#Robin writes about love

[rockingrobin69]

One time he said 'finger of speech' and I snorted milk out of my nose laughing. We have a three-inch metal dog called Fango who lives on the kitchen table. There's a distinction between 'my notebooks' (practicing mandarin) and 'his notebooks' (translating game language) in the living room. Once I doodled a creature on a torn corner of a notepad and it took him six months to find it. We used to say 'turning turtle' for 'going to bed' and I've no idea why. My best prank to date was kidnapping his shoes. He reminds me every Friday that it was Thursday, yesterday. One time he kissed my forehead and I couldn't stop grinning for ten minutes straight (he was almost-all-the-way-asleep) (It was last month) (I'm still grinning).

Nine years ago today we met on a bus. I asked him, 'who are you?' and I think I have an answer. He's this man who makes me snort milk out of my nose for laughing so hard.

[bluerosefox]

Phantomish Rogues

Team Phantom get ripped from their home universe into the DCverse. With no money or real ID's in this world. Now thats a problem.

Another big problem is that Danny is badly injured and his core kinda put him into a deep cryo sleep. He needs to rest and gather ectoplasm.

Bigger problem Team Phantom have no clue how to get home because they don't know how to decode the Fenton Portal blue-prints, not even Jazz who at the time didn't pay attention to her parents portal work anymore by the time they finished it. The only one who does have an idea is Danny!

Biggest problem, they landed in a place called Gotham that seems to be overrun with actual villains and heroes? (vigilantes). And for some odd reason many of them seem to find them no matter where the Team goes to hide.

Until they can get their hands on a safe space, tech, and money, Team Phantom might have to go a bit Rogue/Villainous if they wanna keep Danny safe until he wakes up.

[shushmal]

There's an incredibly pretty girl at the front desk in Family Video, and Steve—Eddie's boyfriend of eight months—is leaning over the counter with a sly smile and half-lidded eyes.

Eddie pauses in the doorway, struck dumb for a moment as he takes in the scene, and then gleefully ducks down behind the nearest shelf.

"So tell me," Steve says, all low and intimate. "What kind of movie were you looking for?"

"Um," the girl says. She doesn't sound very enthusiastic—barely indulgent at best. Eddie wishes he could see, but any sight of him will ruin Steve's chances right now. He's got a pretty good mental picture though. "I really like those old black and white movies, the really glamorous ones, you know?"

"Oh, totally," Steve sighs, like he's swooning. "Like Cary Grant, Clarke Gabel?" Eddie can practically hear his smirk. "Katharine Hepburn? Ginger Rogers?"

"Oh, I love Ginger Rogers!"

"Really?" Steve says matching her excitement. "Well, you're just in luck! Robin here knows all about those old black and white movies, don't you Robin?"

Eddie presses a hand to his mouth to hide his snickering. Robin had looked like a hooked fish when he'd walked in, she's gotta be gaping stupidly right now. "Uuuh," he hears her mumbling, and tries not to snort too loud. "Y-Yeah, uh, golden age of Hollywood stuff, absolutely. I could? Show you where they are?"

"Oh my gosh, that would be amazing!" the girl says, her interest in the conversation now warmed by several degrees. Eddie is still a little in awe of how well his boyfriend can sniff out gay girls.

"I got the front here, Robin," Steve cuts in smoothly. "You ladies take your time, make sure you pick out a good one!"

Eddie waits another beat, listening at their footsteps shuffle away, before he pops up from behind the shelf. Steve, lighting up like a Christmas tree, beams at him.

"Am I a genius or what?" he whispers, grinning ear to ear.

"Your lesbian powers know no equal," Eddie says just as quietly, taking the girl's spot at the counter, leaning into Steve's space. Steve happily mirrors him, until they're tucked together, the world narrowing down to the two of them. It's Eddie's favorite place to be. "All hail Steve Harrington, blessid he, lesbian whisper. Come to aid all useless queers in the fight against singledom."

"Thank you, thank you," Steve says with an air of novel benevolence. "I promise to only use my powers for good."

"Dingus. Doofus."

They jump away from each other as if shocked. Robin glowers at them both, but the pretty girl behind her is giggling and standing way too close for friendly, just at Robin's elbow.

"Move it, lovebirds," she hisses as she rounds the desk. "I need to check Claire out."

"I think you already have," Steve says. His smile this time is down right evil.

Robin actually hisses at him, and hip checks him away from the register. Eddie does a bow, sweeping his arm out to give Claire the prime spot in front of the desk, before he turns back to Steve.

"My dear, if you could please," he simpers, all posh and nasally. "Show me to your finest, grossest horror movie, thank you my good sir."

