilogue fic.

Like I just HAVE to know about Nova's complex grief over losing the anarchists despite them being a pretty shit family and her developing relationship with Adrian and reconciling with the rest of the team. And also society and the Renegades restructuring etc etc etc.

And all the fun silly things too!! Max finally being able to be a normal kid. Sterling and Jade are PRODIGIES now!!! That is one thing I haven't figured out is what would all these new abilities be??

But anyway PLEASE tell me people are still interested in the Renegades trilogy because I've already started plotting out so much of this fic and looked through a ton of old stuff in the tags on tumblr and ao3

[scorpionrising]

there is love that doesn't have a place to rest — ch. 2

pairing: finan x fem!oc word count: 2709 content warning: this fic deals explicitly with the trauma of sexual assault. while there are no drawn out, graphic scenes, it is made explicitly clear what is going on. for context: oc is uhtred's daughter and was captive in dunholm for all her childhood. proceed with caution. additionally, expect canon typical attitudes, behaviors, violence, etc.

read on ao3

“and if i would've known how sharp the pieces were you'd crumbled into i might've let them lay" –big red machine ft. taylor swift, renegade

“Why are ya’ doin’ this, Lord?” 

“You know why.”

“No, I really don’t.”  

Ravna knew she ought not to be eavesdropping. Her father would be quite cross if he found out, but her time at Dunholm taught her several things. The first being how to sneak around without being caught. She did not catch the beginning of her father’s conversation with Finan, but she could surmise enough what it was about. 

“Finan.” 

Father sounded pained, as if the words were being choked out of him. She dug her nails into the bark of the tree she was behind to keep from poking her head out. Surely then, they would see her.

“Lord, I belong at your side on the battlefield.” 

“I trust above all others, but what’s more important is Ravna trusts you above all others.”

She bit her lip to refrain from letting out a gasp. 

Finan sighed audibly. “She will not take kindly to ya’ leaving me here to spy on her.”

“You are not spying.”

“Oh, I’m not?”

“Just keep her safe, and make sure she eats.”

“Lord, is that not what Gisela is for? I’m a warrior, not a nursemaid.” 

The metallic taste of blood bloomed on Ravna’s tongue. A nursemaid. The urge to storm out there and confront them both nearly overtook her. A nursemaid! She wanted to scream. The last four years, she had thought Finan to be her friend—a true friend. Just as Sihtric was; just as Osferth was. She had for so long thought them equals. Clearly, he did not feel the same and saw her as a mere child. Squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying in her rage, Ravna reached up to where her teeth had split her lip and rubbed the blood away. 

“She will not talk to Gisela. She will not talk to me. She talks to no one as she does you.” 

Had he been reporting her words back to her father all this time? Her stomach churned. How many of the abuses she suffered at Dunholm that she spoke only to Finan of to spare her father the heartache did he know about? 

Perhaps she really was no more than a child, because she had been silly enough to think of him as an individual rather than her father’s man. Anger surged through her, a defense from the rushing wave of sadness pooling beneath her ribs. 

“Surely Sihtric would be better suited for the job. They grew up together, and his wife just had a baby.” 

“I need Sihtric to spy—”

“Lord, you have me acting a spy here!” 

“Finan!” Father’s words came out in a venomous hiss. “You will remain here, and you will take care of Ravna.”

“Very well, Lord.” 

“Osferth will stay as well. Invite Ravna to train with you both. It will serve her well. She ought to learn to protect herself.” 

With her father’s tone a bit lighter at the end, the two men began to walk away. Once she could no longer hear their footsteps, Ravna let out the short sob she had been holding in and sank to the ground. Back pressed to the tree, she drew her knees to her chest and pressed her forehead down. She stayed like that for some time, switching ceaselessly between furious and horribly sad. 

Still gnawing on her raw lip, Ravna hoisted herself up and marched straight for town. Nursemaid, she thought with a scoff. She was no child. She would prove both her father and Finan wrong. She did not need someone charged to look after her. She had survived on her own well enough at Dunholm. 

She entered the hall in a storm of rage, kicking up dust and dirt behind her as she stomped up the stairs to their living quarters. She slammed doors behind her, kicked objects out of her way, flung her boots off and across the room. It was a good thing she was alone. If her father or Finan dared show their faces anytime soon, it was likely she would make an attempt at stabbing them. 

“I’m a warrior, not a nursemaid,” she mocked in a horrible mimicry of Finan’s brogue. She blew a raspberry and entered her room. “Pathetic.” 

She flopped facedown onto her bed and sprawled her arms out. She would remain here until someone came to find her, and they would need to drag her from the bed if they wished her to move. 