"Ugh," Steve groans already heading off into the shelves, not waiting for Eddie to follow. "You're lucky I love you, Ed. Shit gives me nightmares."

"I know," Eddie sings, chasing him. "I love you too."

[littlefankingdom]

It's kind of annoying (and weird) how DC keeps trying to rewrite how Jason and Bruce met to paint Bruce in a worst light.

Originally, Batman finds Jason stealing the Batmobile's tires, the kid runs away, and Batman finds him. Discovering the kid is homeless, he gives him to the authority and Jason finishes at Ma Gunn's school. Ma Gunn is actually teaching the kids to be gang members, so Jason tells Batman. Together, they win again Ma Gunn, and Bruce takes Jason in because he sees himself in him.

Well, in Nightwing: Year One, they change it for "Batman kidnapped Jason when he found him stealing his tires and forces him to become Robin", with Jason ATTACHED AND GAGGED in the batcave. (I like this comic except for that because wtf)

In Red Hood and The Outlaws (2011), they changed it for "Jason stole drugs from Leslie and Batman was ready to beat and throw a young teen in jail, but Leslie begged him to give him a chance", which again, wtf. Batman beating up a child. Okay.

In Red Hood and The Outlaws (2016), they changed it for "Bruce put Jason in Ma Gunn's school because he couldn't handle him after taking him in". The only good addition they made is "when Batman caught Jason stealing his tires, he bought him food".

I do not understand why they need to make him awful to this 12 years old so bad. What do they want to make it as if Bruce forced that life on Jason but also didn't want to deal with him. Why they cannot let it as it is, with Bruce having fun dealing with this lil shit that stole his tires and being there for him when he needs him later on, until he finally craves and takes Jason home.

And that's why I am so critical on how Batman and Bruce is written in Nightwing and Red Hood stories, because the writers are incapable to make their main character have conflict with Bruce, without changing his character and their story to make him abusive. They need him to be the bad guy of Jason's, and sometimes Dick's, story because they don't know how to make you side and care for their character without making the other side a monster.

[mikakuna]

thoughts about time travel shenanigans where robin jason and bruce are thrust into the future and find themselves on a rooftop during a stormy night? because listen.

they both find themselves on this random rooftop in gotham, but they're not alone because right in front of them is batman of this year and a man wearing a red helmet. this wouldn't have raised much of a concern-- they probably could've just asked the future bruce what happened and how to get home-- except this batman is more violent than jay or bruce anticipated. they watch, stunned, as this batman repeatedly rains his heavy fist down on the other man's face, chest, ribs, and wherever else he can reach.

they watch as the man with the red helmet struggles weakly, consciousness slowly leaving him, before they catch sight of his face in the crack of his hood. both jay and bruce realize at the same time who it is-- that this is future jason despite the hard lines and large ragged body so different from jay's own.

the realization hits right there-- that bruce is beating down on jason more violently than batman has handled any villain.

the bruce of the past feels it before he sees it-- his jay flinching away from him and his tiny hand ripping away from his cape in fear. bruce looks down at his son, his child, and sees the absolute terror in his eyes. after all, why wouldn't jay be so upset? didn't bruce promise never to lay a hand on him like so many adults in his young life already have? didn't bruce swear, crouched down in front of his little boy and gently holding his hands, that he would keep him safe now?

and yet as they stare at each other with horror-filled eyes, the jason of this time finally loses consciousness as his bruce drags him away by the cracks of his helmet, bloody knuckles pressed over his swollen eyelids.

bruce distantly remembers the way jay had shyly called him dad just two days ago. now, he stares as his sweet boy takes a trembling step back, tears threatening to spill down his wide eyes. bruce doesn't think he's hated himself more.

[dreamofbecoming]

listen i know we all love steve “completely ignorant of queer culture to the point that bisexuality is a surprise” harrington being roasted and educated in turns by robin and eddie, yadda yadda, good stuff. i read “they made a horror version of rocky?” in a fic recently and cackled. also a big fan of “he knew he was bi from the start and just never talked about it” as a trope, love it excellent well done

but what about steve who realizes after starcourt that the most important person in his life now has this thing that’s a major part of her life that he knows nothing about, and what if he fucks it up? what if he says something ignorant or rude by accident, and hurts her? what if he loses her because he didn’t know the right thing to say? what if he can’t keep her safe because he doesn’t know what to look out for? absolutely fucking not, this steve says

and listen she’d never say anything, because she can tell that he can tell how much she likes teasing him and teaching him things, so he plays dumb, and she thinks it’s very sweet. but she notices when the zines she keeps under her bed that she buys at that one secret bookshop in indy when she can sneak away on family trips start going missing, always one at a time, and replaced in a few days with another disappearing. and she finds the new ones he must have gone to buy the weekend she was at her aunt’s house hidden in the back of his closet when she goes to steal one of his sweaters. and she notices when he slips more of her queerer movie recommendations into his personal take home pile rather than the movie night stack when he thinks she’s not looking.

she doesn’t notice when he drives to indianapolis after she tries to explain to him why she can’t just ask out a cute girl, tries to impress on him the fear attached to every moment of attraction that he simply has never had to feel, but later she finds a crumpled receipt from a diner in one of his jacket pockets when she’s looking for his keys, and the address is across the street from the bar the gorgeous woman at the bookstore told her about, the one she memorized the address of but hasn’t worked up the guts to think about visiting, and she knows he must have gone looking for a place like that, must have been trying to understand, must have been scoping it out to make sure it was somewhere she could feel safe, after she told him she never had.

so when eddie nearly pops a blood vessel when they clock each other and she mentions that steve is the only person she’s ever come out to before, her hackles come up. because she gets it, she does, he’s only known king steve until recently, so it makes sense that he would be afraid, be concerned for her safety.

but steve is her person, and no one- no one- has ever made her feel as protected or as cared for as he does. no one has ever tried as hard to understand her, no one has ever put so much work into making her feel safe and seen and loved. and she thinks maybe even if no one else ever does, that’s ok. because she has steve, and more importantly steve has her, and that means no one gets to question his ally credentials in her presence without a dressing down to remember, no matter how well they mean or how recently they helped save the world.

(and maybe she’s not as surprised as she could be when he figures out bisexuality all on his own, because she’s been reading all the same pamphlets he has, after all. and she’s seen the way he looks at eddie, i mean come on. maybe no one else has noticed, but then, nobody knows steve harrington like she does.)

[dingledraw]

i've decided i'm going to live for her instead!

Good! (Just be careful with the woman who hangs around with her👀)

[bruciemilf]

Comic book writers who still make Bruce hit his kids even after years of mass criticism from fans who TELL you it's a bad creative choice that pushes them away from the fan base and comics in general,,, you did this for what?

[stevebabey]

steve harrington but it's that jeff winger moment from community. if u have seen community, u will know... my first stobin-centric piece <3 tw for parental neglect and a prior act of self-harm. this is absolutely on the steve harrington has bad parents train <3

“Steven, this is ridiculous.”

Robin freezes in place. Her hand hovers over the remote she's just placed back down, her limbs locking up one by one at the sound of the voice at the door.

It is not a familiar voice. She knows who it is all the same.

She fights not to move, knowing the couch springs, old and rusted, threaten to reveal her hiding place, even if it is her house. Robin is very much allowed to be here. Expected, even.

But Steve? Steve is not.

It’s why there’s one Christine Harrington on the dingy porch steps.

It’s an unwelcome surprise — even after all the fuss of the 4th of July, a thousand police sirens, endless NDAs, and too much blood on his uniform, Steve’s parents hadn’t shown.

Out of town, Steve had said, his bashed in face making it impossible to read his expression. His eyes were haunted and misty but Robin couldn’t tell if it was from the horror of the night or… a loneliness far older.

So Robin had done the fussing. Had dragged him home with her, shooed away her rightfully nosy parents, and mended him up on her bathroom counter.

Steve had been silent, a little wide-eyed as she worked on each cut, each bruise — but with her gentle touch, he had been helpless to do anything but melt beneath it.

He’d called her Robbie for the first time that night. They’d fallen asleep with their hands intertwined, her arm hanging off the bed to reach out to him on her bedroom floor.

Robin still hasn’t met Steve’s parents, even though it’s been more than a couple months since that night.

She’s been to his house countless times too. She knows where the spare key is, if she ever loses her own copy, that is. Knows which stair squeaks on the way up to the second floor and how the lock on the downstairs bathroom gets jammed too easily.

She’s eaten the best grilled cheese of her life in their kitchen, sitting on the counter.

She’s laughed so hard she’s cried on their couch, getting the throw pillows wet with her happy tears.

She’s still never met Steve’s parents. Til right now.

Christine Harrington has her arms wrapped tight around her frame and Robin has no doubt that on her face is a frown that could make babies cry.

She can’t see her face though. Can only just see a glimpse of her tense body from where she sits. Steve blocks part of her view, his own tense frame in the doorway.

He’d answered the door instead of Robin only because he had the foresight to glance at the front window after the first rap at the door. It was late. Robin’s parents certainly wouldn’t knock at their own home and neither of them were expecting visitors.