Eventually, she must have fallen asleep, because soon flames were licking at her skin. They curled around her limbs like scorching hands, forcing her limbs apart and clawing at her throat. Smoke entered her lungs and her vision went hazy. She was burning. 

She coughed desperately, praying it would be enough to keep the fumes from choking her. She coughed and screamed and thrashed until—THUNK! 

She came to, no longer on her bed, but in a heap on the floor. She must have banged her head, because it was throbbing with a large lump forming on her forehead. Quietly cursing, Ravna rubbed her eyes and grabbed the bedpost to use as leverage to stand up. The world spun, all out of order for a moment. 

“Sister?” 

Feilan’s sweet voice drifted through the closed door. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes once more and wrenched the door open. Her little brother’s eyes did not even reach her hips, but they were gleaming up at her as wide as can be. 

“Mama sent me to come get you,” he said quietly. “Father is leaving.” His nose wrinkled and he looked around past her. “I heard you shout.”

“I merely fell from my bed,” she said, running a hand over the braid she had slept in. “I am well.”

His eyebrows crinkled together in concern that was perhaps too great for a six year old, but he stuck his bottom lip out and his hand as well. She forced a smile and took his hand, allowing him to lead the way down the stairs. 

Everyone was gathered down in the hall; Sihtric and Sig and their baby, Osferth, Hild, Gisela with Stiorra in her arms and Father at her side, and Finan—the great traitorous bastard. Father grinned at her, as though he had not been plotting with Finan a few mere hours before to spy on her.  

“And to think, I thought I’d be leaving without a goodbye from my eldest,” Uhtred said, raising his arms out as if to hug her.

Ravna permitted the hug, but cut it short. If he noticed her aversion, he hid it well. But then, a crease formed between his eyes. 

“What is this on your head?”

He raised a hand to her face and she promptly swatted it away while ducking out of his reach. 

“I fell,” she said. 

“Are you well?” he asked suddenly, fretfully. “Perhaps you should sit down—”

“I am fine!” she snapped. 

It was rare that Ravna ever thought to raise her voice. She did not like loud, sudden noises, and the shouts of men did little to make her feel at ease. She kept quiet for a great many reasons, but especially because she did not want to frighten others as she had been frightened. Father looked even more concerned now, which only served to infuriate her further. She was neither soft nor fragile, and she hated being treated as such. 

She had been thirteen when her father pulled her from the dark cells below Dunholm, but she was no longer that shivering, bruised child. Yes, the nightmares still plagued her, but if they had not stopped in the last eight years, she just supposed she would have to live with them forever. Just as she had been doing. Shooting her father a vicious glare, Ravna stomped over to Sihtric to wish him goodbye.

“Do not get yourself killed,” she said sternly. 

“He has already gotten this speech from me,” Sig said. “But we both know he won’t listen.” 

“No, he’s too pigheaded,” Ravna agreed. 

“I will not have you two conspiring against me while I am gone,” Sihtric said with a frown. 

Ravna smirked and looked over Sig’s shoulder at their son. The boy’s eyes had not been open once any time she had gone to visit, and she wondered if he shared the same mismatched eyes as his father. 

“I can hold Bjørn so you two can have a proper goodbye,” Ravna offered.

Sig grinned. “He got his proper goodbye this morning.” 

“Sig!” Sihtric hissed. “The baby!”

“The baby is too young to understand words, husband,” Sig said, eyes rolling up to the ceiling. “Here, Ravna, you can take him if you like. He’s getting heavy in my arms.” 

Ever so carefully, Ravna reached out to take little Bjørn from Sig. With her oldest friend’s son in her arms, she could feel some of her anger sapping out of her. It was hard to be infuriated when holding something so sweet and small. She hummed quietly, bouncing the child in her arms as a tiny smile crept onto her lips. 

Ravna held him until Sihtric and her father left the hall together, already locked in fierce conversation about the rogues they were sure to encounter. Heaving out a great sigh, Ravna handed Bjørn back to Sig and made her promise to reach out if she needed help. Gisela had even offered her a space in the hall, but Sig—ever the self-sufficient woman—declined quite gracefully. Very pointedly ignoring Finan, Ravna marched straight for Osferth.

“I’d like another lesson on your Holy Book.” 

Osferth’s face split into a grin. “Of course, Lady.” 

He held his arm out for her. Snorting, she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow and began to walk.

“You know you do not need to call me that.”

“Oi! You two!” Finan called after them. “Wait!” 