The expensive car in the drive, a sore thumb along Robin’s street, had given away the identity of just who was knocking so late in the evening. So, Steve had opened it.

“Mom—”

“I mean utterly ridiculous.” Steve gets cut off without second thought, Christine continuing on as if she hasn’t heard him at all.

“Did you expect us to spend all evening chasing you around? Figuring out where you were tonight from the Carlton’s across the road?”

She’s got this snippy tone that Robin’s heard a thousand times from teachers. Patronising. Too cold for it to seem like a genuinely concerned parent.

“The Carlton’s?” Steve echoes, a bit meek. His shoulders have rolled forward, sinking down a bit and Robin can see his tight grip on the door. Still, she stays frozen, rooted to the couch.

“Yes, Steven.” Christine says his full name again, all bite. “Imagine the shame your father and I felt hearing that. Hearing who you had been associating with.”

“Don’t say that.” Steve grits out immediately, anger bleeding into his tone.

The muscles in his back ripple as he forces his shoulders back, as if he had remembered how to stand up straight at the mention of his friend.

Robin aches; at the reminder of the stark differences of their upbringings and at Steve’s unquestionable loyalty. She finally unfreezes, sitting up a little straighter and leaning forward more— ready to spring up from her seat.

She’s not sure what for exactly. She sorta really wants to go slam the door on Steve’s mom’s face and go back to being bundled up on the couch with him. The urge is strong enough to make her fingers twitch.

“Why are you here, Mom?”

There’s a strain to Steve’s question, even though he doesn’t falter in appearance. Robin can’t see his face either though. She hopes it’s got the bitchiest expression Steve can muster.

“Don’t be smart, Steven.” Christine reprimands coldly. “I know that we may have taken a larger absence than intended but that’s not any excuse to parade yourself around with the strays of this town.”

Strays. Robin feels the word pelt into her and burn into her skin, sinking all the way down. It feels like cold water has tipped down the back of her neck. An unwelcome pit forms in her stomach.

She had known, of course, the reputation of a family like the Harrington's. She hadn’t quite known the extent they would go to protect it. Policing your child's friends over a matter of image is absurd.

Somehow, Robin can see how Steve grows even tenser at his mom’s words— hackles raising like that on a dog. His knuckles turn white. But before he speaks, Christine is barreling on like she hasn’t just slandered every one of Steve’s new friends.

“And to leave the house in such a state?”

Robin hears her sigh heavily, as though this really is the biggest problem in her life — which she can’t fathom in the slightest.

There was nothing wrong with Steve’s house. No mess beyond the usual evidence that someone, you know, lived there.

“Mom, I—” Steve starts again.

“Well, I’m sure you have your reasons. You always do.” She says it so pointedly, like Steve was known for peddling lies to weasel his way out of trouble.

It’s so un-Steve it makes Robin blink hard, wondering if she had heard right.

Steve was honest. He owned his mistakes and he took things on the chin. It was something she had liked most about him in the beginning.

Back when it was all snark and Robin told herself she was never going to be his friend, in this universe or anything other. That even then, reluctant co-worker and nothing more, Steve was honest and decent to her always.

“Now, come on now.” Christine Harrington huffs out her demand. “Your father is waiting in the car and there no use winding him up more than you already have.”

Robin’s stomach turns at her words. It had been a topic of discussion between them, one night weeks ago, lips loosened by the dark. I feel like a dog to them, Steve had admitted quietly, his breath against her pillow and his warmth under her sheets. Like they just leave alone most of the time but expect me to perk up and come running the moment they call. I hate it.

“I’m not coming with you.”

The words stammer on their way out like he had forced them out— and Robin wants to sing she’s so proud of her best friend.

“Excuse me?”

“I’m not coming with you.” Steve repeats himself, the words a little firmer this time. “I’m… I’m spending the night here, with my friend Robin.”

He trails off, the words weaker, losing steam. Robin rises to her feet, the tell-tale squeak of the couch springs letting Steve know she was still here. Still right behind him.

It makes him stand a little straighter.

“I— I’ll come home in the morning.”

Christine Harrington makes a little scoffing noise, a high pitched faux laugh as if Steve’s said something amusing.

“Tell me when did I raise such an ungrateful brat?” She muses meanly and Robin doesn’t miss the way Steve flinches lightly. “We give you free rein of the house, apt time by yourself, and yet when we request you to spend a single evening with us—”

“You’re not asking, you’re demanding.” Steve cuts in, his voice more heated now.

“Oh hush, Steven. You act as if we’re so awful.”

It’s all dismissal. Everything, every word, a dismissal.

“I just can’t win with you, can I?” Christine sighs again, disappointment dripping from the sound. “Either we’re not here enough or we’re here but you can’t find time to have dinner with your family. Which is it, Steven?”

In the doorway, Steve begins to bristle. Robin really, really wants to slam the door now — if only to stop this conversation that seems to keep cutting deeper and deeper into her best friend.

She steps closer to him, moving as silently as she can, and makes sure to stay out of sight as she places a hand gently on the small of his back.

He’s shaking, she realises.

Her heart twists painfully in her chest.

Then, deathly calm, Steve says, “Did you know in 7th grade, I lied and I told everyone in my class that I got appendicitis?”

Robin blinks at the change in subject, the strangeness of Steve’s comment. She does remember that, vaguely. A boy in the year above— it had been a wildfire rumour that had turned out to be true.

Or so she thought. Staring hard at the planes of Steve’s back, the pit in her stomach yawns with an anticipation of devastation. Her hand on his back curls up a bit.

“You and Dad were gone for the whole month to Washington. It was the first time you had ever gone for that long and you didn’t even tell me until the day before you left.”

“Steven—”

“I just wanted someone to worry about me.” He steamrolls on, tone too casual for the story he was telling. “And it worked."

A beat.

"But then Cassie Lange asked about the scar.”

Robin’s hand on Steve's back twists up tighter. She feels like she knows what’s coming— but wishes it to be not true.

She doesn’t want to think of Steve, little twelve year old Steve, doing all that he can for a scrap of attention he was supposed to be getting from his parents.

“And rather than admit I’d lied…” The words come out too tight. “I went and found your sewing scissors and I made one.”

There’s this icy bite to Steve’s voice, his shoulders tensed back up. Christine still hasn’t said anything.

“I hurt like a bitch but it was worth it. I got a card from every single person in my class.”

“You wanna see the scar?” He asks— then he’s moving, his hand rucking up his sweater and shirt and exposing the skin of his stomach. Christine makes a noise like a muffled gasp. Robin feels a bit sick. Steve drops his shirt.

“And I kept all of those cards I got —all 17 of them stashed them under my bed in a box that I still have til this day.” He exhales through his nose. “Because it was proof that, at some point, somebody actually gave a shit about me. Because you didn’t. You didn’t then and you don’t get to now.”

His words hang in the air. There’s a long stretch of silence where Steve stares down the woman on the porch— someone closer to a stranger than a friend.

“So, I will see you at home, tomorrow.”

And then he slams the door to Robin’s house shut with a finality that shakes the air. Robin tenses up at the loud noise. Steve doesn't move, just stays staring at the closed door.

Behind them both, one of the noisy pipes in the house makes a loud noise. It sounds worse than usual as it breaks the silence.

Outside, Robin hears the click of heels on the pavement as they quieten, moving further away.

The pit in her stomach tightens immeasurably, a faint bile taste in her mouth. She finally remembers to smooth out her hand, pressing it flat against Steven’s back— another reminder that she was there.

If he wanted to talk or he didn’t, she was there.

Suddenly Steve sighs, an exhale so large that he shrinks down a couple inches, his shoulders dropping. It sounds exhausted.

He finally turns away from the door, to Robin, and she can only hope her face conveys every ounce of love, of support, she feels within her chest.

“Steve…” She breathes softly.

He wasn’t crying but just the sound of his name, spoken so delicately, seems to inspire tears. Robin catches the tremble of his lip and moves without thought— throwing both her arms around his neck and wrestling him into a hug.

Steve goes easy, his arms snaking around her middle and holding her back so tightly it nearly makes her squeak. She doesn’t though— just lets him bury his face in her neck, taking these big shuddering breaths, these half-formed sobs that break her heart clean in half.

She doesn’t know how long they stand there. Car engines drone as they pass by the street. The streetlights seem to get brighter. Steve presses himself so close to her, as close as he can, and Robin hugs back just as tight. She gives him all the time he needs.

She wonders if there’s an indent of him on her when he finally pulls back — a Steve Harrington shaped outline imprinted on her soul. It feels like there is.

If she could trace it, she thinks, it would be whatever shape love takes.

“Thanks Robbie.” He croaks out. He’s started scrubbing furiously at his face and she can see the wet sheen of tears as he wipes them away.

Robin doesn’t move far, just unwinds her arms a bit and lets them fall back to her sides. There’s an ache between her brows from how long she’s been frowning in concern. Steve looks more disheveled than usual, his usually perfect hair looking flatter — but he looks lighter too, somehow.

“No need to thank me, dingus.” She says, voice soft. She faux punches his chest and then regrets it when his lips don’t even twitch upward. It’s weird to see Steve all undone.