Ravna rolled her eyes, which Osferth certainly noticed, giving the look of surprise that overtook his face. His surprise did not come as a shock, of course. How often did Ravna treat Finan with a sweet smile and wide eyes? Perhaps she really had been acting like a child this whole time; well, no more of that. She could be just as independent as Sig. 

“Is everything alright?” Osferth muttered. 

“Yes, of course,” Ravna said, smiling and batting her lashes. 

The monk’s face darkened by a few shades and he briefly looked away from her. He cleared his throat and avoided eye contact with her until Finan reached them. 

“Where ya’ off to?” 

“Prayer,” Osferth said. 

“Alone,” Ravna added sternly. 

She did not think she could bear to be around Finan right now, not with the knowledge that he would be likely reporting all her comings and goings back to her father. Would he write it down so he would not forget a single action she took? Or would he commit it all to memory and just inform Uhtred of the exciting bits? 

At her unusually cross tone, Finan and Osferth alike widened their eyes in shock. It was rare she ever got snippish, and even more rare for it to be directed towards Finan. She glowered, tightened her grip on Osferth’s arm, and began pulling the monk after her to walk away. If Finan thought he was being left here to act as a nursemaid, he could spend his time with the actual children. 

She led Osferth through the woods to the spot she loved so much, and sat down in a huff. There was a small smile toying at his thin lips as he mirrored her position. They sat close, facing one another with their knees touching. 

“So,” he began, “why are you angry with Finan?”

“I am not angry at Finan,” Ravna said defensively, scowling.

“Could’ve fooled me.” He grinned a bit teasingly. Then, his face organized itself into something a bit more somber. “Something is clearly bothering you, Lady.” 

“I’m not a lady,” she said, half blushing.

“You’re an ealdorman’s daughter,” he said as though she needed to be reminded of it. “That makes you a lady.” 

She rolled her eyes and lifted her face to the sun. The air was getting warmer each day, and soon she would be able to swim in the river without catching a chill. With summer came a sense of freedom she constantly longed for. It was a happier time, and Father’s eyes always had less worry in them when he looked at her. 

“Ravna,” he whispered.

She snapped her eyes towards him. Just like her father, and Gisela, and Sihtric, and even Finan now, there was a look of deep concern clouding his blue eyes. She clenched her jaw and tried to ignore the rush of anger. He reached forward tentatively and placed his hand over hers atop her knee.

“What is troubling you?” 

Was it pity in his eyes, or was it something else? 

“Everyone thinks me a child,” she finally said after a long moment. 

“Who is everyone?” Osferth asked. “Because I certainly do not see a child before me. I see a woman grown.” 

“That is different,” she said. “We are… of an age, with one another.” She wrinkled her nose and looked down at his hand covering hers. “I speak of Father and Gisela, and Beocca and Thyra, and—”

She stopped herself before she could say the last name, but Osferth saw straight through her. 

“And Finan?” he asked her.

She was not proud of how her face burned in response. Embarrassed at how obvious it was, she pulled away from Osferth and brought her knees to her chest, wrapping her arms around her legs. 

“I always thought him to be my friend,” she said quietly, ashamed at how stupid she had been all these years. “I thought he saw me as I am, not merely his Lord’s daughter.” 

She was not proud of the bitterness she heard creeping off her tongue as she spoke, but Osferth never judged. 

“You should not let it bother you,” he said in that quiet, contemplative voice of his. 

“But it does!” She exploded, falling backwards to lay across the large boulder. “What of when I have a family of my own? When I am a mother, will my father still have his men watching my every step to report back to him?” 

“I think it’s hard for him,” Osferth said. “He lost you when you were still a child, and he thought you dead for eight years, and when he found you again, you lived in Winchester with your aunt until you reached majority.”

“And that is my fault?” Ravna asked, shooting up with blazing eyes. “He did not yet have Coccham and I could hardly galavant across the country with him!”

“I did not say that,” he said gently. “I mean to say, you left his life as a child and reentered it as a woman.”

“It has been years,” she hissed. 

“But far less time than you spent away from him,” he said. 

She hated how he was right. Letting out a loud groan, she slumped back down and stared up at the cloudy sky through the tree branches. The birds above were chirping some absurd song, louder even than the rushing of the water below them.  

“Your father loves you, Ravna,” Osferth said, a heavy sigh falling from his lips curdling the words a bit. “Many cannot say the same.” 

She thought briefly of Kjartan, and the bruises he would paint across Sihtric’s skin, but what was most prominent in her mind was King Alfred. His cruelty to Osferth was an understated one. Whelped onto a servant girl, tossed into a monastery without a second thought, and never acknowledged. It always brought an overwhelming sadness to her heart when she thought of it. She reached a hand out until her fingers found his, and she grabbed onto him.