Robin thinks back to that conversation and the callousness of Steve’s mom. Her uncaring tone, the use of his full name like an insult.

She thinks of what Steve had said.

“I’m sorry you felt—” The words get stuck in her throat which grows thicker as she thinks about it. About a self-made scar on Steve’s abdomen, made by a twelve year old boy who just wanted someone to worry.

“—That you felt like you had to do something like that to yourself. I’m sorry no one noticed what you really needed.”

Steve nods slowly, his eyes glazed with a far away look as he stares somewhere over Robin’s shoulder. He gives this little shrug, a little huff through his nose.

“It’s okay.” He says, voice a bit distant. “I mean, it’s not but… even if I hadn’t meant to tell you, I’m glad someone knows now.”

It takes another second before he finally seems to shake himself from his thoughts, turning to properly look at Robin. His eyes are red-rimmed and the tip of his nose is pink. Tell tale signs of tears.

“I’ve never told anyone that before.”

Robin swallows thickly and it takes effort to choke down the urge to cry.

“Well,” She starts. It comes out too high pitched and tight and she clears her throat. “Thank you for telling me.

Some kind of smile plays on Steve’s lips, as if he can tell that she’s fighting off her sniffling and it’s sorta funny to him. It is, a little.

Because instead of being embarrassed or feeling pitied, he feels… delightfully surprised to have her care so much. To be so upset on his behalf.

“Oh, c’mon Robbie,” He gives her that same faux-punch in the shoulder she did earlier and it actually succeeds in making her lips pull up at the edges. “None of that.”

“You’re such a dingus.” Robin says. It comes out a bit wobbly still. Sue her— she doesn’t have Steve’s insane ability to bounce from one emotion to another in a single second.

Steve grins. He wanders back to the couch and flops down onto it. Robin follows and when she sits down, it’s a fraction closer to him this time. He gives one last scrub of his face, wiping the last of his tears away.

She nudges him with her thigh. She has to check just one more time.

“You alright?”

Steve smiles, crooked in that way that lets her know it’s completely sincere. He reaches forward and presses unmute on the remote, the film they’re watching starting up again with a buzz.

Steve presses his thigh back against Robin’s and in the dim lighting of her living room, his eyes glitter with an emotion that threatens to make her want to cry once more.

“Course.” He says. “I got someone checking up on me now,”

Another pointed nudge of his thigh against hers. “I’m better than ever.”

[wigglesdtuff]

I was born and bred in flowers - Sun-kissed in my darkest hour I realized I've been Lavender forever.

[lonestarcowpoke]

Okay but 10 Things I Hate About You but make it Steddie???

Like, Robin loves Steve but it is impossible for her to get a date when everyone assumes she’s dating Steve. Steve, after a bad breakup with Nancy has sworn off dating and insist to Robin it cannot be that bad.

So, desperate to ask out pretty and popular Chrissy, Robin enlist the help of her crushes best friend Eddie Munson, mysterious bad boy who just moved in with his uncle. And for a price, Eddie is more than willing to agree.

But Eddie finds that Steve isn’t so easy to woo and furthermore is much more interesting than Eddie originally gave him credit for.

[rockingrobin69]

The plant in the corner grew three new leaves (I really fucking missed you, you know)

I swoon, or sway to the hum of the electric fan. So happy just to come (home to you) so happy to come (back). It feels bigger than it should, than it’s supposed to (it feels dramatic and sort of funny, the way I tear up) but I tear up and you take me in your arms. You smell so good, like our laundry detergent and your shampoo and like pepper, like what I would see if I closed my eyes.

This feeling, right here, this point between your neck and your shoulder: this warmth? It undoes me. Tongue darting out (you taste like airports and like fairy lights) it’s quite possible I’ll never get enough of you. How many years now? And still.  

It’s more than just your hands on me, how you touch. It’s in your eyes and in the way your breath evens, in a tiny flutter of a kiss that I hear more than feel on the top of my head. It’s everywhere (but I’m so glad to be where you are).

You might just be everywhere, but you’re here right now. And me, with you. The plant looks fucking massive, what have you been feeding it? The fridge is full but the washing up needs done. Your hand, when it slips in mine: your shoes under the table in their normal place on the rug. It’s home when you smile (I’m so happy) (just so happy) it’s home and so am I. 

I really fucking missed you, you know.

[softmangoes]

you, the LIs, and a bundle of rope

18+ only

pure! sydney is intrigued. "is this what you needed help with?" he chuckles softly, his golden eyes are so warm, so honey-sweet. you want to drink him, have him melt onto your tongue like communion. when you tug on his chest harness to take his bottom lip between your teeth, he mewls against your mouth.

corrupt! sydney is ecstatic. "beloved," he purrs, his limbs ensared by the rope you carefully wove around him. a bead of drool glistens in the corner of his mouth as the vibrator hums inside of him. "why don't you come a little closer?" his tongue, wet and pink, traces his lips. there's hunger in his eyes. "it's been too long since i've tasted you."

whitney fights you. "fucking freak," he spits, struggling to free himself. you knew he would be difficult and you certainly have a few more bruises. and yet, you can't help but admit that he looks so cute all helpless like that, fury twisting his flushed face. his protests quiet once you take him into your mouth, his snarls turning into nothing more than breathy huffs.

there's a glazed look in kylar's eyes. "m-my love?" he stutters, straining against the rope constricting his arms. tears begin to well in his eyes. you are so far. too far. can't you see that he needs you? why can't you hold him? it's only when you straddle him and take him inside that he finds his breath, planting desperate kisses along your chest as you fuck him into a whimpering mess.

"you thought this would work?" eden scoffs, breaking free with ease. he's on you before you can even realize it, tying your wrists to the bedpost with the practiced grace of years of trapping prey. his breath is hot on your neck, his teeth sharp. "it'll take a lot more than that to keep me from you," he growls, taking ahold of your hips before thrusting into you.

robin laughs. "i didn't know you were into this stuff," he says. you trail your fingers along his skin, grazing the knots across his chest. his breath hitches as you reach between his thighs, his length twitching against the warmth of your palm. he licks his lips, nervous. a blush spreads across his face. "you'll be gentle with me...right?"

"you think that can bind me?" the wraith croons curiously, the rope phasing through him. a cool tentacle wraps around you, pulling you into his embrace. fingers slip under your shirt as his tendrils caress your thighs. they sink into you while a pair of luminescent eyes train on you, amused. his gaze is depthless and full of a desire you cannot begin to fathom. the tentacle curls within you, making you moan against his neck. "we are already bound, droplet."

[flea-the-circus]

even if ronance isn’t endgame, i need nancy to have an arc where she chooses her friend. in my head, the only thing that makes sense is nancy choosing robin. not even in the romantic sense (although i would die of happiness if it was), just nancy remembering her choices and not making the same mistakes she made at sixteen.

having nancy go through four seasons of chasing/grieving/fighting for her best friend, only to turn her entire character into a plot device for steve or jonathan, would be the worst possible choice the duffers could make.

[haveihitanerve]

Bruce watches Steph, at his side, and memorizes the lines in her face, the tilt of her smile, the spark in her eyes, and tries to pull it away from the images before her. All those who wore the red green and yellow. There is such anger in her, anger he can see in the curl of her fists, in the tenseness of her shoulders. But she covers it, buries it. Replaces it with a smile, a laugh. Unfurls her fingers to help someone to their feet, to give someone a high five, to twine them with his, instead. Bruce can see Jason in every aggressive exhale, every backflip and jump, trusting Bruce to be there to catch her. He can hear Dick in every pun, every funny quip, every bit of sass she throws at him, as easy as her smiles, when he says something she disagrees with. She’s never shy with her opinion of him. He can feel Tim in every hug, with every cock of her head as she scans a crime scene, the way her fingers drum against his thigh, or his head, or his back when she’s thinking. And it hurts. These memories, these reminders of the Robins that have come before. Of the Robin that have all fulfilled their namesake and flown from the nest. Robin means moving on, but Bruce is selfish. He wants her to stay, wants them all to stay, huddled beneath his cape. He knows, probably before she does, that she doesn’t need the Robin cape. That she’s ready for a different color. That the yellow and red and green don’t suit her. He wonders, idly, in the back of his mind, if black would. But he lets her pretend, lets her run at his side, and he treasures every comment, every sly smile, every hug. She craves the touch the way Dick did, the way Jason and Tim did. And he hates it. Hates how they all needed it. That he was the first one to actually offer it to them. Comforting touch. Safe touch. Non violent touch. He keeps her, selfishly, at his side, keeps her beneath the Robin colors, keeps her at the Manor. She deserves more, she deserves to fly free, just as the others have done, but she is content, for now, to follow his lead, to grapple a second after him, instead of before. And Bruce is selfish. And he lets her. He knows, deep in his heart, it will not last. That she will tire of the colors as all the others have, but the thought settles in his chest, cradled and nurtured by his heart, protected by his ribs. Robin moves on. But she has not. Not yet. And he will keep her for as long as she allows, he will admire her in the cage that is Gotham, the cage that is his presence. “Batman?” Her chirp, as much the bird as she is named after, is cautious, but fond. “You still with me B?” He smiles, because he can, because she’s here, because she deserves it, and she offers him one of her grins in return. “I’m with you.” He confirms. And as she loads her grapple gun, cocking her head at him in question, he knows it’s true. He fires his own, letting the sound of her shot comfort him, thrum through his body like a second heartbeat, and whispers the words to himself, to her, a promise. “I will always be with you.”