“You are loved, Osferth,” she said. “Surely you know this.” 

She turned her head to look at him. His head was bowed down, the hand she was not holding tracing the cracks in the boulder. He glanced back at her and smiled just a bit. 

“Now, tell me about Eve and the apple again,” she commanded. “I do not understand it.”

[thirddoctor]

Just watched the first episode

It was cute! Loved the babies and the Doctor and Ruby's interactions with them. Very adorable.

I'm also enjoying Fifteen more and more with each episode. Ncuti's performance is great. Ruby is fun too, almost has a mild Clara vibe.

As always I am against the Timeless Child retcon but I'm glad RTD at least has a better idea than Chibnall did of how to use it dramatically.

However, society has evolved past the need for last of the Time Lords angst. To think we could have been free of that forever if S12 hadn't happened 😔

Doctor!! Time Lords don't all go by titles, that's just you renegade weirdos!!!

(Hoping and praying that this is part of a setup for the Monk. 🙏 Just want them back so bad...)

The dinosaur scene was fun but I'm disappointed that it was random. I was so hoping Ruby would finally be the companion to do the sensible thing when presented with a time machine and immediately ask to see dinosaurs. That's what I'd do.

Society has also evolved past the need for the whole sonicking the phone thing. Always thought that was very silly. #RTDMustBeStopped

[someonewhogotanaccount]

It's intro post time!

Hi! I'm KitCat!

~The end~

Okay okay maybe you need a little bit more.

As I already said, I'm KitCat, master procatsinator and moving catastrophe, nice to meet you. (Though, everybody calls me KitKat, Kit or Chocosy, which is perfectly fine as well as any other name you want to give me ;)

I'm a minor, so all the creeps please leave now. My motto in life is "live and let live", so if you're here to hurt somebody, please leave too. Thank you :).

The typical things (that I actually forgot when I first posted this): I'm a straight white European Christian girl (teenager) and therefore probably the person with the most boring background, according to Tumblr ;).

I have two "adopted daughters": 1. My Killercat and tuna-demanding master Pauline 2. ";)", the bracket face (she can adapt any form of bracket face if she wants to, but the winking one is her favourite)

Some random facts about me: - my favourite colour is something between purple and dark blue - I have no clue how to write the word color/colour - I'm a German and from Germany (obviously) - I have no clue about the 'typical German culture', since my family was in Poland, Ukraine, Kazakhstan and Russia for around three hundred years and only came back to Germany 30 years ago or so - I love brackets and bracket faces - I have no clue about aesthetics - I consider myself a writer - I have no clue how to continue my stories - I love cats (who would have guessed that) - I have no clue how to make an intro post - I have a stupid sense humour - I have no clue in general but I'm trying :)

You can consider me as: Your silly Tumblr neighborhood KitCat and founder of the hug-ducks ;).

Do I take Tumblr serious? No. I'm that one friend that will be hyperactive the one day and then just dissappear for the next three weeks without a word. But if you ever need me, my inbox is always open. Vent as much as you want to, I'll try to comfort you.

Random stuff: I often misunderstand stuff, so if I'm acting weird, there is a 1/3 chance that I misunderstood you, a 1/3 chance I wanted to make a silly joke and you misunderstood me, and a 1/3 chance that I'm just weird ;). I'm a "Very vibey" (@mushroomcarrotstick) person, btw. @hijabi-desi-bookworm told me once I was "literally one of the best and ~vibest~ people" she knows. Do with that whatever you want, but my name is KitCat Chaos Vibey Clueless Badass Silly for a reason. Oh and if ANYBODY tells you that I'm cute, they are liars. All lies. I'm a pure badass and never ever search after the leta vs. kitkat war. It's better to let the past behind us and move on.

Sooooo, what else can I write here? Hmmm.... AH! MY MOOTS! I FORGOT MY MOOTS!!!

How do I do this now... you know what? I'll just make a list of the moots and then put the link here.

What else? Fandoms, maybe? (current obsession right on the top) - Worm (Parahumans) - Renegades - Claim the Stars (still waiting for the second book) - pjo, hoo, toa - The Inheritance Games (currently reading the second book) - tpq - kotlc - Warrior Cats (don't make fun of me. These books are my childhood and I will read them until I die) - Shadow League (never read the fourth book as it wasn't translated)

Also I enjoy listening music by Imagine Dragons :).

Yeah well, that's it, I suppose. I have an ao3 account as well, but that's only Renegades fanfiction so far. If you want the link just ask or smth.

Since everybody does this, I'll drop an "aesthetic picture" that should give the same vibes as my blog:

(source for the chaotic arson cat ;)