[idyllcy]

couple tiktoks with the robins

Word count: ~ 700

Summary: cheesy tiktok trends with the robins :3

𓅫. "Heard you're looking for a boyfriend" - Tim Drake

"'kay, just," you show Tim the tiktok, fingers laced together, practically begging him to do the tiktok with you. Tim grimaces, but it's minimal effort, so he listens. He stands to the side as the audio plays from your shared airpods, waiting for you to move the camera to the side. He hates to admit it, but as he steps next to you to lean on the mirror, raising a brow with a mask on and your eyes light up, his breath catches in his throat. You're always so pretty— too pretty. You're always so pretty. And god, if doing couple trends meant that you'd stare at him like that, then he'd do all of them with you. (Though, he has to make sure none of his friends finds out about them. The embarrassment would eat him alive) Tim waits for you to stop recording, the noise going off in his ear as he steps next to you, staring at the tiktok. He looks just as lovesick as you. "Aww, you're supposed to look a little intimidating." You mumble quietly. "You're looking at me too cheesily" "You look too excited too." Tim sticks his tongue out at you, pointing at the way your pupils were blown wide. "Maybe we're both just lovesick fools." Tim doesn't see a problem with that.

𓅫. "she is the best thing that's ever been mine" - Jason Todd

"I know this is a trend for sapphics but please please please PLEASE—" You beg. "The only photos I'd be able to put are the ugly ones of you." Jason rolls his eyes. "No." "But you have a whole album of—" "No." You pout, jutting out your bottom lip at Jason as he wavers slightly. He doesn't even have capcut downloaded. He doesn't want to download it. It's just a silly tiktok trend, and sure you're obsessed with showing him off on your private social media, but there was no way he was posting you on his accounts. You grumble, going back to scrolling through your phone, typing on it, and Jason assumes that you're complaining to your friends about how he won't do the trend. He goes back to his own phone, putting his airpod back on, a video playing. You could complain all you want— He wasn't doing it. Yet, the recently deleted app on his phone and the newly downloaded video on his hidden album suggest anything but. Stupid. It's in his drafts. (Not that he'd tell you.)

𓅫. "Oh, I can't stop singing" - Damian Wayne

"Stay still." You set your phone on the table as you squish onto Damian's lap, and he raises a brow at you, setting his pencil down. He notices your phone recording, and you pull out your lipstick. Damian pauses. He knows this audio. He's pretty sure one of his classmates was showing him it a while ago. You draw half a heart onto your cheek, pressing your cheek to his affectionately, warmth pressed to Damian's cheeks, leaving the mark of a heart... no you drew the half the wrong way. You pause, the mistake registering in your head as the audio continues playing. "Habibbti, I don't think—" You burst into laughter at the accident, hiding your face in his collar, kicking your legs in embarrassment. Damian purses his lips in amusement with you, running his hand down your back soothingly while shaking slightly. That was funny. "Sorry for messing up and making you pause." You stop laughing after a while. Damian smiles, shaking his head, reaching for a wet wipe on his desk. "Would you like to try again?" Who are you to say no?

𓅫. "stay with me, I don't want you to leave" -Dick Grayson

"Okay, so—" "I'm in." Dick gives you two thumbs up. "I recognize this audio." "I really can't surprise you with any couple trend, huh?" You laugh. "Sweetheart, I'm on Tiktok more than you." Dick smiles, handing you your lipstick. You pout, taking it anyway, peppering Dick's face with kisses before the lipstick dries, smudging some of the kisses, letting the others look fine on their own on others. Dick presses kisses back to your skin while you reapply the lipstick, some of the red on his lips getting on yours, causing you to pout. He was getting you red too. You finish, eventually. (Dick's face is practically a red mess from both you and the lipstick) You step to the side to wipe the lipstick he got onto your face, setting up your phone and starting the tiktok. Dick stares at you the whole time, eyes gentle, sick with an affection reserved for only you, lips pulled into a foolish smile. You pout when you ruin your lipstick, only for Dick to reach for your chin, the phone panning to his face, a mess of red on his face, a stupid smile on his face, eyes crinkled, holding all of the love in the world for you and only you. (and god do you melt at the sight)